S. Davis - 900 Miles

Flushing the thought to the back of my mind, I decided to focus on the Greenbriar. The hotel was enormous, and with Gordon still missing, we had no idea if he or some of his men were still up there. It would have to be a room-by-room search. I guess it was fortunate that much of the place had burnt to the ground. It would give us a smaller area to cover, but that area was still filled with plenty of hiding spots.

Approaching the door to the Great Hall, I couldn’t help but be reminded that this was where the revolt had started. As the Arena collapsed, this was the place where Jarvis decided to take it all away from Gordon.

The hatch itself was lying on the floor near a hollow opening to the room. With a silver-metal singe marking where the hinges once were, it was clear that Gordon’s men had used some sort of explosive. Entering the Great Hall, an uneasy feeling tightened my chest, an anxiety that I’d often felt while doing no more than passing outside the place. The hall itself was enormous, with pillars from the ceiling the floor. Glancing to the concrete, even the Great Hall seemed to have been overrun with the Zs. Not yet cleared, bodies still sprawled all around, blood pooling up as we splashed through the death. I remember thinking that so many people had died in that room.

It seemed to be made for horror.

Across the cavernous room, where the hatch to enter the Greenbriar was located, I noticed Kyle giving out orders to the fourteen or so men gathered around. We’d be breaking up into two-man teams and doing a sweep of the various halls and rooms that still remained post-fire. With the comms now restored, we received reports that nothing had been seen in the Greenbriar. However, with the exterior hatch missing, we had to be sure nobody else would be sneaking in from that entrance.

Reaching Kyle just as he finished speaking, we shook hands. Looking at his palm as I pulled mine away, he noticed his watch hanging from his fingers.

“I decided to part with it after all,” I said casually. “Not really my color.”

Smiling, he slid it over his wrist and replied, “Yeah, takes a real man to wear this bad boy.”

Pulling the hammer from my belt, I shook my head with an amused grunt as we stepped through the hatch that led to the hotel. Kyle and I were responsible for the West Wing, an area filled with conference rooms, which ultimately led up to where we’d landed the chopper earlier.

Passing the same singed paintings and once valuable furniture, we cautiously scouted ahead through the halls. One of us would enter the room, followed by the other—both with our weapons drawn. Very tactical in nature. Kyle was a good teacher when it came to clearing out a building. He’d done it many times before.

With nothing jumping out at us, aside from the smell of mold and mildew, we finally made it to the staircase leading up to the roof where the helicopter was.

“The sun should nearly be coming up,” Kyle said, after glancing down to his wrist.

“It’s going to be crazy to see what the Yard and the field look like.”

“Yeah, I’m not looking forward to having to clear any of it,” Kyle replied as he kicked in the door to the staircase.

Reaching the top, Kyle entered first, with me close on his heels. With our weapons drawn, we quickly ascertained that nothing was there aside from the helicopter, which still had the door drawn open from when we’d left it in a hurry when we returned earlier. I remember not closing it as I darted down to the bunker with the medication. I guess we’d all been eager to get down there.

The sun was barely peeking through the tree limbs, its accusing rays pointing toward us, as if surprised to see the leftovers from the madness of humanity that it had missed the night before.

Cautiously walking to the edge, we gazed over the side to see just about the entire field flowing with Zs. I cringed as I realized they were packed up nearly five Zs deep, pressing against our exterior hoping to get in. To my surprise, Mr. Gate was still holding his post in the armored bus. We waved down to him. He noticed us, and gave that good ol’ thumbs up.

“That’s a relief,” I said, as I waved back down.

He’d held the gate shut. The Yard was still closed off from the outside world. I had to admire the guy. Sometimes you find what you’re good at, and you make sure you never leave its side. He was the protector of our Yard, the man who decided what came and went. He’d held his post. Most others wouldn’t have.

“Check out Gordon’s base camp,” Kyle said, lifting his weapon toward the busted-down tents. There wasn’t a human still out there, and the whole of the area had been nearly flattened, as if a giant child playing army had a temper tantrum, throwing his arm across its toys.

“Wonder if any of them escaped.”

“Don’t know. Don’t really care as long as they don’t come back,” Kyle said, almost distantly, as he started to turn around.

“You think Gordon was out there? Watching the whole thing when it was taken over?”

“We can only hope.”

Taking a few steps back toward the staircase, he added, “We should meet up with the others. They’ll need our help to clear the East Wing.”

“Right.” I agreed, starting to step back, still keeping my eyes on the field for just a moment, as I thought about the fact that we were still alive. Deep down, I simply couldn’t believe we’d won.

“I’d better close that sliding door,” Kyle said as he stepped to the right toward the chopper, while I continued to move to the stairs.

I didn’t reply, my eyes fixed on the door to the staircase, as if I expected something or someone to come jumping through. With my weapon raised, I slowly approached the dark entrance with each foot cautiously inching past the other.

Getting ready to call out to Kyle, to tell him that I had a shitty feeling in the back of my gut, I suddenly heard him scream out in surprise.

“What the fu…?” the moment before the gunshot shattered the silence.

Jumping out of my skin, I spun around with the hair on the back of my neck at full alert. With my heart thumping, I saw Kyle hit the ground in near slow motion. His body thudded down as I watched the firearm he’d been carrying slide across the rooftop.

A faint wood on metal clicked two times before I saw the cane emerge from the shadows of the chopper followed by the barrel of the gun that was pointed in my direction.

Gordon emerged from the darkness with a smile.

“Not so fast. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

He could see me lifting my gun. I didn’t even know I was doing it.

Looking at Kyle in a panic, I felt dizzy as I realized he wasn’t moving. No fucking way Gordon killed him. No way that bastard had killed my friend. Mind still spinning, I hardly heard Gordon talking in the background. Until he said, “I can’t believe it was so easy for this big bastard to fall.”

Blood boiled as it raced through my veins. With my eyes falling directly on Gordon, I felt my body trembling, not with fear, but with one transfixed thought of hate. I needed to figure out how to call the ferryman.

Stepping down from the chopper, Gordon cringed slightly as he used his bad leg to step over Kyle’s body, which now had a small pool of blood circling out from his chest. Gordon remained silent as he stood there, the weapon still pointing at me. I could hear the whispering of the grass and trees as the breeze floated by. There was a calm in the distance, as if the whole world was watching to see what happened next.

Gordon said, “Why don’t you go ahead and toss that gun over here.” When I hesitated, he pointed the gun down to Kyle’s face.

“Now, now, John… your boy here is still breathing. You want me to make sure he stops?”