Haven (Apocalypse Chronicles Part 1)

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Haven (Apocalypse Chronicles Part 1) Page 22

by Falter, Laury


  My dad would have been proud.

  With my mission in mind, I headed for the door, opened it, and peeked around the edge for any sign of Infected. Nothing was visible but shards of glass where the main entrance had been, although the scent of blood hung in the air cautioning us that a large number of Infected had just passed through. I slipped out the door and along the narrow wall between the classroom and the main entrance doors, or what was left of them. Old Boy’s alarm was still screeching a high-pitched warning, so that’s why I saw no indication of Infecteds until I was able to look outside. Harrison, I imagined, smelled, heard, and probably felt their presence before they ever came into my view, and this was just one of the reasons he stayed so close to me on my way out. I was acutely aware of him behind me until I saw what awaited us and when I did, my breath caught in my throat. There were hundreds of them, a massive group of infected humans covered in filth and dried blood and ravenous for something fresh to eat. If one saw me… I reminded myself, as I took aim, that it would only take one to alert the rest.

  The five propane tanks Harrison mentioned weren’t hard to find, but they were being blocked by the crowd, which required me to stand in the open for far too long.

  My dad had trained me to keep both eyes open while shooting, a discipline that not everyone agreed with but in this instance alone it paid off. With one eye on the target, my other eye was free to catch abnormal movement. So when an infected woman down the steps and to our left flinched sharply and spun around, I saw it. Every muscle in my body flexed to move and Harrison’s hands became locked around my waist. He was already pulling me back when a clear shot to the tank opened. By then, the Infected was two steps up and others had noticed. But my finger was faster than their feet.

  Let this work, I thought. God, please let this work.

  With the click of the weapon discharging, I felt a firm yank from behind and I was launched backward, both from Harrison’s pull and from the explosion that followed. The next few seconds were a mix of Harrison’s body rolling to cover mine and the intense heat of the ignited propane fumes scorching my exposed arms.

  We waited for the blast to do its job on everything in its path as the flames rolled down the hallway, blowing apart locker doors and sending them flying and colliding into one another. It was unlikely that my locker midway down survived and, interestingly, that made me sad. A few weeks ago I’d considered it to be just another locker to get me through the year. Now 143B was a landmark to me, the place where Harrison and I finally spoke to each other, the place where I’d made a new bed, my new home when everything else collapsed. It was the spot where we learned that our world had permanently changed. So much had happened there that I almost wished I could see it again, it and that faded b-word written across it. My sad, final answer to the game Words That Start With B?

  Bye bye, 143B.

  Seconds passed before Harrison’s body lifted off me. “Are you hurt?” he asked, gently pulling me up.

  “No,” I said, already looking beyond him and through the classroom door where we’d landed.

  What had once been fairly pristine rows of grey lockers were now empty, smoldering, charred hollow recesses in the wall.

  “You guys okay?” Harrison asked, his voice directed behind us.

  “Good to go,” Doc said and the scuffling behind me confirmed they were already on the move.

  I had my rifle’s muzzle pointed at the hallway when they reached us.

  “I’m going first,” Harrison instructed. “Stay behind me.”

  “No problem,” Doc said wryly under his breath.

  The state of the Infected outside was undetermined and the intense smell of acrid fumes, singed metal, and smoke had started to make our eyes water as we left the room in a line. Harrison, with his acute sensory abilities, didn’t swing his head back and forth in a chaotic effort to identify the nearest threats. Instead, he listened. I heard only the collapse of dangling locker doors, but I was certain he heard far more than me. I guessed most of it was silence, because he continued to lead us through the smoke and out the main entrance. There, in the clear, chilly morning air, we saw the carnage. Heaps of flesh and bones, none of them moving, thankfully. If the Infected fed off one another, this would be a good place to start.

  Harrison led us through them, maneuvering around the largest mounds and down the narrowest valleys. When he stopped, I looked up and found the gate was gone. The battered fence that had defended us for the last 74 days had a gaping hole ripped through it. The bars on each side of the opening were all banged up, scorched, dented and bowing. Altogether, it told me just how successful Harrison’s plan had been.

  “Your car,” Beverly muttered, “Golden Boy is gone.”

  Old Boy, I mentally corrected her. Not that it would have mattered. He was gone, almost entirely. Only the chassis was left, singed to a dull black finish.

  Harrison was observing me, so I gave him the best smile I could and said, “Don’t worry. I’m pretty sure my dad would have approved.”

  He reached out and took my forearm, giving me a tender squeeze, although his eyes said something different… “You’re stronger than you think and that’s incredibly appealing.”

  I was surprised Beverly had felt my pain, my loss at something so precious to me, but she didn’t leave me with that assumption for long. “How are we going to get out of here now?”

  Despite the callousness of it, it was a good question.

  “We walk,” Harrison said, stepping out of the gate and around Old Boy’s smoking metal underbelly.

  “Walk?” Beverly repeated, almost snarling. “Lone Ranger’s brilliant plan of escape ends here? Well, that’s just great. You do realize we are leaving a place with food and water and some security in exchange for the absolute unknown? Where we are completely exposed to God only knows how many Infected? Did you think of that?”

  Doc sighed before declaring, “You’re free to go back, Beverly.” And under his breath he muttered, “Geez, just go back…”

  “Maybe I will,” she countered, tilting her nose into the air.

  We were making our way through the cars which were jammed together just as they had been on the first day of the outbreak, or else we might have tried to take one of them. Despite this, I noticed Beverly feverishly ducking her head through a few of their windows in search of keys.

  A shuffling behind me made me stop and look back to find Doc running directly into Beverly. He scoffed and attempted to get around her, but she was wedged between two car bumpers. All he could do is lift his shoulders in a shrug and shake his head in frustration.

  “I…,” Beverly said and paused to swallow. Whatever she wanted to say was a strain, making her clamp her mouth closed again.

  “We need to keep moving,” Harrison warned. He was waiting for us a car length ahead, scanning the area. “The explosion will draw others.”

  In a burst of words, Beverly admitted what was bothering her. “I don’t want to leave my dad.”

  And there it was…the first indication to the others who didn’t truly know her that Beverly actually had a heart. It was hidden under layers…and layers…of narcissism, but it was there. It took a lot for Beverly to show her sensitive side, not only because it’s hard to find something so small but also because it exposed her vulnerability. Her bitterness was her cloak and she’d finally opened it to the rest of them.

  “Wow, you mean there’s actually a human being in there?” Doc muttered.

  She scowled at him but never budged, so he never saw it.

  “Beverly,” I said, “we need to keep moving.”

  “He deserves a proper burial,” she argued.

  “All of these people deserve a proper burial,” Doc asserted as his hand swept across the parking lot.

  In an effort to get her walking again, away from the open space we were standing in, I agreed, “He will get a proper burial. I promise.”

  “That’s not good enough.”

  “Then go back,” Doc
said, a little too loudly.

  “And do what? Rot away on the roof?”

  When she raised her voice, I cringed and instantly began searching for movement in the distance.

  “Beverly, if you don’t start walking, I’m going to slap you again.”

  “A-again?” She gasped. “You go right ahead and try.”

  Having already started toward Harrison, I quickly stopped, but I didn’t turn around. Seeing her would have incited an angry response that I didn’t want to have erupt now. She must have sensed this, because amazingly, she conceded.

  “Okay,” she stated quietly, almost meekly. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

  I twisted my head to the right, preparing to reply, but whatever remark I had planned was instantly erased. Something flashed in the corner of my eye, resembling a sparkle on the surface of the lake. But there were no lakes nearby.

  “Guys…,” I whispered.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Harrison’s head spin in the direction I was looking.

  As I lifted the rifle and took aim, Beverly’s exclamation trailed off, “Oh my gosh…”

  And then, he appeared from behind the hedge, his watch flickering at me once more as he came entirely into the sun. I set my front sight on him.

  Through the scope, I clearly saw the man’s half-torn face. One of his eyeballs was gauged and drooping, which didn’t disturb me as much as his good eye, because it was turned and looking directly at me.

  I exhaled, intending to make my two hundred yard shot count, when Harrison stopped me.

  “Kennedy,” he said through gritted teeth. “He’s not alone.”

  ~ 12 ~

  THE HEDGE ALONG THE ROAD THAT had kept us from seeing each other had gaps, not too wide but enough to identify movement directly on the other side. And when I saw that Harrison was correct, that there were others, lots of others coming, my breath threatened to seize in my chest. Their movement could be detected all the way back to the start of the hedge that didn’t end until it met up with the businesses that were next to our school: the hedge was the length of an entire football field.

  The warning Beverly had demanded we listen to a few minutes earlier ran through my head, sharp, distinct, and without pity. We were without resources or a secure location. And worse, we were exposed…

  Doc was the first to call out any instruction and he did so while following his own order. “Duck down!”

  “Too late,” I said, my voice cracking as if my throat didn’t want to accept those words. “We need to run!”

  Doc shot back up and returned to his more traditional shout. “Go! Go! Go!”

  And we did, fast, weaving through the cars to the chain link fence on the parking lot’s perimeter. The vehicles in our path turned our route into an obstacle course, forcing us to hurdle several bumpers. I did this with ease and could easily have kept up with Harrison if it hadn’t been for Beverly.

  She didn’t exercise, other than the random phys ed class she couldn’t get out of. Starvation was her fitness routine, which weakened her further. So when it came to leaping or sliding across bumpers or hoods, she needed help. Harrison caught on to this after we came across the first car. From that point, he literally yanked Beverly over to the other side.

  Again there were no screams from the Infected, no adrenaline-fueled shouts. There was only the stampede of feet hitting the pavement. Their lust for us seemed to be summed up entirely in their rush to get to us, leaving no excess energy for gratuitous shows of emotion. They came at us with a vengeance unlike anything I’d ever seen, completely oblivious to their limbs smacking into side view mirrors and their hips catching on open doors.

  We were given just one respite. They had to crawl over the cluster of cars to get to us, too.

  They chased us across the street parallel to our school and into a residential subdivision, giving us a clear view of their size in number. There were over a hundred…Women, teenagers, men, far too many of them to stop with a single rifle before they got to us. Several broke free from the swarm, the faster ones, the ones who reminded me of Mike Myrtle. Those were the ones steadily gaining ground with their relentless pace.

  Harrison led us down streets empty of the Infected and by the fourth one, I realized he was doing two things at once: using his senses to help us avoid the other Infected who we might run into and redirecting us toward the business center of our small township.

  As he turned a corner he glimpsed over his shoulder to determine how we were holding up and to assess the mob’s distance from us. I already knew the answer to both. Beverly was falling behind and struggling to draw enough air to keep her lungs going. Mei, whose small, frail frame wasn’t designed to run long distances, was beginning to slow too. Doc was trying to help Mei, gripping her hand and pulling her along, but it wasn’t doing enough good. Terror was etched across their faces. These were bad signs because the Infected, those who had broken free from the rest, were less than a hundred yards away now.

  When we reached the end of the subdivision and crossed through a park, Harrison slowed us to a stop and let the rest of us catch our breath.

  “Kennedy?” he said, watching me gasp for air. He hadn’t even broken a sweat.

  I knew what he was inferring. Could I shoot straight while trying to refill my lungs and while my heart was pumping madly to keep up? The answer was no.

  I handed him the rifle, he brought it to his shoulder and took aim. When he began firing, ten shots in all, I looked up from where I was doubled over to catch my breath and found the Infected dropping, one by one, each by a single shot. They were a hundred yards out, moving chaotically, and still he’d managed to hit them in the head. With a mixture of wonder and bewilderment, I came to the understanding that Harrison was a better shot than me. So, when he handed the rifle back to me, I tried to refuse.

  “Keep it,” he insisted. “I don’t want you without protection.”

  “That’s a nice gesture, but you’re overlooking an important fact,” I said, rising again to my full height.

  “What’s that?”

  Evidently he hadn’t realized it yet. “You’re our protection.”

  He blinked in astonishment, and I knew that the icy façade he’d built to keep others from getting too close was still there. It was broken, letting in some light of truth, but nevertheless, it remained. So my acknowledgement of him being our safeguard went against every perception he had of himself.

  “Take it,” he urged as I passed by him. “I have…other means…of defense.”

  “What other means?” Beverly demanded. She was still doubled over struggling to breath, but her eyes were on Harrison and they were leery.

  He didn’t answer her or turn away from me even though I was likely the only person present who knew what he meant. He was referring to his abilities of smell, vision, hearing, and strength. But I had also witnessed him heal rapidly both times he’d defended me against the Infected, and he didn’t show signs of contamination either time.

  His arm continued to extend the rifle to me, waiting patiently for me to take it. “We don’t have time to argue,” he stated, knowing his reminder of the slower ones who were still coming would provoke me. While we may have lost them, he could easily be just as correct, so I took the rifle.

  His dark, blue eyes rested on me a second longer, observing me. “Thank you.”

  I swallowed, because that was the only reaction I could summon after seeing what was clearly visible in his eyes. He was saying, “I care for you, don’t fight me when there’s no need.”

  Without another word, he turned and began trekking toward the high-rise business district again, his shoulders set squarely with resolve. I watched him as we walked, simultaneously feeling fortunate and in awe of his presence.

  We got to the fence bordering the park and began ducking through a hole Harrison had led us to when Beverly, whose breathing had leveled, made a statement that was probably lingering in everyone’s minds.

  “I don’t feel comfo
rtable being out here.”

  “We’ll be there soon,” Harrison replied without warning, startling the rest of them enough to snap their attention to him.

  “Where?” Doc asked.

  “Ezekiel Labs,” I said and dipped through the hole to find Harrison standing on the other side with a surprised expression. I lifted an eyebrow at him to show he wasn’t the only one who could rationalize others’ behaviors. His response was a lighthearted chuckle, eliciting a smile from me.

  “Okay,” Beverly replied. From her tone I deduced she didn’t appreciate being left out of the decision making. “Why Ezekiel Labs?”

  “Marion Kremil is there.”

  “Marion…” she reiterated before drawing in a sharp breath. “The woman on the recording…from the portable radio? Right, all right, that makes sense.”

  Doc laughed through his nose as evidence that her opinion on the matter wasn’t as important as Beverly might think. “So glad you agree.”

  She scowled, but didn’t offer any reply.

  “Ezekiel Labs?” Mei muttered. “That’s appropriate.”

  “It is?” Doc replied. “Why?”

  He hadn’t been much for studying, even before the outbreak, so it didn’t seem to shock Mei that he didn’t understand the reference.

  “Ezekiel is a book in the Bible,” she explained, stepping over a tree root breaking through the ground. “It prophecies the end of Jerusalem.”

  When an uncomfortable silence had settled over us, Harrison’s unique way of inspiring hope, effortlessly lifted it. “Doesn’t it also promise a new beginning?”

  Mei smiled at him and her tone was lighter when she replied. “Yes, it does.”

  Of course, Beverly, with her unrelenting negativity felt compelled to comment back.

  “Well,” she muttered, “We definitely got that…”

  It was both depressing and timely, because we were standing on the opposite side of the fence by then looking up at what lay before us. The highway was ten lanes across and jammed with vehicles on both sides. Bodies hung from broken windows and slumped out of doors while broken trails of brown ran between the cars.

 

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