Sarah looked up at her a little bewildered. “Yes, I think so. That was a first. Normally I have a clue when one is coming. I hit my head pretty good.” She continued to feel the back of her head and squinted in pain. There was a good-sized knot, which was very sensitive. She pulled her hand back and stared at a small blotch of blood.
“Oh my gross!" said Chelsea. "You got blood!"
"I think I'm okay," Sarah said, shaking her head.
Chelsea remembered her vision and asked, "What did you see? Did you see giant snails? I see those sometimes,” she said, nodding her head in affirmation of her own abilities.
Smiling weakly, Sarah put her hand on the ground and started to rise. “No giant snails this time, Chelse, but you never know.” Looking up at Lisa, her expression changed as she stood. Lisa could see worry and pain in her eyes. “I need to go. Sorry, Lisa. I’ll come back and explain things later. I need to write some things down and talk to Bo.”
“No problem. You should see Gene, too. Anything I should know about?”
Sarah shot a quick glance at Chelsea, and Lisa nodded in understanding. “Gotcha,” she said. “Let’s just talk later. Go see the doc. That looks like a nasty bump. I hope you're okay."
~~~
“It’s not over,” Sarah said to Bo and Mace as they sat in Bo’s living room. She had walked in the back door and gone straight to the kitchen, where she rinsed the blood from her wound. She found them discussing Mace’s concerns over Jason, and her proclamation immediately stopped their conversation. Looking up at her, Bo didn’t need to ask what she meant. “What did you see?”
“Just one, but it’s out there somewhere. There are others as well. They’re different but not as mutated.”
“Shit.”
“Any feel for where it’s at?” asked Mace.
“No, I didn’t recognize the area. The most disturbing part is I could see it attacking kids.”
“Oh God,” said Bo. “That’s horrible.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “We need to step up patrols. I don’t know if this will ever be over.”
Mace stood and addressed them both. “I’ll take a patrol out. I’ve been thinking we should probably have more anyway. Motorcycles would work better than the ATV's. They’re quick and easy on gas.” He paused and then added, “We really need to know if something’s coming before it gets here.”
Nodding his head, Bo stood and reached out his hand, a smile parting his lips. “We’ve got motorcycles all gassed up and ready to go. Just talk to Angie. She’ll show you where they are. You remind me a lot of Travis, you know. He was always thinking about security.”
Mace chuckled as he shook his hand. “I’ve heard a lot of stories about him. The more I hear, the more intrigued I get. I’ve also been on both sides of the fence, and it feels a whole lot better on this side. I just don’t want it to go to shit.” His smile faded as he thought of the hospital and how quickly it had been destroyed. “We can never feel secure. The minute we do is the minute our weakness is exposed.”
Once Mace had left, Sarah plopped down on the couch in their living room, feeling completely spent. The pain in the back of her head was becoming more pronounced and spreading to the rest of her head. She winced and rubbed her finger over her eyebrow. “It was the weirdest thing, Bo. Those kids I saw. They were all wearing Halloween costumes.”
CHAPTER TEN
Jacqueline pulled into the school parking lot, and the truck almost stalled as she battled with the clutch. The grinding noise was horrific, and everyone gritted their teeth as she struggled with it. The boys in the back covered their ears, shooting wide-eyed looks at each other.
“Sorry,” Woody said again, looking a little embarrassed as he glanced up at her.
Jacqueline got the truck in gear, and it lurched forward before she was able to get it under control. “Just so you know, I’m driving the bus,” she said with a smile as she carefully scanned their environment. “I think you’re probably better at dealing with pirates then driving.”
A smirk appeared on Woody’s face at the comment. “Probably.” Pointing towards the other end of the parking lot, he said, “The buses are parked in the back. You can get to them by following the road over there.”
Fascinated by his level of intelligence, she asked him, “What kind of grades did you get in school?”
“I was in a special class,” he said. “By kindergarten I was already reading at a fifth grade level.”
The truck sputtered and the gear-grinding continued as she shifted into second. “So, you’re a little prodigy,” she said, glancing at him briefly as she maneuvered the car around towards the back of the school. She could see two school buses parked by the basketball courts a hundred yards away. It all looked quiet.
“I guess you could say that,” Woody said, a little uncomfortable with the conversation. “I just wanted to be like a normal kid.”
“You have gifts,” Jacqueline answered, “and you’re not like a normal kid. You’re Peter Pan, remember?”
Woody smiled as Jacqueline pulled up fifteen feet away from the buses, putting the truck in park. Turning towards him, she said, “I hope you have some fairy dust on you in case we need to fly.”
Spotting movement in the back of the bus in front of them, Woody answered nonchalantly, “You should stay here for a minute.” Pointing towards the bus all he said was, “Pirates.”
Jacqueline's eyes darted towards the rear bus window. The shrieking started immediately as several creatures appeared, eyes wild, deep red, and locking onto hers. Woody jumped out of the truck, slamming the door shut behind him. All of four-feet tall, there was nothing imposing about him, especially in his silly cowboy outfit. Watching him direct the kids, though, Jacqueline understood the intelligence and leadership qualities immediately.
He ran to the front of the bus where the door stood wide open. He hollered for the boys to cover him and watch the back exit as he pulled out his slingshot and disappeared from view, running into the bus. The creatures turned their attention from Jacqueline and moved away from the window. Her breath caught in her throat as she waited for what would happen next.
As Woody ran up the stairs he had a rock loaded and ready to fly. “Here’s your fairy dust,” he said as the slingshot whipped and the rock embedded into the first infected’s head. Its flesh was seriously decayed and mushy, and the rock penetrated on contact, dropping it like a stone.
Woody loaded a second rock as the remaining two infected clumsily maneuvered around their dead comrade, their moans growing louder with rage at the boy’s presence.
As they drew closer, Woody lowered the slingshot, tossing it on a bus seat. “Okay, you codfish!” he said with bravado, “I’ll fight you man-to-man, with one hand tied behind my back!” He was living out his Peter Pan fantasy, the eight-year old kid in him winning out over the older voice of reason. His gift of intelligence couldn’t overcome his emotional immaturity.
They stumbled forward, their sickly grey flesh stinking up the bus interior as they reached for him. Woody jumped on a bus seat and quickly scrambled over two more, staying just out of their reach until he plopped back down directly behind them. He kicked one hard in its butt as it tried to turn around and it stumbled forward, knocking the other one down on its back. The first one regained its balance and lurched towards him, missing him by inches, and Woody took his cowboy hat off as he jumped back on a bus seat, plopping it securely down on the infected's head, pushing it farther down until the topped ripped off and it slid over its eyes.
As the creature struggled to get the hat off its head so it could see, Woody scrambled back over the bus seats, heading towards the front of the bus. The second one was trying to get back on its feet, so he leapt off the seat and landed with both feet hard on its chest, knocking it back down before jumping off and running back to his slingshot.
He lifted the slingshot and pulled back on the elastic material, gripping the rock firmly in the small leather pouch. As soon as the infected pus
hed the hat off its head, the slingshot snapped, and the creature collapsed to the floor from a perfectly placed shot to its temple.
The last one was still floundering on the floor, trying to rise, and Woody pulled out one last rock, loading it and aiming it into the creature's outraged face. He released the rock, sending the infected's head flying back as the rock sunk deeply into its skull. Woody dropped the slingshot, put his hands up to his mouth, and crowed.
Jacqueline frantically boarded the bus with her gun drawn, tingles running down her spine at the sound of Woody’s crowing. Staring at him and then at the dead zombies on the bus, she yelled at him to stop. “Woody! What happened? Are you okay?”
Startled, Woody turned towards her with a murderous look on his face. Upon seeing her, the look changed to a sparkling grin as he jumped back on the seat and yelled, “Okay? Of course I’m okay! I’m Peter Pan!”
~~~
Three hundred miles away in McCook, Nebraska, the mutant infected was now moving swiftly across the countryside with over fifty newly infected subjects, a monstrous wave of horror and destruction that descended like a black cloud over all in its path.
The longer the mutation lived inside its infected hosts, the more twisted the effects became. Longing for immersion in the vats for complete metamorphosis, but unable to finish the process, the infection grew distorted, reacting differently with each subject. Some faces grew deformed and larger, while others mutated in different areas. The girl who had been attacked in the hallway had dark, coarse hair follicles covering her entire face. The dead skin of others began flaking off, leaving nothing but open, diseased wounds, and raw tissue and muscle.
Coming upon a group of seven who were sleeping in the open countryside, the fast moving zombie mob roared as the lone sentry screamed a warning too late. As his comrades struggled to get to their feet, the mob plowed into them. It was over before it could even begin. Bloody and shrieking, the new converts joined the hunt, heading northwest on a direct collision course with Cheyenne, Wyoming.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was an hour before dusk as Mace rolled the throttle on a Honda Shadow, accelerating at a high rate of speed and sending it racing through an abandoned neighborhood outside the compound. Feeling the wind in his face was something he hadn’t experienced in close to a year. He smiled as he slowed the bike down to a safer pace. Angela pulled up next to him a few seconds later, flipping him the bird. “Show off!” she yelled. A moment later she revved the throttle herself, popping a brief wheelie on the Suzuki V-Strom 650 she was riding and shot ahead.
Twenty minutes earlier, Mace had showed up at her doorstep. “I hear you’ve got some hogs gathering dust someplace,” he said as she answered the door in nothing but a small, green, silky robe. He tried not to look at her body. “I just came from Bo’s and was thinking of running a patrol.”
“You ride?” asked Angela, instantly interested. “When you going?”
Mace turned his head, looking up at the sky. “Now, or soon, before it gets dark. I just want to check the area.”
“Give me five minutes,” she said, shutting the door to a crack and disappearing from view. He could hear her yell at Shawn. “Hey Chubs, get up, we’re going for a ride!”
“What? Going where?”
“Can you ride?” she asked as she entered the bedroom, where he was lounging naked underneath the sheets.
“Ride what?”
“A motorcycle. What else?”
“Uh, no.”
“Shit. Tough luck for you.” She went to the closet, throwing on a t-shirt and jeans. As she sat on the bed and pulled on a pair of boots, Shawn asked, “What’s going on?”
“Mace is here. Hog patrol. Leaving in a minute.”
“Shit, you’re going without me?”
“Unless you can find a moped and a little pink helmet, you’re holding down the fort until I get back.”
“That’s messed up,” he laughed. “I bring you to the heights of pleasure, and you insult me ten minutes later.”
“Girls are fickle. Didn’t you ever hear?”
He smacked her on the buttocks as she stood up then noticed the gun in the closet. "Damn, what is that?" he said, pointing inside the closet.
She kissed him on the lips. “That is an M24 sniper rifle, and I'm one helluva shot. Don't you ever cheat on me."
"Man, I think I need to rethink this relationship."
“Relationship? I just like to hit it and run. Didn't I tell you?” She gave him a coy smile. "If you think that's impressive, you should check out the bunker in the cellar. See ya," she said as she hurried to the front door where she found Mace waiting patiently.
“Lover’s spat?” he joked.
“Hardly. He knows who wears the pants.”
Mace chuckled. “You sure seem raring to go.”
“I grew up on dirt bikes. I hate cages. Give me the free road any day.”
“Let’s do it, then. It’s been a long time for me as well.”
She paused as she thought of something. “Weapons?”
“Pistols, assault rifles and a couple flash grenades.”
“Those really work?”
“Let’s hope we don’t have to find out.”
As they rode side by side, they yelled at each other over the roar of the engines. “How long do you think it will take to level the neighborhoods?” Angela shouted.
“I’m not sure. We’ve got a few people planning it all out. I’m more concerned with just getting it started. I don’t like being so exposed.”
Angela nodded and said loudly, “Follow me. There’s something I want to show you.” Not waiting for him to respond, her bike shot forward and she headed for a freeway on-ramp ahead, leaning into the turn and shooting out the other side. By the time Mace caught up to her, she was going close to a hundred and twenty miles an hour. He was pushing the bike at one thirty to keep up and started throttling down as he came up behind her.
Flying down Highway 69, Angela suddenly banked sharp right, taking the closest exit at breakneck speed, her rear tire skidding for a half-second as she took the turn too fast before getting the bike back under control.
Mace’s heart-rate jumped as he watched her bike wobble and his own tires skidded as he hit the brakes in anticipation of an accident.
She pulled out of it and shot off down the road, pulling another small wheelie as she accelerated at a high rate of speed, maneuvering around abandoned vehicles. Mace hit the throttle, leaning into a racing posture as he sped up again to keep from getting left behind. She turned and flashed him a quick smile, and he shook his head at her recklessness.
A few miles down the road she slowed the bike down, pointing to the right before hooking a right hand turn down a rural road. Once again, she shot out of the turn. He followed closely, but not close enough to wreck if she lost control.
She pulled into an open gate a mile down the road, and Mace could see the small tower and hangars of a small airport as he approached. Passing through the gate behind her, he could see the full length of the airfield. As Mace slowed down to check out the area, Angela hit the throttle again and raced directly towards the hangar area.
She pulled to a screeching stop in front of a middle hangar, her right tire swinging around, leaving a trail of rubber and smoke. Mace cruised up a second later, shaking his head at her craziness. Stopping the bike, he couldn’t help but smile in spite of himself.
“You’re certifiable, you know that?” he said, a bit astonished. “That was some of the craziest driving I’ve seen in a while.”
“So I’m a little rusty,” she said with laugh, climbing off her bike. “Get over it and come check this out. I’ve got an idea.”
Mace got off the Shadow and followed her to the side door of the hangar, where she looked at him briefly before pulling it open. It was pitch black inside. “Let’s open up the main door and get some light in here.”
Mace had his gun drawn instantly. “You are fucking crazy,” he whispered, entering b
ehind her and scanning the area with his weapon. “You never just open a door.”
“We’re out in the middle of nowhere. There’s nothing out here.”
Mace continued to scan the black interior with his 9mm while Angela went to the front hangar door, undoing a latch and pushing the large sliding door to the side with all her weight behind it. It was made of steel frame panels on guide tracks and was heavy. “You could give me a hand, you know,” she panted as she pushed it farther open.
“Not a chance,” Mace answered quietly, keeping his eyes peeled for any disturbance.
“I told you, there’s nothing out here.”
As light slowly penetrated the dark interior, something moved against the back wall. Mace swung the gun in that direction, unsure if he had actually seen anything. It was still too dark in the back to see clearly. Continuing to push on the door, Angela said angrily, “C’mon, damn it, and give me a hand.”
Before she had finished the sentence, the movement returned, but this time it was no small motion. It was a blur - a large blur. A few more inches along the door tracks allowed the light to slide across the interior, illuminating the wild eyes and wretched features of a mob of infected as they rushed towards them. Opening their mouths wide with rage, they shrieked as they came upon them.
They had been lost in a trance-like state, stuck in the interior of the hangar for close to nine months. Consisting of the airport ground crew and pilots that had been swarmed by the initial wave of infection, they had been trapped in the hangar when the automatic door switch had been accidentally activated during the attack, closing the hangar door. They had never figured out how to escape, finally settling into a kind of hibernating state. Without the ability to release their rage, it stayed fresh and pent up. They exploded with a storm of uncontrollable outrage at the intrusion.
Children of the Apocalypse (Mace of the Apocalypse #3) Page 6
