The Outbreak Series Boxed Set

by Thomas Baker

  "Runner on the left!" Harold hollered, fighting to be heard over the thunderous noise.

  JT pivoted, his bad knee protesting. He got the runner in his sights, a woman in a power suit. Taking two shots, he got her right in the side of the head, dropping her.

  The tide of the zombies slowed as they stumbled and fall, tripping over those that had been downed. That gave them a small advantage. Still, JT didn't think they would get enough of themin time. Things were going to get messy. He felt like this could be the end. His group's Alamo.

  Dusty must have just realized itas well. He bellowed out, "We aren't going to stop them before they reach the house!"

  "Hannah, help Ashley back into my room. Block the door with whatever you can," Harold ordered while he fired shot after shot.

  The remaining undead had just about made it to the cabin. JT estimated there had to be at least thirty still left. Jesus, where did they all come from?

  "Lead them through the door," Dusty barked at JT. "It will be a choke point and we should be able to engage them with much better odds."

  JT backed out of the doorway. Someone was hitting him on the shoulder. He turned and Harold handed him an axe.

  "We don't want to be shooting each other," Harold explained.

  He had given one to Mike too. JT saw Harold had a machete, as did Thomas. Gus had his hatchet. Alan had his crowbar. Tyrone was back out of the way. Dusty was at the window. JT passed his shotgun to him.

  "Here they come," Dusty said, sounding as calm as if he was announcing invited dinner guest had arrived.

  They hit the cabin like a wave crashing against a rock face. JT almost expected the cabin to go toppling end over end from the impact. A zombie in a red jumpsuit and another in decayed blue jeans were just about through the door, when the thunderous sound of the shotgun filled the cabin. They both went down,heads shredded like cheese in a grater. The next zombie flipped through the doors over the still bodies. Dusty took a shot, somehow only hitting it in the side. The dead thing continued crawling forward, leaving rotten chunks of itself in its wake. Harold stepped up and decapitated it with one blow.

  Hands groped through the open window, forcing Dusty back. He dropped his shotgun and backpedaled, pulling his bowie knife. The dead spilled in through the open door. Harold took one at the knee, then lopped off its head when it was down. Mike raised his axe, splitting open the head of the next. A grey jelly like substance clung to the axe blade. Alan savagely took after the zombies with his crowbar, no strategy at all in his attack. All time for thought ended as the men hacked and slashed, slowly moving backwards through the house as the bodies piled up.

  Thomas tripped over an outstretched arm of one of the now re-dead bodies. He fell flat on his back, head bouncing off of the floor. A hole riddled corpse lunged on top of him. Thomas's machete was pinned between his body and the zombie. It tore at him with ruined fingernails, which bent backwards as it tried to open his warm skin. Teeth clamped onto his shoulder. It pulled, tearing and tearing. Thomas cried out in pain like a wounded animal caught in a trap.

  JT heard the cries and turned to help. Before he could even think of a plan, he saw Harold cross the room in two giant steps. In a fluid motion he first chopped off the zombie's head, and then Thomas's.

  JT shook his head in disbelief. The stench of death and rot filled his world

  Dusty dispatched the last zombie, a slender teenager in what used to be a prettyyellow sundress. He pulled his knife from its eye socket, bringing the eyeball and its attached tendons out with it. He flung his wrist hard sending the gore flying. He wiped the rest off on a drape and then sheathed it.

  JT charged as fast as he could through the dead piles at Harold.

  "Why the hell did you do that?!" JT was shouting. "You didn't even check on him first! He wasn't dead yet!"

  "That is exactly why I did it," Harold replied, coldly.

  Alan continued hacking at the bodies until he collapsed in a heap. Gus was holding up a wall, breathing heavily. Mike stood among the dead, axe in both hands, white as bone.

  "My God," Hannah said breathless as she stepped out of the back bedroom.

  The cabin looked like a war zone. Plates, cups and even the kitchen table, laid broken in pieces among the carnage of zombie parts.

  "We have to remove this filth from my house now," Harold said, crossing the room like he was crossing a minefield.

  "We have quite the mess outside too," said Dusty, turning from the window. "All the tents were flattened in the attack and buried under all the dead bodies."

  JT glared at Harold. He couldn't believe how calmly the guy was acting, after everything that just happened. After how coolly he killed Thomas.

  Thomas was totallyright about Harold. JT felt guilty, if they had left when Thomas had said to, he would still be alive. JT looked down at his axe and back over to Harold. Harold was flailing about the cabin, wild-eyed, going on and on about the mess. JT dropped the axe. He wasn't a stone-cold killer. He had to believe he could think of some other way to do this. Maybe he could overpower Harold, then drive him far away and dump him. Hannah's bawling pulled him away from his thoughts. He went to check on her. Hannah buried her face under his chin as he wrapped his arms around her. He still focused his steely gaze on Harold.

  "Ew, ew, ew," Ashley squealed, dragging a headless zombie out the door by its legs. She followed the now well-worn line in the dirt to the field where Harold directed them to pile the corpses up. After the first hour, even when Ashley whined about her protesting back and screaming ankle, Harold pushed everyone onward. He made threats about sending everyone off if things weren't cleaned immediately. Like his cabin was some ritzy million dollar mansion.

  After dropping the body off in the field with the rest, Ashley hobbled over to Harold.

  "That's it. That's the last body. It's break time."

  Harold pushed a shovel and a black trash bag her way.

  "Now we need to shovel up all the dismembered parts," he said, with no trace of sympathy. "You know the arms, legs, and heads."

  "I don't care what you threaten or how much of a fit you throw Harold, I'm not doing that. No way!" Ashley crossed her arms in front of her chest in defiance.

  Harold sent her off with a wave of his hand, irritated to the max. Ha, I don't care how mad you get. I usually get my way, she thought, as she headed inside.

  Ashley laid down on the couch, her wounded ankle propped up on a wooden stool. She definitely felt like it was getting better, but after that much use it was screaming right now. She couldn't wait for it to be healed. She was tired of being cooped up inside. Tired of having to hobble everywhere and ask for help every two seconds. Well except from Tyrone, he was kinda cute. Normally she liked older men, but she couldn't be so choosy now, could she? Maybe she could have some snuggle time with him when her foot got better. Most of all though, she was very tired of what felt less like examining and more like fondling whenever Harold checked her ankle. Plus, he smelled like old gym socks mixed with wet dog.

  Around her the others worked. Tyrone was busy scooping up parts with a shovel and a heavy duty black trash bag. Sweat covered his body. Where the wooden floors were cleared off, Harold attacked it with a mop. He was going at it so hard she thought the handle would break. The mop bucket came near her. It was filled with sickly grey water with floating bits of body on top. Ashley's stomach did flops. She looked away. Ugh, it's all so disgusting.

  Ashley must have dozed off. The next thing she knew, Harold was shaking her.

  "The inside is done, and everyone but Hannah is outside working on the tents. If anyone is looking for me, I'm going out scouting," Harold switched tones, from all business to kind, almost loving. "Why don't you go lie down in a more comfortable place and get some good sleep?"

  Harold went out the front door, rifle in hand. Ashley shivered. Creepy creeper.

  Feeling like she couldn't go back to sleep, and she didn't want to be alone at that moment, she instead got up and stiffly walk
ed back outside. The dawn light filtered through the trees. The area around the tents was clean, and the tents were back up. She saw the guys, huddled together, between the tents and the woods. They spoke quietly between themselves. She couldn't really make out what they were saying until she got closer.

  "The whole time we have been here, the man has shared everything he has with us," Gus was saying. "Then the attack, the cleanup. He has to be exhausted. I think it's only right we help outmore. I say we go to the nearest town for a supply run."

  "If you all are going, I'm going too. I don't want to stay behind," Tyrone said, sounding determined.

  "You know whatI think?" Dusty said. "Last night proves no place is safe. If you're going, I am. I want to look for a vehicle and get some things together for when we have to evac."

  "Okay, the four of us will go," JT agreed. "The rest can stay and get some sleep."

  "Great and I'm stuck here again, like a beached whale," Ashley said, startling everyone.

  "Ashley," Tyrone said, giving her a half smile. "I don't know what you are talking about. You are far too fine to ever compare to a whale."

  "Flattery only makes me feel a little better," Ashley teased. "You better pick me up something nice, Tyrone."

  "Yes ma'am," Tyrone grinned, giving her a wink.

  "I'll go tell Hannah, Mike, and Alan that we are leaving," JT said.

  "Leaving where?" Hannah said, strolling through the tents.

  "We're going into town. Supplies," JT said.

  "Just you guys? Why am I not going?" Hannah asked, hands on her hips. "What, you don't want a helpless woman going along?"

  "Eh, well..."JT stammered.

  "Boy, you're acting like a kid whose mama just caught him in the cookie jar," Gus chuckled.

  "Come on Hannah," JT said, sounding defensive. "You know I don't think thatat all. You've held your own all along."

  "Gosh JT," Ashley said. "For a guy, you sure can't tell when someone is breaking your balls."

  Hannah laughed wickedly.

  "You know, Hannah, sometimes I think you just enjoy giving me shit," JT said.

  "It is cute to watch you get all mad and turn bright red," Hannah smirked. "Anyway, I'll let everyone else know. I was going to ask Alan to help me do some practice rounds with the rifle. After last night, I could use more training."

  "Just make sure that when you pull the trigger, the little end is pointed away from you," JT joked.

  "Laugh it up while you can," advised Hannah. "When I'm done, I'll shoot circles around you JT. Come on Ashley, let's leave the menfolk to their work."

  With that Hannah walked back to the cabin. Ashley shot Tyrone a wink of her own, then turned and followed.

  "Women," Gus snorted. "Can't live with them, can't feed them to the zombies."

  "I heard that Gus!" Ashley shouted over her shoulder.

  They all laughed.

  Ashley went back to lying on the couch again, bored beyond boredom. She couldn't believe Harold had nothing more entertaining than books and magazines. The guy didn't even have a DVD player! As she laid there, her eyes began to feel heavy. The windows were open. The wind, birds, and other sounds of the forest outside mixed into a drowsy lullaby. She didn't know how long she had rested her eyes, but when she opened them again, Harold was standing over her.

  "What?" Ashley said, her words slurred and groggy.

  "You know Ashley, you are so young and so beautiful," Harold said. His hands were behind his back. "Too beautiful for this ugly, ugly world. I can keep you beautiful forever. You can stay with me, be married to me,and never, ever have to grow old."

  Ashley blinked, trying to clear away her confusion. She rubbed her eyes with her hands. She looked up at Harold and saw nothing in his eyes. His smile though was pure ecstasy.

  She didn't even have a chance toscream. Harold's rough hands held some fabric over her mouth. Even as she struggled, she could feel herself slipping away.

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  "All right, I think here is a good place to stop and go in on foot," Dusty said as he pulled Harold's truck over.

  The four piled out. In front of them stood a sign proclaiming that this was the home of '1991 National AA Football Champions'. Looking down, JT noticed that across the road, spray painted in big, bold orange letters, was 'SAFE HAVEN', with an arrow pointing back the way they had came.

  "According to Harold, he has only been to this town once and at that timeit was clear," Dusty said, in military mode again. It felt good to be doing something proactive. To be leading a squad. "Let's keep on our toes like it's not. Hey Tyrone, you hear me?"

  Tyrone had been staring down at the fluorescent words. "Oh yeah, sure. It is just strange, seeing that again. You know what I mean?"

  "Yeah," Gus added. "I think last time we saw 'Safe Haven' it was pointing to the north, now this one is pointing south. Makes me think we should have stumbled on it, if it's that close by."

  "Unless some kinda lunatic wrote it," JT said. "Like those guys in movies with the end of the world signs."

  "All right, enough, you yahoos. That's not what we are here for," Dusty commanded. "Let's all focus. Remember, use hand weapons only. Guns will be the last resort option. Okay, let's move out."

  "Aye aye sarge sir, roger and all that," Said Gus, giving a half-cocked salute.

  JT remained quiet. Dusty was glad, it make life easier on them all if JT just followed his lead.

  The four men moved together, weapons in hand, saddled with empty backpacks. Mostly clear of wreckage, they made good time down the main street. They came across a few dead bodies. It looked like animals had been picking at them.

  "Gruesome," Tyrone said, covering his mouth. "Every time I see it, I still can't get used to it."

  "Shhhhh," hissed Dusty. "Quiet."

  They reached the main shopping center in the middle of town. A semi, its trailer still attached, on its side in the intersection.

  Dusty went first around the trailer and scrambled to a stop. JT almost crashed into him. Dusty stopped his protests with by holding up his hand, then pointing at the four zombies. They were munching on what was recently an elderly lady. All four had their heads so far buried into her body, they didn't even notice the newcomers. Dusty jumped back, thinking how lucky they were not to be spotted, when a shot rang out. It zinged off the semi-truck. The zombies looked up as one.

  "Back! Back!" Dusty scowled.

  The four men dashed back around the trailer, the zombies rising after them. As the first one turned the corner, JT jumped in front of Dusty and caved its face in with his bat.

  "Home run," Gus cackled. "It's outta here,"

  "No time for horseplay," Dusty turned and gave him a shove. "Get going Gus."

  Another shot rang out and little bits of pavement exploded by Gus's feet.

  "Well shit, we have zombies trying to eat us and people trying to shoot us," Gus puffed as he ran. "Wasn't this a great idea?"

  "Save your breath old timer," Dusty said as he ducked behind a car.

  The others kept going, and the zombies followed. When the last zombie in the pack went past Dusty, he sank his knife into the back of its skull. He pulled his pistol and was lining up a shot on the remaining two, when the window of the car exploded next to him Dusty ducked back down into cover.

  Tyrone ran full speed, getting way ahead of everyone. He stopped and pivoted, drawing his gun and dropping to one knee. JT saw him and motioned to Gus. The two split up, JT going left and Gus going right, pouring on the speed as much as they could. Pop, pop sounded Tyrone's gun. The last two zombies dropped to the ground, bloodless holes in their heads.

  "Guess them lessons are paying off, eh? Nice shootin' slickster!" Gus sounded proud.

  Bet they're glad they listened to menow. I told them we should never st
op honing our skills. Dusty smiled, proud of his teaching skills.

  Dusty moved out of the intersection and motioned them to follow.

  "We'll regroup here. This will be outside the range of whoever is shooting at us."

  "I'm going to find the fucks shooting at us, and I'm going to stick my bat up their asses!" JT fumed. "They just about got us killed."

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  Ashley opened her eyes. At least she thought she did, but everything was still dark. A light came on in the distance. She could see dust motes floating by. She attempted to move, but was bound at the wrist and ankles. Something was in her mouthas well, it tasted oily and old. Still she struggled, but quickly she ran out of strength. Her eyes adjusted to the meager light. She could see a dirt wall in front of her, along with a standalone bathtub. Hooks, brown with flakes of rust, hung from a wooden beam over the tub. She could hear someone humming behind her. It sounded familiar. Is that the wedding march? No way that's crazy. Wait so is this...

  Ashley tried to turn her head, but there wasn't much give either way. The light around her darkened as Harold stepped into view in front of her. He leaned in so close, she could count all the whiskers in his beard.

  "You are awake my darling," Harold said, his voice smooth as glass. "That is great. I didn't want you to miss seeing your wedding dress. I picked it out for you myself."

  He took a couple of steps back and held up the white gown in front of him, like a model.

  "I can tell by the look in your eyes you love it. That makes me very happy. Here, let me get you dressed."

  Ashley hung limp from exhaustion. Now she raged against her bonds like a back alley cat as Harold approached, adrenaline fueling her body.

  "Hush, hush my dear. I know you are excited. This won't take long."

  Harold ripped away her clothes, leaving Ashley shivering in only her panties. He ran his sandpaper hands over her bare breasts softly before leaning in and kissing her on the forehead. How can this be happeningto me? Her thoughts reached a desperate pitch. Haven't I suffered enough already?