The Early Days Trilogy: The Necrose Series Books 1-3

by Tim Moon

  Vanessa turned and burst into the stairwell. Without hesitation she raced to the third floor taking the steps two at a time. She was panting for air by the time she reached the landing and wondering what the fuck she was doing. Collapsing against the wall as she sucked in air, fear and revulsion clouded her mind.

  Was she really going to hunt down Black Tide alone? What the hell was her plan? What could she even do?

  Black Tide, the multi-billion-dollar military contractor that developed and deployed the virus worldwide. The company that had murdered Steve even as the infected swarmed the nation. Vanessa swallowed hard as she leaned against the wall, fighting back tears, and slid to the floor in the corner of the dark stairwell.

  Grief clenched her chest and the futility of the situation hit her. She was alone. Well and truly alone.

  89

  Vancouver, WA

  Ben sat at the guard desk, watching the neighborhood. Without even shifting he could watch five of the seven houses on their block. He couldn’t see the vehicle barriers unless he angled to the side and put his face against the window, but it was still the best vantage point they had until he finished building the sniper’s nest.

  The last few days had been spent working on defenses. Anuhea had insisted on setting up the ladder on the roof so they could post a guard on the roof during the day. It was too dangerous at night or when it was raining, so they stayed inside.

  Ben and Charlotte had finished digging holes in all the yards. Oliver got bored and found other things to occupy his time. They produced enough improvised sandbags to line the front porch and the wall under the window in front of the guard desk. It gave them nearly a foot of dirt to slow or stop bullets. It wasn’t perfect, but it beat doing nothing. He found that he didn’t mind the earthy scent. In a strange way, it was comforting.

  Ben leaned back and squeezed his eyes shut as he fought to stifle a yawn. He guessed it was around four in the morning. Possibly the toughest shift since it was prime sleeping time and still a long way from dawn. Darkness enveloped Vancouver and the only noise he heard was soft drone of snoring from Charlotte’s bedroom.

  Not that I’d ever tell her that, he thought with a grin. Ben stretched his arms and then reached down for the night vision binoculars Anuhea had found at the hunter’s house the day they brought Mark back from SportsMart.

  The soft click of a door being closed behind Ben gave him a start. He hadn’t heard it open. Soft footsteps moved across the floor towards him. There was some rustling and a grunt that made him sit up and listen.

  “Just going outside to the bathroom,” Mark said in a loud whisper.

  “Sure,” Ben said, turning his attention back to the window and the binoculars in his hands.

  With a click, the binoculars turned on and transformed the darkness into varying shades of green with surprising clarity. Ben could see all the way down the block. A real game-changer. For a civilian product it was impressive, he could only imagine what military night vision was like.

  Ben planned to bring the binoculars on a scouting trip to find the other group of survivors. Ever since they had returned with Mark, he’d been planning to locate them and perhaps even launch an attack, depending on their strength. It was risky, but not as much as being on the receiving end of an ambush.

  Seeing the neighborhood this way was like watching the Night of the Living Dead through a green filter. Except that it wasn’t just a movie. It was real life.

  After Ben scanned the street, he turned them off. The binoculars ran on AA batteries, which they had plenty of, but it was best to use them sparingly. Batteries were a finite resource now. Even the rechargeable ones, for which they had a portable solar panel, wouldn’t last forever.

  He wanted to go back to the outdoors store right away to see if they had night vision optics. A scope or head-mounted goggles would be ideal. The binoculars were great and all, but it wouldn’t help them shoot.

  A shadow flitting between two houses across the street interrupted Ben’s thoughts. Sucking in a breath, he brought the binoculars back up, leaned forward and stared in the direction of the movement. Had he really seen something?

  Long seconds passed as he conducted a thorough scan of the entire neighborhood, returning every few seconds to the gap where he’d seen the shadow. He began to wonder if it was his imagination getting away from him. Then he saw something move again, in the same place.

  “Shit,” Ben said.

  Through the bright green glow of the binoculars, the silhouette of a person holding a rifle was crystal clear. Ben couldn’t believe it. His heart pounded as a hundred questions flew through his mind. Had it been one person or two? Could it be a pair of survivors looking for safety? Were these friends of the group that attacked Anuhea at the pharmacy? If they were, how did they find them?

  Ben hoped for the best, that it was two survivors seeking refuge, but the men’s movement was suspicious. They prowled like hungry tigers, making their way towards the house. His gut churned at the impending fight.

  He gulped and then turned to alert the others when he was interrupted by a piercing scream that ended the night’s silence. Ben snapped his attention back to the window. It was too dark to see what caused had the noise, so he turned on the binoculars again. One man was rolling on the ground, his shrill cries of pain more effective than an alarm. Everyone in the house seemed to leap out of bed.

  “Grab your guns, we’ve got company,” Ben said with the bark of a drill instructor.

  The holes they had dug in the front yards had just claimed their first victim. It had worked like a charm. When Ben realized that, a shit-eating grin spread across his face. These fuckers were in for a rude surprise.

  Nervous energy coursed through him, yet his hands were steady on the binoculars. They had a plan for this kind of situation. Ben felt ready. The success of the trap boosted his confidence.

  A muffled response came from Anuhea’s room.

  Ben stayed focused the street. He leaned forward to slide the window open. Shots were going to be fired and there was no point in shattering the glass if he didn’t need to. Frigid air rushed in and sent the curtain and blanket flapping around him. Ben’s teeth clattered like a cartoon skeleton at the icy blast.

  The cries of pain became muffled. Clouds drifted away from the moon and the dull light revealed two more forms rushing out to help the injured guy. He gritted his teeth and cursed the intruders. At least three people had invaded their neighborhood.

  A dull crack, like a large twig snapping reached Ben’s ears and he saw a body collapse. Another intruder disabled. Fresh howls of pain filled the night. Bile burned the back of Ben’s throat and he had to swallow hard to keep from spitting it up.

  “Damn,” Ben muttered to himself, wincing at the burning sensation in his throat. As grateful as he was that the traps worked, the sound had shocked him. It also made him wish they had done more. If the sniper’s nest had been finished, he might have heard or spotted the men earlier.

  Ben chided himself as he raised the binoculars and saw three men in the front yard across the street. Two of them were out of commission but all of them were armed. He had the feeling these were not survivors. These men had intended to attack them, he was sure of it. No normal person would creep around like that in the middle of the night with a weapon.

  The third man was fully mobile and struggling to pull one of his friends across the pock marked lawn back to cover between the houses. Ben was about to set aside the binoculars to take up his rifle and end the intruder’s lives when he heard the metallic click of the fence latch and the creak of the gate’s hinges. It was a sound as familiar to him as his mother’s voice.

  A bulky form hobbled away from the side of Ben’s house, carrying something bulky.

  He cursed. Could they really be so close already?

  Charlotte raced downstairs without a word to take her pre-planned position on the front porch. Anuhea was two steps behind her and would take the other side of the porch. They we
re gone before his vocal chords obeyed his brain. He had to trust they could handle themselves. If their brief history together had proved anything, it was that they were tough.

  Ben bit his lip and brought up the rifle. He sighted on the man pulling his friend, when a shrill voice behind him interrupted his concentration.

  “Ben,” his mother shrieked. “Where’s Oliver?”

  Nancy burst of her bedroom causing Ben’s head to pop up from the rifle like a gopher. He heard three quick strides before she threw back the blanket that covered Ben. It tore free of the nails that held it to the window. He turned and saw the panic in her eyes even through the darkness. Her shoulders quivered as the winter air blasted her, yet her eyes were a furnace hot enough to destroy Sauron’s ring of power.

  “I don’t know,” Ben said as icy fingers of panic clenched his heart. “I’ve been here. There are people outside.”

  The snap of gun shots was quickly followed by the sharp crack of wood as the rounds hit the wall above their heads.

  “Get down,” he yelled as he shoved away from the table and tackled his mom to the floor to shield her.

  Nancy gasped in surprise and then began to scramble away. “I need to find Oliver.”

  “You can’t go alone,” Ben said.

  Chadwick poked his head out of the bedroom and then limped into the hallway. “How many are there?”

  Ignoring his question, Nancy snapped, “Oliver’s gone.”

  “Mom get your rifle. We’ll find Oliver,” Ben said.

  He rose to a knee and helped his mom up. She stood and whirled on her heel, rushing back into her bedroom. Ben could hear her throwing on a jacket and fumbling around for her weapon. Chadwick looked dumbstruck.

  “Get downstairs, man. There’s at least three armed men. Probably more,” Ben said.

  More bullets smacked into the house. Glass shattered somewhere. Then Charlotte and Anuhea opened fire. Shots began going back and forth at a steady pace.

  “Everyone okay?” Ben asked.

  “I’m fine,” Nancy called from the bedroom.

  “I’m good,” Chadwick said.

  Where was Mark? He’d gone downstairs to use the bathroom. A sinking feeling made Ben want to shout in fury.

  “Sonofabitch.” Ben realized his mistake to late.

  “What?” His mom and Chadwick asked at the same time.

  “It’s my fault,” Ben said.

  “Nonsense,” Nancy snapped.

  “Oliver is my responsibility and I didn’t protect him.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. We don’t even know what happened.”

  “I agreed to let Mark come back with us.”

  “Mark?” Chadwick asked.

  “You think he took Oliver,” Nancy said. Her eyes narrowed in anger, not at Ben but because she had welcomed him into their home.

  “I think so.” Ben’s head drooped.

  “Well, stop whingeing about it and let’s get him back,” Chadwick said with a growl that caught Ben off guard. His friend didn’t wait for a response before carefully limping downstairs to join the others. “Are you coming or not?”

  Ben gritted his teeth and turned back to the window. Taking a deep breath, he hunched over his rifle, resting his cheek against the stock to sight through the scope. Whoever was out there had cross onto their turf and put his friends and family at risk. He wouldn’t stand for that.

  One of the men injured with the traps sat on the ground, leaning against the side of a house. The uninjured man ran out to help the second guy who was slowly crawling towards his friends. They seemed oblivious to the firefight going on around them. Ben could tell Anuhea and Charlotte were shooting towards a different house. It was possible they hadn’t even seen the guys maimed by their traps.

  Ben took a deep, steadying breath. The moving forms stood out against the dark background just enough for him to aim. If only the clouds could blow away for a few minutes his job would be so much easier.

  Sighting on the uninjured man, Ben squeezed the trigger. The AR-15 nudged his shoulder as the shot cracked loudly in the night air. The man crumpled to the ground in a heap, landing atop his injured buddy who let out a shriek of fear and pain.

  Ben shifted his aim to the guy at the side of the house. He’d begun to crawl away desperately seeking cover. With a slow squeeze, Ben fired again. His aim must have been good because the guy stopped moving. A voice in his head warned against a ruse. Playing dead was an age-old trick and it was impossible for him to see where, or even if, he’d shot the man. Just to be safe, Ben squeezed off two more rounds before tracking back to the injured guy in the front yard.

  His brow furrowed at the sight of the man using his dead friend as a shield. Apparently, he was content to wait out the fight.

  Not if I have anything to say about it, Ben thought.

  Squeezing off a few shots at the dark mass in the front yard, Ben waited to see if anything moved. It was hard to tell, and he couldn’t waste all his time and ammo shooting through a dead body.

  He lifted his head to scan for new target when an orange flicker caught his eye. It grew into a small flame on the roof of the house across the street. Ben squinted in confusion and then his eyes widened as a man sat up and cocked his arm back.

  Sonofabitch, he thought, quickly taking aim as his heart skipped a beat. Fire bombing was not a scenario they had planned to defend against.

  The man was slow. Ben squeezed the trigger quickly, too quickly, but let out a breath when the man spasmed and dropped the bottle. He slumped backwards and the bottled rolled down the roof, leaving a swirling orange trail in the darkness.

  Then the bottle exploded. A splash of flame spread out like a tablecloth, covering the roof and the body of the man he’d shot. What little night vision Ben naturally had was lost in the brilliant flash of orange.

  Ben blinked his eyes to clear his vision. All he could see were orange spots. Then a hand grabbed his shoulder.

  Gasping, he spun around but it was his mom.

  “Come on,” she said.

  “Follow me.” Ben picked up the rifle from the table and turned to lead the way down the stairs.

  A blast of heat and light combined with his natural reaction made him fall down the stairwell. Screams echoed in his ears, muffled only by the thumps and grunts as he tumbled down. He came to a stop with bone jarring finality and groaned.

  “Shit,” he muttered. These guys are not playing around.

  Anger and fear boiled inside him. Where was his mom? He looked around with stars in his eyes but didn’t see her. Scrambling to his feet, Ben began to climb the stairs to find her. He winced at a stab of pain in his side.

  “Mom!” he shouted, clutching his side. A fit of coughing sent a cascade of agony through his chest. Fearing he’d been shot, he looked down at his hand but there was no blood.

  A groan caught his attention as he staggered up to find his mother. She groaned again, almost forming words. Dark smoke began to fill the air, forcing him to bend over to avoid the thick cloud billowing overhead. The movement caused a piercing ache to fill his chest. He reached out and after a few tries, felt her clutch his hand. Ben pulled his mother close and put an arm around her waist. Together, they stumbled down the staircase, coughing.

  Ben led his mom outside through the kitchen to the backyard. Fresh air was a balm to their parched throats and stinging eyes. After rubbing his face in the crook of his elbow, Ben squinted around. He had to see if Mark was there. Had that bastard really betrayed them?

  The backyard was empty.

  Orange light flared with the sound of shattering glass bursting on concrete. Gunshots split the air at odd intervals and Ben knew it was time to join the fray. It was time to hunt.

  “Take cover and watch our backs,” Ben told his mom. “Make sure no one flanks us.”

  “I’m not going to hide back here while Oliver is out there,” she said, her chin quivering with emotion. “Alone and terrified.”

  “Mom, I can’t lose you
. Okay?” It was difficult to say aloud but it had the desired effect. Ben placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I’ll get Oliver, I promise.”

  Nancy’s shoulders drooped, and then she gave a quick nod. “Come back safe.”

  “I will,” Ben said, giving her a quick hug. He turned and strode towards the gate in the fence.

  Fire burned in the street where the bottle had burst a few moments ago, the flames were low as they guttered out. He spotted a man rising above the rooftop across the street, another Molotov cocktail in his hand. Ben tried to take aim before the man could throw it, but someone on the porch beat him to the punch. Several quick shots rang out and the body pitched forward onto the roof.

  The bottle rolled down the slope, twirling its homemade fuse as it bumped over shingles. Suddenly it burst into a large fire ball that briefly illuminated two other people flinching away from the unexpected explosion. Another house began to burn.

  He opened the gate and rushed to the corner of the house. More unseen attackers opened fire. Ben dropped to a knee, pressing his back against the house. Wood crackled and popped as rounds punched holes in the walls of his house. Ben flinched away even though hit nearby. He could tell the shots were sloppy, wild.

  Ben’s lips curled into a vicious sneer. The enemy must have been thrown off balance by their preparations. He wondered briefly if they had grown used to bullying scared and defenseless people. Well, they were seeing first hand that didn’t describe his family. Ben clenched the grip of his rifle; he was going to take them out in the same way he had at the corner store.

  He looked across the street at the bodies in the front yard, still lying where he’d dropped them from the guard post. Ben studied the spaces in between houses where he’d spotted movement before.

  Ben moved to the side of the porch and said in a loud whisper, “Hey, it’s Ben.”

  A few seconds of shuffling and Charlotte peered down at him.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “They hit the top floor. The house is on fire. And I think Mark took Oliver. We can’t find him,” Ben said, gesturing across the street. He hoped they hadn’t taken the boy too far. “If you see Mark, kill him.”