Survive (Sundown Series Book 2)

by Courtney Konstantin

  Suddenly one of the infected looked their way and it's black eyes seemed to widen, almost like an expression of surprise. The look felt creepy to Max. Each time of these things acted human it made her skin crawl. Its attention now on Max's group, the infected broke off and started to try to make it to the river. The remaining infected looked over as the noise was made. Noticing the one infected had found food, the group followed.

  "They can't swim," Max said matter-of-factly. She couldn't be sure of that, but they had no coordination to get across a river. Especially one that was moving as fast as the current between them now.

  "Are you sure?" Cliff asked.

  "Well, I mean I'm mostly sure," Max replied.

  "I want to see this. It's good to know what they can do," Griffin said, standing square with his gun in his hand. Turner nodded his agreement and took up a post next to Griffin. Max stood slightly behind them trying to keep eyes on both sides of the river. She was interested in what would happen when the infected hit the water, but she was also concerned about an attack from the trees behind them. She looked down at the water that was just getting to a rolling boil in her small pot. That needed to boil for at least twenty minutes for her to feel good about it.

  The group of infected seemed to stumble down the river embankment, one tumbling when it got to a pretty steep section. The body flipped over itself and for a moment it looked dead. But suddenly the head raised and its jaws continued to snap at the air while it seemed to move each limb individually to get back on its feet. The others continued down the easier path they seemed to have found. Their eyes were on the group of healthy humans across the river, not the water in between them.

  The first to step into the river stepped down heavily, and it's foot found purchase. It took three more steps, wading deeper into the water. Max started feeling nervous as the others followed suit. Then one of the group seemed to slip, one leg going out from under it. The current caught it off balance and the infected went down into the water. The body bobbed and floated into the center of the river and it was carried off before they knew what had happened.

  The loss of one from their group didn't slow down the rest of the infected. They weren't deterred by the rolling water between them and their prey. A second infected fell to its knees in deeper water and as the current took it, it knocked two additional dead over. The three could be seen rolling and turning through the water as it rushed them away. The last two infected pushed into the deeper water in the middle of their crossing. The water was pulling at the tatters of their remaining clothing.

  Max slipped off her still damp boots in preparation. She was realizing she had been wrong. The infected couldn't swim. But when push came to shove, they were able to walk across a river when it wasn't over their heads. They couldn't select their footing the way a healthy person could. However, they could get lucky.

  She pulled her knife and waded into the water waiting for the infected to reach her. Griffin and Turner came up behind her, Griffin letting his annoyance be known.

  "Relax. Why waste ammo when I can just handle them here," Max said.

  "Because it's not exactly safe to fight while you're standing in a cold river, balancing on slick rocks," Griffin said .

  "I can handle this," Max replied.

  Without more argument, Max took a few more steps toward the infected. The first came within an arm’s reach of Max and she grabbed its outstretched arm and yanked it forward. The pull threw it off balance and it fell into the river. Max quickly bent and slammed her blade into the base of its skull. As she stood to fight the next walker, her foot came down on a sharp rock. Crying out she quickly tried to find her balance on a flat surface. Instead, she fell backward into the shallow water.

  Before she could think, the infected was falling on her, trying to grab her legs. She quickly kicked out and landed a kick on the side of its head as she used her arms to pull herself backward. Her hands were grabbed from behind and she was hauled out of the river by Griffin and Turner. They unceremoniously dropped her on her rear in the dirt. Griffin turned and immediately shot the infected through the forehead.

  Whirling to face Max, Griffin's face was painted in a mask of fury. Jack was at her side, pulling dry clothes from her pack. Max sat shivering and looking up at Griffin, waiting for the onslaught.

  "Why do you insist on always putting yourself in danger?" He demanded.

  "I slipped," Max replied. Her face heated with embarrassment. She hadn't thought twice about wading into the river. Dealing with the infected before it posed a true threat to them seemed the only solution. The noise of a shot could bring more walkers, but also they didn't really have the ammo to spare.

  "I told you it wasn't safe. We are a group. We work together. I realize that's a foreign thing for you," he said angrily, throwing up his arms in irritation.

  "Relax. We got it handled," Max responded. She didn't really know what else to say. Was she supposed to apologize for not listening to him? That wasn't going to happen.

  "Because we pulled your ass from the river before that zombie bit into you," Griffin said through gritted teeth.

  "That's what a team does, right?" Max said, blinking up at Griffin. His face flushed with anger. He knew she was being flippant. But continuing the argument wasn't going to change anything.

  Max stood, ending the conversation. She took the clothing from Jack and went behind a few trees to change out of her soaking wet pants and shirt. Even without Griffin's admonishments, Max knew she was being risky with the river. But she made choices that were for the benefit of the group. She wasn't just throwing her welfare to the wind because it was fun. She yanked her shirt over her head and huffed out a breath. Having other people making judgments about her behavior wasn't something she was used to, nor did she think she wanted to get used to it.

  "Momma?" Jack's voice came from the other side of the tree Max was behind. She walked around to face Max. Her face was pale and she looked scared.

  "What's wrong, Jack?" Max asked. She looked around, searching for an attack. But she didn't see anything except trees. She could hear the murmur of talking between the men back at the river's edge.

  "Are you ok?"

  "Yeah. Why?"

  "Griffin was really mad. Was he right? You put yourself in danger?" Jack asked quietly.

  Max studied her daughter for a moment. In eight years Max had worked to never show Jack weakness. She always wanted the girl to know how to fight, be strong, be prepared and take care of herself. Max had always kept a strong face on around Jack. That's not to say Max hadn't felt pain or sadness over the years. She just kept her emotions private. Even from her daughter. Now Jack was seeing emotions from another adult. And she wasn't sure how to handle them.

  "Everything out here is dangerous now, Jack. Sometimes I have to make decisions that are dangerous. But no, Griffin is wrong, I don't put myself in danger just to do it. I do it to protect you and the group," Max said. She bent to brush off her feet before pulling on dry socks and pushing her feet back into her partially damp boots.

  "You'll be careful, right? I'm not sure what to do without you." Jack's lip trembled slightly as she talked. It was a look Max could remember from years before. The first time she fell off her bike after taking off the training wheels. She had scraped her knee. She had tried so hard to not cry, and her lip had trembled before the dam broke.

  "Hey, you don't need to worry about that," Max said. She reached out to Jack and pulled her into her chest for a hug. Jack put her little arms around her mother's waist and squeezed tight. "I'm not leaving you, Jack. We will get to Montana and be safe."

  The water had boiled and been cooled. Max carefully filled everyone's bottles that were low on water. Once they were all filled again, they made their way back to the open road. The sun was moving toward the middle of the sky. The rain had left the countryside damp. The smell of wet asphalt and dirt was in the humid air. The end of winter seemed to be holding on to spring, with a chill in the air even with the sun
high in the sky.

  An hour later they found a mostly dry place on the side of the road. They sat in a circle and made a snack of the random foods they had in their packs. Beef jerky, chips, canned peaches, and everyone got a can of soda that Max had packed. They ate in silence, watching the area for movement. Max studied Cliff who was sitting across from her. The man had still not spoken to her and she was starting to think she was going to need to start the conversation with the man.

  "Cliff?" Max said to get him to look at her. He didn't say anything, just stared at her.

  "Ummm, I'm sorry I hit you yesterday," Max said quietly. His face didn't change, he just stared at her, making her feel uncomfortable. He probably knew that deep down she wasn't actually sorry. She did what she needed to. She couldn't leave him to give up and die.

  "I'm not," he finally replied.

  "You're not? Then why the silent treatment?" When Max asked the question, the man's head fell and his shoulders slumped.

  "Shame. I'm ashamed of myself," he whispered without looking back up. Griffin and Turner looked at Max and back at Cliff. Griffin's face seemed to tell Max to fix things. She just looked at him, helpless to console or even know what words she needed to say to make Cliff feel better. Griffin just looked at her pointedly and then gestured to Cliff. Max sighed inwardly. She felt completely inept.

  Getting up from her spot, Max switched seats with Jack so she could sit next to Cliff. When she settled on the ground next to him, he looked over at her. Sadness washed his face, making Max think about his laugh lines again. When would he ever think about laughing or smiling again?

  "Cliff, you shouldn't feel shame. You lost your family. That is the hardest thing anyone can go through. We just don't want you to lose yourself now too. Your family wouldn't want that for you," Max said softly. She could see Griffin watching them out of the corner of her eye. There was a small smile on his face.

  "I know. That's what I thought when you hit me and made me think about it. My wife would never want me to give up. But I miss them so much," he said, finishing his sentence with a quiet sob. Max could feel her heart break for him. She reached behind and softly patted his back. Feeling awkward she almost pulled back, but Cliff leaned into her, his head on her shoulder as he cried. Max started to panic, not knowing how to handle the physical interaction. But as she listened to Cliff cry, she realized being there for him to lean on was all he really needed from her. She wrapped her arm around him then, and held him to her, allowing him to share the burden of his sorrow.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  "Of course, I can still ride," Max said indignantly.

  "Calm down. It was just a question. How do I know what you've been doing the last eight years," Griffin shot back.

  "Can the two lovebirds keep their arguing to a minimum? We do still need to worry about the infected," Turner said from the other end of the alley they were all standing in.

  The group had come to a small town that seemed to consist of a truck stop, convenience store, trailer park and one biker bar. Outside of the bar, a row of bikes sat. At the end, there were five bikes laid over on their sides and piled onto one another. Something or someone had crashed into them and caused a domino effect. The ones standing looked to be in perfect condition. Griffin came up with the idea that riding would get them to where they needed to go faster. They would be able to navigate smaller areas easier. Max couldn't disagree, though they would need to avoid any infected.

  "We don't even know if there are keys," Max said.

  "It's a small biker bar. I would bet the keys are on the bikes, or inside the bar somewhere," Griffin replied.

  "I see helmets too," Turner said, peering around the building they were hiding behind. So far they hadn't seen any infected. They also hadn't seen any living people, which led them to believe the people that belonged to the motorcycles were somewhere, walking infected. To be safe, they had stayed hidden between the store and truck stop that sat across the street from the bar.

  "Ok, who's going to check?" Max asked. The question was her way of showing she was trying to work on being part of the group. She didn't just assume she was going and start running across the street. Her first inclination had been to do exactly that. But she had taken a moment to think about what Griffin had said. Not only that but also the fear she had seen on Jack's little face. She didn't want her daughter to be scared any more than she needed to be.

  "You and I will go. Turner will stay here with the bags, Jack, and Cliff," Griffin said. He dropped his backpack near the wall, followed by Max's. They each held their knives in their hands, guns on their hips.

  "I can't ride one of those," Cliff said.

  "It's ok. We can double up," Max said.

  A few minutes later Griffin and Max stepped into the open and waited for any immediate threats. Nothing moved, the only sound was the light breeze through the trees along the sides of the main road. Together they ran to the row of bikes. Max quietly checked the first few and found no keys nearby. Griffin started on the other end and held up a pair of keys in triumph. The keys belonged to a large cruiser. Perfect for two adults.

  It only took about three minutes to check the rest of the bikes and find no keys. They stood together looking at the door of the bar. There were no windows and the door was solid wood. Max felt apprehension crawl up her back at going in blind. Griffin looked at her for a moment and she nodded her head, prepared for whatever may lay ahead of them. They decided to fling open the door and wait to see if anything attacked, before entering into the dark abyss.

  Max pulled a small penlight she had in her back pocket. Griffin stood to one side of the door and Max posted on the other side. Griffin counted down silently and grabbed the door, pulling it back toward him. They both waited. The sounds of scraping against the ground were immediately heard, followed by the smell of death wafting out into the open. Max covered her nose and stepped back slightly. With no windows and no power, the bar had just been sitting with the infected rotting away inside.

  Suddenly a body appeared in the doorway opening, an infected drawn to the movement and light of the outside. As it stepped forward, Max didn't hesitate, slamming her knife into the temple of the large body. The infected fell in a pile on the sidewalk, leather chaps and vest boasting his bike affiliations. The sight of a healthy person enraged the infected still inside the bar, and growls rose from the darkness.

  Max raised her light for a moment, illuminating the entrance area of the bar. She jumped back quickly from a pair of arms that thrust through the door toward her. A broken body followed, reaching out for Max. Before she reacted, Griffin was stepping up to take the infected down. Max moved to the side of the body allowing it to fall and looked back up into the entrance of the bar. She could hear more infected inside, but they weren't at the entrance yet.

  "We're gonna have to go in," Max said. Griffin nodded and joined her at the entrance, peering into the dark with the small illumination from her penlight. They moved together into the bar, Griffin slightly behind and to her left. They moved as a team, the memory of training as children coming back to them. Griffin tapped Max's shoulder, moving them together to the left, staying along the inside wall.

  With the door propped open and Max's small light, they could make out vague shapes as they moved through the room. There was bar furniture, plain wood tables and chairs around the room. Max imagined they were once arranged in some sort of organized style, but now the items were busted and thrown around the bar. The ground was sticky under their boots, whether from years of filth or the blood from the battle that ensued, Max couldn't guess.

  They reached the first corner of the bar and were turning a dark corner when Griffin let out a low curse. He disappeared from view and Max panicked for a moment, turning to point her light. As she swung the beam his head popped back up from where he had bent. At their feet an infected lay, now truly dead. His legs were trapped beneath a jukebox that had been tipped over. He wore leathers similar to the biker she had killed outside.
Bending down, Max found a chain attached to his belt, keys dangling on the end. She held them up to show Griffin, who nodded.

  Two down. One set left to find.

  They moved around the room, running into the bar. Bar stools littered the ground around the bar area, some looking to have been used as weapons. Behind the bar, growling could be heard from the ground. Griffin and Max moved to the opening, finding an infected on the ground, one leg bent at an unnatural angle. The break explained why the infected man didn't come running the moment they entered the bar. Carefully Max stepped around the mess behind the bar and embedded her knife blade into its head. She searched the belt of the body but assumed it was the actual bartender who may not own a bike at all.

  Shuffling from the opposite side of the bar drew their attention. The pair stood behind the bar, waiting to see what the darkness held. Two infected stumbled forward. One glance at Max and Griffin, and the two fought to get through the sea of furniture and debris on the bar floor. Griffin grabbed a nearby barstool and gripped it by the legs. Taking a step into the swing he smashed the stool against the head of the first infected. The body flew off its feet, crashing into the bar before slumping to the ground.

  Max rushed toward it, slicing into its temple before it could get it's bearings again. She ran her hand along where the belt should have been, but her hand encountered stickiness and warm. She yanked her hand back and cried out. She pointed her penlight at the infected and realized her hand had been touching the intestines that were hanging from its stomach. Max started to retch, not able to hold back the bile that was rising in her throat. She turned to her hands and knees and emptied her stomach contents at the feet of the infected.