Judgment Day (Book 3): Retribution Read online

  “Mr. Philosophical,” Steve joked as they walked back to the RV.

  Inside, Tom and his family feasted on the sausages, potato and pasta salads, and an excess of other camp foods until they were bloated.

  Life was great.

  1705 hours

  It was late in the afternoon when the RV pulled into Tom Brason’s driveway. After his wife, Barbara, had passed away, Tom had sold his old house in western Connecticut and moved. His new residence sat on top of a hill overlooking Fullertown, a medium-sized town in southeastern New York. The house was 4,200 square feet, had two stories, and was connected to over two acres of undeveloped hillside land. Only a few other houses occupied the cul-de-sac, leaving the neighborhood fairly quiet. Cell phone service was almost nonexistent, so most knew to just turn off their phones when they came.

  The garage looked like a small outdoors shop, a true outdoor enthusiast’s wet dream. Across from Tom’s fully restored 1955 T-Bird and 2008 Yukon Denali sat an endless sea of cupboards and drawers. They were filled with clothing, backpacking supplies, camping equipment, and other hiking and climbing paraphernalia. As if that wasn’t enough, Tom also had a section dedicated to weapons and ammo. Throughout his military career, Tom had the opportunity to collect and purchase a variety of weapons. Some weren’t technically legal by New York law, but he got around that through military privilege. He owned a variety of handguns in every caliber, preferring .45’s over most. His stainless steel gun racks also held various rifles and shotguns. Beneath the guns, Tom always kept a surplus of ammo stocked. Steve and Mike used to joke that he wasn’t at war anymore. His nieces didn’t care about “gun stuff,” but his older nephews always admired his collection, asking if he had anything new to show.

  The other relatives would be arriving in roughly an hour, which left the guys enough time to break down equipment and prepare for the party. It took Steve, Alex, Billy, Collin, Mike, and Tom no time to clear out the RV from their hunting trip to Greene County National Forest. As a military man, Tom was very organized and particular, so packing and unpacking was relatively effortless.

  After they finished, Tom asked for their help loading a few pallets of inventory into the RV. Most of the cardboard boxes were filled with various calibers of handgun and rifle ammo. Others were filled with miscellaneous merchandise, including Tom’s Beef, a new line of beef jerky that Tom cut, smoked, and packaged himself. He needed the product at his first and most profitable store in up-state New York. He was going to drive it up the following day.

  They all agreed without protest, knowing that Tom took such good care of them. It was the least they could do. It took them ten minutes to load the shipment into the RV. Afterwards, everyone dispersed to their own activities. Mike, Collin, Billy, and Alex left to shower and get dressed; they wanted a little time to themselves to relax.

  Steve stayed behind in the RV, cleaning his rifle; the satellite TV next to him was on, but muted. On the seat next to him sat his journal. Tom entered, setting down some supplies. Steve could tell something was on his dad’s mind, but didn’t want to ask, fearing he already knew the question.

  “Another great trip, huh?” Tom asked, taking out a bottle of water from the fridge.

  “Yeah, I think the guys had a really good time. The new radios and stuff were a hit,” Steve replied, not looking up.

  Tom picked up the rifle from Steve’s hands and cycled the chamber. “You remember when I got this for you? You were so excited.”

  “Yeah, Dad, it was right after I took first at national championships two years ago.”

  Tom set the weapon down and pulled a letter from his pocket. He tossed the folded paper in front of his son. Steve didn’t have to open the letter to know what it was. He saw the symbol on the corner and knew immediately. It was his letter of acceptance from the University of Southern California graduate school, including words of excitement from the head of the English department.

  Before Steve could explain, Tom spoke. “So, when were you going to tell me about this?”

  “We talked about it, Dad. You, me, and Mom.”

  “We talked about undergrad. As much as I wanted you to enlist out of high school, I knew your mom would never allow it, so I agreed to you getting your undergrad, then go through officer school.”

  “Come on, Dad, that’s your dream! I don’t want to be in the military.”

  “My dream? What do you think we’ve been doing all these years? Shooting competitions, trainings, Marine base visits—I was trying to get you ahead of the competition. To be elite!”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “That you’ll be a Marine, damnit!”

  “Well, I won’t, Dad. I want to write,” Steve argued, reaching down to retrieve his journal.

  “What is this writing pussy-shit? You are a Brason. You are a warrior!” Tom said, snatching the leather-bound journal from his son’s hand and tossing it against the wall. The pages flickered open as the book landed back on the seat. Something slid halfway out.

  Steve may not have been a soldier, but he had his dad’s attitude and temper. He rose and stood strong in his father’s face. “Then what about Mike, huh? Your oldest son. Why isn't he your Marine? Why does it have to be me?”

  “Your brother is a lost cause. I tried with him, but he just doesn’t care about anything. Only surfing and smoking his pot—yes, I know he does. It’s no secret. Now stop changing the subject.”

  Steve slammed his fist against the wall. “That’s so fucked, Dad! I hate how you won’t let me be my own person. Mom would have supported me no matter what!”

  Emotions and anger escalated to a boiling point. Their voices rang throughout the RV, into the yard and house. Hearing the exchange from outside, Collin came over and knocked on the wide open side door.

  “Guys, everything okay in here?” he asked timidly.

  “Everything is fine, Collin,” Tom said, breathing heavily and staring daggers at his son.

  Some of the extended family began arriving early for the party. “We’ll finish this talk later. At least there’s one person in this family who has the balls to serve his country!” he said, storming off back into the house.

  Taking out his aggression, Steve began to scrub the barrel of his rifle incredibly hard.

  Collin stepped inside and sat down across from him. “You know he doesn’t mean that. Any of it.”

  “I know. It’s just that I don’t get it. Why is it so hard for him to understand that I don’t want to be a soldier? I want to be a writer.”

  “He will. I mean, Mike’s...lost right now, and he just thought that he had a chance with you.”

  “I know, but it’s not fair.”

  “I know, cuz. I’ll talk to him about it. But you should probably get ready. The fam is getting here. I’ll talk to you later on, okay?”

  Collin left Steve to his thoughts and greeted his family. Steve stayed behind and finished cleaning and re-assembling the rifle. He looked down at his journal. He noticed the picture slightly protruding from the pages. It was a copy of their family portrait from a few years before. Steve slid it gently back in his journal as a bookmark. I miss you so much, Mom, he thought. He took a shower, staying in until the hot water ran out.

  As he showered, the TV switched away from its normal programming to show a breaking news headline. All around New York City and neighboring counties, what seemed to be riots were occurring.

  It was only a matter of time.

  1805 hours

  The streetlights came on as the last of the family arrived. The pleasant hum of chatter and excitement ran through the house and backyard. Most of those invited had been able to make it, and almost fifty were present.

  Tom came from a decent-sized family, with two brothers and one sister. Each of his siblings had a few children. The real numbers came from Barbara’s side of the family. She had been the oldest of five and each of her siblings had anywhere from two to six children of their own. Since Barbara’s passing from bre
ast cancer, the family had grown closer. “Time’s short,” they would say. “We should do as much as we can together.”

  If they only knew how true that was.

  The party was roaring, and everyone was having a great time, some more than others. Tom’s sister, Patty, and Barbara’s youngest and wildest sister, Mary, started off the night with three tequila shots. After the last one, they sucked on limes and switched to their infamous Patty-coladas and Mary-garitas. No one really knew what was in either drink, just that when these two women partied together, it was like Mardi-Gras.

  The youngest cousins ran all over the house, building forts and living in their own imaginary worlds. At a whim, Cowboys and Indians would change into Astronauts and Aliens. The kids loved the size of Tom’s new house.

  The older cousins stayed outside with the adults, drinking and answering all sorts of questions. How was the trip? Who bagged the biggest? What’s new? Their throats hurt from talking so much.

  Tom had set up tables and chairs outside to accommodate everyone. As soon as he rang the dinner bell, everyone rushed over and filled their plates. It was a true feast. Along with a variety of grilled meats, there were mashed potatoes, salads, breads, and what seemed like a million other dishes. Tom’s specialty was his prime rib, a juicy, marinated meat-lover’s delight.

  At the end of the table, Alex’s older sister, Krissy, sat next to Steve, waiting for an opportunity to open her mouth. She was one of those people who loved their own voice. During her parents’ divorce, she had played both parties for money, ultimately ending up in Southern California with her mom. She always defended herself, saying, “It’s not about the money, it’s about the emotional anguish I’ve had to go through. You just don’t get it.” And most didn’t, until three totaled convertible Mustangs later. That ended any pity they had for her. They loved her, but everyone agreed she was a pretentious bitch.

  Krissy dropped out of UCLA in her sophomore year to pursue acting, but didn’t get any attention until she coerced her mom into paying for her breast augmentation. The incriminating adulterous photos she used as leverage never found their way to Alex’s dad. The procedure upped her confidence and her bust, all the way to a 34DD.

  “So, Steve, why don’t you move to California?” Krissy asked. “It’d be, like, so much fun. We could, like, live together. And I could, like, hook you up with some of my actor friends. It would be so cool!”

  “Yeah, maybe,” Steve said, trying to keep that topic unheard.

  David Forest, Krissy’s dad, sat across from Steve, stuffing his mouth with thick slices of prime rib and mashed potatoes.

  “Yeah, Steve, what are you going to do after graduation?” he said, spitting out bits of potato as he talked.

  Steve looked over at his dad, then quickly back to David. “Not too sure yet, Uncle Dave. Keeping my options open,” he replied, desperate to avoid a potential fight.

  Collin stepped in and started asking David and Krissy some random questions to deflect the conversation. It worked. Steve lipped a “thanks” to Collin, who nodded. The rest of the meal passed without another word of Steve’s future.

  1833 hours

  One by one, people left and the dinner-table crowd grew thin. Some went for seconds or dessert, while others slumped on the couch in a food coma. It was a typical Brason party. As Tom finished his plate, intent on another helping of tri-tip steak, a group of his younger nieces and nephews ran over.

  “Uncle Tom,” Collin’s little sister, Alexandria, said. “Why aren’t the TVs working?”

  “I’m not sure, honey. Before I left I was switching over to satellite TV. It was supposed to be finished before we got back.”

  David cut in. “What? No Sunday Night Football?” he whined.

  “Sorry, Dave, doesn’t look like it,” Tom said. He looked down at Alexandria, who was giving him an innocent look of sadness. “I’ll tell you what. Steve keeps a million DVDs in the TV room. Why don’t you guys go pick out a few movies, and grab some candy and dessert? I’ll be in in a few minutes to set it up for you. How does that sound?”

  Alexandria’s frown turned upside down, and she and the others ran into the house toward the TV room, making a quick stop at the dessert tray.

  After everyone was finally done gorging, the remaining food was packaged in to-go Tupperware containers. Like clockwork, the party split. The adults stayed outside for drinks and desserts. The younger cousins and girls played around the house, waiting for Tom to set up the movie. Collin, Billy, Alex, Steve, and Mike headed upstairs to relax.

  Inside the bonus room, the cousins sprawled out. The room was riddled with a variety of outdoors pictures, equipment, and guns. A black, L-shaped couch sat in the middle of the room. On one side was a computer, and on the other was a gun collection and desk. In the front, near the door, a huge plasma TV was mounted to the wall.

  Billy and Alex took over the couch and played video games. They started with Grand Turismo, Alex’s favorite. After losing five consecutive races, Billy threw the PlayStation controller at the console, accidentally freezing the system.

  “Fuck, my bad. I got it,” Billy said, crawling toward the PS3. “Why can I never get away from electrical work?”

  “Karma. Just watch, you’ll be doing it forever!” Alex called out jokingly.

  Mike sat on the La-Z-Boy adjacent to the couch. A small joint rested between his lips. He had the window cracked open to blow the smoke out, careful not to stink up the room. In his lap, he manicured a tiny little pot plant, petting it and talking to it like it was a baby.

  Billy got the system working again, and both he and Alex took a quick drag from Mike’s joint and went back to playing. Alex didn’t notice until the game was loaded that Billy had switched the game to his favorite, Call of Duty.

  Collin and Steve sat in the corner of the room with the guns. Steve had his Sig on the table, disassembled but clean. Collin took Tom’s Magnum from the mantle and cycled the rounds.

  “He just doesn’t get it. He’s so damn stubborn,” Steve said.

  “I talked with him for a little. He loves you. You know that. He just really wants you to serve. He just wanted to keep the tradition going, ya know.”

  “I know, but he needs to understand I just want to be me.”

  “I think his main concern is just that you didn’t even tell him you were applying to grad school. He said he knew before we left for the hunt. He got the mail when you were out and opened it.”

  “Of all the days it had to come.”

  From the town of Fullertown below, the distant sounds of gunfire drifted towards the house, sounding like fireworks and partying. Outside, the adults were too occupied with booze, loud music and chatter to notice.

  1947 hours

  Many hours and multiple cocktails later, the party continued to rage on. Patty and Mary brought out a few bottles of tequila and lined up shot glasses, convincing everyone, even the designated drivers, to do a shot.

  “Looks like that’s my cue,” Tom said, avoiding the pressure to do a shot. He saw the trashcans filling with plates and cans and went to take them out. On his way to the side, David stopped him.

  “Tom, I got that, man. You have done way too much.”

  “Thanks, Dave.”

  David grabbed the bags and took off. “And the kids have a problem with the DVD player. Sorry to do you like that.”

  “And here I am, thinking you’re being genuine. Gotta love family.” Tom said, walking into the house.

  David could hear the sounds of ambulances and police sirens, but paid no attention. As he walked around the pool to the side yard, a cat jumped out of the bushes, startling him. He dropped the bags and cursed. After collecting the bags once more, he continued to the trash area. He lifted the bins and tossed the bags in. As he turned back, he noticed someone running down the street toward him. He thought the person’s outstretched hands were a signal or something; the person, whoever it was, was making guttural sounds that seemed like muffled pleas.
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  “Is everything okay?” David asked wearily. “If it’s the music, I’m sorry. When I get back, I’ll have Tom turn it down.”

  Through the gradually-thickening evening fog, David couldn’t make out the neighbor’s appearance. They said nothing, but kept approaching.

  David was unsure of how to respond. “I’m going to get Tom,” he said, turning heel back to the party.

  The unknown neighbor picked up his speed and lunged at David, tackling him into the bins. The neighbor’s jaws clasped tightly around David’s neck. David swung the infected man around, and the force released the man, but took off a chunk of his neck in the process.

  “What the fuck, man?” David screamed, pressing his hand against his blood-spurting neck.

  David stumbled back against the wall and watched the man, or whatever it was, pull itself up. He saw the open wound on its face and multiple gashes on its shirtless body. David slammed the gate closed, leaving the shirtless attacker locked inside the garbage area.

  David made it around the pool but collapsed on the wooden patio. Alarmed and unsure of what had happened, a few of the other adults ran toward him, but it was too late. Within twenty seconds, David died from blood loss.

  Patty, a registered nurse, tried to administer CPR. As she leaned in to check for a pulse, David’s eyes opened, and he clamped down hard on her neck, creating the same kind of wound, but worse. The carotid artery pulled and snapped like a rubber-band, instantly sending Patty to the ground.

  The man from the street had escaped the bin area and now made his way over the gate and attacked Billy’s mom, Mary. Tom heard the screams and ran out to the back. What he saw was more horrifying than any war zone he had ever been deployed to. Everyone ran around, shocked and confused. Panic turned into pure chaos. Family members were dying, waking up, and attacking the living. And not just attacking, but eating.