Entering the house, Max checked the corners of the immediate room she was in. It was once a sweetly furnished living room. Now all Max saw was a TV crashed to the ground and a couch toppled over. Blood splashed the wall behind the couch, a sickly mosaic causing Max to curse inwardly. She wanted to turn around immediately and leave. However, much like the boy at her apartment complex, she couldn't leave whatever was in the house to kill someone else.
Swinging her gaze side to side, she continued to keep her head on a swivel. She didn't believe the infected were intelligent enough to sneak up on a living being. Though, that wasn't something she was interested in testing. Deciding that following the trail of blood was the best plan, she headed toward the stairs. Stopping before she ascended, she listened for any movement, unnatural or otherwise. The house was silent as a tomb, the feeling not lost on Max.
At the top of the stairs, the blood trail seemed to accumulate into a deep puddle. The final attack seemed to happen there. Doors stood open to the right of the staircase. Max tensed when she saw legs sticking out of one of the open rooms. The legs didn't twitch or try to stand, so Max approached cautiously.
The breath came out of Max in a rush when she realized the legs didn't belong to Denise, but to an elderly man. Bile stung Max's throat as she admitted she only assumed it was a man by the clothes on the bottom of the body. The head was completely destroyed. A brick lay next to the body, clearly the weapon that battered the skull until it was the pulp laying on the bedroom floor. Max backed away fighting the urge to vomit in the hallway.
Rushing back the way she came, she entered the bathroom she had passed. Her stomach started to heave, but she swallowed it down and forced herself to toughen up. She ran some water from the sink and splashed her face, the water cool against her heated skin. The one thing she knew was the body wasn't Denise. Max stared at herself in the mirror. She was pale, her skin clammy. No amount of strength made dealing with this plague easy.
A small sound caused Max to freeze. She cocked her head to the side, listening for the sound again. A strange moan came from behind her, and Max whirled around. She faced a closed door, which she had assumed was a linen closet. Her panic when she ran into the bathroom had caused her to miss the bloody handprint on the doorknob. Again, a gurgling moan came from behind the door.
Max took a deep breath, stepping closer to the door. Tomahawk raised high over her head, she flung open the door. A body dropped out of the closet and Max yelped, jumping back in surprise.
"Denise?" Max said. The woman was covered in blood, her eyes squeezed shut. She was gripping a blood-soaked towel to her upper arm. The sound of Max's voice caused the older woman to groan quietly and she tried to curl up in a ball.
"Denise," Max said more forcefully. She crouched down next to the woman, trying to roll her back toward her. Her skin was hot, burning with fever. Taking a chance, Max checked her throat for a pulse, finding it quick and erratic.
"What happened, Denise? Can you tell me?" Max asked. She reached into the linen cabinet and grabbed a towel that wasn't completely bloody. Sliding the soft material under Denise's head, the older woman moaned quietly.
"Neighbor...fight...bite...killed him," Denise rambled quietly.
"You killed the man in the bedroom? With the brick?" Max asked. Denise's nod was barely noticeable to Max. She was incredulous. Denise was a soft-spoken, sweet woman. Max would never have imagined she had a fighting bone in her body. Self-preservation caused even the best people to change.
Max ran through scenarios in her mind. Now that she had found Denise and she was injured, Max couldn't just leave her. Thinking of her fever, Max left the bathroom and went back to the room where the dead body was. Her eyes avoided looking at the grotesque scene again. Instead, she focused on the bed and stepped around the bloody mess on the floor. Bringing a blanket back to Denise, Max draped it over her.
The bathroom floor was no place for someone with an injury, but Max doubted she could move the woman on her own. Denise seemed to be out of it and unable to help. Max rolled her onto her back, causing Denise to hiss in pain.
"I'm sorry," Max murmured. She carefully pulled the towel away from Denise's upper arm. Max was shocked to see much of Denise's flesh missing in the shape of a circular human bite.
"Shit, Denise, how did you even make it this long?" Max whispered. The flow of blood from the wound seemed to be slow, but it wasn't stopping. Denise needed real medical attention. No ambulances would be coming for the woman though.
Max grabbed a few clean square washcloths. She packed those against the wound. Then taking a longer hand towel she wrapped the towel around the washcloths, tying it tightly. Denise was deathly pale, unmoving now, even with Max's pressure and movement around her wound. Max stopped for a moment and watched for Denise to breathe. Air went in and out of the woman's lungs and Max let out the breath she had been holding.
Even the best-laid plans have wrenches thrown in, Max thought to herself. She wanted to be on the road, out of Charleston and on her way to her family in Montana. However, she just couldn't leave Denise alone on her bathroom floor. Staying the day wouldn't hurt she decided. She and Jack could sleep downstairs after Max flipped the couch the right way. And maybe they could get Denise help later.
"I'll be right back, Denise. I'm going to get Jack out of the truck. I'd say stay here, but I don't think you're moving anytime soon," Max muttered.
Max went downstairs to the living room. She decided to make it a little less shocking for Jack and flipped the couch to its feet. She couldn't do anything about the smashed TV or lamp. But the couch gave them somewhere to sit and possibly sleep. Max then went to the kitchen. The power seemed to still be on, which meant they could have a decent meal for lunch and dinner. That fact made Max feel better about staying the day.
With Jack inside Max limited her movement to just downstairs. Her daughter didn't need to see the horror that was laying in the upstairs bedroom. Max explained that Denise was injured so they would stay and try to get her help. Jack accepted that and sat on the couch with a book. Max locked the door and found a piece of splintered wood from the TV stand to shove under the door, ensuring no one was entering without their knowledge. She pulled the shades in all the windows and made sure the back door was locked and barred.
In the kitchen, Max turned on the water and wet down a towel. She scrubbed at her hands and arms, trying to get rid of the blood of the day's events. She looked down at her shirt and realized it couldn't be salvaged. She went back into the living room and retrieved a clean shirt from her bug out bag. Changing quickly, she already felt better now that she was clean.
Leaving Jack to read her book, Max headed back upstairs to check on Denise. She was surprised to find the woman sitting up and leaning against the bathroom wall. She didn't move when Max approached, just watched her through hooded eyes.
"Max, what are you doing here?" Denise asked, her voice hoarse and low.
"We came to check on you, get you out of the city maybe," Max replied. She bent to check the makeshift bandage she had on Denise's arm. It was still in place, but blood was seeping through.
"I...I think I killed my neighbor," Denise whispered.
Max went with direct, her normal setting. "Yes, you did. But I'm pretty sure it was in self-defense. I'm also pretty positive he wasn't your neighbor anymore."
"He bit me." The events of the day seemed to suddenly dawn on Denise. Tears slipped from her cheeks, making Max even more uncomfortable. She didn't do well with emotions. She grabbed a handful of toilet paper and handed it to Denise, who mopped at her face with her good arm. The motion seemed to exhaust her, and her head fell back against the wall.
"You should probably rest. You have a fever." As Max spoke Denise slumped to the side, sliding back to the towel pillow Max had created for her. Max covered her back up with the blanket and wet a washcloth with cold water to go on her forehead.
Denise had a well-stocked kitchen for being a woman that lived alone. At le
ast Max thought she lived alone. Guilt tried to creep into Max's mind as she realized how little she knew about the woman. A woman who had tried hard to be kind to her and Jack. She pushed the feelings aside and focused on a hearty meal for Jack.
During the day Max checked on Denise in twenty-minute intervals. She changed her bandage once when she found blood was starting to slowly pool on the bathroom floor again. When she examined the wound again she was shocked to find the skin turning black in and around the bite. It was too soon for infection or something like gangrene. Max wracked her brain, trying to remember all the lessons her father taught about illness and injury. She couldn't think of a single thing that would have infected the wound so quickly.
After a dinner of cheeseburgers, strawberries, and kidney beans, Jack settled to read her book again. She had already unpacked and repacked her entire bug out bag. She then decided to do the same with Max's. Jack had an organizational streak that mostly drove Max crazy. However right now, being organized and prepared was going to help them survive. Max instructed Jack to pack any additional small food items. Whenever they were able to leave, the extra food would help provide for Denise until they got her help.
A thud from above their heads, had Max freezing as she packed food into a messenger style bag she had found. Thinking Denise had woken and tried to move on her own, Max rushed upstairs. When she got to the bathroom though, Denise was on the ground, lying still. Her legs looked to be moved, but she was still sleeping. As Max watched her, she didn't see her chest rise.
Panic flowed through Max's veins. Thinking Denise dead, she dropped down to check her pulse. It was weak but still beat slowly against Max's fingers. She lifted one of Denise's eyelids, thinking to check the reaction state of her pupils. She was met with black, no color, no white, just solid black. Max yelped quietly and quickly shuffled away from her body. She had never seen eyes like that before, at least not on the living.
CHAPTER FOUR
Growing up in Montana on a large piece of land, it was only natural to have animals. When Max was young, Mitch warned her to not name the animals. He would explain to her that they weren't pets. And by giving them names she was making the job of butchering and eating the animals that much harder.
Max didn't learn her lesson until the day her pet cow Moo was butchered for winter provisions. When Moo was taken to the room where Mitch butchered animals, Alex tried to distract Max. But she knew what was happening. Max at the young age of six tried to decide she would be a vegetarian. She would never eat the meat that came from Moo. Her phase didn't last long after Mitch put his foot down. For a week he forced Max to only eat meat to get over her silly belief.
It was such a strange memory to be thinking of now, as she fought traffic away from Denise's house the next morning. Max couldn't forget the way Denise looked when she woke as an infected. Her black eyes focused on Max immediately. Without hesitation, Max ended Denise's dead life with a bowie knife to her brain. Max had laid her body back down on the bathroom floor and covered her face with the blanket.
It had already been dark when Denise woke. Max did not want to travel at night unless it was completely necessary. Jack had curled up on the couch to sleep, but Max sat awake all night, thinking of Denise's body upstairs. When they left in the morning, Max chose to not tell Jack that Denise was dead. Rather she said she had family coming to get her, so they could get back on the road.
Her hands tightened on the steering wheel, her knuckles white, as she tried to suck down the distraught feeling she felt. Killing someone she once knew wasn't something she was prepared for. Her mind continued to wander back to the animals and the lesson Mitch was trying to teach her. Maybe he always believed the world would end up like this and she would be forced to kill people she knew. Did he expect her to never have people she loved, growing to be just like him?
Max wasn't sure she would ever forget the feeling of the knife piercing Denise's skull. Her black eyes died almost immediately, the driving force of hunger suddenly gone as if a light switch had been flipped. Even knowing Denise was truly dead before the knife even touched her, Max felt guilt and pain. She looked around her house while Jack slept and found photos of Denise smiling with people. Some that resembled her, a family that Max never knew about. Would those people know their loved one was dead in her home?
One bite. Was that all it took? Max sat in thought, trying to pull together what she knew. Denise was the first infected she had seen before they turned. The only thing wrong with her had been the one bite and the raging fever that seemed to come with it. No matter what aid Max provided, the blood continued to ooze from the wound, as if her body was preventing the healing process. Maybe the infection doesn't allow the body to fix itself? The thoughts were swirling around in her head. She wanted to slam her head into the steering wheel a few times, maybe then it would all make sense.
Sitting in traffic, Max wasn't feeling the same urgency she did the day prior. She felt weighed down, the emotions she was experiencing were confusing for her. She looked over at Jack, who sat with her eyes glued to the activity outside their vehicle. Beyond her siblings, her father, and Jack, there had only been one other person she really had loved in life. Though that time had passed, Max always found herself thinking of him. Griffin Wells. Thinking of him now made her heart beat with panic, wondering where he was.
Griffin had been her high school sweetheart. They went through all of high school together in Montana. However, right after they graduated, Griffin made the huge decision to enlist in the Army. He was shipped off to boot camp before their summer had even started. Despite all of their whispered love and promises, Max never heard from him again. Now, because Rafe still lived in Montana, Max knew through family connections that Griffin was in North Carolina. He had been stationed there and had decided to stay after serving his eight years.
Max was lost in thought. She was absently watching the traffic, looking for openings to jump into. However, she didn't see the man creeping up on her side of the truck. When her window shattered, and glass rained down on her, she didn't even have time to reach for her gun.
"Get out of the truck," the man behind the rifle said. The rifle that was now pointed at Max's face. Max kept her hands visible, meeting the man's eyes. He looked to be an ordinary guy, wearing a shirt from a local bar and jeans.
"Mom!" Jack exclaimed from the passenger seat. Swinging her gaze to her daughter, Max saw a woman at her window, pointing a handgun toward Max from the other side. The woman didn't meet Max's gaze, her eyes seemingly down in regret and doubt. Max turned her attention back to the man who seemed to be in charge.
"Listen, man, we're all having a shit time right now," she started.
"I don't care about what time you're having. I want your truck," the man said curtly, cutting off Max.
"Ok, I get it. But I have my daughter in here," Max said, motioning behind her. She had turned her body, her rib cage pushing against the steering wheel, effectively blocking the man's aim at Jack.
"Just get out of the damn truck!" Rifleman yelled at Max. She could see he was nervous and she didn't like his finger on the trigger while he was feeling that way. She ran scenarios through her mind. She couldn't challenge the guy and have him let off a shot at her, or god forbid Jack. Her daughter couldn't be left alone in this chaos. Decision made, Max motioned to Jack to grab their go bags. Slowly Max slung the messenger bag of food over her shoulder. She motioned to the man that she was going to open her door.
"Ok. You can have the truck. But my daughter needs to get out of the truck first. Once I see she's out and away, I'll get out and leave the keys inside," Max explained. The man seemed to think over her offer quickly and then nodded his head.
"Jack, get out of the truck. Take our bags. Walk to the sidewalk," Max said over her shoulder.
"But, Momma," Jack started.
"No, Jacklyn. Please just do it. I'm right behind you. We'll figure this out," Max said quickly. She used her daughter's full first name, typically
shortened to the nickname in a tradition started by Mitch Duncan. Using her real first name was a sign to Jack that Max wanted her to obey no question.
She heard Jack pop open her door. As she passed the woman with the gun, the woman whispered she was sorry. Jack didn't answer, just continued walking away from the truck.
With her daughter away, Max opened the driver's side door and stepped from the truck. Rifleman followed her, keeping her in his sights. Max understood the panic. She understood survival. What she couldn't understand was hurting others for your own survival over theirs.
"By the way, we would have taken you anywhere you wanted, if you had just asked," Max said to the man. With that, she turned her back on the man, no longer worried he would shoot her.
Meeting Jack on the sidewalk, Max gave her a quick hug and slung her own go back over her shoulders.
"Carjacked...I wouldn't have even thought it," Max muttered.
"People are scared," Jack replied, obviously not blaming the people for their stupid behavior.
"Everyone is. But you don't put others in danger because you think you deserve more than them," Max responded. As she spoke she took in their surroundings, trying to make a plan. She would not be jacking someone else, so they needed a better plan than stealing from someone.
They were too exposed standing by the side of a busy main street. Cars were jumping the curbs wherever they could. Horns blared as near misses happened. People yelled from cracked car windows. Max took Jack's arm and lead her away from the chaos. They were in the parking lot of a Mexican restaurant. She led them over to the wall, something to keep anyone from sneaking up on them. It was still fairly early in the day, however without a vehicle they were not going to cover much ground.
Survive (Sundown Series Book 2) Page 3
