The Preston Six Collection: (Book 1, 2 and 3)

by Ryan, Matt

  “There were a bunch of seed banks in aisle eighty-nine,” Pete said.

  “Poly, you got to see this.” Julie stood on the edge of the parapet wall looking down.

  Poly looked over the wall and down at the sea of zombies pushing against the sides of the store. Carl wasn’t lying, a horde below, twenty deep, surrounded the store. Her breathing quickened, she didn’t want to spend a night with Carl, but there was no way around the mob. They were stuck.

  Pete stood next to them, looking down. He spit over the wall and looked down at the horde. “If I could kill them all, I would.”

  The hate in the words made her feel pity for the boy, he was a few years younger than her, a freshman, maybe. He might have been popular in a small town of Preston, with the defiant way about him. Her heart went out for Pete, stuck in a self-inflicted prison.

  “Are we the first people to . . . visit you?” Poly asked.

  “When I was young there was a group of guys, who had guns and vehicles, and they shot the door and started a fire in the parking lot. They were cutting the front door and trying to break in when the horde came.” Pete said.

  “I’m so sorry you’ve had to live this way,” Poly said.

  Pete looked confused, “Why? We have everything we need here. All the books, toys, food, and water we could ever need.”

  Poly looked below to the horde of zombies. Maybe it was better in here than out there, she couldn’t imagine being trapped in a Cost Plus, but she knew different. She knew what running in a field felt like, swimming in a lake, holding the hand of another under an oak tree. Pete had only known what was in the walls of Cost Plus and what he could see from the roof.

  “I’ve seen enough, I’m going back down with Lucas.” Julie walked to the ladder door and disappeared.

  Poly saw enough as well and climbed down the ladder. She saw Julie talking with Lucas below.

  “Looks like we’re stuck here for a bit,” Poly said, jumping from the last rung.

  “Fine, but I think we should set up right here tonight. In this corner, we can see anything unusual and deal with it,” Lucas said. “I don’t like the way he was looking at you,” he aimed at Julie.

  Poly raised an eyebrow. She thought he was looking at her like some creep from the minute she passed that door.

  “Me? I thought that Mary girl was going to eat you with her eyes.” Julie poked Lucas in the chest.

  “Hey, I just have that effect on the ladies.”

  Julie rolled her eyes. “I saw some sealed blankets over in this aisle.”

  Hank jumped off the ladder and stood next to Poly. “One night, might not be too bad.”

  Poly nodded. If these people had lived for their whole lives, she could manage a single night.

  “We’ll take shifts and sleep here,” Lucas said.

  Julie walked back with a stack of blankets still in plastic bags.

  “You guys are sleeping over here?” Pete asked as he jumped down from the ladder.

  “We think it’s best if we sleep somewhere different from your family,” Poly said.

  “Well, if you stay over with us we can read at night. I have flashlights!”

  “Sorry, but we have to stay here.”

  “Okay . . . I’ll let my dad know.” Pete ran down the aisle and out of sight.

  “I feel so bad for these kids,” Julie said, plopping the blankets down on the floor.

  “This place rocks. It’s like a fantasy to some. Safe, endless supplies, big enough to run around, and a sun roof. Dang, they just need a few more women and they would have it all,” Lucas said.

  “Such a pig,” Julie huffed.

  “But they’re trapped here,” Poly pointed out.

  “Better trapped than dead,” Lucas replied.

  Poly bit her lip, she wasn’t sure what she would choose, safety or freedom. Maybe if she had kids of her own, the decision would be different. Julie tossed her a plastic-wrapped blanket, some of the plastic crumbled in her hands. She stared at the white blanket, as she pulled it out of its deteriorated bag and unfolded it on the floor. It was better than the offered mattresses.

  Julie spread out three blankets on the concrete floor.

  “How was Harris when you last saw him?” Hank asked Poly.

  “He was being carried off by large men, in a self-induced coma,” she replied.

  “That dude’s tough, I bet they’ll have a hard time holding onto him.” Lucas smiled.

  Poly took in a deep breath and put her hand on her chin. Travis had promised her never to hurt Harris; that was the bet. Would he keep his word? The scumbag sent them to, what he hoped, would be there deaths. So, how much could he really be trusted?

  “Yeah, Travis may get his, if Harris finds out what he did to us,” Hank added.

  Poly sat on the sheet and felt the fresh linen on her fingertips. Probably four-hundred count, her finger tips told her.

  “Excuse me.” Carl cleared his throat.

  His daughter stood next to him, at least what looked like Mary. Her hair was washed and the dirt removed from her body. She wore a thin dress and no bra. She looked like a shined-up penny.

  Poly beamed at the makeover, but wondered why the sudden change?

  “Can I talk to you, Lucas?” Carl asked. Mary swayed side to side and looked a bit red in the face. Poly shot Lucas a questioning look, but Lucas seemed oblivious to it.

  “Sure, what’s up Carl?”

  “Can we talk in private?”

  Julie shook her head and Lucas caught the signal. “No, we’re family. Anything that needs to be said, they can hear it.”

  “Very well.” Carl and Mary walked closer. Poly gripped her throwing knife and scanned the surrounding area for Jenny. Maybe this was some kind of distraction while Jenny and Pete sideswiped them.

  “As you may know, we don’t see anyone, or . . . haven’t seen another person in a long time. And, this may be our only chance for Mary here to be with a clean young man.”

  Poly’s eyes would have fell out of their sockets, if she hadn’t blinked.

  Lucas laughed. “Be with? What do you mean?”

  Did the fool really need it spelled out for him? Poly shot him a shocked look, but his face looked bright with wonder. The idiot had no idea. He hadn’t put the pieces together.

  HARRIS KEPT HIS EYES CLOSED. He smelled sanitized air, felt the unpleasant stretch of a catheter, and he knew where he was.

  He kept his body and breathing even. A guard may be sitting next to the bed, waiting for him to wake. The mattress inflated below him and his body moved with the flow of its bladder. He checked his body in his mind, running down from his head to his toes. There was an IV in his arm and something draped over his wrist and ankles—probably restraints of some sort. A machine next to him beeped and he calmed his pulse down; any rise and the machine may alert the watchers.

  He breathed in through his nose, sampling the air. A hint of ozone, but his nose didn’t pick up on any scents of a person. Didn’t mean they weren’t there, hospitals filtered the air thoroughly. Time was on his side, as long as they didn’t know he was conscious. The air moved through his nostrils in a slow, controlled manner. Even with the surprise of being alive, he maintained a steady heart rate.

  If Travis kept him alive, it meant the man had plans. Travis could do many horrible things with just the weapons in his office. His mind raced over the possibilities, but the first thing he needed to do was get out of that hospital bed.

  He laid there in his false unconscious state for over an hour, listening for any movement, a breath, a foot step, or a creak of someone adjusting themselves in a chair. But nothing happened, no organic sounds were made.

  Opening one eye to a hair’s width, he saw the bright light above him through his eyelashes. He let his eye adjust to the light. The white ceiling came into focus. With his peripheral vision he saw a scanner next to him with monitoring equipment, but no one appeared to be in the room with him.

  Testing his arms, he felt the r
esistance of the strap wrapped around his wrists. He didn’t hear any alarms, no feet running, they didn’t have motion sensors on him. That’s good, he had a chance then.

  He moved his thumb, swirling it, trying to find the point in the joint where he could slide his thumb down into his palm, making his hand smaller than his wrist. He felt the click and moved his thumb down, an old escape artist trick. It hurt and pulled on his tendons, but he had his hand changed for moments like that.

  Harris pulled his right hand out slowly, an inch a minute. He figured if they didn’t have sensors, they must have had cameras. He freed his right hand and pulled his left wrist out in the same manner. With his wrists free, he calmed his breathing and felt around for any alarms attached to his arms. He didn’t find anything.

  He opened his one eye fully and took a glance at the room. White rectangular room, with one door, probably locked. He would wait for a doctor or an unlucky nurse before making his move.

  Harris counted the things attached to his body: a chest strap, restraints on each ankle, one IV in the right arm, an oxygen tube over his nose, and . . . one catheter. His tongue touched his upper lip, feeling for the growth of hair. Five days, he estimated. This meant the kids had already been in the city for two days, alone. He struggled to keep his heart rate even.

  His body tensed at the sound of a deadbolt sliding, the door opened and a white sleeve appeared behind the crack of the opening door. He began the motions of his planned attack. Right hand chest strap, left hand IV, right hand tear oxygen line, both hands unstrap feet, right hand remove catheter. Cleared, he jumped in the air, striking the doctor across the chin as he entered the room; catching the door with his hand before it closed. The doctor’s limp body sagged to the floor.

  Harris took off his patient robe and put on the doctor’s clothes, a bit tight, but they would work. He figured the guards had spotted him from the camera by now, but it might give a second or two, if the nurses saw him. A second or two was all he needed.

  He opened the door and stepped into a long white hallway. He ran down the hallway, passing doors with descending numbers. The central nursing station appeared and he strolled by them with his head down. None of the three women looked up. The elevator door slid open. A janitor walked out, he walked by her with his head down, not making eye contact, as he entered the elevator.

  Harris pressed the star button for street level. He looked up at the camera in the corner of the elevator, this is where he would attack if he were them. The numbers on the screen showed him the levels descending 32, 31, 30 . . . he knew they would be waiting at the street level, an army of them. 15, 14, 13 . . . he needed to time it right.

  He couldn’t fight them, he had to escape. Level three appeared and he hit the emergency stop button. He steadied himself from the sudden stop and used his fingers to pull the doors open. The concrete floor between floors two and three appeared and below a pair of doors to floor two. He was in between the second and third floor. Getting on his stomach he pulled open the second floor doors. It might give him a few moments if they had two floors to choose from.

  A woman on the second floor looked up from her Panavice and stared at him as he squeezed through and fell to the second floor.

  “Doctor, you okay?” she asked.

  “Dang elevators, when are they going to get these fixed?” he said and walked away as she gawked at him. With any luck, they thought he got off on floor three.

  Trotting down the long brown corridor, he saw the street one story below him. He opened the door to the emergency fire escape staircase and peered down the concrete steps and saw a group of men in riot gear running up the steps. He looked up and saw the black-gloved hands holding onto the railing as they ran down the stairs. They found him. He jumped up and hit the sprinkler head above him, sending a downpour of water. They wouldn’t use their electrical guns in a wet environment.

  He turned back to the brown hallway. At each end, there was a large window. The elevator dinged. The sound of wet footsteps pounded through the fire escape door behind him. The elevator doors slid open. In a blink, he turned hard to his left and ran at his top speed toward the window at the end of the hall.

  “He’s there, stun only.” He heard from behind.

  An electrical charge flew by his left side, one hit the floor and another hit the wall to his right. He concentrated at the window at the end of the hallway. If he hit it just right, he might live. He jumped and drop-kicked the window in the exact spot he was concentrating on and the glass shattered as he passed through the window. The ten-foot drop for him wasn’t dangerous, but the falling glass cut him on the arm, legs, and face.

  Not stopping to check his wounds, he ran flat out down the street, past honking cars. Looking back, he saw a black aircraft lifting off the ground and foot soldiers running after him. He darted down a narrow alley between two buildings, eliminating the aircraft from being able to chase him.

  The grimy city air flew by his face as he ran. None of those soldiers could catch him on foot. He ran through the intersection, counting on no cars being there. Luck being on his side, he cleared the street into the next alley. The further away he got from the hospital, the older and dirtier the buildings became. Some trash accumulated in the alleys. He was getting into the derelict part of the city, closer to his destination.

  Turning left down a street, he ran along a car for a minute before turning right into another alley. Judging by the clothes on the lines, and the smell of garbage, he was getting into parts of the city where a young Sanct soldier might start to get nervous.

  He looked back and there was no one there, no soldiers, no aircrafts. Harris walked for a few more blocks changing his path several more times. Maybe he’d lost them but knowing Travis, he’d be on the TV by now, with his face blurred out. Probably listed as some crazy doctor on the loose. Harris sighed at his white medical jacket. It stood out in an area he wanted to blend in.

  A man in loose-fitting clothes stood at the front of his door staring at Harris.

  “Hey, this way,” the man said and opened the door behind him. “I can hide you.”

  Harris eyed the man, studying his face. He had fans everywhere in the world, but the man’s eye twitched. The sound of an aircraft a few blocks away made Harris’s mind up for him.

  Harris stepped into the dark room behind the door and felt a massive electric shock hit the side of his arm, sending him to the floor. All of Harris’s muscles tensed and he shook uncontrollably on the man’s thick carpet.

  “Sorry, mate, but you’re worth 10K.” The man jumped up and down with a long rod in his hand. “I’m gonna get high all month!”

  Harris, felt the control of his muscles return, and while still on the ground, he kicked the man’s leg hard. He fell next to Harris. Harris jumped up and pulled the shock-stick from the man’s hand.

  “I put that on full power,” the man said, bewildered.

  Harris stuck the man in the chest with the rod, sending him into a seizure. Harris kicked the door closed and pointed the shock-stick at the man lying on the floor, but he didn’t move.

  His eyes adjusted to the dark room, lit up only by the TV on the wall. An apartment, the kitchen appeared to be buried in dishes, paper plates. The food printer was covered in mold. The stove had burned foil wrappers all around it. The smell of chemicals and burned metal filled his nose. A mattress laid on the floor with a single sheet balled up on it. The bathroom door was stuck open by a sea of old, dirty clothes. In the bathroom he saw the brown smears on the walls and mold growing around the shower. He was grateful for the burned metal smell now.

  He picked through the pile of clothes and found the least disgusting shirt, pants, and jacket and changed.

  A reporter on TV showed a man with a white jacket, running down the road. They blurred his face in the shot. He laughed, as he was sure they didn’t want anyone recognizing him. Travis wanted to keep his prize for himself.

  The man on the floor moaned, so he stuck the rod onto his
chest, shocking him again.

  “This man is extremely dangerous. Any information leading to his capture will result in ten grand,” the reporter said.

  They cut to an aerial shot above the ghetto. Air support would make it difficult, but not impossible. If he could get a Panavice, he could find a way to Travis. He searched the drawers in the kitchen and took a long knife.

  Rummaging through the pockets of the man on the floor, he found a square object in his front pocket. Harris pulled out the Panavice, an older model, but it would work for what he wanted. Sliding his fingers across the screen, it lit up.

  He located Almadon’s server she’d set up for these kind of situations and downloaded all the hacking files he needed. He brought up the city maps and spent a few minutes laying out a path on the Panavice. When satisfied, he left the apartment and stepped into the much better smelling alleyway. The ten-story buildings on each side of the small backstreet gave him a great place to stay out of the eyes in the air. The surrounding area appeared clear.

  He knelt down to the round steel lid in the concrete and put his finger through a hole in it. He pulled up the steel grate and peered into the darkness below. Steel rungs clung to the side of the tube leading down. Harris climbed down the ladder, replacing the steel lid.

  Small beams of light shined through the holes in the lid, giving a smidgen of light. The rungs on the ladder became wet and slimy as he neared the bottom. He held on tight as his hands started slipping. He breathed in the smell of water and mildew, as he took his foot off the ladder and landed on the wet, soggy floor.

  Taking the Panavice out from his pocket, it lit up the tunnel. A round drain tube went in both directions. He checked his map on the screen and pointed the light down the direction he wanted to go. He’d been down too many of these pipes throughout his life. Sighing, he jogged down the pipe. It wasn’t big enough for him to stand, so he crouched as he moved. He glanced at his map. Another five hundred feet before his next turn.