Chronicles of the Infected Trilogy Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Wood, Rick

  “Flowers, Mummy. I picked them for you.”

  “Oh, my dearest, you are too kind!”

  Stacey held out a bunch of daisies, and Trisha took them with a face full of glee. She took a huge sniff, relishing the beautiful scent.

  “You are too kind, sweetie. Too kind.”

  “I can’t ever be too kind to you, Mummy.”

  “Oh, child.”

  James stood up in a sudden moment of decision.

  “Rightyo then! Let’s get in the car, and let’s follow them.”

  Stacey gasped excitedly. “Are we going to make friends with them, Father?”

  James and Trisha laughed hysterically, completely taken aback by their child’s silly question.

  “Why, of course not!” James answered, bending over and pinching his daughter’s cheek. “We never make friends with them.”

  “How silly of me,” Stacey answered, playfully smacking her forehead as she realised her error. Of course we aren’t going to make friends with them – we are going to eat them!”

  James stroked his daughter’s hair back, proudly beaming down upon her. His wife stepped forward to join them, and they shared a heartfelt family hug.

  They held hands as they glided their way back to the car, their stomachs rumbling at the inevitable arrival of their next dinner.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “You know, I’m not completely useless.”

  Donny’s vehement voice broke Gus out of whatever absentminded daydream he was entertaining his thoughts with. He readjusted his position, re-secured his hands on the steering wheel, and hoped that Donny wasn’t planning on talking as much as he normally did.

  “I mean, I know I can’t shoot, but I do have some uses.”

  Without intending to, Gus blurted out a large, mocking, “Hah!”

  “Seriously.”

  “I’d say,” Gus said, deciding to entertain Donny’s deranged spiel, “that with the world gone to shit, not being able to shoot is pretty ridiculous.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.”

  “Nah. It’s not even like it was a person. It was a zombie. It weren’t even alive.”

  “Yes, but–”

  “Ah, give it a rest, I don’t want to hear your bloody voice going on.”

  Gus felt that he’d been harsh, but decided he didn’t care all that much. What’s more, his words had forced an initial silence from Donny that lasted about a half a minute. And that was another half a minute of peace.

  Besides, what did it matter who he offended? Within a day he planned to be dead anyway.

  “See this?” Donny announced, forcing Gus to roll his eyes. “You have to look – you see it?”

  Reluctantly, Gus veered his eye line to his left, and looked upon a chip that Donny held firmly in the air between his forefinger and his thumb that he had retracted from his trouser pocket. It was a small, insignificant square that looked identical to most memory cards.

  “See it?” Donny repeated.

  “Yes, I bloody see it,” Gus huffed, turning his gaze back to the road.

  “Well, it may not look like much, but do you know what it can do?”

  “Don’t care.”

  “Look at this.”

  Donny lifted a broken radio he’d found somewhere around his feet. He turned the knob and a gentle burst of static crackled through the speaker.

  “Just a broken radio, even at its best not much better than a walkie-talkie. Doesn’t do much. Just communicates with the other radios of its batch. The dial barely even turns.”

  Donny held the radio toward Gus, waiting for confirmation. He did not receive any, but persevered anyway.

  “Well, see this.”

  Donny took the back off the radio and placed the chip inside of it. He turned the radio around and turned the volume up. The static ran through various channels, some with religious mumbling, some with more or lesser white noise.

  “I put it in, it scans every channel nearby. A pretty useful resource to have, I’d bet.” Donny took the back off the radio and retrieved the chip, holding it out in the air in front of Gus, irritably close to the ex-soldier’s face. “Cool, huh?”

  Gus snatched the chip from Donny and shoved it into his pocket.

  “Hey!” Donny protested, but daren’t try to physically retrieve it.

  “I’ll give it back when you learn to shut the hell up.”

  “That’s mine!”

  “Nothing’s anyone’s anymore.”

  Donny folded his arms and turned his offended annoyance toward the window.

  For a few minutes, neither of them spoke. And, as Donny sat there pouting, Gus couldn’t help but hide a smirk to himself.

  “Don’t know why you think you’re so tough,” Donny blurted out. “You couldn’t even do that car manoeuvre.”

  “What?” Gus said, in disbelief that Donny was daring to speak so boldly toward him.

  “That car manoeuvre you tried doing to avoid crashing into that line of cars. It failed. You can’t do all these things you claim you can.”

  “I’ll have you know, I used that manoeuvre a shit load of times in Afghanistan. I could do it in my sleep.”

  “No, you couldn’t.”

  Gus flexed his fingers over the wheel. He’d show Donny. He could still do it.

  He placed a hand on the handbrake. Got ready to lift it up just slightly, preparing the quick turn. His leg came off the accelerator slightly, and–

  The bullet lodged in his leg dug a sudden jolt of pain into the centre of his calf. Moving his leg in such a way was causing him too much pain.

  He aborted the idea.

  He relaxed his leg, waiting for the harsh tinge of agony to soften.

  “See–”

  Before Donny could say another word, Gus had grabbed his collar, gathering pieces of his t-shirt into his fist. His nose lifted into a sneer and his eyes narrowed.

  Donny decided against gloating.

  Gus relieved the pressure off Donny and focussed his vision on driving.

  Why was he even bothering with this guy?

  Because he needs to take the girl back to Eugene once I’m done. Because I don’t plan to live any longer than the next few hours.

  His anger rose so high he felt like he may erupt. Just as he was starting to be able to tolerate the kid, the buffoon went and increased his fury further.

  His mind stayed on the thought of suicide. The thought of ending his life.

  It was the only thing that kept him going.

  Chapter Thirty

  Kristine watched deploringly as Bill devoured a tin of raw beef. He shovelled it into his gob, trickling cold gravy down his chin and onto his shirt, along with the other stains he had accumulated since they had been there. Then he licked each and every finger, purposefully looking Kristine in the eyes as he did.

  Kristine sat against the wall on the opposite side of the basement. Laney leant against her, eyes shut, fast asleep. She kept her arm around Laney, keeping her warm and keeping her close. Keeping her safe from whatever predator may get her.

  She hated him. There was no two ways about it. She hated him.

  She’d hated him when he was the school caretaker. Any time he’d been called to fix a lock or mend some furniture, he had leered over her like a bulldog over its bitch. It was never enough to comment on, or for others to notice, but he had relished his subtle chauvinistic nuances.

  In truth, he probably relished being shut in the basement with Kristine.

  But she had to keep Laney safe.

  Allowing her to be his puppet was the only way to stop him from potentially advancing onto the child. The man was sick.

  So she did it. Whatever she had to, she did it.

  She detested herself for it, but she did it.

  She was glad there was no mirror in that room. For if they had a mirror, she wasn’t sure she could look in it.

  Bill burped as he threw the tin across the room, onto the mountain of mess they had created.

/>   “We don’t got many left,” Bill declared, his eyes still looking at her with that lustful glint of satisfaction.

  “We’ll just have to ration them.”

  “I ain’t rationing nothing.”

  “That’s the only way we–”

  “I said, I ain’t rationing nothing.”

  Kristine took a deep breath.

  Bill’s eyes wandered downwards, prompting her to cross her legs and pull down her skirt.

  Bill blurted out a creepy chuckle.

  “I love it,” he announced, shaking his head. “I must have fucked you a hundred times by now. I must have smeared your tits and knotted your hair with my cum. I’ve even watched you shit and piss, touching myself as you did it. But me, sitting here, perving up your skirt. That’s what creeps you out?”

  She remained silent.

  What could she say? He was right.

  She felt herself sink lower. Felt her self-worth diminish with her self-respect, falling into the bucket of faeces that sat potently in the far corner.

  Her eyes turned to Laney. Ensuring the young girl wasn’t listening to Bill’s depraved rambling. Saving Laney from the reality of the world they were living in. Not having to hear the horrors inside or outside the basement.

  “What do we do then, Bill? So we don’t ration, we eat it all. Then what?”

  Bill stood, stretching his arms and cracking his back. He sauntered to the bucket in the corner and lifted the lid. Instantly, the stench of the last few months of excrement forced Kristine to turn her head to the side and grimace. He stood, pissing in it, and on the floor all around it. He even turned to look at Kristine, smug at the mess he was making.

  “Well, baby doll. It’s been fun in here, but I suggest we start thinking about getting out.”

  He turned around, making a point of not zipping up his flies until she had scowled at the sight of his fat, spotty cock.

  “You think I’m disgusting?” he asked, taking a few sweaty steps toward her.

  “Bill, please.”

  “You think I’m disgusting, eh?”

  She swallowed a mouthful of vomit.

  “And how would you suggest we get out?” Kristine asked, ignoring his vulgar questioning.

  “Through the door,” he answered patronisingly, as if she was the most stupid person alive.

  “How? There’s no way to contact the outside. There’s too many of them, they’ll have barricaded us in.”

  “Well that’s not strictly true,” Bill said, throwing himself onto the floor opposite her, playfully poking her thigh with his scabby toe. She could smell his body odour and, even though she imagined at this point she likely smelt just as bad, it made her choke.

  “What do you mean?”

  “There is a radio. It’s two rooms across the corridor.”

  “What?” Kristine replied in astonishment.

  Was he telling the truth?

  Or was he just tormenting her further?

  “It’s the room where they teach Media Studies an’ all that. They have mics, radios, and stuff to transmit. I know, ’cause we installed it two weeks before shit hit the fan.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Don’t give a shit what you believe, ’cause it’s still there, whether you believe it or not.”

  Kristine was a kind-hearted person, someone who led with her head, didn’t let anger get the better of her. But right there, in that moment, if she had the strength, she would have throttled his fat neck until he suffocated to death.

  “You mean, you’ve known it was there all along?”

  “Yup.” He nodded cockily.

  “And you haven’t said a single thing about it?”

  “Nope.” He shook his head, his grin growing wider and more infuriating.

  “Why the heck not?”

  “Because as long as we had food, we survived down here. And as long as we survived down here, I got to plough that sweet, sweet pussy of yours.”

  He said the word pussy with a hot, outward breath, full of toxins and garlic.

  Her body tensed. She filled with rage.

  They could have gone for the radio?

  It was there all along?

  And he…

  He forced her to stay down there.

  Degrading herself for Laney’s safety.

  Forcing herself to endure his disgusting advances, just so he could take vile pleasure in having his sordid way.

  “How dare you!” she snapped.

  He burst out laughing.

  This only infuriated her further, but she knew that when she was angry, she only came across as amusing to other people. Sometimes, being a sweet woman with a soft voice only served to make her a more vulnerable target.

  “I say, get your little girl ready, and we make a move,” Bill decided, standing up and wandering to the last few tins of food they had left.

  She glared at him. Seethed at him. Filled with contempt.

  “That is,” he began, turning his leering smile toward her, “unless you want another go first?”

  Her hands gripped. Her muscles tensed. Her eyes narrowed into a menacing glare.

  He cackled at the sight of her anger, like it was the most hilarious sight he’d ever seen.

  She swore to herself that if one of them had to die so the others could survive – he would be it.

  He would never again lay a finger on her, nor would he touch Laney.

  She would see to that.

  Minus Eight Hours

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Feeling his bare shins paddle through the water made Gus feel like a child again. As he sat on the bank of the river, cleaning his scar in the lake, he felt a sense of peace. A sense of solitude he’d been yearning for over the past few days.

  Gus was growing hungry. He needed energy for the task he was about to undertake. So, leaving Sadie to guard the car, Gus had prompted Donny to seek out food. Maybe he’d come across a zombie and finally learn to fight for a change. Or, most likely, he’d shit his pants, and get eaten.

  Ah well, one less burden.

  Gus shook his head. He needed to stop thinking like that. Stop being such an arsehole.

  Sure, his opportunity for death was approaching, and he was welcoming it like an old friend, but he still had a legacy. He still had the last few days of his life to leave a lasting impression.

  But who cares, eh?

  Who cares what he left behind?

  There was nothing on this earth keeping him there. Nothing at all.

  Yet the thought of potential resolution did make him wonder what would become of his two incompetent comrades.

  Sadie. What she could be. What it all could mean. It could save the world.

  She took the blood of zombies into her mouth, and survived.

  Yet, she hasn’t survived…

  Because she still staggered like one of them. Had the verbal capabilities of one of them. Had the strength and agility of ten of them. Her eyes still turned yellow when she fought.

  Her blood could be what the world needed.

  Only one question hung over his head like a black cloud.

  Her blood could save the world…

  But is it a world worth saving?

  “Hello.”

  Gus had turned around, drawn his knife, and thrust it in the direction of the voice before he’d even realised what he was doing, clutching the leather handle and readying himself for whatever attack was about to occur.

  Except, it wasn’t an attack. It was a scared little girl.

  Her face turned red and her lip quivered with tears. She couldn’t have been more than ten years old. She had pig-tails either side of her neat blond hair, with a warm, snug jumper above a frilly skirt that bore a flowery pattern.

  Gus dropped the knife to his side, scanned her up and down for weapons, then, seeing that she was in fact just an innocent little girl, put the knife back into his belt.

  “Are you… are you going to hurt me?” she asked, her voice full of te
rror.

  “No,” Gus answered. “What are you doing out here?”

  “My mummy and daddy were here, and now I can’t find them.”

  Gus looked around himself. Whilst the girl seemed perfectly safe, he had no idea what her parents would be like, and he endeavoured to remain cautious.

  “What you doin’ out here with your mum and dad?”

  “Well, Mummy was trying to set a fire to help cook whatever Daddy brought home. He was fishing on this lake, and then – then we got separated.”

  She bowed her head shamefully. She seemed innocent – but too innocent. As if her childish voice and sobbing mentality was perfectly synthesised. Gus told himself that he’d seen too much, and that he was being ridiculous. It was just a child.

  “Will you help me find them?” she asked optimistically, her eyelids batting as she looked quizzically up at him.

  “I don’t know, kid, I kinda got stuff to do.”

  “But – but I don’t want to go out there on my own. I’m scared that those zombies will get me, and eat me!

  He’d told the other two that they had an hour before they resumed the journey. He looked to the sun descending in the sky and guessed he had roughly ten to fifteen minutes left.

  “Please,” she begged, reaching her delicate hand toward him, prompting him to place his in hers.

  He sighed.

  She was nothing like his daughter. His daughter was so genuine. This girl was so… Forthright.

  “Fine,” he grunted, taking her hand and allowing her to lead him further into the woods. She directed him adamantly, and it occurred to him that she seemed pretty set in the direction she was taking him, despite being so unequivocally lost.

  “You seem to know where you’re going.”

  “I last saw them through here. You’ll help me, won’t you? Protect me from the bad people? And the infected?”

  “Sure.”

  He sighed. Looked around himself. Nothing but trees and bushes. The further she led him, the taller the trees seemed to grow. They blocked out more and more of the evening sun until they were towering over him like foreboding giants, casting shadows over the green terrain.