A World Reborn (Novella): The Harrowsfield Outbreak

by Chris Thompson

  “You’ve done well to make it this far, young one.” A deep, Spanish sounding voice boomed into the space not far from where Tara was. His accent was thick, and in any other circumstance, Tara would have thought it was sexy; but this was the voice of the man who wanted to kill her, and it sent fearful chills through her body. Tara tried to control her breathing to stop herself from wheezing so audibly, but she couldn’t.

  “I mean that. Others in your position would’ve been dead by now, especially when the horde found you in the hardware store. As much as I’m enjoying the chase, however, you should know how it's going to end: I’ll find you or you’ll slip up and be attacked by the infected. You won’t survive - your death is inevitable. I could end it right now. One quick shot between the eyes; you’ll feel nothing and I promise you won’t turn into one of them.” He announced. His voice wasn’t getting any closer, and so Tara assumed he was the same distance away, perhaps at the entrance to the parking area. Tara began to believe she might still have a chance to escape. Perhaps, she thought, she could crawl around the car in front of her and then make her way on her hands and knees to the playhouse. Perhaps this wasn’t the end, she began to think hopefully.

  “No? No interest in making it quick?” He questioned. Tara, her breathing stabilizing just a little, painfully got onto her hands and knees and started crawling around towards the front of the car ahead of her. She was as careful as she could be, as quiet as she could be, hoping to not make any sounds that might give away her stealthy attempt at escape. Each time she inched forward she tensed, her mind fearful that at any moment she’d hear one, final gunshot. But she didn’t, so when she reached the hood of the car she slipped around it, moving carefully to the other side. There was one more car between her and the open space of the parking area before the street. Crawling the whole way seemed dangerous, but standing and running seemed equally perilous. She had no idea what to do beyond continuing her slow, careful movement around the next car; and so she continued forward, slipping around the hood of the car just as she heard his voice again. It was closer now, but not by much; at most he was by the first car in this column.

  “You’ll never leave this town alive. You remember what happened to the people who tried, yes? Or don’t you know? Did the safety of the little hardware shop blind you to what was happening to your neighbours?”

  Tara didn’t know what had happened to the people who had fled. There were four roads leading out of town, pretty much at the compass points of north, south, east and west. If one tried to leave on foot there were open plains leading up into the mountains to the north east, or a dense forest to the south west. To her knowledge, no one had attempted to leave on foot, but a few had driven out. Tara ignored these distracting thoughts and slid quickly around the final car. She looked out into the open space and wished there had been more parked vehicles, or a dumpster, or anything she could use to obscure herself. But there wasn’t. It was an open shooting gallery, and at present, Tara was the only target.

  “I tell you what. You’ve gotten yourself into a bit of a corner here.” The man taunted, his voice much, much closer than it had been; probably on the other side of the car Tara was hiding behind.

  Tara said nothing in response; she held her breath, but the desire to suck in air built within her so quickly she only lasted a few seconds before she drew in a ragged breath.

  “You’ve earned the smallest amount of my respect making it as far as you have. I’ll give you thirty seconds to run. Go and hide, or find a weapon and try to survive. Trust those survival instincts you’ve obviously got.”

  Tara wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly, and so sat there, unmoving and confused as to what he could have meant.

  “Twenty-five.” He announced.

  Tara wondered if perhaps he could be telling the truth. On the one hand, she couldn’t reconcile why he would do it, but on the other, she was aware he could easily have rounded the corner and finished her off.

  “Twenty.” He stated coldly. The time, if he truly was giving it to her, was running out. Whatever game he was playing, Tara knew that her only chance for survival was to run. Would he try and gun her down before the end of the countdown? Possibly. But she didn’t have any other options; there was no way for her to overpower him, not with just a baton.

  “Fifteen - time to move, little one.” He announced.

  Tara’s desire to live overrode her fear. She stood up and started moving, expecting a gunshot but hoping he was true to his word. Looking quickly over her shoulder, she saw the figure leaning up against the wall next to the car Tara had been hiding behind. He was looking at a watch on his left wrist, and holding his assault rifle at his side with his right hand. Tara turned ahead and ran out into the street, the familiar, exhausted, aching sensation radiating through her body as fatigue caused her to slow down.

  “Ten!” The gunman called out.

  Across the street and at the wall of the playhouse, Tara initially thought to make her way inside and try to hide, but it seemed pointless to go into the first building she came across, and so, with a strength in her exhausted body she never knew she had, Tara pushed down the street, heading ostensibly left out of the parking area and pushing on to the next intersection. Once there, she heard a very faint, final call of “Five!” and assessed her options; the park was across the street to the right, but if she went left, then she could push towards the chamber of commerce. It was a large building and might provide many avenues of cover. But if she didn’t do something to throw him off her trail, even if only for a little while, then eventually her energy would be depleted and then, Tara knew, she’d be dead. Turning left, heading down the street towards the chamber of commerce, Tara knew he was most likely on the move. If he was moving at full speed then the lead he’d granted her would evaporate in moments, but if he was using that sauntering walk of his, then she might have a couple of minutes at most. She thought the latter most likely, as he was, after all, enjoying the chase, or so he’d said. She moved to the first door of a pair on the left - large, glass doors with a restaurant’s name on them - and opened it wide and then darted away, heading across the street, clambering over a knee high wall that had planter space for trees and hedges to live in. On the other side was the parking lot for a large store, and Tara took cover behind a car which was parked in the shade of a tree. She was ducked down as low as she possibly could be, and kept her eye on the corner she’d rounded, waiting and watching for her pursuer. Then she saw him; a towering physical presence made all the more frightening by his armour and weaponry. He was sauntering, his weapon held at the side as he surveyed the street; scrutinizing the alleyways between the buildings, the planted area and the car park beyond it. He stepped towards her, and for a few moments, Tara thought her ruse mightn’t have worked, but as he came closer to her position, she saw him look towards the open door of the restaurant. It was dark inside, and for a few silent, terrifying moments he examined it. Looking briefly towards the car park area again, he seemed to reach a decision and turned, moving towards the restaurant door. He turned on a flashlight mounted on his weapon and stepped inside. Tara watched and waited, giving him a few moments to get deeper inside, and then decided to make her move. She almost got to her feet, but then realized he might see her, so getting as low to the ground as she could, she crawled across the parking lot. She knew there was a small alleyway on the other side of the store, and so she moved towards it as quickly as she could, careful to not make any sounds. She heard a muffled gunshot and realized her enemy was still in the restaurant and he had likely just killed someone. She hoped that he was simply executing one of the infected, but it occurred to her as a second and third gunshot rang out, it could have been survivors.

  Tara focused on her task. On hands and knees, scrambling as fast as she could, she reached the alleyway; where she was grateful to be able to rise to her feet once she had safely crawled around the corner. She moved along it cautiously, until she arrived at the next street, where she c
hecked quickly left and right. To the left, a large number of infected lingered, perhaps as many as fifty. They had obviously been attracted to the sound of the gunshots, as some were shuffling towards it, but others stood still; confused and uncertain where to go. Across from her, the large, stone walls of the chamber of commerce stood before her; a pair of glass doors separating her from their potential safety. However, a secondary thought occurred to her - another opportunity to throw her pursuer off. To the right, across the intersection, there was a large motel; a two story structure with about forty rooms, a swimming pool and a storage facility beyond that. She knew she needed to lay low for a while and thought that the sheer number of rooms in the motel might give her an opportunity lose her pursuer. It would allow her to catch her breath, and, if she was lucky, scavenge something useful from within the rooms.

  Taking a few deep breaths to steady herself she hurried across the way to the commerce building and gently nudged one of the doors open. It wasn’t as flagrantly open and obvious as the restaurant had been; she merely wanted it to suggest she might have gone in there rather than shout it aloud, and hoped this subtlety might persuade her pursuer to waste his time searching for her in there. Next, she hurried towards the motel. She didn’t know where exactly to hide, which room, but figured she would try as many doors as she could and whichever one opened, would be the place to hide. It wasn’t necessarily the best plan, she thought upon reflection, but she simply couldn’t keep moving for much longer. She went up the stairs onto the second floor of rooms and began trying doors. The first five didn’t yield to her attempt to open them and a flash of fear hit Tara in the gut; she questioned what she would do if none of the doors opened. She had lost track of where her pursuer was; for all she knew, he was watching from a distance, and would soon be on her.

  Tara skipped the seventh door, as it was drenched in blood and half open and she figured it was likely to have an infected inside, or, on the other hand, it could house the remains of someone who hadn’t turned when attacked, and she didn’t want to come face to face with one of their victims. She tried the eighth door and found it was locked; as she let go of the handle, she heard a gunshot in the distance. It was further away than she had dared to hope, and she figured her pursuer was otherwise occupied for the present. The smallest amount of relief entered her heart as she turned away from the door and started towards the left turn to the next set of rooms. As she began to walk, she felt a hand go around her mouth, and an arm across her waist, lifting her up. A muffled, mumbled scream tried to escape her lips but it was smothered by the man holding her.

  “Shush!” A voice hissed insistently in her ear. “I’m not going to hurt you!” It was a different voice; he had a distinctive southern accent and although Tara still tried to struggle, he wasn’t hurting her. The man dragged her back into the room and shut the door carefully, still controlling Tara. When the door clicked shut, he spoke again.

  “I’m going to let you go, okay? Just, please, don’t make a sound or you might get us killed.”

  True to his word, he let Tara go, and she quickly stepped away, rounding on him. She sized him up quickly; a handsome, tall, muscular man with a shaved head. He had his arms and hands raised in a peaceful, submissive way.

  “Who are you?” Tara asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “Micky Lee. You?” He replied just as softly.

  “Tara Stevens.”

  “Normally I’d say pleased to meet you, but with what’s going on, that’d be a bit strange.”

  “Listen, I’m being chased by a man - he’s got a big gun and armour and he’s a crazy killer!” Tara explained quickly.

  “Spanish sounding guy?” Micky questioned.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ve seen him. Saw him gun down a whole family; if you’ve got him after you then this is as good a place as any to hide.”

  Tara looked at him, and then at the room itself. There were thin curtains over the window with a single door beside it. There was a double bed, a television and a door leading to a bathroom; it was dark, but that was for the best. A light would give their position away. She observed there was no other way out, but considering this room looked just as inconspicuous as any other, Tara thought it might be safe for a little while.

  “Just stay low, and if he shows his face, I’ve got this.” Micky said as he reached behind his back, retrieving a large revolver. Tara nodded.

  “I wish there was some way to know when he was coming.”

  “Oh, I took care of that.”

  “Huh?” Tara asked, confused.

  “You didn’t notice the broken glass just outside the window? I broke a bulb. We’ll hear him crunching it or disturbing it, and that’ll give us a chance.”

  Tara hadn’t noticed it at the time, as desperate to flee as she was, but she did recollect stepping on some glass. She nodded, and her fatigue overwhelming her she shuffled back and rested her back against the wall before she collapsed. As she did, another distant gunshot was barely audible in the room.

  “Sounds like he’s going further away anyway; it seems as though you gave him the slip.” Micky said. He pulled the curtain back just a fraction and peeked outside, before resetting it and moving to the bed, where he sat down with the gun beside him. They continued speaking, their voices barely above a whisper.

  “What’s going on out there, you got any idea?” Micky asked.

  “Weren’t you at the town meeting?”

  “No. I’m not a local; I was passing through and decided to spend the night here.”

  “Do you know what’s been happening in the cities?” Tara wanted to know.

  “Yeah, the Reborn virus that turns people into zombies or something.”

  Tara almost smiled. At last she’d found someone else who called them zombies.

  “Yeah, the Reborn virus, that’s what prompted Mayor Johnson to call a meeting at the county fairground; he wanted everyone to be there, which is why it wasn’t held in the town hall. He told us that the latest information from the government was that the infected were spilling out of the cities in some areas, so it was possible that some might one day find their way into town. That was when they attacked.”

  “Who?” Micky asked.

  “The Reborn. There were two of them. They injected the virus into themselves and with nearly the entire population of the town at the fairground, there were hundreds of people turned before we could even react. We, my husband, his sister and I, managed to get to her car. I wanted him to drive out of town, but he said we’d be better holding up in our home and waiting for help. I went with him. The meeting was in the morning and by the time dusk came, the infected must’ve numbered in the thousands; friends, co-workers, entire families marauding through the residential streets and devouring everything in their path. We tried to get away but there were too many of them - too many to run down in the car, so we ended up on main street hiding in a hardware store that we quickly fortified with some friends we picked up on the way. It turned into a death-trap. When I escaped, after my husband shoved me into the path of the zombies in order to save himself, I tried to leave town again, but came across this psycho, and I’ve been on the run ever since.”

  “It’s been a hell of a day by the sound of things.” Micky remarked. “But you wouldn’t have been able to drive out of here anyway.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, I slept most of the day because I drove all night, but when I woke up and saw what was happening, I hopped in my car and tried to leave. There had to have been… a half dozen cars either crashed or just plain stopped in the road ahead of me and I got flagged down by some guy. He told me that there was a sniper shooting drivers. I asked how he knew it was a sniper, and he admitted they’d not actually seen who fired, but he’d tried the other roads out of town and saw things were very much the same there. I thought about going out on foot, but seeing something like that and not having even the foggiest idea about the terrain, I figured I’d be better off hol
ding up until help arrived.”

  Tara thought about what he had said quietly for a few minutes. It seemed, in the end neither she nor Tobias had been right. They couldn’t leave, and staying put somewhere was the wrong choice as well. Or maybe, she considered, it was simply the choice of location they’d chosen to set up in. All the noise they’d made assembling the barricade had probably attracted the infected. It seemed irrelevant now, but she remembered how she had tried to make some suggestions and how Tobias had angrily shot her down. He desperately wanted, she thought at the time, to keep the people around him safe, but seeing how he’d fled without a moment’s concern, Tara began to wonder if it wasn’t more of an ego trip for him. He fancied himself a rugged survivor. He’d done a few weekends away on courses and always came back with an attitude Tara didn’t care for. A few times he’d scolded her for not having joined him, asking what she’d do if she found herself stranded and needed to make a fire or get fresh water. She tried to laugh it off, saying she’d have him to look after her, but that had only angered him more. It wasn’t as though she was against the idea of survivalist school, but spending a weekend doing it after teaching and grading papers all week wasn’t something that appealed to her. Her ideal weekend was one with a glass of wine and a good meal at home in the evenings. And on another note, something she barely acknowledged even to herself, it reminded Tara of the weekends her father had tried to do those same things with her: camping, foraging and using a gun. She had little aptitude for such things and this had disappointed her father greatly, and so she tried to steer clear of the things that brought up bad memories.