The mass of infected barrel out of the weeds and hit the alleyway. They turn in circles, their heads titled back and noses testing the air.
Bill looks to the rearview mirror, then over his shoulder at the gathering mob of dead.
“Son of a bitch,” he mutters under his breath.
He jerks the steering wheel from side to side while trying to avoid any debris in our path. Once again, we’re tossed around in the cab, our bodies sliding from one end to the other.
A loud knocking noise comes from the engine. It doesn’t sound promising. The needle squeezes past fifty and continues to rise as we bear down on the road ahead. Through the fence, I spot more chasers racing down the street—a twisted glob of decayed flesh and outstretched arms that want whatever is making the noise.
I point through the windshield. “We’ve got more incoming!”
“I know. I know,” Bill snaps back.
We hit a dip at the end of the alley that bottoms the truck out. Reckless and wild, we slide out onto the street. Bill spins the steering wheel, cutting the tires to straighten us out.
The truck doesn’t respond as fast as we need it too and goes wide. The palms of my hands press against the dash as I brace for impact. The front half of the truck digs into a parked brown sedan. The sound of tortured and groaning metal creates a terrifying crescendo.
Bill pulls us off the car and back to the middle of the street. Smoke sifts out through the crumpled-up hood. The knocking noise grows louder with each passing second.
I turn and peer out through the window to find the gang of dead merging from the alleyway and street. Their bodies merge as one nasty creature that refuses to give up.
“Come on,” Bill growls through pursed lips. He slaps his hand against the steering wheel and grumbles some choice words under his breath.
I keep an eye on the chasers who are gaining some ground.
“We need to go faster,” I advise.
“I’m trying, but I think the engine is toast. We’re losing power.”
I look to the dash, and find the needle dropping like a lead weight in a pond. The truck spits and backfires as the smoke venting from the hood grows thicker.
“So, what’s the plan, then?” I ask.
Bill slams the gas pedal to the floor. He pumps it twice, but the truck doesn’t yield to his command. He pulls over to the side near the sidewalk and puts the truck in park.
“We run.” He throws the driver’s side door open and gets out. I toss his rucksack at him, and hand his rifle over. I shimmy out of the cab with Duke hot on our tails.
The un-nerving chorus of the chasers’ grunts aren’t far behind. Bill takes off down the sidewalk in a dead sprint with me and Duke following in his wake. He’s got his gear slung over his shoulder with the rifle fastened within his hands.
The storefronts on either side of the road are in dire shape. The large glass windows are busted out. Jagged pieces rim the outer portions like teeth. Shards crunch under our boots. Some look to have been ravaged by fires. The brick and darkened interiors are blackened from the heat that consumed the space.
We need to find a place that we can hold up that hasn’t been compromised. From the looks of things, that may be easier said than done.
Bill points to a sign that hangs from the side of a reddish-brown brick building. Pete’s Ammo and Firearms.
“We should be good in there until things die down.”
Seems like as good a place to hold up as any.
He stops, and cuts down the alleyway next to the ammo shop. He traces down the cluttered passage and navigates the dumpsters and trash that the wind has collected into small piles.
“You sure this place is safe?” I probe.
Bill heads for the gun metal door that has steel bars attached to its front. He reaches for the brass doorknob, but pauses.
Blood is smeared across the surface of the door and over the knob. He peers down the long stretch of alleyway, then back to the side entrance of the building.
“Do you think it’s safe?” I ask.
Bill shrugs. “Last time I was in here it was, but that blood wasn’t there, so I don’t know.”
The chasers grow closer the longer we stand here. If we’re not going in, then we need to move to find cover somewhere else.
My head turns in every direction from the groans and shrills of the chasers closing in. My heart punches my chest each second we stand here. I don’t like lingering in the open with the dead hot on our trail.
I bring the pistol up, and train it at the street. “It’s do or die. Once they see us down here, we’re screwed.”
Bill slips his hand through the bars and opens the cracked door. He takes a step back and trains his rifle into the interior of the structure. He heads inside with Duke close behind. I backpedal to the entrance, and dart in just as the chasers come into view.
I’m swallowed by the dark interior of the building. I pull the door to with a gentle touch as to not make any undo noise. I make sure it’s latched and secured by tugging on the knob. It doesn’t budge or move. I do not want another instance like what happened in Sweet Home where I cost Mack his life.
Bill shoves his hand into his coat pocket. I step clear of the door, and move to his side. He pulls a small black flashlight from his pocket and turns it on.
The gleam from the end of the flashlight brings to life the store’s silent and eerie space. The light washes over each aisle as we scan for any threats, dead or otherwise. Rows of shelving run the length of the store from front to back. The walls are lined with what few rifles and other assorted weapons remain.
Beyond the door, I pick up the faint chatter from the dead who pass by. I turn on my heels and take aim at the door, just in case they decide to investigate.
Duke ventures off into the store. His nose is trained to the ground as he leaves my sight.
“Duke. Come here, boy!”
He ignores me and vanishes within the murk of darkness.
Bill nudges my arm. “I’m going to check up front. You want to scope out the office over there?”
“Sure.”
Bill moves down the aisle with cautious footing.
Duke is nowhere in sight, but I can hear the jingling of his dog tag. I back away from the door, and turn toward the office on the far side of the store.
My pistol sweeps each aisle I pass by. The sunlight that shines in through the bared windows up front offers some aid in battling the darkness.
“Duke. Come here now, boy!” I demand. I try to keep my voice low, but it grows louder each time I call for him.
The blood smeared on the front of the office door causes me to pause and approach with caution. It doesn’t look dry. Whatever it came from could still be lurking about, waiting for some unsuspecting person to come across it.
The silence grates on my nerves. At least when the chasers signal their whereabouts with subtle grunts and panted breath, you can gauge where they are. The lack of that ominous sound can be even more troubling and worrisome.
Bill’s light extinguishes, but I can hear him rummaging up front. A scratching noise catches my ear. I stop and listen. I tilt my head to the side, and spot a door that is ajar.
Blackness meets my gaze. I gulp as I listen for any indicators as to what could be making the noise. Duke barrels out of the office, and halts just outside of the entryway.
I flinch and turn toward him with the pistol up and at the ready. He groans and offers a single bark before stepping back into the office. He must have found something. Since he isn’t growling, it doesn’t appear to be a threat. What could it be?
I step away from the door, and make a beeline for the office. My finger hugs the trigger as I expel a deep breath. The squeaking of my boots off the tile floor rattles my nerves the closer I get.
A dull light radiates from the office, and is captured from the open blinds of the window. I crane my neck and peer through the white covering. It’s difficult to make anything out. I squint and hunch dow
n some. I spot a bloody hand pressed to the floor. It doesn’t move.
Duke and his safety springs to mind.
I throw caution to the wind and race around the small shelving unit next to me. I skirt the jamb of the door and slip into the office.
“Duke, get away from-”
I stand there, frozen in place with the pistol fixed at the injured man. Duke is lying next to him with his head resting on the man’s lap. Duke looks up to me with large, sad eyes.
In that single moment, my heart breaks once more. I look upon the motionless, bloody body of the brave man who has helped me and Duke through nearly every step of this horrid nightmare and given us a chance at surviving this deadly plague. “Lucas.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The world continues to find ways to punish me. I can’t seem to avoid its wrath, no matter what I do.
The pistol lowers to my side. I drop to my knees before Lucas. He doesn’t respond to our presence. There are no movements or hints that he’s even alive. I retrieve the flashlight from the floor next to him, and shine it over him.
His head is tilted forward, his pale face splattered in blood. He’s bleeding from his stomach, and has a bite bark on the side of his neck.
A pistol rests in his hand with his fingers wrapped around the grip. I’m lost as to what to do. He’s been bitten and is losing a lot of blood.
I grab Duke by the collar, and pull him away. He resists, not wanting to budge from Lucas’s side, but he obeys just the same.
“Lucas!” I mutter through quivering lips.
Tears distort my vision. I sniffle, then whimper at the sight of my dying friend. Duke stays by my side and whines. He’s just as heartbroken as I am.
I check for a pulse on the side of his neck. His skin is cold and clammy to the touch. My fingers move through the filth of sweat and death for any signs of life. It’s hard to find, but I manage to track down a pulse. Although weak, it is there.
Lucas moves his head, then grumbles something under his breath. The lifeless words that flow from his lips are incoherent and undiscernible.
“We’re here. James and Duke.”
He twitches, then struggles to lift his weary head up straight.
“James?”
His voice is choppy, and weak. He rests against the front of the metal desk drawers.
“Yeah. We’re here.”
Lucas’s eyes, open slowly, as if it’s a chore. The whites of each socket have thick red lines that spiderweb in all directions. His mouth parts and his tongue glides along the torn, dried flesh.
“Let me go see if I can track down some water for you. I’ll be right back.” I stand up, but Lucas grabs my wrist and keeps me from moving.
He shakes his head, then releases my arm. “Don’t bother. I don’t have much time left before I turn.”
I lower down, and stay by his side. “What happened to you? Are Cindy and Cassie ok? Are they still with Hive?”
Lucas shifts his weight and grumbles in pain. His face scrunches up as he gnashes his teeth. “As far as I know, they’re still with those bastards. After they dragged us from that building, we tried to escape. They shot me in the gut and left me for the chasers. They took Cindy and Cassie back with them. Not sure why. I fought my way through the dead to try and reach them, but there were too many, and they were organized. One got me on my neck. Hurts like a son of a bitch.”
Lucas drops the pistol to the floor and reaches across his body. His fingers grab at the collar of his shirt as he struggles to move it clear of the mangled flesh. He sighs, and deflates against the desk. His arm falls back to this side, lifeless.
Duke groans and paws at Lucas’s arm, which brings a hint of a smile from his tortured face.
I stand and scour the paperwork and boxes within the office for a first aid kit. “Hang in there, Lucas. Stay awake for me, will ya?”
Trying to save him now is futile at best. If the infection from the bite doesn’t kill, then the gunshot wound in his stomach will. Still, I have to do something. Anything. I owe him that, and so much more.
“I’m sorry, James, that I couldn’t save them. I tried my hardest. I wasn’t... strong enough to do it.”
“Don’t worry about that right now. We just need to get you fixed up, then we’ll deal with it.” The flashlight skims over the cluttered shelves of paperwork and boxes in search of something that I can use to ease his suffering.
My hands shove the mounds of paperwork and useless items from the shelves. I growl in aggravation. Not only for Lucas’s condition, but for Cindy and the others as well.
He fades in and out, rambling incoherent nonsense that I can’t understand. The thought of losing another close friend is hard to swallow. The sad part is that it’s happened so much that I have learned to deal with it, and resolve my feelings toward the matter in a more grown up way. No more angry outbursts that threaten our lives, or allowing my emotions to dictate my actions. I have to remain in control, and absorb the pain until I can deal with it properly.
Duke growls, which brings my focus back to them. He’s not facing Lucas, but the entrance of the office instead.
Bill stands near the jamb with his flashlight, and a pistol trained on Lucas’s face.
“James, what the hell do you think you’re doing? He’s been bitten. He’s got the infection.”
I turn away from the shelves and face Bill. “I know him. He’s my friend. He was with the others who were taken by Hive.”
Bill doesn’t take his eyes, or the pistol for that matter, off Lucas. Lucas shifts his weight.
Bill pulls the hammer back on his pistol and bears down on him. “I don’t care if he’s the Pope, he’s going to turn, James. From the looks of him, I’d say it will be sooner rather than later. We need to handle it before he does.”
Lucas sits there, weak, and on the verge of death. He shifts his glassy eyes up to me and nods.
Yeah. I know what has to happen. Damn it.
I raise my hand in the air and motion to Bill to lower his sidearm. “Take your weapon off my friend, now.”
Bill shoots me a puzzled stare. “He’s infected. You know what’s going to happen. He’s a danger to not only you, but me as well.” Bill keeps his piece locked on Lucas with a steady grip.
Duke remains by Lucas’s side. He lowers his ears and bares his teeth at Bill.
I train my pistol at Bill, and narrow my gaze at him. “I said, lower your damn weapon, now.”
Bill’s eyes go wide with shock. Indecision swirls in his face.
“All right, James.” Bill raises his hands into the air and backs off.
I hold my ground for a moment longer before lowering mine. “When it comes time to take care of him, I’ll be the one to handle it. Not you, ok?”
Bill nods in agreement. “Make sure you do, because if you don’t, I will.”
“Fair enough.”
Bill tucks the pistol within the waistband of his jeans. “I’m going to finish gathering what supplies and ammo I can. Don’t take too long, all right?”
Bill offers one last look at Lucas as he steps away from the office and disappears into the darkness of the store. The glow from his flashlight trails off down an aisle and toward the front of the store.
I train the flashlight on Lucas. He struggles to lift his arm to shield himself from the light. Sweat races down his pale face as he diverts his sickly eyes. His breathing is labored and is becoming shallower with each tick of the clock.
“James, forget the first aid kit. It wouldn’t matter anyway. You know that. Either way, I’m done for. Just put me out of my misery. I’d rather go out while I still have a soul left.”
I look away, overwhelmed by his request. I know I told Bill I’ll handle Lucas, and I will, but it’s hard to do. Losing another friend is proving to be more difficult each time it happens.
The back of my hand wipes away the tears from my cheeks. I sniffle, and try to mask the sadness flowing from me.
“Come on, James. You… don�
��t have much time. Think of Cindy and Cassie. They need you now. More than… ever.”
I peer down to the pistol clutched in my hand. Tears drip from my chin and splatter on the grip. Once more, I’m forced into a corner with no alternatives that are going to save me from doing what needs to be done.
A wheezing noise emits from his lips, followed by a painful hack as I bring the pistol up and take aim at his head. My hand shakes with an unsteady grip. I fight like hell to hold the damn tears back.
Lucas bows his head, then gives a warm smile. “Go save your family, James.”
The pistol barks and fires a single round. Duke cowers, and his tail goes between his legs. Lucas goes limp. His head dangles to the floor. Blood seeps out from the hole in his skull and drips to the tops of his pants.
The hammering of feet charging to the office plays as background noise to my sadness. I stand there, hovering over Lucas’s dead body, trying to pull myself together as best I can.
Bill bursts into the room with his pistol fixed in his hand. He scans over the office and hones in on Lucas. He steps closer to him and checks for a pulse then glances over to me.
“You ok?”
My body floods with emotion. Bill’s voice sounds like a distant echo that fades to nothing before it reaches me. I look down to the pistol by my side.
Bill stands up and walks toward me. His movements are cautious as he reaches for the firearm. He takes it from my hand and sets it on the metal two-tier bookcase that rests below the office window.
Through blurred vision, I stare at Lucas. The guilt, sadness, and remorse I’m holding at bay is one large lump that I’m having trouble swallowing.
Bill places his hand on my shoulder. “You did the right thing, James. Don’t second guess your decision. I imagine your friend would rather go out like that than to turn into one of those soulless bastards. I know I would.”
“That may be, but it doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.” My forearm wipes away the grief from my top lip and nose. I nod in return and clear my throat.
Bill doesn’t counter, or say much of anything else. He just pats my shoulder and steps away. He’s halfway out of the office when he stops and turns to face me.
Dead State Box Set [0-5] Page 76
