2 Days to Live: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller

by Phil Maxey

“Dad!” shouted Sam at seeing Landon standing outside the boarded up entrance to the police station.

  Jess initially was equally thrilled as they pulled up but then had to hide her reaction to how her husband looked. Dark patches sat beneath his eyes and she couldn’t help but notice how awkwardly he walked towards the pickup as Sam threw open the rear door, running and then embracing her father. Jess soon joined them, placing her arms around them both, but was careful not to place too much pressure on Landon’s left side. She pulled back while Sam continued hugging. “We need to talk…”

  Landon’s smile wavered. “Is everything alright?” He looked at his daughter, pulling away slightly to examine her. “Are you okay? Unharmed?”

  Sam hugged him again. “I’m fine!”

  He looked back to his wife whose expression told him more. He turned to the others that were standing near the doorway. Including Lachlan who had peered outside. Sam immediately ran and embraced him as well. The young man being a little taken aback.

  Owen walked forward with Dale. “Glad to see you made it, Mrs. Keller. I am Owen Brayford. I run things in this town. Did you get what you wanted in Denver?”

  Jess noticed her husbands, slight head shake. “Um.. no… I couldn’t… too many creatures.”

  Owen frowned. “That’s a real shame. It would have been helpful to have some of that vaccine.”

  “Ah, yes it would have. But I couldn’t get it.”

  “Well, glad that you and your daughter are safe. We have some food prepared for you both inside.”

  “Great, that’s very kind of you. I would just like to have a quick chat with my husband and we’ll be right in.”

  Owen smiled, then with Dale moved into the station, Scott and Sanchez followed as well as the two teens.

  “What is it?” said Landon.

  “I don’t have time to explain everything that happened in Denver. Most of if it I don’t believe fully myself, but Rackham’s dead, or probably dead… what he did to Sam…” her voice wavered, emotion threatening to overwhelm her. Landon moved towards her, but she held up her hand. “But she’s safe now… that’s not the problem. I think someone’s gone after, Josh.”

  “What?”

  “Sam’s memory of what happened is vague, but she says she heard Rackham talking with another. And they mentioned Josh. Why would they mention Josh? And the thing’s… there were hundreds, maybe thousands in Denver, but after… when we came out of the underground facility, they were gone, Landon. Gone!”

  He looked away, trying to piece together everything she had just told him, but rapidly came to the same conclusion. He looked back to her. “We have to get back to our son.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  8: 32 p.m. Heavercroft School.

  Meg and Donnie walked along a school hallway of boarded up doors, but light and muffled conversations seeped through the gaps. Each space now being used by families. It was a shame people had to separated after finding each other, but there hadn’t been anymore incidents after what happened in the diner and she was thankful for that.

  One more day and it’s over…

  The dog stopped outside the final door before the main stairs and pined. She could smell it too. Something was being cooked beyond the door marked ‘Geography’ and she was almost tempted to knock and find out what.

  She turned, pulling the small dog away with its leash and made her way up to the second floor, then walked the opposite way, passing more rooms until finding her own. The one marked ‘Library.’

  She pushed open the glass door, moving past a small cubicle and immediately spotted Josh, seated with Daryl at a table. They were both reading.

  She let Donnie off his leash and sat at another of the tables. The past five days had made the quaint idea of being silent in a library feel odd, but equally nostalgic. A custom of the old world, the one where there was no virus that turned people into things. Not wanting to disturb them she stood up and walked past the shelves, looking for one in particular, a section on mountaineering containing a good few books her husband had bought in his time. She made sure the only other occupants of the room she was in were still busy and pulled five books from the head high shelf, laying them on the carpeted floor then pulled the small bag free from the back, and unzipped it as quietly as she could.

  Seven small glass bottles sat encased within an old t-shirt she had found in one of the lockers on the ground floor. She took two out, leaving the other five, and replaced the bag then books and walked back to the center of the room.

  Daryl and Josh looked up at her at the same time, both recognizing what she held. Daryl shook his head. “I don’t know if Jess will be happy for me to have another.”

  Meg placed the bottles on the small table they were sitting at. “Jess isn’t here, and she gave me them to look after, as did Landon. So I choose. You get one and obviously they would want Josh to have one.”

  The boy frowned, but unscrewed the top and drank the contents, then returned to his book.

  Daryl shrugged then did the same. “You’ve had one, right?”

  Meg nodded. “Of course.” She looked at the rows of books, including the sleeping bag between shelves for authors entitled A to E. “Think I’m going to get an early night. Be good to wake up knowing we just got one more day of this madness.”

  “Ain’t that the…” Daryl saw the girl spill out from the top step of the stairs in the corridor outside, and run towards the library. Meg turned just as Vince’s daughter, Carly pushed open the door, out of breath. “My pa just got back from the city. He say’s the things are nearly all gone, and those that are left are dying!”

  Josh and Daryl scrambled from their seats and with the two women, jogged from the room, following the din of excitement on the ground floor. They all came down the stairs to doors opening and people wondering what the fuss was about, the groups moving to the gaggle that had formed around Vance and a few others.

  Meg moved through the crowd to the front.

  “There was this big sucker, larger than a semi,” said a young man that Meg knew as Tristan. “Looked like some kind of snake-human, thing. Just lying in the middle of the street in downtown. I swear it stopped moving as we were standing there.”

  Vance nodded. “There were some others as well, all in bad shape. Parts of them just dissolving or something.”

  “Is it really over?” said a female voice from the gathering. A ripple of joy moved across people. Some were even dancing, others hugging.

  “We were told one more day,” said Meg to whoever would listen.

  “Hey!” shouted Vance to the happy faces around him. The ruckus quietened. “Nobody wants this shit to be over more than I do! But we gotta be careful. The president said it would be six days, and that ain’t till the end of tomorrow. Everyone, go back to your rooms. We stay separated for one more night and day and then we’re free!”

  There was a small cheer and people started filtering back to their rooms.

  *****

  12: 01 a.m. Western Kansas. Highway 70.

  Jess looked at the monotonous passing of white road markings, a constant scrolling image which was making her eyes heavy, but sleep was a luxury she couldn’t afford. Not now. Not after achieving so much and getting so close to the finishing line. Another twenty-four hours and it would all be over. And somehow the Keller family would have survived. Barely. And not without changing, but then, life is change. At least that’s what she told herself when she first noticed the affects of the virus on her physique and mind. Perhaps now she was reverting. Her body devolving to its natural state.

  She looked to her left, out to the expanse of Kansas farmland, trying not to catch her reflection but caught the driver’s instead. A slim twenty-something man called Andrew Kendrick, otherwise known as Andy, who also came from Denver originally. He volunteered to take the trip east and with how exhausted they all felt, they were happy to have someone else do the driving. She wondered if she should tell him what they might be heading towards
, but thought better of it for now.

  She looked up at the rear mirror. Landon was asleep on the right, Sam the left, her face in shadow. And in the… Sanchez’s truck’s lights were nowhere to be seen. She looked in the side mirror, but there was only a void behind. Could they have gotten lost?

  She lowered her eyes once more to... What was wrong with her daughter’s face?

  No…

  Despite the shadow covering Sam, the white of a skull could be seen through the gloom, and bulbous eyes and—

  “We—”

  She flicked her head towards Andy, except it wasn’t. She was a few feet away from something dead. A skull without skin continued talking.

  “— Are all dead now, Jess!”

  She screamed or thought she did, as the sound was contained within her dream. She opened her eyes.

  “Jess?” said Landon from behind her.

  She felt the sweat across her clothes and blinked. “Yeah… I must have fallen…” Nobody was listening as all were looking at the destruction across and beside the highway. Anything that was once vertical, signs, fences, small trees, even what appeared to be structures were flattened, crushed and trampled.

  She glanced at the driver who looked shocked. “I guess a whole load of the things passed along here,” he said.

  A crackle came from Landon’s radio, followed by Sanchez’s voice. “I’ll take the lead. I can see further. Over.” Landon acknowledged and the truck and trailer slid past on their left.

  It was a scene which three out of the four occupants of the pickup, did not want to witness for it confirmed what they already suspected.

  “I wonder how far ahead they are…” said Sam.

  That was the question, thought Jess. Could they get to the diner then the school, first… She looked at Andy. “Go faster.”

  He looked at her, surprised. “Faster? You want us to catch up with them?”

  “Yes.” She looked back to the road and the rear of the trailer.

  “Okay…”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  2: 48 a.m. Powells Diner.

  Brad couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t just the odor of the cleaning detergents they used trying to rid the diner of the stink of the thing they killed, but knowing there was only one more day before the world could try to return to normal. People with medical training would be needed, that much was obvious, but he wondered how he could advance his training when there were no more hospitals…

  I need books… got a whole lot of reading ahead of me… and maybe some doctor’s survived? Or better still, a surgeon?

  He started to get excited about the possibilities. His heart racing.

  See ma, all of that money you spent on me, going to medical school. Even with the world ending, it was worth it!

  He sat up from his sleeping bag, which was spread across one of the padded wall-side seats and looked at the empty space where tables and seats used to be. It was all lit by a single point of light, a candle on a table, a row over which was already half burned. Arlo and Tracey should have been in there with him, as they had been for the previous night, but after hearing the party going on at the school on the radio, they jumped in Arlo’s old car and left. He could have gone with them, but he wasn’t ready to celebrate just yet. And someone other than the old pastor needed to look after the kids, who were in the living room in the house.

  He leaned back on the wood paneling and sighed. “One more…”

  A speck of light was visible beyond the glow of the flame. He shifted left then right in his seat, wondering if what he was seeing was a reflection on what was left of the windows at the front, but it was hard to tell. If it were a vehicle, it was coming from the southwest, not the north where the school was. Someone new? Or maybe…

  His heart began to race again. Could it be Jess or Landon? Returned with Sam? He pulled his clothed legs from the bag and started pushing his feet into his boots, while trying to track the distant dot of light. Was it getting larger? He stood, grabbing his jacket, putting it on then picked up the candle and walked to the entrance area, pushed open the boarded up door and stepped out onto the deck.

  A chilling breeze flowed over him, along with flecks of snow.

  Definitely a vehicle…

  He walked down the steps, wondering if he should make his way to the highway. There were no lights on in the diner or the house, and whoever was in the car, probably wouldn’t spot his tiny candle unless they happened to be looking directly at him and had great eyesight.

  Yeah… I better get moving, in case they drive straight past.

  He started to jog forward, his movement slowed by the foot of snow and only made it ten or so feet when he saw the other motion. At first he thought it was the wind blowing the silhouetted trees a few miles off. Dark shapes which fluttered and swayed. But these forms were too low. They appeared to be actually on or just off the side of the highway, and stranger still they were rolling, as if a dense wave was approaching.

  Two points of light, headlight beams, were growing closer, but he was more interested in what was just behind them and took another few steps before stopping. His mouth fell open then quickly closed from the stench which drifted on the wind. He turned and lunged forward, but lost his footing and fell headfirst, the snow softening the impact. As he stood, scrambling forward, his boots losing grip he heard the first screech. A week before, he would have dismissed the sound as some bird or perhaps a fox, but as he pushed his limbs to carry him over the ice towards the house he knew death was coming.

  He crashed through the door, forgetting to open it properly then flung open the living room door. A sleepy Helen looked up at him from a sleeping bag, while the other two continued to sleep.

  The door to Rufus’s room creaked open, the old man holding a candle up which illuminated a face with one eye open. “What in heavens are you—”

  “They’re here! They’re coming!”

  “What are you…” Rufus rushed to the open front door and looked out. A few miles away a vehicle was approaching fast, and he was about to turn back to the young man to admonish him for making such a fuss at another visitor when his old eyes caught the mass of frenzied shadows not far behind. Syd appeared near his feet, barking at the night. He swiftly bent down, pulling the rug away from the hallway, revealing a trap door. “Help me get this open!” He and Brad grabbed the iron ring, lifting the boards, causing a plume of dust to fill the air.

  “What’s going on?” said Agatha, sitting up in the other room with her eyes still closed. Helen was now standing, doll in one arm, Toby though hadn’t even stirred.

  “Everyone wake up!” shouted Rufus. A chorus of screeches and roars was building in the distance.

  The boy jolted awake. “What… what…” he said, shocked.

  “We’re going on an adventure, under my home! Everyone grab your sleeping bag and get over here! Now!”

  Brad was standing in the doorway, watching the sedan pull into the road, its headlights illuminating the diner. It made no sense. Whoever was driving did not appear to be running from what was just on their shoulder. Were they not aware? How was that even possible? The air was full of grunts, growls and roars and he could see a hint of the creatures which were running from the highway. These weren’t slow, dying things, but agile, there movement full of frantic energy. “They’re almost…” He spotted the converted trailer and the tall, frail tower nearby, and whirled around to Rufus who was helping the kids down the rickety wooden ladder.

  “We have to warn them!”

  “Warn who?”

  “Those at the school!”

  Rufus saw the car pull up near the entrance to the diner and what was scampering over the nearby fields. “Yes, yes. I’ll go.”

  “I’m faster!” said Brad.

  The older man shook his head. “No, you need to stay with the children. Quick, get down the ladder! And take Syd.”

  Brad reluctantly did and Rufus lowered the door, quickly sliding the rug back into place. His immediate co
ncern was for the driver and what was about to crash down upon them, but as he ran down the steps from his home, he saw a man get out, turn around to the oncoming horde and just stand there. Maybe this person was insane, but either way Rufus couldn’t get to him and still get to the radio equipment in the metal container off to his left. He shook his head as he stormed across the snow, the ice stinging his sock-covered feet, his old legs already complaining and resisted looking back until he reached the steps which led up to the trailer’s door.

  Trees, outbuildings and the fences he had put up over his time living there all became lost in a black mass, tumbling towards the diner. He flicked the latch up and pulled open the heavy door, slipped inside then pulled it closed. There was no lock on the inside, he never needed one but that didn’t matter he just needed a chance to broadcast. He ran down the aisle past the desks and banks of equipment and immediately picked up the mike, the channel already set to the agreed frequency with those at the school.

  “This is Powell’s diner! Is there anyone there? Over!”

  The sound of shattering glass and collapsing masonry meant the things had got to the diner. He only had seconds before they would reach the trailer. He turned, looking at the rear door, holding the mike to his mouth. “Can you hear me! The things have reached the diner! Hundreds of them. Is there any—”

  With an almighty clang the floor tilted as something large and heavy smashed into the side of the trailer. Radio box sets, amplifiers and other items slid from the desks and crashed to the floor. Rufus crouched, but tried to keep the main radio box level. “The things have reached the diner! Can you hear me!”

  Another impact, the trailer tilted again but this time kept on going, the metal container falling all the way, floor becoming wall, and wall becoming ceiling. He threw his arms up to try and stop the heavy boxes from completely coming down on him, but was only half successful as he became buried under them. The lights flickered as screeching and groaning reverberated through the metal walls, then heavy clumps and scratching from things climbing over the container. He held the mike in his hand, not even knowing if what it was attached to was still functioning. “Please God, give me the strength. They must hear me. Is there anyone? The things are…”