The Next World Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Olah, Jeff

  Through the chaos, Chuck had somehow removed his belt and was now twisted to the right, reaching for the door. He fumbled with the lock as they finally came to a stop and the crowd descended on the passenger side of the Hummer. He looked through the windshield, then Owen’s window, and finally out through the rear. “Owen, we gotta get out.”

  Owen watched as the crowd fell upon the opposite side of the vehicle. They pushed in behind one another, their hands clawing at the door, striking the windows, their mouths bloodied and snapping at the air.

  In the second row, Ava had slid away from the door, kicking at the air and screaming, her voice finally breaking. She reached for her mother, although her wide eyes were staring through the front seats toward her father. “DAD, DAD!”

  The crowd now started around the front and rear of the Hummer, pinning them in on three sides, blocking any chance Owen had of throwing the Hummer into reverse and backing away. They piled in behind one another, three, four, and then five deep, slamming their bloodied and bruised arms into the hood without reason or regret.

  “OWEN!”

  Owen reached for the Glock, took a quick glance past Chuck, and then through the rear window. “Get ready, we’re going to have to run.”

  He didn’t wait for the others to respond, instead he turned, opened his door, and stepped out. Four of the closest Feeders took notice and pulled away from the others. Chuck had climbed over the center console and dragged the Mossberg behind, and now also stepped out through the open driver’s door.

  “Get your family!”

  Owen moved quickly to the rear door, pulled it open. His wife’s face now swollen above the eye and her left arm painted in red velvet from her shoulder to her wrist. She struggled to free herself from her seatbelt, too focused on her children and the rear of the Hummer to give it her full attention. She stepped out, but her eyes were locked on the interior. “OWEN, GET THEM OUT!”

  To his left, Chuck was now slowly walking back toward the opposite sidewalk, urging the crowd away from the Hummer as the flood of headlights washed the street in illumination.

  “THEY’RE HERE OWEN, WE’VE GOT TO MOVE!”

  Natalie backpedaled as Owen leaned into the interior and pulled Noah through the open door, setting him onto the rain-soaked street. “Don’t move buddy.”

  “But Dad?”

  Owen turned back, quickly checked the progress of the horde, and figured he had maybe three seconds. His heart kicked and his mouth all-at-once went dry, and reaching for Ava his left arm hooked the seatbelt. “Lean forward sweetheart.”

  From the opposite side of the backseat, the window exploded. Hands and then arms and then faces. A man who’d had half of his face torn off shoved himself in through the opening, jagged pieces of glass embedded in his flesh. The man lunged forward, grabbed Ava’s ankle, the stench of death overwhelming the interior.

  “DAD!”

  Owen leaned in over Ava, and acting on impulse alone placed the end of the Glock’s barrel flush against the man’s wrist. He fired a single shot, severing the man’s hand from the rest of his arm.

  Ava pulled her legs in, brushed the shards of flesh from her ankle and pushed away from the passenger door. She untangled herself from the seatbelt as another large male attempted to enter through the shattered window, and grabbed at Owen’s arms as he pulled her out onto the street.

  “You’re safe sweetheart, but we’re gonna have to run, okay?”

  She didn’t speak right away, just stared off toward the front of the Hummer. Her mouth was slightly agape and her eyes began to tear over as she finally turned back to him. “Dad,” her voice came out slow and broken. “Look …”

  Owen stepped out away from the back door. He held the Glock at arm’s length, looked toward the front of the Hummer, and then quickly to the rear. The vehicle that had pursued them away from their home—a fire engine red Dodge Challenger—had shifted into reverse and was backing away; however, that wasn’t what had his daughter nearly catatonic.

  Natalie, Noah, and Chuck now stood on the far sidewalk fifty feet away, although it may well have been a million miles. The crowd from the front and rear of the Hummer had come together as one and filled the rain-swept street from one end to the other. An army of infected dividing his family.

  Owen moved quickly to Ava, bent slightly at the waist, now eye to eye with his fourteen-year-old daughter. He held her hands, quickly kissed her forehead. “Baby, we’re getting out of this, I promise you that.”

  20

  There were too many, and more coming. Every minute, another wave flooding out from the alley across the street. They were slower than she remembered. Not at all like those that had overrun her office building earlier in the day. They appeared to congregate in groups now, fours and fives, and some in clusters as large as a dozen. Natalie took her son’s hand, turned to Chuck, and stepped back away from the approaching horde.

  “WE CAN’T JUST LEAVE THEM!”

  Chuck ignored her for the moment. He watched the crowd, looking for something he’d missed. Shouting through the rain and the sounds of the infected, he said, “OWEN, GO BACK!”

  Owen must have seen the same small break in the crowd, just short of the intersection. He pulled his daughter into his right side, raised his weapon, and ran in the opposite direction, disappearing behind the Hummer.

  “NOOOO!”

  Natalie released Noah’s hand, started back toward the street. She only managed two strides before Chuck swept in from the left and grabbed for her arm. She pulled back, crying out in agony as a thunderbolt of pain radiated from her left shoulder.

  Chuck stepped in front of Natalie, still holding tight to her forearm. “We have to go,” In his peripheral, he watched as the nine-year-old boy over his left shoulder took another step back, his legs shaking and his little hands held tight to his chest.

  “No, that’s my little girl, my husband.”

  Chuck motioned toward the crowd, now only seconds away. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but we can’t help them, not now.”

  She stepped back, pulled her arm away, and made a point of staring at the Mossberg. “Why not?”

  “I have four shots left in this thing.” He lifted his waistband, showing the nine millimeter tucked in. “Another seven here, that’s nowhere near enough to get through them. We’re gonna have to run.”

  Natalie dropped her head. She wanted to argue, but knew he was right. “But, we can’t just leave them.”

  Chuck began urging her back along the sidewalk, motioned for Noah to fall in at his side. “Your husband, your daughter, they made it through. We can go around, catch them on the street at the other end of the block.”

  She took a step back, and then another. Noah came in from the right, took her hand and looked up at her. He grinned nervously through the mixture of tears and rain, swallowed to clear his throat.

  “Mom,” he glanced quickly at the crowd. “I wanna go, I don’t wanna be here, please. Please Mom.”

  She gripped Noah’s hand, turned back toward Chuck, the crowd now stepping off the street ready to close off their only exit. “Okay, but we have to double back and find them.”

  Chuck offer a quick nod and then motioned toward an apartment building one block down. He broke into a jog and held the shotgun against his shoulder, turning only slightly to confirm Natalie and Noah followed.

  They took a wide path as they came to the four-story brick building, and started to slow at what remained of the glass double doors. Natalie pulled her son to her side and looked back at the crowd, then to Chuck as he started for the door. “Why the hell would we go in here, the doors are down?”

  Chuck swept away a few of the bigger shards of glass, pushed them out into the street. He stepped in front of Natalie and pointed the pump-action shotgun in through the downed front doors. “We get in, get to the second floor, stairs only. I need to get a read on what the rest of the area looks like. This is our only shot.”

  Natalie shook her hea
d. “There’s no way I’m taking my son in there, we have no idea—”

  Chuck ran his hand over his face, obviously growing tired of the conversation. “This is it, we won’t make it another two minutes out here.” He pointed further down the street, two blocks ahead. “Look.”

  Her heart raced and a dull pain began behind her eyes. She looked down at her son, back at Chuck, and then released a series of four letter words she wasn’t completely sure she’d ever spoken in Noah’s presence. She ended by turning toward Chuck and narrowing her eyes. “Please tell me you have a plan.”

  Chuck pulled the nine millimeter from his waistband, held it out, and looked into her eyes. “You tell me you know how to use this and then we have a plan.”

  Natalie took the weapon, racked the slide, and then dropped the magazine into her hand. “Seven.”

  “You good?”

  She slammed the magazine back into the weapon and looked toward the doors. “Find my daughter, my husband.”

  Chuck stared at her bloodied shoulder for a moment, then into her eyes. He paused for what felt like ten seconds. And although she knew what he was looking for, what he’d already figured out, she knew better than to voice it. There wasn’t time for anything but forward movement.

  “Okay,” she said, “I’m ready.”

  “You sure?”

  It was only two words, but cemented her suspicions. It didn’t much matter; however, now it was out there and at some point he’d want to talk about it, want to fix it.

  Instead of responding, she simply readied the weapon, gripped Noah’s hand, and moved quickly to the doors.

  Chuck got there before she did, took a half-step inside, and tapped the stock of the Mossberg against the frame. After a count of three, he dipped in to the lobby and motioned for her to follow. Quickly past the elevators, he moved to the door to the stairs and paused. Under his breath, he said “Second floor, no reason to get greedy. We find an empty apartment that faces south.”

  Natalie’s legs now felt weak, her knees beginning to tremor. She quickly straightened, flexing her quads and hamstrings, and for a moment there was relief. Her voice came out tired and slow. “Okay.”

  Chuck brought the Mossberg up into his shoulder, slowly pulled the door open, and after a second, stepped halfway over the threshold. “Stay close.”

  He looked to Noah. “Doing great buddy, can you grab the back of your mom’s shirt?”

  Noah didn’t look up or even acknowledge that he’d heard him. He just slipped in behind his mother and took a handful of the back of her sweatshirt.

  Next, Chuck again stared at her face, her eyes. “You do the same.”

  Natalie took a breath, which seemed harder and more shallow than before. She gripped the back of his black hoodie and attempted a smile, her eyes now fighting to stay focused as she stared into the darkened stairwell.

  Chuck noticed. “Five minutes, Natalie; just stay with me. I’m gonna need you to fight.”

  They were moving, too fast she thought. Made the first landing before she realized they were climbing. Chuck was speaking under his breath, looking at her, but she couldn’t understand.

  They took the next eight steps faster than the first. And then there was a door. Chuck pulled her through, taking the nine millimeter from her hand and gripping her head. He placed his face next to hers and spoke slowly into her ear.

  “Natalie please, just another minute.”

  She looked down at her son, everything now grey and black, her ears humming, and her hands and feet warm. “I’m not … I can’t … please …”

  Natalie’s knees failed first. And then she dropped, slamming backward into the wall and slowly collapsing to the stained economy-grade carpeting. Noah stood over her shouting, crying, begging. He was there, shrouded in heavy shadows and thick colors, and then as she struggled to get a breath, it all fell away.

  21

  She woke in bed. It was warm. There was a slight breeze against the side of her face. Her stomach was tight and her arms and legs were heavy. She swallowed hard, her mouth tasting faintly of citrus and as she took her first conscious breath, the air was thick with antiseptic.

  “Hello?” Her voice crackled.

  Natalie slowly open her eyes, the room unfamiliar. She lifted her head, looked around, and then laid it back on the pillow. She wanted to sleep, felt like she needed it, was vaguely aware of her surroundings, but for the moment nothing was real.

  “Hello?”

  There were footsteps from somewhere outside the room. Sounded like thick-soled boots against hardwood. They stepped quickly, and heavier than either of her children, a different gait than her husband.

  And then there was someone at the door. They stood leaning against the frame, only partially visible through the etched sunlight that lingered through a massive pair of casement windows.

  “How are you feeling?” It was a man’s voice, although not her husband. It was low and although somewhat familiar, she couldn’t quite place it.

  He stayed at the door and spoke before she could answer. “Your shoulder’s probably going to hurt like hell, but it’ll be fine in a few days.”

  “My shoulder?” As she spoke the words, it all came back. The massacre at her office building. Her husband coming for her, and their close call in the city. The ravenous man who’d broken into her home and attacked her children. The group chasing her and her family from their neighborhood, and then being separated from her daughter and her husband.

  The last memory came as exclamation to the black hole of despair she was falling through. Her son having to watch as she lost herself and everything else out in the second-floor hallway of that apartment building, the one she now assumed she was holed up in.

  “Chuck?”

  He stepped into the room, quiet as he approached. He stood a few feet from the foot of the bed, rolled his neck from side to side, and yawned. “You okay?”

  “No.”

  “You remember?”

  “Yes, everything.”

  Chuck kept his voice low, looked back toward the door. “I’m sorry, I can’t imagine—”

  “Wait.” Natalie sat up. She pulled off the blanket, pushed away the pillow, tried to swing her legs over the side, only managed a few inches. She leaned forward, now breathing hard, and pushed herself to the edge of the bed. “What time is it?”

  “Hey, you can’t …”

  She dropped her legs to the floor, pushed away from the bed, and immediately started to fall. Chuck was around the front of the bed and to her before she realized he was there. He caught her on the way down, quickly lifted her, and set her gently in a bedside chair.

  Chuck moved to the window. He opened it another few inches and looked out, knew what she wanted to ask. “There wasn’t anything I could do. I went out every few hours, as far as I could, still needed to be able to see this building. I needed to be able to see Noah at the window, I promised him that.”

  Natalie sat forward in the chair. She wanted to stand, but now her head felt light and her vision spotty. “Where’s Noah?”

  “He’s okay, still asleep in the other room.”

  She’d asked before, but wasn’t so sure she wanted an answer now. What it would mean, where the conversation would have to go, the details that would surely break her. She didn’t want to know, but she had to know.

  “What time is it, how long have I been out?”

  Chuck took a long time to respond. He continued to stare out into the city, although after nearly thirty seconds, he turned back toward her, looked into her eyes. “It’s been almost two days.”

  The words hit her like an out of control freight train. She felt a wave of nausea building in her stomach as she considered what his words actually revealed. “How could you?”

  Chuck stepped away from the window. “What?”

  Natalie dug her fingers into the arms of the chair, clamped down. She started to pull herself to her feet, but quickly sat back. “My family is out there, my fourteen-y
ear-old daughter, my husband.”

  His face a deep shade of red, Chuck took in a measured breath through his nose, slid a second chair across from her and sat. “I understand, you have—”

  Her voice shot up, Natalie was now nearly shouting. “No, you don’t understand. My family is out there and you promised me we’d find them. Isn’t that what you said?”

  Chuck sat forward, his elbows on his knees. He looked like he hadn’t slept, dark shadows circled his eyes, and his hands shook as he put them together. After a moment, he turned his eyes toward the floor and spoke quietly. “I’m sorry.” He could see that she was going to interrupt and held up his hand. “I can’t begin to understand what you must be thinking, but there really wasn’t anything I could do. I went out as often as I could, but never far enough.”

  He was right, she shouldn’t be going after him. He was the only reason that she and her son were alive, but it still hurt, and she needed something to take away the pain. “You think Owen and Ava are …” She couldn’t finish.

  “There are a few possibilities, but I do think they’re out there. Maybe hiding, maybe they’ve made it to Cecil’s, maybe somewhere else. And now that you’re up and around, I can get out there, extend the search area. When you’re ready, we can make a run to the Hummer and—”

  Natalie pulled herself forward, out of the chair, finally able to stand. “I’m ready now, let’s go.”

  Chuck shook his head. “Won’t do us any good if you go down again. Maybe you should go see Noah, get some food in your belly. If you’re still up for it, we can head out a few hours before sundown. It’d be our best chance, plenty of time to search the streets and get to Cecil’s by the time the city goes dark again.”

  Natalie turned toward the window. “The Hummer, is there any chance we can get to it?”

  “Sure, but most of the windows are blown out and the windshield looks like it’s cracked in a thousand different places. We’d be better off picking off a new ride, tons of cars out there left behind, won’t be hard to find one.”