“You thirsty?” Micky asked, breaking Tara from her trance.
“Oh, yes.” Tara replied, the mere mention of a drink making her realize she was parched. Micky got up from the bed and went into the bathroom, returning with a bottle of water and a nutrition bar. He handed both to her and Tara instantly twisted the top to break the seal on the bottle and drank from it quickly and eagerly, gulping down nearly half its contents before she stopped. She replaced the cap and then ripped open the packet covering the bar and began to eat. It had an incredibly sweet apple flavoured filling, but she didn’t care. She was so hungry that regardless of how it tasted, she was going to eat it.
“Thank you.” Tara managed to get out between mouthfuls.
“You’re welcome.” Micky sat back down on the bed and waited for her to finish eating. “So, do you have any idea how we can get out of town?”
Tara finished eating and took another quick slug of water before answering.
“If the roads are out then we’d have to go on foot. We could try going through the forest, but it’d be easy to get lost there. That might work to our advantage I suppose.” Tara said, and then began to think about their other options. If there were snipers picking people off, then going out to the north west would be bad, it’s all plains and they would be easy to pick off. The mountains to the north east would be awful to try and traverse, but at the top there were a few cabins they could hide in.
“I’m not sure there is a good way out of town. Maybe we’d be best trying to ride it out.” Tara admitted.
“Maybe. Between that gun running psycho and the damn zombies, it’d probably be too dangerous to move anywhere right now anyway.”
They sat for a while, speaking softly. Micky talked about himself, revealing that he was a courier, and before everything had gone to hell, he’d been on his way to New York City. He’d intended to stop in Harrowsfield for only one night, and now he was as stuck as any of the residents. Tara listened, but only in an absent sort of way. She was focused on listening for any signs of outside disturbance: a boot step, the crunching of glass or anything that might indicate her pursuer had found her. She was fearful and physically exhausted and now that her adrenaline had worn off, she felt an aching weariness, a stitch in her side and her lungs burned from the abusive running she’d put herself through. As Micky continued rattling off unnecessary information about himself, Tara remembered how Tobias had lectured her on trying to get fit, to shed a few pounds and make herself look more ‘presentable’. Tobias, she mused, was a bastard at times. But she had loved him, at least, she had thought she did. They were high school sweethearts and had married as soon they graduated college. With money being tight and more than a little reluctance on Tobias’ part, they’d never tried for children. And that was probably for the best with everything going on now, she thought. But still, it had been something she’d wanted and something he’d always promised but had never seemed interested in. Her love of children was what led her into a teaching career; never in a thousand years would she have imagined she would be getting chased through the streets of her hometown by an assassin and zombies. In a state of relative safety and feeling exhausted, she began to feel drowsy.
“Hey, here I am talking your ear off. I’m used to sleeping in the day, so why don’t you get some shut eye?” Micky asked her suddenly, snapping Tara to alertness just as her head began to droop.
“No. No, I can’t sleep. I’ll be fine.” Tara said, shaking her head and forcing wakefulness upon herself.
“I know you barely know me and all that, but I think under the circumstances its best if we trust each other a little. You get some rest now, I’ll wake you after a few hours and you can take over while I catch some sleep. We can sleep in shifts, and then tomorrow night we’ll see if there’s an opportunity to escape, or at least go and find some more supplies.” Micky suggested.
Tara looked into his kind, youthful face. He had a gun, she thought. If he’d wanted to hurt her then there was no reason to assume he would want to wait for her to sleep. She thought about the man pursuing her, and knew that if she faced him again she would have a better chance if she wasn’t battling exhaustion at the same time. Slowly, Tara nodded in agreement. Micky slipped off the bed and went to the door, sliding down to the floor and sitting, tilting his head towards the window, and Tara took this as him suggesting she rest on the bed. She stood, her legs aching, and moved to the bed, laying down facing the window. Sleeping still seemed to be a potentially fatal idea, but glancing at Micky, who had retrieved the gun and was holding it on his lap as he listened through the door and kept an eye on the window, she felt it was probably the best time to try. Tara closed her eyes.
Chapter Two
Something touched Tara and she jolted awake; daylight was illuminating the outside of the curtains, and as Tara scrambled back, trying to determine what it was that had awoken her, Micky spoke softly.
“It’s okay, you’re okay, don’t worry, don’t panic. It’s all good.” He told her, trying to be as soothing as possible. Tara looked up and slowly began to recognize him. Her dreams had been heavy and she was groggy, but she understood where she was after a few moments.
“What time is it?” Tara asked, or rather, mumbled.
“Probably close to noon, judging by the sun’s position. My watch broke and I left my phone back in my car. Not that it’s probably got any charge left by now.”
Tara shifted off the bed and found the bottle of water she’d started last night on the end table. She picked it up and drank quickly, exacerbating her pangs of hunger.
“There’s a stash of those bars in the bathroom if you want to grab one after you… well, if you want to… you know...” Micky said, flushing with embarrassment. Tara nodded. He turned the gun around in his hands and held it out for her, handle first. Tara looked at it, and then at Micky, before reaching out and taking the gun, and then heading into the bathroom. She shut the door and put the gun on the counter where the sink was recessed. After using the toilet and freshening up, she found a small box containing more than a dozen of the nutrition bars by the door and so she collected two and then grabbed the gun, slipping it down the front of her jeans. When she emerged from the bathroom, Micky was lying on the bed and seemed to be sleeping, so Tara went straight to the window. She pulled the curtain back a few inches and peered out. The line of sight allowed her to see onto the street a little. She saw a pack of infected were lingering, five she could see… and probably more nearby or even a part of the same pack but just out of sight.
Tara watched them milling about, taking steps only to take them back; turning and looking as though responding to some unseen stimulus. She remembered what the news said after the Seraph Hotel and Casino attack; the infected hunted by sight, smell and sound. There were limits to their senses, of that she was sure; that was why they hadn’t entered the motel grounds in pursuit of Tara and Micky. If they saw her, or if she made too much noise, then it would a different situation.
She recalled what happened outside the hardware store. She’d tried to tell Tobias and Emily that hammering and banging and using power tools would only bring them trouble. He had told her to stop being a coward and keep watch. And so, she had. At that point they’d already secured the back door, something that seemingly hadn’t attracted much attention. Perhaps, Tara considered as she watched the infected stumble in the street through the motel room window, they would have gotten away with their fortifications if there hadn’t been gunshots close to the hardware store. Tara had watched fearfully while Tobias, Emily and the others struggled to place the last boards over the windows, as a pickup truck with four men hanging on in the bed flipped over at the intersection. They had tried to turn too quickly, being pursued by a large horde of infected, and those who had survived had immediately started firing as the closest infected charged them. Tara saw them torn apart, except for that one survivor who had started sprinting towards them.
Tara stopped thinking about those events, and
focused instead on keeping watch. She let the curtain fall back into place, not wanting keep it parted for so long that if the gunman, against the odds, happened to be looking that way he would detect her or the movement of the curtain. Tara ripped the wrapper on the first of the bars and began to eat, more calmly than she had eaten the last one. There wasn’t much to do, Tara conceded, but at least she wasn’t being chased; by either the living or the dead. She ate slowly, occasionally looking out the window, and she listened. Pressing her ear against the cheap, thin door, she could hear quite a lot from the outside; the moaning of the infected and what sounded like some kind of bird tweeting and chirping as though it didn’t have a care in the world. Tara realized she had no idea if animals were targeted by the infected. If this wasn’t brought under control, if somehow the infected took over the world, what would become of the animals? Tara loved them almost as much as she loved children.
A series of gunshots rang out in the street. Tara quickly looked out through the gap in the curtain, trying to see what was happening. Micky had sprung up from the bed, approaching the window quickly and looking at Tara.
“What is it?” He demanded. Tara didn’t answer straight away. She couldn’t see anything. The infected she’d spied earlier were shuffling off to the left; they were no doubt seeking out the source of the gunshots just as Tara was.
“I can’t see anything.” Tara hissed.
Micky pulled another part of the curtain and peeked out as well. After a few moments, he shook his head and retreated towards the bed.
“Let’s hope that was just some dude surviving and not that psycho.” Micky commented, slinking across to the bed and laying back down again. He let out a heavy sigh and looked at Tara as she continued to peer out.
“I’m pretty sure if it were that guy we’d have seen him by now.”
“What do you think he’s doing?” Micky asked.
Tara thought for a few moments before responding.
“I think he’s one of those Reborn, and I think he’s clearing the town of survivors, the ones the infected don’t get.” Tara concluded.
“What makes you think that?”
“His gear, the way he killed those people hiding in the bar. With what you’re saying about snipers picking people off at the roads out of town to stop them from leaving, maybe that’s their mission. Unleash the virus, let it run its course, and wipe out any survivors holding on.” Tara explained. She looked at Micky and saw his confusion. “I’ve got no evidence or anything like that; it’s just… I don’t know, based on what we know of what happened in the Seraph, the Reborn don’t have a lot of interest in people surviving the outbreak of their virus.”
“I lost a cousin in the Seraph.”
“Really?” Tara asked, surprised.
“Yep. Kyle was one of the security guys who worked the casino, one of the ones that Melissa Jones, the hero of the Seraph,” Micky called her sarcastically, “didn’t save.”
“Maybe it wasn’t her fault.” Tara commented.
“We’ll never know. They never told us how Kyle died just that it was during the outbreak. Could’ve been a zombie that got him or could’ve been a Reborn for all we know.”
“I’m sorry. Were you close?”
“Yeah. After my mom and I left New Orleans, we went to live in Vegas for a while. Stayed with Kyle and his folks; I swear, that kid lived for video games. Then my mom got her own place, I got this courier gig and we sort of went our own way. Hard to keep in touch with folks on the road; hell, I don’t even know how my mom’s doing. We haven’t spoken since the outbreak in the cities; hard to get anyone on the phone, you know?”
“Yeah, I know. I wanted to call my mom to check in on her. I told Tobias I wanted to try and call just one last time before we left the house, but he said there wasn’t time. He was too busy barking orders, telling me to pack this or that, prepare this thing, and to stop slowing him and Emily down.”
“Your husband sounds like a real winner, if you don’t mind my saying.”
“He used to be. He had his good moments, but we were still in a rough place after his affair.”
“Jeez. It must’ve taken a lot to forgive that.”
Tara looked at Micky and said nothing. It seemed strange to be having such a personal conversation with a relative stranger, but perhaps it was easier to explain because he was a stranger, not someone who claimed to know her, or claimed to love her.
“So, is he dead?” Micky asked.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t seem… I don’t want to say this wrong, but you don’t seem too broken up.”
“Maybe it’s just the shock of it all.” Tara answered. She looked out behind the curtain again and saw that the street was clear. “Maybe you should get your rest while you can.” Tara told him.
Micky nodded and rolled over, facing away from the light. Tara resumed her vigil. He wasn’t wrong, she thought to herself; she hadn’t shed a tear or even thought twice about Tobias or Emily again since the gunman started attacking her. Was it really because she’d just been so busy, or was it perhaps that his final act of betrayal had broken whatever ties or feelings she’d had for him? Tara didn’t know. But she felt something different; something within her had changed. She felt more focused, more alert, more… alive, than she’d felt in years. As she ripped open the wrapper on the second bar and began to eat, Tara felt a little better about her chances of surviving.
Dusk came slowly. There wasn’t any way to pass the time other than to watch and to listen, and pray that there was nothing to see or hear. Tara felt herself becoming a little drowsy after a time, so she got up and paced a little, moving slowly and quietly so she didn’t disturb Micky and also so she could still try to hear any disturbance outside. She finished her bottle of water and contemplated filling it up again from the tap, but decided against it for now. She waited, she thought about the people she’d lost and she kept watch. At one point she took some of the bullets out of the spare clip she had and tried to see if they would work in the revolver, but they weren’t the same size, and not wanting to do anything that might mess up their only working firearm, she put the spare clip and the ejected bullets on the floor near the bed out of the way.
It had been a beautiful day with only a few clouds in the sky. Had the world not been coming to an end, Tara thought to herself, it would’ve been a great day to spend some time outdoors. Now, as striking hues of pink and orange lit the sky, the sun falling behind the western horizon with a slow calmness that was hypnotic, Tara decided to wake Micky. She poked him in the shoulder a couple of times and he stirred from his slumber quickly, rolling over and looking at Tara.
“It’s getting dark.” She told him, and after rubbing his face, he nodded.
“That it is.”
He got up, refreshed himself and then returned to Tara.
“So, how’s it looking out there?”
“I can’t see anything, but I don’t imagine it’s safe.”
“No sign of that guy?”
“Nope, nor any infected for a good while.”
“Is there anywhere we can get some more supplies? Maybe we could get some real things to eat and bring them back here, make this our camp or something.”
Tara thought for a moment, and then nodded.
“There’s a market a couple of blocks over; they have just about everything.”
“Great.”
Tara went to hand the gun back to Micky, but he shook his head.
“Keep it. You can cover us and I’ll carry the stuff we… huh, it seems strange to say we steal, but I guess it’ll be true.”
“I don’t think those rules apply anymore.” Tara informed him. Micky shrugged.
“You’re probably right. Let’s wait a little longer and then start out.”
The two waited by the window watching the sky turn a dark, inky blue and observing the streetlights flickering into life, and once it was satisfactorily dark, Tara opened the door slowly and quietly. She held
the gun in one hand and was ready to reach for her baton with the other, just in case an infected had somehow made its way up around the other side of the building. But it was clear; there were no signs of the infected, and even more of a relief than there being no signs of the infected, there was also no sign of the gunman. Stepping outside, Tara felt a cool evening breeze wafting over her and she realized for the first time how warm she’d been in the small motel room. Micky shut the door behind them with a subtle click, and then they proceeded, stepping on the few shards of the glass he’d scattered as an early warning system. They departed the motel area carefully, moving in single file and looking this way and that, checking for any indication that a threat was approaching. Tara was aware that the gunman had been on a rooftop at the start of her encounter with him, and she couldn’t rule out the possibility he’d returned to such a vantage point. At the first corner, Tara had spent several cautious seconds peering around, exposing as little of herself as possible while scanning the rooftops looking for any sign of him. But, as much as darkness might afford Tara and Micky a chance to move undetected, it also offered him the same protection; perhaps more, as the streetlights luminosity didn’t extend up to the rooftops, whereas they would be exposed every time they stepped underneath one.
A World Reborn (Novella): The Harrowsfield Outbreak Page 4
