They Call Me Daring

Chapter 44

"Bill- what're you-" My father stopped, and I recognized the voice behind me. I knew Bill, the bald-headed murderer, was standing on the other side of the gate behind me. He had tried to kill me- and so far, everyone, including himself, thought he had been successfully.
My father knew it too. His gaze travelled from his son's strung up body to the man with the gun, and realization dawned on his face. A second later, it was replaced by insane rage.
"Damn you!" He roared, surging forward, forgetting the bars and the gun in the other man's hands. He shoved his hands through the bars, while Clark drew a hunting knife out of his pajama pocket (he sleeps with a knife?) and jammed in furiously into the lock on the gate separating him and his brother's killer. Semi-killer.
A second later, the gate sprung open, swinging apart, and me along with it. My body swung numbly against the bars as my father and Clark attacked Bill with their bare hands.
I clenched my fists in fury as I watched the smug grin on his face, the undefinable rage on my family's. All those things I'd ever thought about my family. That they hated me, didn't care about me, wanted me dead.
Yet here I was, 'dead'. and here they were charging my armed 'killer' with nothing but their bare hands. That's not hatred.
That's love.
In my world, love is when people try to brutally murder your killer. Okay, but still, it actually meant something.
Bill continually dodged them, grinning manically. They charged mindlessly at him, and a few others joined in, charging at the evil bald man with the gun. Friends of Clark's, of Dad's. Random people I barely knew. Empowered by the guts of the Trackerson family.
I felt empowered too, and more furious by the second as rage pounded through my veins. My heart began to beat faster, and once my vision flashed red. But I drove the fury away. I was Liam. I was fighting for Liam and I was going to fight as Liam, because it was my family who was fighting for me, and I was going to fight back with them.
Because giving up just isn't an option.
Especially if you're a Trackerson.
I wriggled my toes in my shoes, tensed the muscles on my legs as they tingled, life flowing back into my body. I shivered with the energy pounding through me, and began to struggle against my bonds, weakly, though.
Nobody's focus was on me, however. They were all watching as Bill was encircled by a dozen furious, but unarmed men, closing in on him from all sides. His insane grin never faltered, and he shoved his gun in their faces, threatening, but never shooting, his finger hovering on the trigger.
"Bill, what do you have to say for yourself?" My father growled, his voice torn with grief and fury, as he stepped forward to face the bald man with the gun.
"What do I have to say for myself?" He grinned slyly. "You should probably look behind you."
In  the confusion, a number of people I'd seen at the meeting last night stepped forward from the mob on my doorstep, all of them holding guns. More of them streamed in through the wide open gates, encircling the circle with Bill at the center. The game had changed- now my family and their friends were the ones cornered.
I tried to cry out, distract them- but my voice still wouldn't work. Instead I busied myself with using my only fully working body-parts- my hands. I twisted against tight, rough bonds, chafing my wrists, rubbing them raw and skinless.
"Now," Bill sauntered forwards out of the two circles, and Clark and Dad were pushed back to back in the center, as their friends were pulled away by the armed cohorts. "Let's get this straight, once and for all."
"What is there to get straight, Bill?!" My father growled bravely, even as he and Clark stood back to back in the center of the circle, fists raised, though that would help them little if a single gun was fired. There was no way they could miss. "You killed my son! I'll kill you!"
He screamed, lunging out at one of the armed men and smashing his nose in before any of them could react.
"Now now," Bill said calmly as the hole in the circle was closed up and the bloody man ran off through the gates. "That's no way to behave. Be careful, or you'll end up like Liam."
"Liam was a better man than you." Clark snarled through gritted teeth. "A better man than you'll ever be- all of you!" He added to the motionless mob gathered on my doorstep. Nobody moved forward to help. Nobody even spoke. Barely dared to breath. They valued their own lives too much to avenge the life of a single, idiot boy they barely knew.
My family stayed there, though. They wouldn't stop resisting until they were dead... which I feared might not be long. I struggled against my bonds, but they refused to loosen. My wrists slowly slid out, though.
"Liam dared." A voice came from the crowd in front of the house, and everyone turned, even Bill, to look at the newcomer. The crowd parted, and Meg stepped forward, her red hair fanned out behind her in the soft, cold breeze, and she raised her head to glare defiantly at Bill.
"Meg-" Maggie stepped forward, but Meg simply met her eyes and shook her head in an utterly disappointed way. She didn't care anymore. The skin beneath her huge brown eyes was red from crying and she averted her gaze from my dangling body.
"Liam dared." She said louder, making her way towards the center of the lawn. "He dared to believe in a better world. Even after he was bitten!" She cried.
Nobody spoke. For once, even Bill seemed dumbfounded.
"Liam was daring! He- he never gave up hope!" She gasped. "He refused to give up, even when death was personally staring him down! He held on to the good in the world! He dared to challenge the laws of the virus, he found the cure!"
Her voice cracked, and she bit her lip, looking down to avoid seeing my cold, dangling body. "Liam was a leader. He was who we needed in this time of crisis... and he dared to stand up and take the initiative, even when he knew he was close to dying every second!" She sobbed slightly, but when she looked back up to glare at Bill with cold hatred, there was not a tear in her eyes. "He stood up for us and showed us how to save ourselves. He tried to save us all, even though you were all horrible to him!" She cried, and every person there bowed their heads in shame. Then I saw her take a deep breath, and turn to glare at the solemn crowd. "Liam- LIAM WAS DARING!"
Her words rang out in the cold morning air, echoing off the walls and reverberating though the skeleton streets. They sank into the essence of your being, a voice strangled by grief and guilt, and yet strengthened by will and certainty. They drove into your skull, your mind, more powerful than any gun.
"Liam dared..." She choked out a last few words as every eye was on her. "He dared... and you- you killed him."
Bill finally appeared to jerk himself out of a trance, and he shook his head slightly, as if trying to clear his mind. He chuckled a little, but it was shaky, as he tried to regain his grin.
"How sweet..." He coughed, and spoke again with all his vigor back. "But that's a lie. He fooled you all.
"The story all of us wanted to believe..." Bill shook his head in fake sympathy. "But it's all a lie- don't you see?
"See, Liam... He never really found the cure. I'll agree, there was something different about him- maybe he really was stronger than we thought- but he faded like all the rest of them. Liam has been dead for quite a while." He chuckled softly. "He was a zombie with a human mind- clever, yes, very clever, very convincing- but it was-all-a-LIE." He hissed like a snake, letting the word slither through their minds.
"Liam was using you. He got you to trust him, to believe in him- and he manipulated you. He used your faith to trick you into making it easier for his kin to kill you off!" Bill cried, like they were all idiots for believing me. Fury pounded against my chest, and my heart beat faster, and I struggled harder. But my throat was dry, and it exhausted me to blink my eyes. I had come so close to death, resting on the very brink, nearly going over... it was going to take a little longer to drag myself back to life.
"That's a lie!" Clark roared, and somebody shoved a gun barrel under his neck to quiet him.
"Is it? Or is that just what you would like to believe?" Bill grinned evilly. "How may times did he come close to biting you, then? Tell me? Did he really have himself under control?" He sneered at Clark, who, opened his mouth to argue, then looked down at the gun shoved into his throat and decided against it.
"And, explain to me," Bill scoffed smugly, knowing he had them all by the ropes. I twisted slightly, being careful not to move too much- if Bill and his men suspected I was still alive, they would turn and shoot me without hesitation- and I was pretty sure I would have a harder time surviving that.
"Explain to me," Bill was saying. "Explain why he would, if he was really on your side, why he would gather you all up into closed areas, cram you all up into one place, eh?"
"Because," My father growled. "There's strength in numbers!"
Even as he spoke, a chant began somewhere in the crowd. A little voice, shouting at the top of his lungs, "Daring! Daring!"
Jess started it. And Meg picked it up. More voices joined in, and the roar rose, one, single word, repeated over and over. A rumble roar, a defiant scream. "DARING! DARING!" A hundred voices raised as one, shattering the dawn and sinking into your soul. Striking you with fear, and vengeance burned in their hearts on that morning.
"SHUT UP!" Bill roared suddenly, turning on them with the gun cocked and ready in his arms. Still the chant rose and fell, striking inspiration into my heart, whipping feeling back into my body. This chant was for me. The dead boy who was dangling on the gate. I suddenly realized how symbolic this was. I'd come so close to crossing over... but not today. I was the border.
I had stood between the Gates of Hell.
"SHUT UP, ALL OF YOU!" Bill roared, and I saw the lunacy on his face. Then he fired.
A round of bullets released from his machine gun as he gripped the trigger. People screamed, the chant fell silent, as they all leapt to get out of the way, and the ground beneath their feet was torn up. Screams of agony as blood spurted in the air, and floated on the breeze, tingling my senses...
I took a deep breath and drove back the beast inside me, struggling to free myself and utterly destroy this monstrosity who dared called himself a human being. No, dared was the wrong word. Who was too cowardly to call himself inhuman.
"There," He gasped when he finally released the trigger, and now the morning was rent by quiet sobs of agony. "That settled it. Now-"
"You monster!" My father roared in rage. He wrenched his way out of the circle of armed cowards, charging Bill like a bull. "You --" (I'm cutting this word out for the sake of the children.) "You've killed people, damn you! You've killed my SON! I'M GONNA FREAKING KILL YOU!"
He charged Bill for the second time, but this time he wasn't going to stop to ask for accusations. He was going to tear that man apart with his bare hands.
In the following confusion, Clark twisted and wrenched the gun from his holder's hands, turning it on him and slamming it across the side of his head, knocking him out cold. He spun out of the circle and whirled to challenge the other cowards who would dare challenge him. But they were all obviously untrained with guns, and scared to shoot him full-on.
He knew that they would try to shoot him in the back, though, and I hated the torn look on his face, between the urge to run to his father and help him maim the man he hated as much as me, and the instinct to defend his own life.
Clark was cornered. And every eye was on my Dad.
He screamed, a low, drawn out roar of pure fury, as he charged Bill head on like an angry bull. Bill laughed and held his gun cockily. He casually sidestepped my father- But Dad swept out his arm at the last moment to catch him in the chest and throw him onto his back with a thud.
Dad skidded to a stop, his momentum carrying him too far. He turned and threw himself at Bill as the bald-headed man struggled to get to his feet. Locked in a battle to the death, the two huge men through blow after blow, Bill swinging his gun as a weapon, but never firing- there wasn't enough time between each of my father's punches. Fury propelled the men, and I felt real fear when I saw the look on his face. I could only imagine what Bill was feeling.
I twisted harder, and the ropes slid a little further up my hands, but they always caught on that one joint on my thumb. I yanked as hard as possible without moving enough to attract attention, and the rope slid just a centimeter further up my raw skin.
Suddenly there was a loud smack- Bill, panting heavily, dragged himself up to his feet and wiped his forehead of sweat and dirt, glaring down at the barely moving figure on the ground. Blood stained my father's face, and for a moment I thought the worse- then I saw the blood dripping down the gun from where Bill had smacked my father on the head.
I was amazed he wasn't completely out cold, but my heart sank when Bill kicked him over onto his back, and he didn't move. Wiping blood off his forehead, Bill knelt, setting his gun to the back of my father's skull.
"Now then," He growled. "Mr. Trackerson here is about to make an example to all of you of what happens when you question my judgement. I'm the leader, now. Got that?"
I realized that was what he'd wanted all along. He'd been biding his time, waiting for the moment when humanity was at it's weakest to take over entirely. I hated him more than ever.
I moved my head, very slightly, to see Clark backed up against the far wall, one man against dozens, watching helplessly. His hands shook.
"Mr. Trackerson- do you have any last words for you father? I hardly think he's in the condition to speak." Bill chuckled, calling over to Clark.
Clark spat on the ground, though I could tell he wished he was close enough to spit in Bill's face. "I do- but you don't deserve them." He growled, eyeing the circle of cronies around him while glaring at Bill with all the hatred he could put into a look.
"Your loss." Bill shrugged. He knelt, and set his finger of the trigger, pressing it into the back of my father's head. I struggled harder than ever, not caring anymore whether I moved too much. They were all watching Bill about to execute my father.
"Mr. Trackerson..." He chuckled smugly, shaking his head, as if in disappointment. "he was a fool."
"Now, then, before I shoot this man, are there any others?" He grinned crookedly at some evil plan formulating in his head. "Are there any others who would like to- DARE to disagree?" He drawled, his finger tensing over the trigger.
With one final burst of energy, and I yanked at my bonds with all my remaining strength.
"All of this... because of one boy..." Bill chuckled in his dark, maniacal glee. "Your son is dead, Trackerson. DEAD! AND YOU'RE ABOUT TO JOIN HIM!" Bill spat at my father. Fury engulfed me like fire.
It all happened in the space of a heartbeat.
I slipped out of my bonds, the rough rope finally coming free. I fell to the ground and hit the earth running, stumbling over my own feet- but as far as I was concerned, I was doing pretty good for a dead man.
Somebody called out, "Wait- where's Liam?"
Everybody looked up at the bloody ropes and the bare gate, and they screamed. For once, I was again invisible, blocked out by Bill and his army of cowards, as I slunk quickly across the lawn, sprinting full out, and yet unnoticed.
"What do you mean, where's Liam?" Bill snarled. "LIAM TRACKERSON IS DEAD! DEAD!"
"You sure of that?" I growled, my voice low, but cold, cutting through the noise like a knife. "Might want to look behind you."