Worry and concern kept every notion of sleep from my grasp. I haven’t slept at all in over two days; I didn’t want to sleep. I propped my feet on a table while Rachel laid on the bed. Her slight breathing was all that pierced the deafening silence. I wasn’t at all surprised by her unconscious state. Though, as she neared 48 hours, I grew more concerned that she may not awake at all. The bandits gave her quite the beating. Though the town seemed quiet, I made sure that any infected or bandit that dared to attempt entry into our refuge would be met with disaster. An automatic rifle lay on the table next to me, ready to be fired at a moments notice to ensure our safety. In the meantime, I battled the pressing desire to sleep with beef jerky and some magazines I found at the local grocer. Who’s who, tabloid gossip, the hottest celebrities, local news; it all seemed so trivial now. My eyes grew ever more heavy just before sleep washed over my body. The events of our escape that I so desperately wished to forget came flooding into my mind before my eyes fully shut.
“Tell me!!” I shouted as I slammed another fist into his abdomen.
He released a violent cough and spit some blood as he slumped to the church floor. A light whimper escaped his lips. My anger slipped into rage. An infected man heard my shout and began to bang on the closed church doors, injecting a new idea into my mind. With clenched teeth, I yanked him to his knees and spoke in a slow angered tone, “You leave me no choice but to feed you inch by agonizing inch to that infected man outside the doors unless you tell me what I need to know.”
Though he continued his whimper, he remained silent.
“So be it,” I said as I wrenched him to his feet and threw him against the door. The infected man intensified his attempt to enter the church.
“Come on!” I loudly threatened.
“Stop!” he screamed through labored breathing before breaking down into a sob. “Prigor. They took her to Prigor.”
I peeled him from the door and let him fall to the floor. I glared at him and motioned for him to continue.
“Our camp is located at Prigor, 3 miles North East of Cherno.”
The rest of the information flowed out like a broken garden hose. There were fifteen bandits in total, twelve after the two I killed and the one I captured. I leapt to my feet and began rummaging through the equipment for anything I could use. While I searched, the bandit decided to share his life story. Though annoyed, I listened anyway. His name was Ben, Ben Reid. The bandits had taken him and his wife captive. When she refused to join their cause, they beat her to death. Out of fear of receiving a similar treatment, he joined them. He rambled on about regret toward cowardice and wishing he could go back and make a different decision. Abigail's many words on redemption echoed throughout my head. She always could see the good in people. I released a mournful sigh at her memory and mustered up a small inspirational speech about redemption and atonement, in her honor. She would have been proud. My speech, to my surprise, actually convinced him to help me. I hated trusting a bandit but I couldn’t rescue Rachel on my own. Twelve to one aren’t the best odds, however, the two of us, a plan, and the element of surprise could very well win us this battle. Two communication units, military grade remote detonated explosive devices, ammunition, and their weapons were all that I had to work with. As I surveyed the equipment, my rescue plan formed into a beautiful masterpiece. Using the vehicle left behind for the bandit's return to the Prigor base, Ben would drive right into their fenced base, with me in the trunk, and park in an inconspicuous area. After leaving the trunk unseen, I would then place the remote detonated explosive devices underneath any other vehicles to prevent their pursuit. Ben would distract the other bandits while I found Rachel and set her free. The three of us would escape in the car and detonate the explosives after leaving the area, thus destroying their capability of pursuing as well as drawing in every infected nearby for them to deal with. We set the plan in motion. I only hoped it could be accomplished as easily as it sounded.
“What was it?” one man called from the other room.
“There’s nothing back here but old shelves.”
“Good, get back here. My fishin' story ain't gonna wait forever!”
The man shook his head and started to back out. Before he could, I launched myself from behind the door and clamped my hand tightly around his mouth. I then drove my knife into his throat and pushed outward. He struggled in pain and to be released. I continued my strong grip on him as I carried him to the ground, preventing a loud noise when he finally died. His thrashing ended and I pulled his body from view behind some shelves. I caught a glimpse of my hands in the dim light. They were drenched in blood.
“Hey! Where you go?! You ain't gettin' out of my story that easily, punk!”
He gave up waiting and walked down the hall to the room. A simple repeat of the previous method ensured a quick and quiet death for the second bandit. I searched their pockets and recovered the keys to the handcuffs. I grabbed my rifle and quickly yet quietly ran down the hall toward Rachel. It was a grotesque scene that appeared even worse in the firelight. She looked quite terrible and bloody, as if she had been tortured. Why they wanted to capture her; torture her, I couldn’t figure out. I unlocked the cuffs and cradled her in my arms as she slumped to the floor. She was delirious from the events of her capture.
“Please… I beg you… Stop. Just kill me,” she whimpered softly.
“Rachel, it’s me. Michael, from Cherno,” I responded, “I’m going to get you out of here. I need you to stay with me.”
I placed one arm under her shoulder to help her stand. I discovered a back door I didn’t notice from the outside. I unlocked the door and we left the house. Almost to the car, a loud shout emerged from the house. The guard from the outside must have gone in and discovered the dead bodies and missing prisoner. The barracks suddenly turned into a frenzy as the door burst open and several men poured outside, scrambling toward the house. The last man out headed toward us. I raised my rifle expecting to have to use it. Just before I fired on him, he revealed himself to be Ben. He helped me load Rachel into the back seat of our jalopy. We looked up as one of the bandits spotted us, called out, and began heading toward us with his rifle extended outward.
“You are a good man, Michael, better than I,” Ben said as he tossed me the keys, “Your mission here is complete, mine is not. Now go!”
He grabbed the detonator, raised his rifle, and began spraying bullets toward the house. The other bandits joined in the fight as bullets pinged off of the bodies of the vehicles with a metallic twang. I fell into the driver seat of the old car, fired up the engine, and took off, bursting through the rear gate as bullets hit the car's body. Suddenly, a large explosion rocked the countryside with a piercing sound as the light of a hundred fireplaces lit the landscape in every direction. I couldn’t help but feel remorse for Ben. He was a hero in his own right, although, he didn’t know it.




