Suddenly the nearest one’s head exploded in a shower of blood and bone fragments. In nearly the same instant, there was a loud boom from behind Tom. Another boom. Wasting no time Tom spun to his feet, sprinting down the road. Another boom.
In the faint moonlight, Tom could just make out Hank’s kneeling silhouette on the next rise.
Hank continued to fire, the booms echoing through the night. Knowing this would draw them, Tom ran as fast as he could, hoping to reach Hank before something from the woods did. Between shots, the darkness of the trees was alive with the snaps and pops of branches breaking.
Nearing the top of the rise, Tom yelled, “Go…Go!” The surge of adrenaline was beginning to wear off, his legs and lungs crying out in pain. The uphill sprint was taking its toll.
With a final shot, Hank rose and began his retreat.
From the top of the hill, Tom could see Rachael and Hank making their way toward the lights of Hood River down below. Whether it would be a safe haven to regroup, or a death trap, they would soon find out.
******
“Mommy, I’m scared.”
“I know honey. Daddy will be home real soon.”
She had to stay tough for Sam. Her stomach had been in knots all day, hoping Tom would arrive. With the last bits of news she was able to get before their air card lost signal, it was clear he would not be flying out of Portland. She figured it was about a six hour drive under normal circumstances, but had no idea what the roads would be like.
The day started off fairly normal. They had mostly been staying inside, but headed outside to work in the garden. She hoped that by sticking with their usual routine, Sam would not get scared. He probably sensed that something was wrong, and often asked her if she was feeling okay. “Just ready for Daddy to be home” Kelly would respond. This seemed to satisfy him.
While she was working in the garden, Sam was busy rearranging the dirt with his various dump trucks and bulldozers.
“Mommy, here come the neighbors.”
Looking up from her plants, she saw two figures working their way up the steep slope between properties. Their awkward stumbling movements immediately reminded Kelly of some of the videos she had pulled up on the computer. They did not seem rushed, but were very determined to gain the hill.
“Sam, why don’t you go inside honey?”
“I want to stay with you.”
Kelly gave a slight shooing motion and said, “Just head in and I’ll be there in a sec.”
Little Sam ran off toward the house. Once Kelly saw he had made it to the front porch, she walked out of the garden and down toward the hillside.
As she neared the figures, it was clear they were the Chandlers from next door. They had moved in a couple years ago and rarely came up to visit, mostly sticking to themselves. Both of them were in their forties and from what she had seen, in incredible shape. Tom had talked with Jim, and discovered that adventure racing was their only hobby and true passion in life. Most of their time was spent climbing, running, and biking themselves to chiseled forms.
Currently they appeared to be having a very difficult time just making the hill. At the sound of her approach, they both snapped their heads up, glaring at her. Startled by their appearance, she took a step back. Both had blood running from their mouths, staining their t-shirts in a deep red V. Their red eyes squinted with rage. With angry growls, they charged the steep embankment with renewed vigor, their legs churning in the sand and rocks.
Kelly turned and ran for the house.
She saw Sam standing in the open doorway. He turned and ran back into the house when he saw mom running toward him.
Nearing the porch, she was really glad that the day before she had closed all the wooden shutters that covered the windows. Rushing through the front door, she spun and closed it behind her.
She leaned her back up against the door, out of breath and beginning to panic.
“What’s going on mom?” Sam said from over on the couch. His little voice quivering, clearly shaken up.
“Jim and Linda are real sick honey. Remember when great Grammy forgot who you were and would yell at everyone?”
Sam nodded his head.
“It’s like that. We need to stay inside so they won’t accidentally hurt us.”
She spun around and locked the deadbolt. “Where’s Daddy’s board?”
“Behind the shoe thingy.” Sam replied.
She found the large board leaning against the wall behind the armoire they used to hold their coats and shoes.
With a boom, one of the Chandlers slammed into the front door. The door rattled as one, or both of them relentlessly pounded on it.
Pulling the board out from its hiding spot, she slammed it into the large metal brackets to each side of the door. When Tom first started doing survival training he installed what he called his “barricade system.” He always said it looked cool, like a castle. She thought he was crazy, but never stopped him. Looking at the board, she quietly thanked him.
The loud booming continued as the neighbors tried to batter their way through the door, but with the barricade in place it barely moved.
It was now hours later, and Kelly and Sam sat in one of the upstairs bedrooms, darkness surrounding them. Through the day the relentless pounding continued, the noise drawing the attention of anything in the area. Kelly could only look out the upper windows, and watch in horror as the loud booming attracted more demented. She recognized a few of them as neighbors, others were strangers, but none of them were there as rescuers.
Kelly had pulled the pump shotgun out from under the bed, checking that it was loaded. Sitting on the bed, listening to the pounding and occasional growls, Kelly silently prayed for Tom to arrive…soon.
Chapter 7: New Faces
Near the edge of town, Rachael had spotted a three story brick building, and now stood waiting for Hank and Tom to catch up. The dilapidated structure towered over a large gravel parking lot, the windows shrouded in darkness. Under normal circumstances it was a building she would likely never notice let alone think about going into. The large steel door hung open, blackness hiding its interior.
Tom and Hank came trotting up to the entrance, breathing hard. Bending over near the shrubs Tom retched.
Hank looked at Rachael and between deep breaths said, “Fort Knox?”
“I just…we can…”
“I’m just teasing Hun. This will do real nice.”
Standing up and looking back the way they came, Tom said, “Let’s get inside. I see a few coming.” He raised his rifle to his shoulder, hoping to use the night vision to help clear the dark building, but found thick blood oozing out of a crack in the glass. Flipping it out of the way, he used his thumb to click on a small flashlight mounted under the barrel. A narrow beam shot inside the open entryway, lighting up a myriad of floating dust particles.
The trio swept into the building, closing and locking the door with a large deadbolt. The interior smelled of dust and mold, making it difficult to breathe. Tom felt like there was not quite enough oxygen in the air to get a full breath, like someone was holding a blanket over his head.
“Rachael, watch those approachers, we’re gonna check through the building to make sure we don’t have any surprises.” Tom said.
She looked at him with a mixture of shock and worry. Tom was unsure why she was looking at him like that until he followed her gaze to his blood soaked chest. From his neck to his belly button was stained a dark red.
Tom shook his head. “Not mine…at least most of it’s not mine.”
The relief was evident on her face as she turned to one of the nearby windows to watch the front street.
Hank and Tom spent the next thirty minutes working as a team sweeping rooms, clearing each of them one floor at a time. They found nothing other than stacks of dusty boxes filled with papers, and a few dead birds that managed to get trapped inside, never finding their way back out. What were once office spaces was now a long forgotten storage buildi
ng. The wallpaper was torn and stained various shades of yellow.
Returning to the ground floor they found Rachael peering narrowly out the window. At the sounds of their approaching footsteps, she turned from the window. “They’re out there, on the street.” Looking back to the window she said, “I don’t think they know we're in here. They’ve been stumbling back and forth…apparently not knowing where to go.”
“How many?” Tom asked.
“I’ve seen at least eight, there may be more.”
“Let’s get upstairs.”
The three of them worked their way up the narrow stairway, and found a mostly empty room near the back corner. Moonlight spilled through several windows along the wall. The air had the musty smell of age and decay, but was not nearly as suffocating as that on the bottom floor. Several boxes lay scattered about, some of their contents spilled across the floor.
Tom and Hank both walked over to the windows and peered out. Across the street small houses were packed in next to each other. They looked old and run down.
“See that.” Hank said, pointing out his window.
Tom looked over to Hank’s side of the street. “Yeah, looks like there are a few of them walking around down there. I can’t tell if they are the fast ones or slow ones. Seems like they all walk until they catch site of prey.”
Turning back around, they saw Rachael sitting on one of the boxes in the center of the room, looking exhausted. Hank and Tom pulled a couple of their own boxes up next to her, forming a circle. It was like a mini-campfire from hell…with no fire.
“Let’s get some food and liquids in us.” Tom said.
After a few minutes of digging blindly through the contents of their day packs, they had what amounted to a small picnic. They were all glad to be eating MREs in place of the various protein bars they had been snacking on throughout the day. Dehydration being one of Tom’s bigger worries, he made sure they all drank through a couple of the water pouches.
Passing around all the wet wipes they could gather from their bags, the three of them wiped off as much of the grunge and blood as they could.
“There is going to be more and more of them all the time. I’m not sure how long it takes, but all those dead in the cities are going to be coming back.” Tom said, breaking the silence.
“Other than the ones that had their brains blown to pieces.” Hank chimed in.
Tom nodded his head in agreement. “The ones that come back are much slower than the demented ones, but based on the lack of hardly any living, non-demented people, I think the numbers may be staggering and growing.”
The group sat in silence, all of them contemplating the full scope of what was going on. Unsettling thoughts filled their minds. Thoughts of cities void of the living, filled with death, hatred, and chaos. If the infection has spread across the world, those with flu shots would have already lost any self-control, becoming demented, single minded killers. This would be nearly half the world’s population, and with the huge push to get vaccinated over the last couple years, numbers could be significantly higher.
How many would have been killed in the initial hours of the onslaught? Millions Tom was sure. Then there were all those that came back, risen. The numbers surely in the hundreds of millions.
Tom could not get his mind off of his family. He pictured himself arriving home only to find his wife and son stumbling around the house, raised from the dead, hungry for something, hatred filling their eyes. Could he end it for them? For him? His heart pounding, the thoughts continued to swirl in his head, trying to consume him.
Rachael broke the silence with sobs as she began crying.
Tom turned to her “Hey…were gonna be all right.”
Hank stood and walked over to the windows, knowing that comforting people was not his thing...what was there to say anyways. He knew their future was bleak. Nearly all military personnel would have received a host of vaccinations, including flu shots if that was the trigger. Power, food, gas…all limited.
Rachael almost laughed between tears and then shouted, “All right? Everyone’s dead, were holed up in this shit hole with nowhere to go. You call that all right?”
Tom really wished Kelly was here, she always knew the right things to say. Knowing their situation was dire, and unsure of any real hope himself, he simply rested his hand on her back, trying to comfort her. She curled into his arm, sobbing into his shoulder. Amazed she had held it together this long, he embraced her and said, “Just let it out…its okay.”
Hank stepped over. “Why don’t we lie down, get some rest. I’ll take first watch.”
Nodding, Tom said, “Wake me in a few.”
Tom lay listening to Rachael sob for a few minutes before both of them fell fast asleep. Horribly disfigured faces, bloody teeth, and hordes of grotesque reaching hands filled their dreams.
Tom woke with a start, finding that even in the cool air he was drenched in sweat. Rachael was cuddled up next to him, her arm draped over his chest. Hank was kneeling down beside him, his face right next to Tom's.
Still a bit groggy, but glad to be out of his nightmares, Tom stammered, “My turn?”
“Yeah, been quiet. Several still moving about down below, but nothing new.” With that Hank laid down on the dusty floor and closed his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest. He immediately began snoring.
Tom stood and walked over to the windows, wishing he had a warm cup of coffee to keep him company in the darkness.
Watching absent-mindedly out the window, he thought back on everything that had transpired. The most recent events stuck in his mind. The demented almost seemed to have set a trap for them or was it just coincidence. He had thought earlier that some of them retained more intelligence than others or were at least better able to restrain their rage. The giant one that dragged the metal post, was he drawing the others in or just too lazy to pick it up? He decided to himself that the car was surly not part of the trap, much too complicated. The fence post might be a different story.
Movement below caught his eye and pulled his mind from his depressing thoughts. Several of the demented down below were sprinting off down the street, followed by several more, slow moving undead.
Looking down the street, Tom tried to get a fix on what had attracted their interest. Near the end of the street sat a small one story house, its picket fence falling over from lack of maintenance. The demented were racing through the small yard, leaping onto the broken down front porch. He could see more of them coming from between the houses to each side.
Shattering the night silence were several rapid shots, their flash lighting the interior of the home.
Tom turned to wake the others, but saw they had heard the shots and were already coming to the window.
“What’s all the rukus?” Hank inquired.
Pointing toward the little house, Tom said, “Several demented suddenly rushed the house down there, then the shots.”
More shots lit up the night, the gunfire drawing demented and undead from all directions. The small yard was quickly filling up, as well as the surrounding lawn.
Pop…Pop…Pop. More bright flashes, farther back inside the house.
The spine tingling sound of shattering glass.
Suddenly the hordes were flowing in through the windows to each side of the front door.
“Anything we can do?” Rachael asked.
Nobody answered. They all continued to stare out the window, mesmerized by the sheer number entering the house. How could so many fit?
There was movement on the roof. The attic had roof access through a hinged flat square at the peak that was being flipped open.
“There…right there! Someone’s on the roof.” Rachael shouted.
The man on the roof reached back into the void and pulled out what looked like a shotgun. Another man climbed out of the hole onto the roof, closing the trap door behind him. They both turned and sat on top of it.
“Let’s get out of here…while those things are busy over t
here. Right now we can go for gas.” Rachael said.
“I can’t leave them...not like that.” Tom said.
“There are way too many.”
“We have to help them.” Tom said, nearly shouting now.
Hank stepped in, hands raised. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let’s figure this out kids.”
Tom breathed a heavy sigh, realizing he was getting all worked up. Looking at both of them he said, “I have to help them…or at least try. They will die of dehydration and exposure up there.”
“I’m with you, but we need a plan…and not one of my crazy ass plans.” Hank replied.
Tom nodded his head. “A diversion. I think that is the only way.”
******
“Danny! They’re coming! Get back in here!”
Ben watched as his brother came rushing up the porch steps, nearly tripping over the broken step he had always meant to fix. Pulling the revolver out from the back of his pants, he slammed the door behind his brother and locked the deadbolt.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drop it.”
There was loud stomping on the porch as the demented raced up. The door shuddered as they pounded into it. The hinges rattled and shook, but held.
Ben pulled the trigger rapidly, firing blindly into the center of the door, the shots booming in the small space.
“Danny! Pull down the attic ladder. Hurry!”
He could see more of them racing onto the porch, crossing in front of the windows. More pounding at the door, loud, incessant, and followed up with growls of rage. The deadbolt was holding, but the hinges were beginning to give way.
Ben fired three more quick shots into the center of the door, hoping to drop a few more of them, at least slow them down.
farther back in the house he heard Danny yell, “The ladder is down, let’s go.”
Ben turned and sprinted down the hallway, seeing his brother just in front of him, pistol raised. He ducked into the bedroom to grab the shotgun.
Danny saw the front door was about to give and fired several quick shots. Suddenly the sound of shattering glass could be heard from somewhere in the front room. He turned and climbed the ladder as fast as he could.
The Demented Z (Book 1):The Demented Page 8
