by Deb Rotuno
7 Weeks after Hurricane Beatrice
“Aw, fuck! Go, go, go!” I yelled, hauling ass from the Hummer to the last building—housing—we needed to check. We’d started early that morning, clearing out the commissary, weapons storage, and several hangars of all the camping equipment and supplies we could load up into two very large military-style Hummers. Luckily, there were only four floors in this last building.
Joel, Dad, and I burst through the front doors of the building, Joel slamming them behind us to shut out the swarm that had seen us pull up. Dad and I immediately took out four more just inside the lobby.
“Fuck me!” Joel panted, leaning against the door as the bastards pounded on the other side. “You know what they remind me of?” he grumbled as Dad and I pushed and shoved a huge sofa to barricade the doors. “Tweakers. You know, those people they filmed in order to sway you from drugs back in high school. They’d be all twitchy and shit, picking at their face. They’d lost all sense of reason, they looked like hell, and their teeth were rotting out of their damn head. Only instead of craving crack or meth or whatever, these assholes are craving…brains.” He leaned on the last word like a fucking B-rated movie.
I locked gazes with my dad, who looked like he wanted to laugh, but I could tell we were both thinking the same thing. When I grinned, my dad laughed softly.
“Then you should be immune, Joel. Go ahead and step outside. Let’s test that theory,” I taunted him, laughing harder when he simply held up both middle fingers at me before pushing off the door.
We started down the first hallway, my dad still laughing at us. Supplies were stacked in the lobby as we cleared apartment after apartment. We’d decided we would leave Dexter AFB in a week, so we’d been stockpiling everything we could think of. My mother continued to work on a cure that didn’t seem possible.
“Zeak,” Joel suddenly boomed, wearing a shit-eating grin. “Zombie-tweakers. Zeak. Z-E-A-K. Get it? Like that movie, only spelled different. That’s what we should call ’em.”
“Fantastic. They have a name,” I muttered wryly, rolling my eyes as I motioned for them to start checking each apartment.
The first few floors scored us some bottled water and canned goods, not to mention about six…zeaks that converged on us.
It was the last floor that we had the most trouble. Several children had been turned and had somehow wandered up to the top floor. Killing them was sickening yet necessary. They were faster, if not more feral than their adult counterparts.
When I got to the last apartment, I pressed an ear to the door. Growls, footsteps, and shuffling met my ear, but it sounded different. Pulling back, I held up a finger, and Dad and Joel braced for the door to be kicked in.
I kicked hard, sending the door swinging open. What flew at me was not a zeak, though I panicked all the same. Instead of snarls, rotten flesh, and snapping teeth, I was suddenly knocked to my ass by a large black mass of fur and tongue and whimpers.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Joel said through his uncontrollable laughter. “Easy there, big guy…Oh, ’scuse me, ma’am.”
I sagged in relief at the sight of the big dog as my face was licked over and over. She was enormous, really, though a touch thin. And I grabbed her big face in both hands in order to get a good look at her. She was a black-and-tan Rottweiler, a lot like the one I’d seen destroyed that first day. She was wriggling and panting, wagging the nub of her tail so hard, her entire body was in constant movement. She had a collar, and I turned it in my hand. She was military K-9, though I had no clue how she’d gotten up there.
“Well, Sasha,” I sighed, sitting up and shaking my head. “Thanks for scaring the fuck outta me.”
My dad peered into the apartment that reeked of piss and shit. The poor thing had been trapped inside for who knew how long. There was torn-up furniture, bedding, and clothes everywhere; even the doors and carpet had been destroyed by claws and teeth. There were the remnants of what looked like a couple of bags of dog food, but it was gone, along with a bunch of stuff from the cabinets—cereal, pasta, coffee creamer.
“Here, Sasha,” Joel crooned, holding out a bottle of water, which she drank from greedily.
“Fuck, she’d have starved,” I sighed, scratching her ear.
“We’ll have to take her with us,” Joel stated, and as much as I knew she could be trouble, I couldn’t help but feel for her, especially with the memory of the last Rottweiler I’d seen.
“Whatever. She’ll have to learn to move with us,” I warned him, though it was halfhearted at best. She was the first sight of something living, something truly alive, that we’d seen in all our searching, which kind of made her very special.
“All right, boys,” my dad said, unable to not scratch Sasha’s ears. “We need to load up what we’ve found here and get back to the med center.”
“What about the zeaks at the front door?” Joel asked as we made our way downstairs.
“I’ll take them out from the second-floor window. You two, be at the ready.”
Sasha followed Joel and my dad, and I entered the second floor, breaking the window facing out over the front door. The noise alone caught their attention, but they couldn’t do shit about it.
There were about ten zeaks milling around the Hummer and a handful more wandering aimlessly across the street. Knowing my gunshots would bring them anyway, I took out the ones across the street first, finally taking out the ones below me.
“Clear!” I yelled down to the street, and the front doors burst open.
I watched them for a few seconds, finally bolting down the stairs to help them finish loading up. Sasha seemed to pace around the Hummer, not exactly in the way, but her ears were perked up and her face was fierce. We were just about finished when she crouched low, her teeth bared and a growl rumbling through her. Her gaze was locked on the corner of the building. She stalked low, and we called her back, but it was the swarm that came rumbling around the corner that threw us all into overdrive.
I was just about to abandon the last few loads, but Sasha did something none of us could’ve prepared for: she lunged at the swarm. Staying low, fast, and just out of reach, she snapped her teeth at the zeaks, causing their attention to focus on her and not us. She ran circles around them, mixing them up, confusing them, but she’d given us the time to finish loading.
“Sasha! Let’s go!” I called her, but she was too busy. I jumped into the passenger side, leaving my door open. “Swing around and pick her up,” I told Joel once he’d started the truck.
I popped off several rounds, as did my dad, as Joel squealed around the corner. I took two zeaks out that were closest to Sasha, calling her name again.
She gave one last snarling bark, as if to say fuck you, before hightailing it through my door and plopping herself happily on my lap, despite the fact that she was too big.
“Where in the hell did she learn that?” Joel asked with a laugh, patting her side.
“She was swarming them.” Dad chuckled, shaking his head and praising her. However, his smile fell quickly. “Boys, it’s time. There’s nothing left here. We’ll head out in two days.”
“What about Mom?” I asked.
His nose wrinkled as he sighed wearily. “She’s aware. She’ll be bringing that research with her, but she’s ready.”
I let out a breath of relief. I was ready to get the fuck out of Florida and make some sort of progress heading west. Too much time had already passed away from Sara and Freddie, but my mother had been set on her work, at least until we’d stocked up.
Nodding, I looked back at him gratefully. “Two days.”
Chapter 4
SARA
Clear Lake, Oregon
2.5 Months after Hurricane Beatrice
CROUCHING LOW IN THE FOREST, I followed Derek’s lead. He put a finger to his lips to keep me quiet, but I knew better than to speak. We’d been tracking for days.
The snap of a twig caused both of us to glance up. Derek’s grin was relief and amusement a
ll at the same time. We’d been hunting this deer all damn day. However, unlike when I was younger, when my dad and Leo had taught me how to hunt when I’d visit Sandy growing up, hunting now was dangerous. We weren’t the only predator in the woods, and new rules applied when we left the campground. There was no staying out past dark, no one went alone, and everyone stayed inside on rainy days.
Today was clear, the weather in our favor, and hopefully we’d be bringing back food that would last us several days.
Derek raised his compound bow, aiming slowly, carefully. The thump of its release was barely audible, but the collapse of the deer was heavy as the arrow hit its mark perfectly.
“C’mon, we need to move quickly,” Derek said, grabbing my hand. He whistled lightly, and from across the way, Josh stepped out of his own hiding space. “We need to dress it here, but we need to do it fast, or the scent of blood will bring us trouble.”
Josh and Derek worked together to string up the deer, skin it, and finally start wrapping up meat. This had never been my thing—hunting—even though I’d been taught as a kid. I wasn’t a fan of killing anything, but life was different now. It was a matter of survival, of being able to feed my son and the rest of us back at camp.
So far, everyone had learned to pitch in. We’d been at Clear Lake for going on three weeks. In that time, there’d been several pack attacks—mainly in the rain or at night—and we’d all worked together just fine. Even Brody, despite his feelings for Derek, had been excellent on setting up a few lookout points on the edge of camp, not to mention providing several days of fish for dinner. He and Leo had taught Freddie and Tina’s little girl, Janie, how to fish from shore. As long as they stayed in sight at all times, we were okay with that.
Josh and Derek worked quickly, dividing the load between them as I kept watch around them. It was dangerous releasing the scent of blood into the woods, even more the noise they were making, but we had no choice.
Another snap of a twig caused the hairs to stand up on the back of my neck, and I spun to see what I’d been hoping to avoid: infected. It was a small pack, but that didn’t matter because they were blocking our trail back to camp.
“Derek…Josh,” I called softly in warning, raising the rifle. “Company.” I scanned for a number. “I see six.”
“Easy, Sare,” Derek soothed, abandoning the deer for his compound bow. He raised, aimed, and took out the closest one, but it sent the others into a frenzy. “Keep your back to a tree. Always, Sara. Got me?”
Nodding, I raised my gun and fired, taking down what looked like it used to be a teenage boy—if I had to guess, probably Josh’s age—although I tried not to think of them as people anymore. We cleared the area of all but one, and he was mine to kill. However, his military clothes, dog tags, and dark hair were a little too close to home for me. The hesitation caused the dead man to lunge for me, but I pulled the trigger. I wasn’t sure who dropped to the ground quicker, him or me, but I gagged, losing everything I’d eaten that day. Cold sweat broke out across my brow as reality tried so fucking hard to crash down over me.
“Oh, Jesus,” Derek whispered, wrapping an arm around me. “Aw, hell, Sara…”
He kissed the top of my head, rocking me as I lost it for just a moment. I was glad Freddie wasn’t around to see it.
“Fuck, darlin’. It’s not him, it’s not him, it’s not him.” The chant was soothing, and I wondered for a moment if he was saying it for both of us because God, we missed Jack. “I promise. Look at him, Sara.”
Steeling myself, I did as he told me, and I saw the infected man for who he truly was. He was older than Jack, certainly not as tall, and he looked nothing like my husband in the face. I tried to overlook the camo, the rotten, decomposed flesh, and the stench of him, but the glint of dog tags caught my eye, showing me a name: Logan, Andrew.
Sagging a little, I breathed a heavy sob, taking the bottle of water Derek offered. “For a second…”
“I know. I get it.”
I met Derek’s gaze, and he smiled sadly, as if he knew what I was about to say. “I need to see Freddie. Like now.”
He chuckled. “Then let’s get back, yeah?”
“We should hurry back anyway,” Josh added. He shifted on his feet as he lifted the bags of wrapped meat. He handed one to Derek to carry. “Looks like they came from camp.”
It took about an hour or so before we stepped into the clearing. The sun would set soon, but from what I could tell, everyone was fine.
Carol North and Millie Larson were extremely pleased with the meat we handed them, but it was the little boy on the edge of the lake who I couldn’t get to quickly enough. He was a miniature Jack from this distance—in stature, head tilt, and even the way he used his hands. I didn’t want to scare him, so I took a seat beside him, reaching over to run my fingers through his hair.
“Hi, Mom,” he sang, handing me his fishing pole. He walked to the water, picking up a string that held five fish. “Look!”
“Look at you!” I praised him, holding out my arms. “You’re becoming quite the fisherman! Grandpa Hank will be proud!”
He giggled, letting me pull him to my lap. “Ya think?”
“Oh, I know so,” I said with a nod and a kiss to his head.
“I still need to learn how to hunt.”
This argument was never going to die, especially when everyone in camp was carrying a weapon. Freddie was too much like his father to cower away. I could see it plain as day as I looked at my son.
Sighing heavily, I raked my fingers through his hair again. “I’ll make you a deal, Freddie,” I told him, handing the pole back.
He took it tentatively but nodded, looking up at me. “What deal?”
“The deal is this…Derek has agreed to teach you, but you’ll start small—a hunting rifle, a .22. Not a handgun or shotgun, but a rifle. We think it’ll be easier to deal with. But…only if you take a few hours every day with Mr. North. You, Janie, and Josh still need school, despite all that’s going on. He was a history teacher before he retired, so he’s agreed to tutor you guys.”
“Aw, Mom,” he groaned, sounding so much like his dad that tears welled up in my eyes, but I couldn’t help but chuckle at the same time.
Kissing his temple, I said, “That’s the deal, kiddo. Take it or leave it.”
He scowled, gazing down at the ground for a moment, but finally nodded. “Okay, fine. So…when?” he asked excitedly.
Grinning, I ruffled his hair. “Soon. It won’t be tonight, but soon. I’ll let you know, okay?”
“Okay,” he sighed, frowning as he reeled the pole in to check his bait. The worm had definitely seen better days, so he removed it, tossing it into the lake. He set the pole aside, turning to face me. “I wish Dad was here. He’d teach me, not Derek.”
Smiling sadly, I nodded. “Me too, baby. And you’re probably right.”
He studied my face. “It makes you sad to talk about him. Do you think…?”
I kissed his forehead roughly before he could finish that question. “I miss your dad like crazy, Freddie.” I swallowed thickly, fighting my panic, my sadness, and my fears. “It makes me sad to talk about him, simply because…he was very far away when things got bad. I don’t like to think of him as hurt…or worse. I don’t like to think about him worrying about you and me, because you know he’d be losing his mind about us, right?”
Freddie grinned. “Yeah, he’d be like…pulling on his hair and stuff.” He mimicked his dad’s habit to a T, and even his brow wrinkled like Jack’s.
“Exactly. He may not have any hair by now,” I said with a laugh, but it died quickly. “I know your dad is strong and smart and brave. I know that your grandparents and Uncle Joel are too. I can only hope, Freddie. That’s all I’ve got left. Hope. Faith that your dad is fighting to get to us. When I met him, he was silly and sweet, and he made promises he never should’ve made, but he kept them. He fought for what was right. He always has. As much as I tease your dad for being stubborn, I know
he’s a fighter. To think of him any other way…hurts.”
I paused for a second, assessing my son, but then I cupped his face. “You’re so much like him. You want to help and take care of me, ’cause believe me, I know he told you to watch over me.”
Freddie laughed at my raised eyebrow but nodded. “Yeah. He said…he said…to stick close to you, that you were going to be sad while he was gone. He said I was to hug on you a lot so that you’d forget to be sad.”
“Okay, well, you’re doing an amazing job, buddy,” I praised him.
“I want to do more.”
“Then give me a hug, pal, ’cause I need it.”
Freddie smiled, wrapping his arms around my neck, and I wound mine all the way around his skinny frame. I buried my nose into the space between his shoulder and neck, inhaling deeply. He was sweaty and smelled of dirt and fish, but he was comfort incarnate. He was a living, breathing, adorable reminder of the person we were both missing terribly.
I blew raspberry kisses to his neck before letting him go, and his laugh was light and easy. “C’mon, Freddie, let’s get your fish to Millie. Okay? She’ll be really happy.”
Freddie looked proud as he pulled in his catch for today. I carried his pole, but he toted that string of fish with his head held high.
The venison was being smoked, thanks to Leo’s knowledge. Millie was so sweet as she thanked Freddie for the fish. The night fell quickly, but the large fire in the middle of camp kept everyone safe and close, though Derek took the night watch in the tree at the edge of the woods. Discussions of a possible fence were batted around, as were other ideas for keeping us safe. Tina asked about a future garden, but we’d have to come up with some seeds first, and Leo suggested checking out Rocky Point Lodge and its accommodations.
