Chapter 8 – The Cycle of War
Vuk looked around at the rag tag group huddled in the large cold empty shed. The MV Rocket’s first officer Shutov - who Vuk always thought was a prick - had so far done a good job of keeping them alive. Only one of them was dead and it was that fool Vasily’s fault for trying to run off when he should have stayed put.
When they had first grouped togeather at the beach it was chaotic, people screaming, no one wanted to believe what was happening. Shutov had tried to group them, create some sort of order but all everyone focused on were the two dead crew members and the infected feasting on their bodies.
The rising panic was understandable as others called for Shutov to shoot the infected. Vuk knew you needed to give panic a moment - let it say what it needed to say - and then move on. Vasily didn’t, and instead he ran, afraid there would be more infected. So Shutov shot him in the back after giving him fair warning. Vuk had seen this play before in prison and in the war. It was an effective, if not very subtle, way of keeping order.
Shutov was setting himself up as the alpha male, king of the yard and that was just fine with everyone, including Vuk. He’d already been through this in the Serbian war previously, seen his wife and daughter raped and killed in front of him. He’d seen men play soccer with the decapitated heads of their enemies, so it was safe to say he’d seen some shit before. At fifty five years of age he no longer wanted to lead, he just wanted to get through this. Although right now it looked like the odds of just surviving were low, Shutov was slowly pushing them up into their favor.
There were now nine of them in the shed. Vuk knew the two men guarding both entrances with hatchets well - Harrison and Kai. They were strong, stupid bullies who stuck together like flies on shit. Huddled in one corner was The Butcher and The Dunce, a strange pair who were deep in conversation, although The Butcher was doing all the talking and The Dunce was just nodding and listening. Lying down and trying to get some rest were Alejandro, Luther and Sam.
Shutov was coordinating the group and although Vuk didn’t know for sure, it certainly seemed like Shutov was using some form of military training in his decision making. Vuk watched as he tapped Kai on the shoulder and then pointed at Vuk to take over. Vuk nodded, rose and stretched out the kinks before taking the axe and guarding the door.
The sky outside was glowing red from all the road flares they’d laid down. The flares formed a pointed arrow to the shed in the hope of encouraging other survivors. So far it had worked, bringing in The Butcher and The Dunce. Unfortunately, it was also effective at attracting infected as the pile of dead at each entrance could attest. Nobody wanted to touch them for fear of catching whatever had created them, so they had been roughly kicked aside at each entrance forming a macabre barrier.
Vuk looked out onto the beach looking for Yuri, another one of the old men of the ship. Vuk and Yuri had spent many a night playing cards, swapping stories and generally bonding over Vodka or Rakia - depending on who was buying. They had both jumped into the ocean together but it seemed Yuri was not as strong a swimmer as Vuk. Vuk was swimming directly to the shore when he turned and saw Yuri was being pulled by a current. He called out to not fight it, let the current take him and once it had lost its potency to then swim to the shore. Yuri nodded and gave Vuk a thumbs up, before turning on his back and floating way. Vuk hoped that wouldn't be the last time he saw his old friend.
The flares’ lights were fading, almost in sync with the increasing sunlight as the dawn sun was preparing to burst over the horizon. Shutov patted Vuk on the shoulder, it felt like a hollow gesture to Vuk, as he looked out the entrance to the lightening sky. “Dawn is coming… we can use the light to find equipment,” said Shutov, as they both looked up at the lightening sky. “You have been in war before, this is correct Vuk?”
Vuk nodded, “it was a long time ago, but yes, I have fought in enough wars for any lifetime.”
“I’m afraid my friend it looks like another battle is ahead of us. How is your aim?”
“It has been a while but I’m sure it will come back.”
“Good, then I can count on you?” to Vuk that sounded less like a question and more like a demand.
“I have lived too long and seen too much to die at the hands of these things. So yes Sir, you can count on me.” He threw that ‘Sir’ in and Shutov smiled when he heard it. Yes, the young were easy to read and Vuk would feed this man’s ego if it kept him alive.
“Good, this is good,” he gave Vuk another hearty slap on the back and walked off to the next survivor, ready to make the same pitch. The Big Dog was going to pee on every tree before another dog got the opportunity to.
Whilst Shutov kept recruiting his army, Vuk looked out in the distance and saw a lone survivor running towards the flares. He had a large number of infected chasing him.
“Sir we have a man incoming with a lot of them behind him,” Vuk called out. The others all lept up and congregated at the entrances, calling out to the runner.
The runner saw them and smiled - salvation was so close that he didn’t notice the rubble pile until it was too late for him to safely leap it. He tried to jump it anyway and his back foot caught on a protruding washing machine tripping him up. He fell, tumbling over himself and scraping his leg on the hard concrete. Momentarily dazed he looked up at the screaming men in the shed not less than 400 meters from him.
He rose up, getting ready to continue towards them, when he was blitzed and knocked back down by the first infected. The pain in his legs was instant and excruciating; he looked down at the sharp white point of a bone protruding out of his thigh. Then they swarmed. Mercifully, he blacked out to die in relative peace.
At the shed they all watched in silence, like gawkers at an accident site. Shutov broke the silence, “does anyone know who that was?”
“I do sir,” The Butcher responded, “that was breakfast,” and he laughed. Some nervous laughter followed, but not nearly as heartily as The Butcher’s laughter at his own joke.
Vuk looked away from The Butcher and back at the poor man being torn to shreds. Yes, if he stayed close to people like Shutov and The Butcher, he may survive, but at what cost?