Dan Winters ran. He had to get to his boat and make a run for it at least across the river. He couldn’t go south now because they would be waiting for him on the river. But his conscience was starting to get real itchy and he began to feel like he needed to go north. Right now, he just wanted to get away.
“There he is! Get him!” Shots whipped past his head as he crashed down the long slope towards the water. The men above him were clearly unused to a hard chase and Dan was able to keep ahead of them. He had kept his weapon, but he knew if he stopped and fought, he would be outflanked and killed in a short amount of time. The greatest danger would be the few precious seconds he was going to need to get the boat untied and started, but if he could gain a few seconds, he might be able to make it.
As he reached the bottom of the slope pretty much on his ass, Dan stretched his long legs and ran like he had never run before. While taking shelter behind a tree, he looked for his pursuers and saw them just halfway down the slope, dim shapes through the leaves.
Praying for luck, he took out his handgun and fired as best he could with shaking hands. Four shots and then he was running again, not even looking to see if he had hit anything. The men on the hill shouted and ducked for cover, giving Dan a few seconds to get away. But when more shots weren’t forthcoming, the soldiers continued pursuit.
Winters ran for the water’s edge and then ran upriver to where his boat was moored. He slashed the rope with his knife, then threw the boat into the water, launching himself into the back end. Muttering a quick prayer, he yanked on the cord and the engine to life, then died.
Cursing, Dan primed the motor, prayed again, then tried again The motor coughed again and then died. Dan primed it again, all the while realizing he was drifting closer to his pursuers.
Yanking the cord again, Dan ducked down as a bullet careened off his gunwale and ricocheted into the sky. The engine coughed, sputtered, wheezed, then roared to life, surging forward and nearly tipping Winters overboard. He corrected himself and sent the boat running upriver as bullets whipped past and churned the water around him. He fired his own weapon over his shoulder at the assembled men on the shore, causing them once again to duck.
Just as he was about to round a bend to relative safety, Dan pitched forward as a sledgehammer slammed into his back. He managed to keep a hand on the tiller and steered himself away from the fight.
Back on the shore, the men saw Winters fall and figured him for dead. They reloaded their spent magazines and started the long walk down the river back to the lodge, congratulating themselves on a job well done.
Dan knew he was in a bad way, but he couldn’t go for help. He shoved a towel onto his injured back and strapped his backpack on as tight as he could, trying to stop the bleeding. The bullet hadn’t gone completely through, but was lodged in his back near his shoulder. His right arm was nearly useless, but he had to keep going. He had to get to Starved Rock and warn the families there they were in danger because of his stupidity.
After he and his friends had quit the community, they had found nothing but hardship. They had lost one of their number in a bad town crawling with little fast zombies that had chased them to the river. They managed to escape, but just when things seemed to go well, they turned bad again. After a month of living hand to mouth, Dan had regretted acting like such a fool. He and his companion were just about to turn north anyway and ask forgiveness when they had been caught. Now Dan’s big mouth may have condemned several people to die, but it wasn’t going to happen if he could help it.
Winters travelled until nightfall, then beached himself on a small island. It was safer than trying to find a place on shore. He settled into a feverish sleep, sweating and fidgeting.
In the morning, Dan woke up to find the sun full on his face. He had slept longer than he wanted to and his shoulder was stiff as a board. It was a struggle to get up and even harder to start the motor, but he managed to do it, crying out in pain as he fell back when the motor kicked to life. His shoulder was a mess of dried blood and the towel was stuck to his back, but the bleeding had stopped. Dan gritted his teeth and continued north.
A week later, a man tending to cattle held on an island in the middle of a river discovered a small boat grounded on the south side. He surely hadn’t seen it before, but approached it cautiously, since there appeared to be a bloody hand hanging over the side. Looking in, he saw a man, barely old enough to shave, slumped in the bottom of the boat, hardly breathing. Carefully lifting him, the man brought the injured kid over to his boat and took him swiftly across the river to the landing on the other side.
Taking out his radio, he called ahead and received a reply, telling him to hold tight and wait. The man took the delay as an opportunity to look over the injured man, giving him water and trying to see the extent of his injuries. He appeared to have been shot, a curious thing, but the wound looked old, several days at least. Ten minutes later, a large man appeared from the woods, making no more noise than a shadow. He was well-armed and took in his surroundings every few seconds, making sure all was well in his vicinity.
The second man spoke. “What have you found, Mike?”
“Well, I was over checking on the livestock when I found this jasper in the boat on the…whoa!” Mike jumped back as the standing man drew his weapon and trained it on the head of the man lying down. The prone man’s head had turned at the sound of voices and was instantly recognized by the newcomer. Mike drew his own weapon in response and stood up next to other man. “What’s going on?” he asked, pointing his own weapon at the wounded man.
Charlie James knelt down by Dan Winters and spoke coldly. “If you can hear me, you’d better give me a reason for not killing you right now.”
Dan opened his eyes and tried to think through his fever-racked brain. All he could muster was, “They’re coming for you.”
Charlie looked around, his brow furrowing. “Who? Dan, don’t crap out on me now. Who?”
Winters took a few deep breaths. “Thorton.” More breaths. “He knows where you are.”
Charlie cursed. It was what he and John had feared. “Where did you escape? When?” Charlie was impatient and concerned all at the same time. He opened his canteen and splashed some water on Dan’s face. “You gotta talk to me, kid,” he said sternly.
Dan seemed to revive a little with the water. “Seven days. Pere Marquette.” He slumped into unconsciousness, unable to speak anymore.
Mike looked at Charlie. “What do you want me to do?”
Charlie looked down at Dan. “Take him to the Visitor Center, I’ll get Rebecca down to look at him. After that, get yourself armed. We got a fight coming.” Charlie looked at the lodge and the surrounding area. For all he knew, the fight was already here.