Chapter 79

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The river's current propelled me forward. Cold as ice, the water entered my lungs, clutching me into rigidity, my body sinking deeper, never touching the bottom. I clamored upward, holding my breath as long as I could until I felt the air passing through my outstretched fingers. I broke through the surface and took a big gasp of air. A powerful wave pushed me down again, and I tumbled around twice before I heaved for air.

I looked up and saw that my pursuers stood at the edge of the waterfall; one man had his rifle aimed at me.

He pulled the trigger.

Bullet wheezed past an inch from my right ear. I ducked into the water, riding the current, and held my breath for half a minute before I went back up to the surface. I got further and further from the waterfall and the plunge pool. I couldn't hear what they were saying, their forms getting smaller and smaller, but based on their body language, they were fucking pissed. A woman had a radio over her ears, possibly calling for backup.

The man who screamed about his dog shouted after me, but the waterfall's noise drowned out his cries, though the way he curled his fist and made obscene gestures were obvious enough that he wanted to kill me. I had no choice about his dog. It was trying to fucking kill me!

I turned around, facing the distant, round buildings peeking from the top of the canopy, my refuge against these psychos. I was already too far away for my pursuers for them to get an excellent shot at me. I thought of swimming to the edge, but I was in a shallow gorge made of rocky steep cliffs and slippery moss on each side. There's no way out. I had no choice but to ride the current, hoping I wouldn't run into any protruding rocks, but the current slowed once I got further downriver.

From my left, I saw a flat riverbank, so I swam in that direction. A barrier net surrounded the area filled with swim platforms, multi-colored beach balls, and floats. I clambered up the net, which stuck out of the water's surface by a meter high, an easy climb. I swam underneath a footbridge connecting this riverbank to the other side.

My foot touched the silted bottom, tiptoeing at first until I felt the mud gripping my ankles, so I forced one foot forward than the other, exerting more of my dwindling strength. My knees weakened once I reached dry ground, collapsing on the hot sand onto my back, panting for air. I closed my eyes and let my body relaxed, enjoying how amazing it was to be out of the freezing water.

I lay down on the sand for two minutes, catching my breath. I opened one eye, looked around until I caught sight of the ledge I leaped off from, now a mere thin line in the horizon; my pursuers had vanished. I breathed out a sigh of relief.

To my right, I saw a colorful blue and orange banner plastered by a lifeguard tower that said:

EBBING FALLS RESORT
Upstate New York's Greatest Secret To Die For!

"Well, you're not wrong." I got up and walked over to the banner. They plastered a taped sign over the resort's waterfall-canyon logo:

CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. NO TRESPASSING!
All Staff Wear Masks! Safety First!

"Eh. Tough luck. I'm here now."

Beyond the riverbank were a dozen small, cabin-sized bungalows made of wood and straws, all the doors numbered, large enough to house a family in, and strategically surrounded by the woods to maintain the resort's campground aesthetics. There was also a bar area surrounded by round plastic tables and chairs, and a more massive structure with the bathroom signs propped over the awning, and right next to it was the maintenance shed. However, the bungalows' windows had been broken, some doors were busted inward, the bar had no booze, the chairs and tables in disarray, signs that the whole place was looted a long time ago.

Plus, there were a dozen dead bodies scattered around the riverbank. They had been dead for days now as I couldn't smell their putrid rot any longer, maggots and flies brimming where their wounds were, skin already turned purplish-black, and some had their limbs and flesh gouge out by either wild animals or from the vectors.

I took out my hatchet and strode to the nearest body, a man in a torn-up Northface jacket and jeans. I went cold when I saw that the guy didn't have two-pupil eyes. I checked the others and realized none were vectors, but they had riddled all of them with bullet holes. The resort wasn't just looted; another group attacked it.

I explored further, witnessing signs that the resort was an abandoned settlement for many survivors. Their clothes were still neatly packed inside the closet, picture frames propped on top of the drawers, mementos and trinkets displayed alike, bowls of rotten food uneaten, a table filled with playing cards that showed this place was once home to life.

If a massive gun battle took place around these parts, vectors should be in the area. I glanced down at my hatchet and my gun, remembering I only had nine bullets left. Before I moved further into the main resort, I armed myself, not knowing if I am facing a massive horde, or worse, armed survivors.

I found a backpack in one cabin, hidden at the side of a closet, one of those nylon day-hiking brands, small enough for me to carry and not too heavy, and dumped the contents on the bed. There I found a lighter with a Hello Kitty sticker on, a chapstick, a bottle of sunscreen, sunglasses, rolls of rubber bands, a baseball cap, two pens and pencils, a photo album, a stuffed koala dog toy, a half-empty water bottle, and a small bag of Doritos with a plastered sticky note that read:

MINE. DON'T TOUCH!

Eh. It's mine now.

At the two front pockets had birth certificates, passports, and driver's licenses from three people, which I presumed to be the family who used to live here. I also found a cracked iPhone, extra shoelaces, a box of tampons, a makeup kit, a hairbrush, a can of hairspray, a pair of green socks, and a pepper spray.

While my clothes would dry out under the summer heat, my boots wouldn't be as fast. I quickly took off my shoes when I found a pair of size nine running shoes by the door. I also took off my wet socks and put on the green ones I found. I put my damp hiking boots and the socks inside the backpack, intending to dry them out later. As for the pile of stuff, I put on the baseball cap and shoved most of them back inside the compartment except for the photo albums, makeup, and the documents. I drank the entire water bottle, saving the bottle for later, and pocketed the pepper spray inside my jeans. I didn't see any guns or other weapons around; the looters had probably taken them. I ripped two strips from the bedsheets and then strode down to the bar area. Whoever went through here mostly cleaned out the selection of booze, although I still found two bottles of Everclear at the bottom of the shelves, which said they were 190 Proof.

"Damn." I opened the cap and took a whiff. I flinched back. "Fuck! That'll do."

I checked the counter just in case, though I had no use for the loose bills and cup holders scattered along the surface. I grabbed the sheathed icepick lying inside the already melted icebox. I pocketed the icepick next to my pepper spray.

Next, I headed for the maintenance shed, which was also stripped bare, except the looters forgot to touch the lawnmower. Inside, I found some motor oil, which I mixed with the Everclear, and then coiled the cloth's strips through the hole. I used the rolls of rubber bands to secure the fabric around the bottle; that way, there were no leaks once I tied them on the water bottle holder on each side. For the past few weeks, I watched Alfie made his Molotov cocktails, and I even helped him made some before their supply runs.

I examined what I had collected for a second, impressed with the haul I got. "I'm coming, guys. Just hold on tight," I muttered.

I hoped everyone was still alive. I didn't know where their home base was, but I reckoned that it would be closer to town. I remembered when we were discussing our routes that there should be a town near Elk Mountain Road. If there were friendly survivors there, maybe they would have information about the group that attacked us, if they're willing. But I thought if they also got fucked by the same assholes, then they're going to be my new best friend.

If they turned out to be working for them, well, that's a bridge I'd rather wait to cross.

Fearing that I made too much ruckus searching for supplies, I listened around, trying to point out the vectors' usual shrieks and growls, and anything peculiar. I also made sure I didn't hear voices from the other survivors, but only nature made its presence known after a minute of waiting. Sure that I was alone, I headed over to the trail leading to the main resort.

The trail went on for about two hundred feet, and I almost got lost even if it was short since it's heavily surrounded by trees, foliage, and underbrush. I surmised I was in the resort's area reserved for VIP guests since I saw multiple signs pointing to a Private VIP swimming area or Gold Members only when I walked along the trail. The path often forked to other parts of the resort, such as a section called Kids Splash Zone, Tent Explorers, and Nature Rush Trail, which lead all the way back to the waterfall itself, snaking toward the footbridge I previously passed underneath. I had to turn around when I realized where it led.

Eventually, I made it out of the trail. The river streamed out into a small lake where the resort had built a larger beach area. Instead of seeing lounge chairs, gazebos, and prim and proper landscape, the entire beach had been turned into a makeshift shantytown of tents, pavilions, and parked trailers—all torn apart and burnt to the ground. Scorch black marks of past fires were evident across the beach. Too many rotting bodies, their skin had turned rubbery and dry from basking under the sun for many days. I almost puked when I saw some bodies were from children, huddled together, preparing for death to come. They had also shot the bodies, some were stabbed, others merely burned to death, or from asphyxiation.

What a way to go.

I saw the three-story round building from the ledge, which I presumed must be the main hotel across the beach. It didn't fare better than the shantytown. Its western wing had collapsed entirely from a fire, caving down its third and second floor. I could see charred bodies peeking out from the rubble. Only the center and the eastern wing remained intact, yet there were burnt marks on its walls and roof. I reckoned a downpour must have stopped the fire.

The battle these two groups had must be something to behold and a nightmare to experience. The attackers made the vectors look like the Easter Bunny in destruction. This was brutal. This was pure hatred. All I could do was shudder and numbed myself as I made my way to the hotel. Perhaps there was more stuff in there to arm myself, but that's unlikely given the looters already ransacked the VIP area like madmen. I also assumed they had stripped the hotel clean.

I stepped onto the veranda, taking out my hatchet just in case I met an infected inside. I wanted to use my gun as a last resort because bullets would only draw more attention; Nine shots wouldn't last long. Taking a deep breath, I went into the building.

I found myself in a restaurant, the sound of nature getting fainter the further I got, which unnerved me. There were two dozen tables everywhere, booths propped to the side, a swinging door to the kitchen, and a large double door that led out to the lobby area. They decorated the walls with woodland themes, paintings, and ornamentations, though they were splattered with dried blood and punctured by bullet holes. I crept toward the double doors, making sure I didn't step on some broken glass or made too much noise via my footsteps. I was glad I traded my heavy outdoor boots for the lighter running shoes. However, the innermost part of the restaurant was bathed in darkness, given there was no electricity. I hesitated at first on using my flashlight, but I took them out of my bag.

The lobby wasn't as dark as I had expected, sunlight emanating through the imploded front entrance. The domed-glass ceiling had cracks from where the fire used to be, which also let some sunlight. Puddles of dirty rainwater had set on the marble floor, intrusive moss already growing from the moist and cool air along the walls, stones, and other wooden furniture. As I cast my light around, moss spores clung in the air. They made a home for themselves.

I walked out of the front door and turned around to face the hotel.

"Um. That was easy." I chuckled, thinking I did all that trouble trying to find the ingredients for a Molotov only not to end up meeting any resistance. I wasn't complaining, mind you, more amused.

Turning back, I went to the reception area and browsed the untouched stacks of maps and brochures from a rotating display rack. Most of them were about Ebbing Falls and Aponi Lake, mostly composed of hiking trails, kayaking, fishing spots, and the nearest spa. At the top rack, I found what I was looking for: a brochure of the town of Colby. It had a little sketch of the town's map, mostly pointing out where the historical sites were, the restaurants, and other tourist destinations.

I found Elk Mountain Road at the northeast corner of the map, where the resort and the waterfall were drawn. My shoulders slumped when I realized I had to walk ten miles to get there, which would take about three hours, give or take.

"Shit." I spat. "Shit. Shit. Shit."

It's already past noon, and I didn't want to go looking for Logan and the others in the dark. Plus, the jump from the waterfall and then swimming in the river was exhausting. I doubt I would have the energy left to go searching for them when I reached the town, and the lack of sleep I had last night didn't help. I wanted to sit down and take a quick nap.

How I wished I had a car right now. Most of the vehicles parked outside the hotel were burnt down or had their tires taken out.

I folded the map and let out a huff. "No choice, Bren," I mumbled. "You have no fucking choice." Holding my head high, I walked out of the lobby.

The previous survivors had built a barricade over the driveway leading out to the main road just a hundred yards away from the hotel's entrance, mostly made of cars, garbage containers, plywood, traffic barriers, and barbed wires. I had to climb over a school bus so I could descend to the other side when I glimpsed two pickup trucks coming down the road... and they were driving fast.

In my shock and surprise, I froze on top of the school bus for two seconds, not expecting their arrival. My mind fizzled blank of what I should do. Those brief two seconds proved to be a mistake as these strangers now had a good look at me. One man brandishing a rifle poked his head out of the window from the first pickup, aimed it at my direction, and fired.

The bullet hit the window right below me. I ducked and rolled over, screaming as I fell onto the pavement. At first, I feared I ended up on the wrong side of the blockade, but as I looked up, I was on the safer side. I heard the shooter hooting and laughing from the other side, their car screeching to a halt in front of the barricade.

"Run, little pig! Run!" The man jeered.

I recognized the voice. They were the men who chased after me.

"Quick! He went behind it!" A woman hollered.

For a split second, I judged my chances, and none of it was good. I knew I wouldn't make it back inside the hotel, which was a hundred yards away. It was too far, and once they reached the top of the barricade, they would have an excellent shot at me with their rifles. At both sides was the resort's twelve-foot fences, so even if I made a break for the woods, I had to climb over them, and that would also take time. Plus, I had to deal with the coils of barbed wires over the top rails, and that wouldn't be pleasant.

Scrambling, I swiftly took out the Molotov from the water bottle holder and the Hello Kitty lighter from my pocket. I lit up the cloth, waiting for two seconds for the flames to grow bigger. They were climbing over the barricade.

"Got you now, motherfucker!" A woman screeched.

I looked up, saw two people standing on the roof of the school bus, and the woman had a revolver trained at me. I reeled to the right just as she fired a shot, hitting the pavement. The second landed an inch from my right foot. But before she could adjust her aim, it gave me plenty of time to hurl the Molotov right on her feet. She jerked back just as the bottle hit the school bus's roof, bursting into a giant blaze. The woman recoiled and avoided the flames entirely, but she tripped over and landed on top of a traffic barrier wrapped in many coils of barbed wire.

However, the man standing next to her didn't. As the bottle exploded, the brunt of the alcohol and motor oil splashed all over his face and torso, and the last time I saw of him was in a fiery blaze. He plummeted back to the other side, blood-curdling screams emanated from his throat.

As for the woman, none of her companions could do anything to help as she thrashed, tangled by the barbed wires. They had to wait until the flames died down or were safe enough to climb again.

I didn't dare wait to find out.

I ran until my legs hurt. The others called out for the woman, Moira, to see if she was alright, but she kept on screaming like she was being butchered to death. I kept on running.

I reached the lobby, throwing myself inside, and skidded on my stomach across the marble floor. Panting, I clambered up to my feet, thinking some of them were probably already halfway across the driveway. I sprinted straight into the restaurant, out to the veranda, passing by the bar area, and then into a shantytown.

Suddenly, I stopped in my tracks.

I had three choices: One, I could jump into the lake and swim to the other shore. Two, I could hide in the woods or in one bungalow and wait them out. Or three, I could sneak past them.

For a moment, I thought of choosing the first option, but I realized I would only drown from exhaustion. I had flashes of me drowning in the middle of the lake while the psychos laughed from the shore. Well, fat chance, I would let that happen. I could go across the river, and then hide in the woods, but how long would I survive in there? How long until these people brought more backup and more dogs to sniff me out? I couldn't run forever, and I needed to get to Logan and the others before night fell.

The third option was the riskiest. I thought about walking around the fences, which was easier said than done. Imagining the woods and then experiencing it were two different things. Even a knowable person could get lost easily. I needed a car, and here it was, placed on my lap on a golden platter just behind that barricade, tempting me. All I had to do was sneak past the psychos.

And if they found me?

I shivered to think about what I'm about to do.

I walked back to the restaurant and was about to open the double doors leading into the lobby when I caught movement through the glass panel, their flashlights illuminating the space.

The psychos entered the lobby, ten of them including Moira, her skin shredded by the barbed wires, spilling her own blood all over her clothes. I didn't have to guess how pissed she was and was now after my hide. I noticed that they did not bring the Doberman

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