Page 54 of Resurrection
Aly
The mild afternoon wind surrounds me as we speed down the interstate, my breathcatching in my chest at our accomplishments. I can feel it, smell it, taste it: freedom. Absolute, blissful freedom. Freedom from running. Freedom from terror. Freedom from...everything.
Hawk lifts his hand from the throttle, taps my thigh, and then points to the side of the road where a typical tourist sign stands, leaning a little canted to the side.
Tryon Palace.
Years ago, when I first visited the place on vacation, I never would have predicted I would be moving in permanently. To live there, rather than simply visit and admire.
It turns out, we were only a couple dozen miles from our new safehouse, and, within minutes, the beautiful southern architecture comes into view. We pass by the John W. Stanley House, the Lehman-Duffy House, and the ticket center before coming face to face with the gates to Tryon Palace. Flanked on either side by the George W. Dixon House on the left and the Daves house on the right, Tryon palace is Heaven sent as I look through the wrought-iron gates. The guys seem to be equally as awestruck as I am.
Cole and Hawk slow the bikes and kill they engines just outside the gates. It’s surprising how empty the place is. How it’s almost like no one else thought of venturing out here for refuge. There doesn’t even seem to be any zombies. In fact, as soon as we entered the city limits for New Bern and slowed down, Jax pulled a hand away from Cole to hold his pistol, on guard for anything that might spring on us. But we didn’t see anything. Not a single sign of life anywhere in the area that would have prompted us to pull over and walk the rest of the way.
“This is fucking perfect,” Jax whispers, dismounting his motorcycle before holding a hand out for me as I do the same. “It’s a good choice, baby. Damn good choice.” His words are full of admiration that fill me with pride and exhilaration at the fact that we made it. That we survived the journey here. That I’m the reason we chose this place to call home and even after everything it took to get here, he still approves of the decision.
“We fucking did it, sweetheart!” Hawk’s eyes glimmer with unshed tears as he pulls me into his arms and smacks a kiss against my lips. “Holy shit! In all my years living here, I’ve never visited this place. I’ve seen pictures but it definitely didn’t do it any justice,” Hawk exclaims, releasing me to hide his bike in the bushes next to Cole’s before walking up to the gates to peer inside further. He tilts his head this way and that, and then asks, “How do we get in?”
I lift my chin to the house on the right. “We go through Daves House.”
He scrunches his face. “Ok... This is Tryon Palace. Like, a famous guy. And I’m sure, after the Revolutionary War, a bunch of our founding fathers probably decided to take over this joint. But I know for a fact none of them were some dude named Dave,” Hawk asks, following me up the steps to the door.
“NotDave, silly. John Pugh Daves. He was a Revolutionary War officer and a Mason too. Not sure how far along in the ranks but, yeah. That’s him, and this is his house,” I say, turning back to the guys just as I reach the door.
Jax moves to the front, taking charge. He bangs on the door a couple of times, but gets no answer in return. “Ok, boys. One last time. Aly, you and Sadie good with covering the front from out here?”
I lift my weapon, testing the weight of it, reminding myself of all the training the guys helped teach me.
I am strong.
I am capable.
I can do this.
“Good to go, big guy,” I say in return, checking and reloading my AR-15. Using the railing, I balance the weapon atop it and kneel behind, the wooden slats offering just enough cover for me if anything goes to shit. Sadie takes position next to me, her eyes searching for anything that moves.
“That’s our girl. Be back soon.” After a quick kiss to the top of my head and pets for Sadie, they lift their guns, already locked and loaded, and try the doorknob with no success. It doesn’t deter them in the slightest, however, because Jax simply moves to the side, leaving enough room for Hawk to lift his big ass foot and slam his heel right into the wood, unlocking it in a more abrupt fashion. With a loud crack, the door splinters, the hinges barely holding on, but Hawk simply steps back and bows dramatically. “After you.” Jax enters first, his weapon at the ready, then Cole, followed by Hawk, taking up the rear.
It's silent as I wait for them to meticulously go room to room, clearing every square inch of the house. No footsteps. No communication. Just... silence. It’s amazing how three guys can walk through a century’s old house and not make a single floor board creak, but they somehow succeed.
A moment later, the silence is broken. I turn to the left, searching the side roads for the cause andimmediately find it. The motorcycles must have drawn them to our location as a set of five lurkers turn the corner. They’re moving fast, but, luckily, not running. Not yet. Which means they haven’t noticed me on the stoop, but they will, especially since they’re stalking in my direction.
Shit.
Should I get the guys? No, they’re clearing the house. If I go after them now, they could either get taken out by someone hiding inside—if there even is anyone inside—or, they’d take me out, mistaking me for a threat.
Crap. Maybe the lurkers will just pass by. It’s happened before. One can hope the same will happen this time, right?
They don’t, however, and continue to march their gnarly, growling asses right to the house I’m hiding in front of. Son of a bitch.
I haven’t taken on this many by myself, in... well...ever. But, with no other choice, I ready my position. Thankfully, Jax equipped each of our rifles with silencers, making them perfect to use right now and not have to worry about drawing in any more. Taking a deep breath, I center myself.
I will not die today. I am strong. I am capable. I am lethal. I am death.
“Fuck, yeah, I am.”
Resituating my rifle, I aim at the grouping. They’re positioned relatively close together, so, at thisrange, I should be able to hit at least one of them. I steady my breath one last time and squeeze the trigger. The first shot misses, but the second hits its mark, taking the first one down with a bullet through its skull. Turning slightly, I take down two more with my gun before the final two rush towards me. I can’t turn around fast enough to aim at them, but Sadie growls protectively and leaps onto one while I lift my face shield, unsheathe my knife, and jump off the steps right behind her, taking on the other. The long steel of my blade strikes true as I plunge it right into its eye socket, causing both the zombie and myself to tumble to the ground in a heap of flesh and death. Once I know it’s good and dead, I turn and take out the one Sadie managed to pinned to the ground for me. Thankfully, it hasn’t been able to reach far enough to bite her, and I waste no more time in ending this one before it has a chance to. The satisfying yet repulsive squelch, as my blade sinks into its temple, forces the lurker beneath me to stop its attack and fall limply to the ground. Sadie, still panting from the attack, steps cautiously towards me.
“Good girl,” I praise, patting her head, my own spinning at what I just achieved. “We did it.” I swallow hard and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to regulate my racing heartbeat. “We did it.” With a stuttered breath and shaking hands, I stand, reach for my bag, and take out the package of baby wipes from the side pouch, cleansing my hands and arms and anywhere else I may have gotten contaminated. Then, with one last deep breath, I retake my position on the steps and resume my post.
