Jonathan Maberry - Rot & Ruin

“What are you talking about? You’re not some general fighting an invading army. You’re not freeing anyone. You’re not fighting for anything!”

Charlie’s face darkened. “Oh I’m not, am I? Well, learn a little of your own history then. I was there when we found Mountainside. Me, Charlie Matthias. I helped build that stinking town. I scouted the first trade route through the Ruin. I brought the first wagons of supplies from the cities to help reinforce the fence. I was the one who raided the hospital and brought back half a ton of medical supplies. Most of the men who protect the traders and city scavengers now work for me or were trained by me. And I brought more survivors, including a couple hundred whole families out of the Ruin to Mountainside. I’ve saved more people than you ever met, my young pup. So don’t tell me I haven’t been fighting for anything.”

He took one more step, and this time Benny was too flummoxed to step back.

“Benny!” yelled Nix. “Don’t listen to him. He’s just trying to confuse you.” She would have said more, but the Hammer flexed the massive muscles in his arm, and his biceps choked Nix to silence. Benny licked his lips.

Charlie said, “Once upon a time I met a group of travelers in these mountains, who were half dead and running from a pack of zoms. A group that included a skinny Japanese kid and his baby brother… and I showed them the path to Mountainside. So, boy, you want to get your facts right before you tell me that I ain’t been fighting the good fight. A hundred years from now, when they write the history of First Night and the years that followed, they’ll put my name down as the greatest hero of the zombie war. Me, Charlie Matthias.”

Benny did not want to believe Charlie, but he knew the big man was telling the truth. At least the truth as he knew it.

“Maybe you did all that,” Benny said, using his left hand now to support his trembling right. “But it still doesn’t give you the right to do the other things you’re doing.”

“Don’t it? Being ‘right’ is all about living up to a set of laws, and there are no laws out here in the Ruin. Even your worm-meat brother told you that much. The laws of places like Mountainside end at the gate, because nobody there has the guts to step past those fences and establish the law outside. Nobody but me, and since I’m the top dog out here, I get to make whatever laws I want.”

“I’m not talking about laws,” said Benny through gritted teeth. The moaning of the wind in the forest behind him was louder. Was the storm going to build back up again? “I’m talking about right and wrong.”

Charlie laughed. “You’re going to stand here with a gun in my face, ready to kill me, and you’re going to lecture me on right and wrong? Who appointed you judge, jury, and executioner? You pass a burning bush on the way here and get some new Commandments? I think the old ones kind of dried up and blew away when the first of the dead rose up and started eating people. Call me crazy, but I think that was a game changer. When dead ain’t even dead no more, then as far as I’m concerned, no other previous rules apply. So that means ‘right’ is whatever I decide it is.”

“No-,” Benny began, but Charlie made his move. He stuck his left hand out to the side, and Benny’s reflexes reacted before he could control them and his eyes flicked toward the movement. With lightning speed, Charlie used his right to slap the pistol out of Benny’s hand. With one step he was chest to chest with Benny, and his face was a mask of naked fury. He grabbed Benny’s shirt with one hand and hauled him to his toe-tips and knocked his head to one side with a powerful slap of his hard open palm and then backhanded him, so that his head whipped all the way to the other side. The shock to Benny’s cheek was nothing compared to the double jolt to his neck, and Benny’s knees buckled.

“Benny!” Nix cried, but all that escaped the stricture around her throat was a desperate croak.

Charlie Pink-eye shoved Benny away in disgust. “You’re a worthless little piece of crap, kid. You talk big when you’re holding a gun, but you don’t even have the stones or the smarts to pull the trigger when you have the chance. That’s why people like you don’t run the world. It’s people like me-people who aren’t afraid to make the hard choices and take the tough actions-who get things done and who deserve to say what’s what. Power is the only thing that matters, pup, and the sad news is that you just don’t have enough of it.”

“Kiss my ass!” Benny snarled, and he launched himself at Charlie. His training with Tom hadn’t lasted long enough for him to learn the subtleties of combat. He didn’t know many tricks, wouldn’t have qualified for any belt. All he had was his rage. He barreled into Charlie so hard that the big man was actually forced backward two steps. Benny came in low and fast, driving his shoulder into Charlie’s thighs, hoping to knock him down. If he could get him down, maybe he could stomp on him, break an ankle or a knee. Or Charlie’s face.

But Charlie didn’t go down. He dug his heels into the mud to stop Benny’s rush and then he clubbed Benny aside with a forearm shot to the side of the head. Benny saw it coming and ducked enough to miss most of the force, but there was still enough power there to drive him to one knee. With a growl of anger, Benny tried to hook a punch into Charlie’s crotch, but Charlie turned into it, and Benny’s fist collided with the big man’s hip bone. Pain exploded in Benny’s hand.

“Nice try, pup,” Charlie said. “Points for having some stones. More than I thought. Not enough, though.”

He grabbed Benny by the hair, jerked him to his feet, and then buried an uppercut so hard into Benny’s stomach that his whole body was lifted off the ground. His entire abdomen seemed to be folded around Charlie’s massive fist, and the impact drove all of the air out of the world. Benny fell, eyes bulging, face purpling, gasping, capable only of making high-pitched squeaks as he fought to take in even a mouthful of air.

He heard Nix calling his name, screaming as she fought against the Hammer.

He heard the laughter of Charlie and the other bounty hunters.

He heard his own inhuman squeaks.

He heard Charlie say, “Digger, Sting… You boys do me a favor and drag his sorry butt into the pen and tie him up. Don’t be nice about it. Hammer, show the girl some manners and then tie her up with the others. The rest of you, go find those other kids and let’s get this camp together. This whole thing’s been a total clusterfu-”

And something came hurtling out of the dark and slammed into the back of the man called Digger as he bent to grab Benny. He gurgled out a single low cry and fell face forward onto the ground. Benny stared at the man, at the knife that was buried nearly to the hilt between his shoulder blades. The handle was black and ribbed, and the inch of blade that showed was equally black and double-edged.

Benny felt his brain twist around backward. He knew that knife!

Then a scream cut through the air as something massive leaped over the dying man’s body and crashed full force into the knot of bounty hunters. The horse was not one of the bulky draft horses that had broken free from the camp.

It was Apache!

And riding the big buckskin was a bloody man, whose clothing hung in rags, whose eyes were dark and wild, and who slashed at the bounty hunters with a glittering sword.

Tom!

“TOM!” BENNY YELLED, NOT KNOWING IF WHAT HE WAS SEEING WAS real or if he had just gone completely crazy. How was it even possible?

Apache reared up and kicked one bounty hunter in the chest, and the man flew backward, as if he’d taken a double load of buckshot. Another man rushed the horse from the side and tried to pull Tom from the saddle. Tom’s sword flashed downward, and the man fell shrieking beneath the horse’s hooves.