Z-Day Chronicles (Book 2): Rising Up Page 7

  “Think about it, Marshal,” Alan explained. “Many of them fanatics believe the world has already ended, and we’re the ones to blame. Perfect motive for some anarchist. Why do you care so much? I thought you didn’t believe in God.”

  “I don’t. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with you about some of them being like that; and I emphasize some. She is one of those that is not like that at all. Otherwise, why bother to volunteer at all or pray for Kyle?”

  Jake points to the infirmary tent, where he and Alan see Kaylee holding Kyle’s hand, praying for him.

  “What are you trying to prove, Scott?” Jake asked as he stepped closer. “Even if she is responsible, why would I want to protect the very person that wants me dead?”

  Alan stayed silent.

  “Oh, I get it,” Jake continued. “Since you were already wanting me gone, you will probably pin this on her, then state for the record that I am suicidal and unstable for protecting her.”

  “Well,” Alan replied. “Jake; can I call you ‘Jake?’ Why would I want to do that, Jake, when I know I don’t have to do anything at all?”

  Alan then smiled and patted Jake’s shoulder.

  “Give the lieutenant my regards.”

  With that, the senator turned around and strolled back to the camp. Jake continued to the infirmary, where he saw Kaylee, Rodney, and Grimm surrounding Kyle, who was lying awake in his bed.

  “How are you feeling, Lieutenant?” Jake asked.

  “No, Marshal,” Kyle corrected, showing the bandaged stump where his left arm used to be. “It’s just ‘Kyle’ now. I am officially decommissioned.”

  “We’ll figure something out, bud. The Z-Corps could still use soldiers like you.”

  Kyle smiled and laughed. “No worries. Even if I’m not in the Z-Corps, I’ll be alright. Besides, I could use a little bit of leave anyways. Civilian life doesn’t seem too bad right about now.”

  “Well from what I hear,” Rodney gossiped. “The mechanics and technicians are working on a custom prosthetic just for you, dawg. They haven’t done it before, so you’re their guinea pig.

  While Rodney and Kyle were cutting up, Kaylee smiled and left the tent. Jake followed her outside.

  “Kaylee,” Jake said calmly.

  “What do you want, Jake?” Kaylee asked, turning around to face him.

  “Look, I’m an idiot and a jerk.”

  “I noticed.”

  “And... I’m sorry. There was a lot of stress and I went too far, and I shouldn’t have tried to push you away.”

  Kaylee looked to the ground, then back at him and nodded.

  “Yeah, you shouldn’t have,” Kaylee responded. “What you said to me hurt. I get enough of that with a lot of the others at the camp. But... I do forgive you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Kaylee smiled at Jake, then turned around and headed back to the camp for the remainder of the night. Jake was not far behind on retiring for the night.

  Chapter 11

  Jake woke up from his sleep, seeing a deserted wasteland. The sun was beating down on him even harder, to where it felt like Jake was standing next to a pit of magma.

  Am I dreaming again? Jake thought. Where’s the settlement?

  Jake couldn’t see five feet in front of him; not only because of the bright light, but because of the stinging salt and sand that was blowing in his face.

  Wake up, Jake. Wake up.

  Jake’s feet were buried in the deep sand below him as he shuffled along, feeling his way around the desert, searching for some hard ground. He stepped on something thick and unstable; large in size, nearly tripping over it.

  What am I stepping on? Never mind; I don’t wanna know.

  Jake continued pressing forward, mound after mound, until he finally tripped onto some sandstone and concrete, scraping his hands. The heat and light began to die down quick, and the sandstorm started to settle. As he picked himself up, he gazed upon the pile of wallets, dog tags, and pictures. He stood face to face once again with Fort Worth’s Shrine.

  Oh no. I gotta get out of this nightmare! Wake up Jake! Wake up now! Come on and wake...

  “Jake.”

  Jake heard a very familiar voice; A voice that was comforting, yet haunting as well. He turned around to see what he longed believed to be a ghost; A young woman with curly black hair.

  “Ca.. Cassandra..” Jake mumbled.

  Cassandra stood in front of him, smiling. There was no marks on her. Her skin was neither pale nor stale, and her eyes were blue in color, rather than cloudy or gray. There was no trace of blood or rotting flesh showing on her.

  Jake shot down to his knees as he began to weep. Cassandra slowly walked up to him, rubbing his head as he hugged her around her waist.

  “Cassandra,” Jake whispered. “I’ve missed you so much. I was on my way...”

  Cassandra shushed Jake as she slid down to her knees, facing Jake at his level. She placed her hand across his cheek, and he embraced her hand tightly.

  Her hand, Jake thought. It’s so warm. Why is my mind doing this to me?!

  Cassandra then lowered her hand away from Jake’s cheek as he lowered his chin, wiping away the tears and muddy sand around his eyes.

  “Jake,” Cassandra whispered.

  Jake raised his head, only to see the desert and road in front of him.

  “Jake.”

  Jake looked around in front of him, only to hear Cassandra’s soft whisper trailing the wind around him.

  “Jake.”

  Cassandra’s voice could be heard from behind Jake. He quickly turned around to face Fort Worth’s Shrine once again, seeing Cassandra standing between him and the shrine. Her skin quickly changed from warm and smooth to cool and clammy. Locks of her hair began to fall, and her blue eyes changed to the gray cloudy color. A small mark on her shoulder began to appear, growing larger and bruising up quick. As blood began to ooze out from that mark, pus began to form around it.

  Jake began to back away as Cassandra slowly walked towards him. She slowly cocked her decomposing head to the side as dark red crust and liquid began to drip from the back of her head.

  “You weren’t there,” Cassandra whispered, in a soft, demonic utter.

  “Cassandra, no!” Jake shouted.

  “You said you wouldn’t let anything happen to me. You said you would protect me.”

  “Stop!”

  “But instead of keeping me safe...”

  As Cassandra was speaking, she began to transform to something grizzly. She was no longer a human being, but a crusty, flesh-less, dried up humanoid.

  “Please stop,” Jake whispered as he stooped down to the floor, frantically shivering as he tried to cover his head and squeeze his eyes shut.

  “You killed me, Jake,” Cassandra finished.

  “STOP!!”

  Jake opened his eyes again to see the top of his tent as he was looking up. As he tilted head, he noticed that the stars were still out, and the moonlight was covering the ground.

  Oh God! Jake though as he was heavily breathing. These nightmares need to stop. I can’t take much more of that.

  Jake felt a cold chill kissing the side of his neck, sliding down the back of his spine. His eyes widened as sweat started trickling down his forehead. He turned to his side and saw a decomposed humanoid figure of what used to be Cassandra.

  “Jake.”

  Jake finally opened his eyes again, gasping as he shot up from his pallet, tightly gripping his pistol. He continued to wave it back and forth, making sure there was no one in his tent. His hands were shaking as he attempted to holster his weapon.

  Jake then glanced outside of his tent. The sun was shining, and he could hear the other soldiers moving about from outside his tent.

  As Jake holstered his sidearm, he covered his face with his hands and briefly wept before putting on his clothing and gear.

  I’m losing it, Jake thought. I don’t know how much more of them nightmares I can take.

&
nbsp; Three weeks had passed since Jake’s nightmare. The settlement had already migrated to Lamont, a small town that was East of Tallahassee on Highway 27, and were preparing to move on to another city to camp in.

  Jake was five miles north of Lamont on a scavenger run with Boris, Brandon, Tyrese, and Kyle, who was recently cleared for duty.

  “Glad to see you’re back on your feet, L.T.,” Tyrese complimented. “How was civilian life treating ya?”

  “It was pretty good,” Kyle replied. “But I was gettin’ a little homesick, if you know what I mean.”

  “You like that little addition the techs fixed up for you?” Brandon asked, referring to Kyle’s prosthetic arm, which was composed of rods, strong springs for the joints on his fingers and wrist, rubber on the palm for strong grip, and and an iron plate to surround the mechanics, with a leather harness for hitch the prosthetic to his stump.

  “It’s alright,” Kyle answered, moving his iron arm up and down. “A little heavy, but I’ll get used to it. I could use a good workout. Good thing I’m right handed.”

  Boris stayed silent in the back of the group, keeping his eyes on Jake inconspicuously.

  “Hey, did you hear about that Boyer fella?” Tyrese asked the group. “Word has it he and his little squad of four found a storage unit filled with martial arts gear and ninja weapons.”

  “Yeah,” Brandon replied. “I’m a little jealous about that, but those guys are pretty good at all that climbing and unarmed combat and stuff. They should probably keep it, cuz they know more about that stuff than I do.”

  “Kinda depressing,” Kyle joked. “You being everyone’s superior, and they know something you don’t; then again, they know more about that ninja stuff than I do, and I’m above them as well. So, I probably shouldn’t be saying anything either.”

  “Those guys are pretty fast,” Tyrese continued. “I don’t know about you fellas, but we still need a scout team. I say we might just have one right there, and I think Private Boyer should be trained to run it that team. What do you think, Marshal?”

  “I agree,” Jake answered. “Let’s discuss it with the other council members first. If they think so as well, then we can go ahead and invest in that once we move out of this settle...”

  As the squad was skimming along the highway and next to the trees, a straggling zombie appeared in the midst. Jake gazed on that strolling corpse, then heard Cassandra whispering his name. His eye started twitching as he watched it trot to the squad’s direction.

  “Got a straggler,” Kyle informed, raising up his rifle, using his prosthetic as a gun rest. “I got him.”

  Jake trotted in the zombie’s direction, nearly crossing Kyle’s line of fire.

  “Hold!” Tyrese ordered Kyle. “Jake, what are you...”

  Jake tackled the zombie where it stood, pinning its arms with his knees, and then rapidly punching it in the face, avoiding its teeth. Jake continued to whack the zombie with his fists, knocking its head to the left, and then the right, and then back to the left. Eventually, the zombie stopped struggling as Jake continued to bash through its brain.

  “Hey, Marshal,” Brandon called out. “I think you got him.”

  Jake did not stop hitting the motionless body.

  “Jake,” Tyrese called out. “Joke’s on us, bud. Let’s finish the run.”

  Jake continued to unload on the zombie, this time faster and more frantic. Tyrese, Brandon, and Kyle then intervened, trying to pull Jake away from the tenderized zombie.

  “That’s enough, Jake!” Tyrese grunted as the three pinned him against a tree.

  Jake nearly hyperventilated, breathing heavily as he struggled to break loose.

  “I’m calling everyone else,” Boris suggested.

  “You will do no such, General!” Brandon ordered. “We will handle this!”

  “Jake, bud,” Kyle said, waving his prosthetic in front of Jake, attempting to get his attention.

  Jake continued breathing heavily, staying focused on the zombie he had pounded to the concrete.

  “Jake,” Brandon asserted. “Snap out of it, man! What’s gotten into you?!”

  “Chief,” Tyrese said. “We gotta call this in! He’s not gonna stop!”

  “No disrespect, sir, but screw that! You and I both know what’s gonna happen if we call it in!”

  “There’s nothing we can do now! The council’s already gonna know about this! If we don’t call it in, he’s done for anyways!”

  Jake continued to struggle as the three kept him trapped.

  “Sonuva...” Brandon grunted as he pulled out his radio. “Temp-Set, this is Captain’s Guard! We’re aborting the scavenger run. Requesting HR-Team Alpha to intercept us and bring someone in for immediate medical attention!”

  “Who’s in need of attention?” Temp-Set responded. “Over?”

  “Marshal Jaycob Riley!”

  Chapter 12

  Tyrese met up with Jake, who was being checked out by the nurses in the infirmary.

  “I need a minute alone with Marshal Riley,” Tyrese stated.

  The nurses nodded in agreement, leaving the tent so that Tyrese could speak to Jake privately.

  “Jake, man,” Tyrese continued. “What the hell was up back there?”

  “I don’t know, man,” Jake answered. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, we gotta find out quick. The council wants you decommissioned. They’re saying that you have become too unstable and you’re not fit to continue your duties as Marshal, or as a member of the Z-Corps.”

  Jake rubbed his eyes and buried his head in his hands.

  “What’s wrong with me, Ty?” Jake whispered. “I’m losing it. I can’t get Cassandra out of my head. I can’t get Fort Worth Shrine out of my head. These nightmares... I can’t get rid of ‘em!”

  “Cassandra,” Tyrese mumbled. “You’re not seeing things, are you?”

  “No. Not yet anyways. But today was the first time I started hearing things.”

  “You didn’t let the adviser know about your nightmares?”

  Jake sat silent on his bed. Tyrese propped himself against a table, sticking his hands in his pockets, and then shaking his head in discouragement.

  “Jake,” Tyrese sighed. “You can’t be doing that. This ‘keeping it to yourself’ deal... has gotta end. If that keeps up, you’re gonna end up digging yourself a hole so deep that I won’t be able to get you out of.”

  “I know, Ty,” Jake agreed. “So what now?”

  “Now... we have a meeting this afternoon in regards to keeping you in the Corps. But I would get ready; I have a bad feeling in regards to your position in the council.”

  With that, Tyrese left the infirmary, and the nurses came back in to finish Jake’s checkup. He stayed at the infirmary until Brandon came to pick him up for that night’s meeting.

  The tent was set up much different. It was set up similar to a court room, with the council members set up as judges, and the observers were set up behind Jake, who was in the middle of the tent as the man under trial.

  Tyrese, who was in the middle of the council members, banged his canteen on the table they were sitting in, silencing everyone present.

  “Alright,” Tyrese began. “This next official meeting has been called to order. We have met together to discuss Marshal Jaycob Riley’s circumstances. Many of the members have agreed that he is too unstable to continue his duties as Temp-Set Marshal. We are here to discuss any ways for him to continue, if there is. Do you understand what we are here for, Marshal?”

  “Yes, I do, Presiding Officer Jones,” Jake responded. “Please proceed.”

  “The reason we are discussing both suggestions is because you have started this settlement over a year ago. You brought up the Z-Corps from out of the ashes. Personally, I am supporting your stay; however, given the circumstances you are undergoing, the council feels that your stay may not be in our best interest as a whole.”

  “I am also supporting his stay as well,” Brandon added. “Rega
rdless of today’s circumstances, It would be difficult to sustain the settlement without his expertise.”

  “General Boris Holt witnessed his episode earlier today as he went with him on the scavenger run,” Alan said. “Already given that some of the poor decisions that have been suggested by Marshal Riley in the past, I would say he is not fit at all to run this settlement. He was given a psychiatric evaluation by the nurses under Surgeon General Singletary’s command. General Singletary, would you care to read us your evaluation?”

  “Yes I can, Senator Scott,” Nick answered, clearing his throat and adjusting his lenses as he pulled out his records. “My evaluation is stated as this: ‘Marshal Jaycob Riley has been evaluated on October 22nd at 11:17 a.m. Given from the information provided to us by the members of HR-Team Alpha and General Boris Holt, and by the evaluation that followed, Marshal Riley is experiencing moderate symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or P.T.S.D. Because of this, I must be medically inclined to say that Marshal Jaycob Riley is too unstable to serve and should be relieved of council position and decommissioned from the Z-Corps.”

  “There you have it,” Alan concluded. “A major reason as to why Marshal Riley should not be on this council.”

  “I would also like to add this,” Nick continued. “Should he receive treatment, which would be counseling from Bryan Willis, our Temp-Set Adviser and certified military psychiatrist, for a period of up to 3 months, then he would be recommissioned as an active duty member of the Z-Corps.”

  “But what about being reinstated as ‘Marshal?’” Brandon asked.

  “He would have to reapply and be voted in by the council six months from now,” Tyrese answered. “Until that time comes, I would be taking his position as ‘Marshal Tyrese Jones, and Adviser Bryan Willis would be taking my spot as ‘Presiding Officer Willis.’”

  “But who would be taking the advisory position?” Alan asked.

  “For now, Senator Alan Scott would be taking that spot and Mayor Malachi Watson would be taking the senator’s position. Once we vote in, if Jaycob Riley is fit to reclaim his position as ‘Marshal Jaycob Riley,’ he will reclaim that spot.”

  The council agreed in unison and turned to Jake, who was awaiting his verdict.