Forget The Zombies (Book 3): Forget America by R.J. Spears Page B

to Jay and Robbie.
    “I’d like to stay with my bro’ Grant,” Jay said.
    “And leave your lady friend alone?” Jeb asked raising his eyebrows.
    “Oh yeah, I’d better check in on Jane,” Jay said and pushed past me into the hallway. The men separated to let him pass.
    “And what about you?” Jeb asked addressing Robbie.
    Robbie was quick on the uptake and knew the writing was on the wall. It was return to your room or be dragged there.
    “I’ll guess I’ll go back to my room,” Robbie said in the tone of a small defeated child. As he passed by me, I felt something hard and flat slide into my back pocket of my pants. I acted like nothing had happened, but it took a supreme effort of will. Having a man play with your ass is hard to ignore.
    Just as he entered the hall, a room just three doors down burst open and Dave stumbled out, shaking his head back and forth and blinking his eyes. “What the hell happened?”
    Clint and one of the armed men moved down the hall to intercept him.
    “Sir, could you please return to your room?” Clint asked.
    “The hell with that,” Dave slurred out. “You bastards slipped something in the food or gassed us or something. I know what it’s like to be drugged and you sons of bitches did something to us.” He had to put a hand on the wall to keep from falling over. “My kids and wife won’t wake up.”
    That gave my heart a jump start as I thought of Joni and the kids. I started into the hall, but the giant bought the barrel of his rifle up and pointed it right at my chest.
    “No, no, no” he chided, his voice was deep as if it were coming from a cave. “Stay in your room.”
    Despite my emotional need to get down the hall, my physical abilities were nowhere near any state to even walk down the hall, let alone fight my way there. I stepped back into my doorway and looked down the hall.
    “Grant, what are these people doing to us?” Dave said.
    Clint stood in front of Dave, blocking Dave’s progress.
    “Get back in your room, sir,” Clint said forcefully.
    “Go fuc--” Dave started to say, but was rudely interrupted when Clint thrust the butt of his rifle out into Dave’s gut. Air exploded out of Dave’s mouth in a large gasp that sounded like a whale breathing out it’s spout. He doubled over immediately and staggered for a few feet before vomiting an extraordinary amount of last night’s dinner on the floor.
    Clint jumped back, but not before getting his boots completed swamped in a thick coating of viscous goo. Some would call it poetic justice.
    Clint didn’t see the irony, but I could see he was tensing for another swing of the rifle butt.
    “Clint, why don’t we take it down a notch?” Jeb asked.
    I could see Clint vacillate between action and inaction for a couple seconds and then he selected inaction, relaxing his stance. He turned to his other men and said, “Joe, Pete, get this man back to his room.”
    They did as they were commanded and after side-stepping around the puddle of vomit in the hall, grabbed Dave by an arm and dragged him back to his room. The lock snapped loudly as they set it. Why I didn’t notice that all the rooms locked on the outside, rather than the inside, last night was beyond me. Of course, I was drugged, but that excuse offered little consolation.
    The giant nudged his rifle barrel toward me. I took the cue and stepped back in my room and watched the door slam shut in my face. The lock clicked loudly. I grabbed the handle, but it was locked in place.
    “Why don’t you just take a rest, Grant,” Jeb said. “We’ll talk later.”
    I listened intently for the next minute or so as Jeb gave the order to make sure all the doors were locked. He stationed to men at the end of the hall to guard us and the rest of their party dispersed.
    I checked the door, the walls, and even the ceiling for any opportunities for escape, but found none. The window that I had failed to notice the night before was heavily barred. It would