The Remaining: Fractured Part 2

In Jerry's opinion, Smithfield was necessary, because it was a hospital. OP Benson kept the roads between Camp Ryder and Smithfield clear, so that anyone that needed serious medical attention could go to Smithfield and see Doc Hamilton. But OP Lillington was just a waste. Another drain on their resources. It only existed so that Captain Harden could expand his area of influence, and use Lillington as a jump-off point for his operations.

So Jerry sent Greg, Arnie, and the new guy, Kyle, to scout it out. The fourth pa.s.senger, crammed in tight with the others, was Professor White, the leader of the group from Fuquay-Varina. He'd been curious about Lillington, and had been pressuring Jerry into letting him take a group to go check it out. Greg supposed that he held some sort of attachment to Lillington, or perhaps to Old Man Hughes and his group, since they had shared Lillington for a short time.

Who knew what Professor White was thinking?

But he'd been very insistent. To the point of accusing Jerry of covering things up. Suggesting that OP Lillington had contacted Camp Ryder, but that Jerry just refused to render any help to them. And there were other issues souring their relations.h.i.+p. Professor White felt that he'd been promised that as soon as Captain Harden and Bus were overthrown and the supplies accessed, they would all immediately make a run for the mountains. A ma.s.s exodus to escape.

Obviously Jerry was in no hurry to do this, and each day it became more evident that it wasn't going to happen. Which left White feeling betrayed. And Professor White had never been shy in his attempt to sway the court of "public opinion," if you could call a few dozen survivors living in shanties the "public."

White's presence in the already-cramped car was a result of him b.u.t.ting heads with Jerry for the umpteenth time in the past 48 hours. White wanted to know what had happened to Lillington, and Jerry a.s.sured him that he would send a group out to investigate. At which point White insisted that he be a part of it. And if he didn't get what he wanted he was going to make a stink.

So he got what he wanted.

They turned onto S. Main Street and hit the bridge over the Cape Fear River. Arnie slowed them down, but didn't stop. They continued rolling until they were across the river. They trundled over a set of train tracks and Greg leaned forward in his seat, motioning Arnie to a stop. He pulled out a pair of binoculars and gla.s.sed the downtown area of Lillington. The little square of buildings where the outpost had been set up.

"Why are we stopping here?" White asked, s.h.i.+fting abruptly in the backseat and setting the vehicle to rocking.

A look of mild irritation pa.s.sed over Greg's face. He pulled the binoculars away from his eyes and waited for White to quit fidgeting so the car would be still, and then he put the binoculars back up and continued to scan, slowly, carefully.

"We're checking the area, Professor," he responded, his voice less than enthusiastic.

"So you do think that someone is there," White p.r.o.nounced, triumphantly.

Greg sighed and dropped the binoculars in his lap. "I think that if I blundered into unknown situations without checking them out from a distance, then I'd be dead by now. I can't see any movement in or around the buildings." He glanced back at White. "Hostile or otherwise."

"So..."

Greg turned fully in his seat and looked at White. The professor regarded him with that usual pinched expression that sat amid all of that snow-white hair. His head slightly inclined, looking down through his thick gla.s.ses at Greg. Like he resented being forced to converse with such a low-brow specimen.

Greg adjusted his Yankees ball cap. "Let me explain something to you, Professor. You might be able to manipulate Jerry and get what you want out of him by threatening to trash him publicly, but I don't like you. I am not beholden to you. I don't give a f.u.c.k what you think or say. I only allowed you to come along with us today as a favor to Jerry. And given the fact that I generally regard you as an idiot, whose survival so far defies logic and probability, I'm going to need you sit back there and shut the f.u.c.k up. Okay?"

Professor White stared back at Greg, looking somewhat shocked.

But silent, at least.

Kyle sat beside Professor White and looked tense and awkward. Which wasn't difficult for him. He was one of those guys whose awkward stage somehow lasted well into their twenties. A thin, gawky neck. Just a thin smattering of unsightly facial hair that clumped at his cheeks and his chin, leaving the other areas bare.

Arnie grinned, chuckled. His loose folds of empty skin quivered under his chin like a wattle.

Greg turned back around. "Go ahead and take us in, Arnie. Slow and easy."

"You got it, Boss."

They rolled on, Greg and Kyle readying themselves for whatever they might find, while Professor White sulked. They rolled their windows down and laid their rifles on the doors, barrels protruding out, though it was tight to maneuver a rifle in such a small vehicle.

They stopped at the intersection of S. Main Street and Front Street, caddy-corner to OP Lillington. The ring of red brick buildings had been partially secured-most of the windows and doors were boarded or covered with some sort of barricade. A few were still open, giving it the look of an abandoned project.

Greg leaned forward again, looked up to the roof of the building and watched it for a minute.

"No watchman?" Kyle asked.

Greg just shook his head. "Go ahead and take us around back."

Arnie took them into the entrance, a narrow alley wide enough for a single vehicle. The end of the alley was usually barricaded by a car, which the guards at OP Lillington would roll out of the way for incoming friendlies, like you might open a gate.

The barricade car was rolled away. No one around it.

They crept pa.s.sed, then stopped in the middle of the open s.p.a.ce, surrounded completely by all those buildings. The other barricades still stood intact-the dumpsters and tires and other abandoned cars still stacked up and crowned with loops of barbed wire. It was only the entrance that had been left open. Like an abandoned house with the front door hanging off its hinges.

Greg opened his door, stepped out. He took a moment to survey his surroundings while behind him the others squirmed their way out of the tiny hatchback car. It was very still there in the center of OP Lillington. Greg would still check the interiors of the buildings, just to say that he had, but he already knew that the place was abandoned. He could tell just from the immense silence of it.

"h.e.l.looooo?" Professor White yelled. "Anybody here?"

Greg spun on the man. The professor had his hands cupped around his mouth like a megaphone and took another deep breath to continue his shouting. Greg slapped the hands away from his mouth, then stood there, glaring.

"What the f.u.c.k are you doing?"

White looked concerned. "I was trying to call out..."

"Didn't I tell you to shut the f.u.c.k up?"

"But what if there are people around?"

"And what if they're the wrong people?" Greg shook his head. "Jesus, it really is astounding that you've lived this long." He turned away from the professor, stood without moving for a moment, feeling out the ensuing silence, listening for sounds of anything that might be coming for them.

Nothing.

Greg started walking for the buildings. "Kyle, you're with me. Arnie, stay with the professor, please. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

"You got it."

The professor sounded indignant. "I don't need a babysitter, Greg!"

"Oh, I think you do," Greg said without turning around.

They cleared the buildings and found n.o.body, just as Greg had suspected. Nor did they find any sign of anybody. Or any clue as to where they had gone. Like OP Lillington had never existed.

In the quiet darkness of one of the buildings, Kyle spoke up. "You think the infected got them?"

Greg considered it, but shook his head. "No. There'd be bodies. Blood."

"You think..." he lowered his voice. "...maybe the hunters got them?"

Greg just made a face of consternation. "The who?"

Kyle glanced around, uncomfortably. "Some of Harden's guys were talking about these new infected they were calling hunters. Said they were big and fast. Said they hunted like animals. Ran in a small pack. Grabbed people and carried them away, instead of tearing 'em apart right there like the normal infected. Maybe that's what happened here. Maybe the hunters got them all. Carried them away."

Greg shook his head again. "Bulls.h.i.+t."

"Well, what do you think happened?"

Greg shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't know, Kyle."

Before they exited the building, Greg found a good pry-bar lying near one of the outer doors. He picked it up, judging its heft. He seemed satisfied and left the building. In the back parking lot, Arnie and Professor White sat on the hood of the Geo, the professor looking sour and Arnie looking amused.

Greg walked over to the professor and motioned with the pry-bar. "Let me show you something, Professor."

White slid down off the hood and Greg led him towards the entrance. As he pa.s.sed, he gave Arnie a small nod, and then Arnie and Kyle hopped in the Geo. As Greg and White exited the former OP Lillington, the little old car rattled to life, the fan belt squeaking loudly for a few seconds.

White looked back. "Where are they going?"

Greg rolled his eyes. "Relax, professor. They're gonna swing around and pick us up."

"Well, what's so important out here?"

Greg just kept walking until they reached Front Street, and there on the corner, he stopped. He pointed across the street with the pry-bar. "You see that, Professor?"

White squinted his eyes. "What?"

"Directly across the street. Don't act like you can't see it."

White frowned with irritation, stepped past Greg. "My eyes aren't what they were..."

Greg hit him in the side of his right knee with the pry-bar. White cried out in pain, his leg seizing, and he stumbled, trying to grab at his knee. Greg swung again, this time catching White's hand as it gripped his knee, the impact crus.h.i.+ng his fingers. White screamed, collapsed onto the ground, holding up his injured hand.

"What are you doing?" he screamed.

Greg ignored him. He swung the pry-bar down and finally hit White's knee straight on, breaking the bone and inverting the joint. Then he went to work quickly on the other leg, getting into a sort of rhythm as he hammered down onto the kneecap while Professor White screamed on and on. He felt the second knee break and then Greg stood up straight, breathing hard.

He dropped the pry-bar on the ground.

Professor White sobbed uncontrollably. "It hurts! It hurts!"

Greg raised his voice over White's blubbering. "While conducting a routine scouting operation into the disappearance of the group at OP Lillington, we were attacked by a pack of infected. Unfortunately, during the ensuing struggle, we were unable to save Professor White." He bent down and made eye contact with White. "How's that sound?"

"You b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" Spittle flew from White's mouth. "You f.u.c.king b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"

Greg just shook his head. "You should've learned when to keep your f.u.c.king mouth shut, Professor. Sometimes the squeaky wheel gets the oil. Sometimes the squeaky wheel gets gone."

"I'm sorry," White muttered. "I won't say anything else! I promise!"

But Greg had already turned his back on the professor. He walked to the Geo and sat down inside, closing his door against White's rising voice as it begged and pleaded for them not to leave him there. Greg motioned Arnie on, and they sped off, leaving the professor on the sidewalk, hollering desperately as he attempted to crawl after them, dragging his crumpled legs behind him.

Greg looked into the backseat at Kyle.

The kid's face was pale.

"You gonna be okay with this?" Greg asked.

Kyle seemed shaky, but he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm okay."

The pain in his legs was blinding. Like they were caught in a mechanical crusher, one of those big ones they used to turn cars into little cubes of sc.r.a.p metal. He crawled after the vehicle, dragged himself along the sidewalk, elbows and palms sc.r.a.ping into b.l.o.o.d.y messes against the rough pavement.

The car made the turn onto S. Main Street, heading towards the bridge over the Cape Fear River. Heading back towards Camp Ryder. And then it disappeared. White lay there, one arm outstretched after the vehicle like he might just reach out and grab it. Then he collapsed, weeping in agony and despair.

He lay there for a moment, just trying to overcome the pain. Just trying to make himself move more. He didn't want to die right there, but the pain was so bad he didn't think he had the strength to keep going. Maybe Greg would come back for him. Maybe it was all just a cruel trick, to teach him a lesson so that he wouldn't talk bad about Jerry anymore.

"I learned my lesson!" Professor White screamed in desperation. "I'm sorry!"

A sc.r.a.ping growl echoed off the buildings.

Fear flooded his system. He evacuated his bowels in terror.

"Oh, no! No!" He hitched himself up onto his raw and b.l.o.o.d.y elbows, trying to look behind him. All he saw was a lean, sinuous form ducking behind a building, only a block from him. "No, no, no! Somebody help me! Please! Help me!"

He looked back towards S. Main Street and there, just in front of the railroad tracks, he could see a figure. Standing there next to the woods. At first he thought it might be an infected, but it was astride a dirt bike. White didn't know whether it was friend or foe, a bandit or just a regular survivor. In that moment, it didn't matter. He would take anything over being eaten alive.

He raised his hand, weakly. "Help! Help!"

The figure rolled forward on the dirt bike.

"Over here!" White yelled, excitedly-someone was going to save him! "Please! Help me!"

The dirt bike worked its way around the rail road tracks, and then onto the road. And when it hit the concrete, it turned, heading away from Professor White, and the engine gunned, loud enough that he could hear it over his own cries for help. He thought maybe it was a mistake, maybe the man on the dirt bike just needed to get around a median or something.

But in the following quiet, he could hear the sound of the dirt bike's engine fading.

Fading.

And then nothing.

He stared in the direction it had disappeared. Who the h.e.l.l was it? Why wouldn't they come help him?

A guttural noise behind him.

He looked and didn't see anything.

The same noise again, this time from above.

Professor White looked up. And screamed.

CHAPTER 3: ISOLATION.