CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ESCAPING THE WESTON

PART TWO

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Frank wasn't sure what had just happened.  He was fully expecting to die.  What he found was that he was very much alive and being helped off the floor by the young powerhouse, Donovan.

“Let’s get the hell outta here!”  The young man offered.

Frank considered it for a minute, but the hulking mass had come rumbling back through the blazing hole accompanied by a virtual hoard of its smaller brethren, so he decided to make good his own escape.  

“Sounds like a plan.”  Frank said accepting Donovan's left hand.

The massive, angry ghoul was closing in fast and there wasn't much time for dawdling.

Resolve suddenly took over the usually grinning, mocking face of the man everyone had come to call Frank as he gripped Donovan’s hand tighter.  But, as the youngster began to pull him off the floor, Frank quickly lunged forward with his free hand.  Also in his free hand was the samurai sword.  So, unexpectedly, he thrust the sword deep into Donovan’s side.

And, pulling him closer, Frank whispered into his ear, “It’s nothing personal, kid.  Just about survivin’ and business…”

Before Donovan could react, Frank pushed him between himself and the approaching monster.  And, never hesitating, Frank used the boost given to propel him toward the back exit of the lobby.

Frank didn't look back either but shot like a rocket through the lobby.  Once again, he returned to the machine he was earlier, cutting through the zombie hoard like they were stationary practice dummies.  He was focused on his work till he reached the front desks.  For, as he rested against the desk for a moment, he realized the lobby was suddenly immersed in a savage, green light.

Donovan had closed his eyes to fight the pain.  He knew also that any moment that monster would be on him.  His life began to flash through his mind’s eye like a psychotic series of scenes all flooding madly like a crazy movie of moments he wished he could forget.

He saw his father dressed in Army fatigues, kneeling down to eye level with a much younger version of him.

“You’re gonna have to stay with yo mom for a while, Donny,” He stopped to wipe away a tear, “Be good…do what she says…I’ll be back when my service is over.”

He, then, saw his mother dressed in a clean, white lab coat, smiling re-assuredly at him; a syringe in her hand, “Trust me baby.  This will help…”

He still to this day wasn't sure if it did or didn't.

“Donny!!!  Run, boy!  RUN!!!”

That was the voice of his Uncle.  It may have been the last thing he heard him say, but, even in this flashback, he refused to look at him.

But, he could feel the fire rising up from deep within.  He didn't have to open his eyes to know what was going on.  He had been there so many times, but never to the degree that it was now.  The fire, the power was more intense than ever before.  Donovan wasn't sure if it was because of his injuries or his fighting the pain, but the flow of energy running to his right arm was immense.  He tried to fight it.  This amount of power truly scared him.  He wasn't sure what would happen if he unleashed it.  But he knew he couldn't stand the pain much longer.  He could also the shock of the monster’s steps stomping closer and closer.  It would be over soon.

But, just as the monster was upon him, he heard the voice of his Uncle spouting wisdom as he usually was, “You either take charge of life or it takes charge of you, boy!  There ain't no in-between.  Yo either da Master or da slave!!”

That’s when he opened his eyes and sprang into action.


Frank was long gone.

He made good his escape through the rear exit and, even now, was weaving through the halls of the offices that lead to the rear of the building and an exit according to that Dean guy.  He still had to take down a few undead along the way, but he had no problem with that.  He looked down at the sword in his hand.  He never remembers training to use it.  In fact, until a few days ago, he hadn't remembered ever owning a sword.  But, every time a target presented itself, he did away with it in seconds flat. 

 All he could do was grin and utter his amazement, “DAMN!”

He slashed around for some time.  When, suddenly, as he turned the corner, his face made contact with the hardest fist he had ever experienced.  He went straight down to the floor.  And, as he held his gushing nose, he realized he wished he was still dealing with the undead.  At least the damn zombies didn't talk back.

“Dammit, Frank!”  Sarge barked as he stood over him, standard issue pistol in hand, “Where’s the boy?”

Frank just grinned through the blood spurting through his fingers from his nose, “Oh, he had THINGS to do.”

Sarge gave him a swift boot to the face, leveling him to the ground.  And, landing his elbow on Frank’s head, he knelt down and got real personal with Frank.

“Listen up, freak.  I may need to drag your ass outta her alive, but it don’t mean I gotta put up with your bullshit!  We need every man and that boy is fucking important!  So, I’m gonna tell ya what we’re gonna do.  We’re gonna pull your ass off the floor and drag it back to that lobby and save that kid’s ass!!  Do I make myself clear, freak job?”

Frank gave Sarge a strained grin, “Perfectly.  Unfortunately, he’s already dead, Captain..”

Sarge leaned in hard and continued, “You better hope to God he ain't.  Cause, if he is, you’ll be joining him.  Orders or not!”

And, with that, he pulled Frank straight up off the floor and forced him to march back.

“So, you have orders that include saving me?  I’m touched.”  Frank said as he stammered along.

Sarge wasn't getting pulled in, “Shut the hell up and march, moron!”

“How much they paying you for me?  I bet I can double it.”  

Sarge was unfazed, “SHUT UP!”

“Triple?  Surely, you’re not that sold on the military.  You have to have a price.”

Sarge didn’t answer, but pushed him on with a kick to the backside that caused Frank to stumble a bit.  They came to a turn in the hall that led to the rear exit of the lobby.  Frank tried to stall by falling against the wall.

“This is all a big waste of time, you know.  That black boy is zombie casserole by now.  Probably not a piece left of him big enough to carry out of here.”

Sarge yanked him back up, “Once again, you better hope you’re wrong.  Because, if that kid doesn’t make it, I’ll forget my orders and tear you apart and feed you to that lot out there, I swear!”

Frank smiled again, realizing he was getting to the Sarge, “You better run…”

Sarge just looked blankly at the lunatic, “Wha?”

“Prepare to run…”

That’s when the walls ahead exploded; demolished by the force of that massive creature’s momentum.  But he wasn’t alone.  He carried with him young Donovan, smashing him through one wall and, then another.  But it was hard to see either of them through the mass of green, crackling energy that was enveloping them both.

“Like I said…RUN!!!”  Frank yelled and pushed past the stunned Sarge.