Invasion of the Dead (Book 5): Resolve

by Baillie, Owen

  A weight lifted off his back. It was the Maori. Somehow, he’d been removed, and now Leroy had only Cardboard Arms to contend with. He swung a feeble back fist that connected with her jaw and sent her spinning aside.

  Get up, his father screamed. Leroy placed his palm on the road and pushed, groaning at the pain in his wrist and forearm. He managed to get back onto all fours. He peered up at the other man, who was, with the baseball bat in hand, doing significantly better than Leroy. Even with one leg not working, the man swung the bat with surprising precision. In moments, all the infected had been despatched, lying on the ground either drowning in their own blood, or completely dead.

  Leroy climbed to his feet and inspected his legs and arms for scratches.

  “They get ya?” the man asked.

  “I don’t fucking know,” Leroy said, the anger in him rising. He swung around. “Fucking hell, man, I almost got killed for you.” The man eyed him, his face impassive. “Can you believe that? You’re the one getting the shit kicked out of you, and I come to help and end up almost getting done.”

  “Settle the fuck down,” the man said.

  Leroy turned his back. “Can you see anything? Did they scratch me?”

  The man didn’t move. Leroy thought maybe he wasn’t going to do what he had asked. Finally, he stepped closer and examined the back of Leroy’s arms, neck, and other areas of exposed skin.

  “I think you’re clear.”

  I think meant he wasn’t completely sure. “Just double-check for me, will you?”

  The man continued checking. “Nup. Can’t see anything.”

  Leroy looked at him closely. He probably wasn’t even average height, but he had arms like hams and a chest like a keg of beer. He had tattoos on both arms with little free skin showing. Fully fit, Leroy thought the man could do some real damage in a fight. Maybe the fact he lasted so long on one leg with no weapon was a testament to his toughness.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Bill. Yours?”

  “Leroy.” Bill extended a hand and they shook. “You really can’t see any scratches?” The paranoia wouldn’t leave him. Bill shook his head.

  “Where are you headed?” Bill asked.

  “Home,” Leroy said. He pointed to the Rav4. “Got a carload full of supplies now, so I’m right for a few weeks. You?”

  “I’ve got some people—friends—being held captive by a bunch of lunatics. I’m on my way to my bike club to get some help.”

  Leroy looked at him, unsure if he was making this up. It sounded extreme. “You’re joking, right?”

  “Of course not. Where have you been, mate? The world is going to shit.”

  “I’ve been inside my house staying out of trouble. That’s the way I like it.”

  “We should stick together now,” Bill said. “Strength in numbers. You can help me free these women.”

  Leroy made a face. “I’m not helping.”

  “That’s how it works.”

  “Fuck that. Look, I’m grateful you helped me—after I helped you—but it doesn’t mean I’m going with you on some damn rescue mission.”

  “They need our help. There’s four women being held by a bunch of blokes. Isn’t that reason enough to help?”

  Leroy ran a hand through his hair. “I… can’t.” He turned away. He wanted to get out of there. He glanced back. “I’ve got my own problems.” He picked up the baseball bat and started walking towards the Rav4. “Look, you’re welcome to come with me, but I can’t help you. I’m sorry.”

  Leroy grabbed the edge of the car and lowered himself into the driver’s seat, glancing back at Bill as he pulled the door shut. The older man remained standing in the middle of the road, hands on hips, creases of disappointment on his face. Leroy felt mild guilt. He wanted to help Bill; he felt for the guy’s plight to save his friends. At least he has some, Leroy thought.

  He gave Bill a grateful wave as he swung the vehicle around and passed him. Bill did not wave back.

  19

  January 11, 2014

  6:06 pm

  Mole Creek, Tasmania

  Even from a distance as they approached along Caveside Road, Mac spotted the wire fences surrounding the makeshift army site. They turned left into Royal Green Road, a pale, dusty dirt strip, at the end of which was the entrance. Numerous signs had been set up along the length, indicating the army was in charge and that infected personnel should report immediately to the medical officer in Quarantine Section One. Quarantine Section One was a space set up outside the main perimeter, a white tent with various emergency and biological hazard symbols painted on it in red. But there were no doctors or nurses, nobody in biological hazard suits. Numerous tables and chairs had been turned over. On the ground near the edge of the tent, lay a body. As they passed at speed, Mac could not distinguish if it was male or female. He and Smitty exchanged an uneasy glance.

  The Nissan reached the end of Royal Green Road and Mac feathered the brakes until the vehicle was rolling. In the distance stood an array of olive-drab canvas military tents, the odd door opening or window flapping in the breeze. And there were people moving about between the tents. Mac exercised any hope they might be normal with caution.

  “They look infected?”

  “Too hard to tell,” Smitty said.

  “I can tell,” Shelli said. “And they are, by God. I can see it the way the walk. I’ll never forget them.” There was anger and hatred in every tremor of Shelli’s upper lip.

  Mac pulled the car in behind a bottleneck of vehicles, including three ambulances. “We walk from here, take a closer look.” Ashleigh, Tyler, and Shelli began to move. “No. Wait here until I’m sure it’s clear.”

  Mac and Smitty swept the nearby area, squeezing between vehicles, checking underneath and inside for infected. When Mac was satisfied there was nothing in the immediate vicinity that could harm them, he waved the kids out.

  The stench as they climbed from their seats turned their noses.

  “What stinks?” Ashleigh asked.

  Mac patted her on the head. “Old food, darlin’. Breath through your mouth if it gets too much.” Mac wondered just how many dead might be in there.

  They picked their way between the spattering of vehicles towards the fence, glancing inside as they passed. The second car had a dead body in the front seat. A man in a brown suit sat slumped over the wheel. Flies buzzed around his head and a broad splatter of blood covered the side window. Mac hurried the kids along, turning Tyler’s head away from the mess as he did what most boys his age would do and stare at the dead. Smitty examined the body then caught up with Mac shortly after. Mac gave him a questioning look. Smitty had collected a pistol from the dead man and made a gesture suggesting the man had shot himself in the side of the head.

  Some people couldn’t deal with losing their loved ones, or worse, finding them infected with the rotten disease. Mac imagined Jess stumbling about in virtual blindness, eyes glazed over and sunken deep into her head, skin pale and itchy, scratched until it bled, and that emaciated, gaunt look of a creature consuming a low caloric diet of blood and flesh. He saw in his mind’s eye her straw-blonde hair, dirty and stringy, hanging limp around a neck covered in sores.

  “… Daddy?”

  Mac drew in a sharp breath. “Huh?”

  “Are we going in?” Ash asked.

  He let out a long breath and pressed a hand to his forehead. “Sorry. Are we going in? Not sure yet, hon.”

  They slid around the last vehicle and approached the fence. Beyond, the smell of death wafted to them, thick and heavy, and Mac imagined the piles of bodies inside. Large square signs splashed warnings over the fence near a set of dual gates: BIOHAZARD, AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY, and PROHIBITED AREA, AUSTRALIAN DEFENCE FORCE.

  Now, with his face close to the chain wire fence, Mac saw that the people they had seen wandering between the tents were not people, but were, as Shelli suggested, the infected. They meandered in circles or just stood, full of the worst kin
d of dementia. Although still thirty yards away, their corroded skin and hollow features were evident.

  “They make me sick,” Shelli said. “I wish I could kill them all.”

  “Can’t they get some medicine, Dad?” Tyler asked.

  “Nothing works, mate.”

  “That’s really sad. There’s so many of them.”

  “Sure is, mate.” Any chance of Jess being alive seemed slim. How could she possibly be alive in there?

  From somewhere beyond the sea of tents a shout sounded, a voice that was certainly human.

  “You hear that?” Smitty asked. Mac nodded. A second call reached them. “It’s getting closer.”

  Eyes on the nearest tent, Mac worked his way along the fence to the gate. A thick chain had been looped several times through the handles, but the padlock was not secured. It lay in the dirt at the base. At least they could open it if needed.

  Ashleigh saw it first. “Daddy!”

  Mac snapped his head around and followed her tiny finger towards one of the tents. A man, slow and overweight, lurched towards the entrance. Every step he took seemed to have less energy than the one before. Behind him, a woman of similar girth ran for her life but had begun to fall behind. The woman shouted something, and the man drew to a halt, bent over, hands on knees, waiting for her. As she reached him, he grabbed her arm and pulled her along until she was ahead of him, then he started off again. Moments later, the first of the infected shuffled around the corner of a tent, after them. More followed in a broken line, lurching and stumbling, with only two things on their minds.

  The man pulled up to the lady. She stumbled, and he reached out for her elbow, steadying her. As they drew within thirty yards, she began to cry out. The man urged her on. Mac pulled the chain through the gate holes until it was hanging loose on either side of the fence, then he separated them until there existed a wide enough gap for the man and woman to slip through.

  “Over here,” Smitty called, his face pressed against the wire.

  The couple veered towards them, their faces red and sweaty. Mac scooped the chain up in one hand, ready to secure it. In reality, they were a good twenty yards in front of the infected and in no danger of getting caught, unless they fell. But to a person fleeing from such, far enough was never enough.

  “Easy does it,” Mac called out. “They’re not going to catch you. Just don’t trip over.”

  The man and woman reached the gates and passed through, the woman first, her face now the colour of a ripe tomato. Mac pulled the inner gate shut until the joins met, passed the chain through one hole, then another, to his waiting hand. He repeated this and pulled the chain tight until the gate was secure.

  “Away from the fence, Ty.”

  The kids and Smitty stepped away. The man and his wife were both bent over, hands on knees, their bulky bodies heaving.

  “Thank you,” the man said.

  “Oh, Jesus, David, don’t ever make me do that again,” the tomato-faced woman said, sitting on a clump of healthy weeds amongst shrivelled yellow grass.

  Mac waited until the man had gathered his breath and stood upright. “What happened?”

  “It’s all gone to down the toilet. The whole place.”

  “Since when?””

  “Late last night. I don’t know, sometime after midnight?” He looked at his wife for verification. “We were asleep. Things just went crazy. People yelling and screaming. Running everywhere. Meryl” —the man lifted his chin towards the woman— “and I must have heard about a thousand gunshots. Someone said it started in the quarantine area.” He shook his head, still in oxygen deficit. “I don’t know.”

  Meryl continued. “We shot out of bed as fast as you can imagine and hid in a nearby tent with some other people. Been there ever since, until now.”

  “You left, though,” Mac said. “Why?”

  “They found us,” David said, getting awkwardly to his feet. “That goddamn thing found us.”

  Mac cast a glance at Smitty. “What thing?”

  “One of the infected. It moves like a person, as though it’s alive. Thinks like it’s one.”

  “We’ve seen them, too,” Smitty said.

  “Are there people still in there?” Mac asked, finally getting to the crux of his intentions. He felt a sick desperation to know if Jess was inside, although he understood the chances of these people knowing were slim. “Ones that aren’t infected?”

  David turned to him with a wide-eyed expression. “Are you serious?” Mac’s stomach dropped. “Of course, there are,” David continued. “Dozens of them. They’re all hiding. This camp was full of people before it all went down. A lot of them didn’t make it, but a hell of a lot have so far.”

  Injected with hope, Mac asked, “Did you come across a lady named Jessica? Or Jess? Straw-blonde hair. She’d been sick—not sick like the infected, but with a fever and head cold.”

  David glanced at Meryl and shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell. I don’t recall anyone named Jess. But that doesn’t mean she’s not in there. Plenty of people in other tents aside from ours.”

  Mac paced, looking beyond the chain link fence into the camp. There was hope. Faint hope. But it was a big decision. Did they go inside and try to find Jess? She might be dead or infected. She might not even be there. But as always, his eternally optimistic side shone through. Might was enough.

  “Load, up,” Mac said to Smitty. “We’re going in.”

  20

  January 11, 2014

  5:57 pm

  Queenstown, Tasmania

  Tammy had made the decision to try to grab the girl, and not one of those selfish assholes was going to stop her. She thought about her own daughter, and if it had been her, how much she would want others to do the same.

  “Darren?” she said, pushing towards the front of the bus. An urgency had overcome her, as though they had only minutes, if not seconds. “You still okay to drive?”

  “I’ve driven minibuses before,” Darren said.

  “Of course, you have,” Shane called out, following them. “You’ll drive us to our death if you don’t get us the hell out of here right now.”

  Darren turned. “Happy for someone else to do it.” Shane’s eyes widened. “After we collect the girl from the doorway.”

  Several people had gathered at the front, including the tall man, whose name was Charlie. He looked at Tammy. “Thanks for coming back.”

  Tammy acknowledged it with a small hand gesture. “We’ve all got to look out for each other.”

  “What do we do with him?” Darren asked, signalling to the man who appeared to have died behind the wheel. He looked peaceful, as though asleep.

  “Back of the bus,” Tammy said. “Until we can find a place to rest him peacefully.”

  Shane, who had been hovering nearby, stepped forward and opened his mouth to speak, something he seemed afflicted with all too often. “You’re going to leave him on the bus?”

  Darren said, “You want to leave the guy outside to be savaged by those things?” He paused, letting Shane think about it. “Yeah, real respectful.” There were murmurs of agreement. “And who’s going to carry him out? You?”

  Shane turned away.

  Charlie and Darren heaved the man out of the seat and carried him down the aisle to the back of the bus. People jammed themselves in behind seats to clear the way.

  When they returned, Charlie said, “We tried the radio, but there’s nothing.”

  Darren sat in the driver’s seat. The cushion sighed and he sank an inch lower. He turned on the CB radio, which was connected directly to the battery. Static hissed. Darren pressed a number of buttons and turned the switch in both directions, before hanging up the handpiece on the cradle.

  A silver key on a Port Douglas key ring hung from the ignition. He placed his fingers on the key and gave Tammy a hopeful smile before twisting it. The engine kicked over and rumbled into life. Several people cheered. The banging on the windows and doors increased as thou
gh the sound of the engine agitated the infected.

  Shane was back. “Don’t do this. We just need to get the hell out of here.” Others voiced agreement, while several objected.

  “We’re going for the girl,” Tammy said.

  Towering over Shane, Charlie agreed. “We can’t leave her there.”

  Tammy stood near the exit door, holding onto a vertical chrome rail. The building was twenty yards away, but between the small, shadowy doorway where the girl stood were maybe eight or ten cars, like a mini wrecking yard, and a mob of infected souls, all pale, spotty skin, and rancid teeth, talking to them in their husky tones, inviting them to their deaths. They would have to go out and around the vehicles to get to the girl.

  She nodded to Darren, who eased off the clutch and accelerated, taking the van forward. “Here goes.”

  Several infected, who were not quick enough to move out of the way fell under the wheels, and Darren had to rev the engine to get the tires over their bodies. The minibus thudded as it hit the road. A small gap opened up, and he took the vehicle forward, knocking others aside. But abandoned cars and moving infected blocked Tammy’s view of the little girl in the doorway. It would only take a moment for something to grab her. Panic tightened around Tammy.

  “Go!” she said to Darren. “For God’s sake, we can’t lose her.”

  Darren spun a hard left on the wheel, moving around the first car, then to the right, tires screeching as the minibus drew away from the building. The right fender clunked into the tail of a sedan and the entire vehicle shuddered. More infected closed in.

  Out of the side window, the chaos cleared, and Tammy spotted the little red-haired girl again. She had crouched down in the corner of the doorway, hands over her head. Tammy just wanted to snatch her away and hug her tight. She couldn’t imagine how terrified she must be.