Serial Killer Z: Sanctuary

by Philip Harris

  “Hey,” Melissa said, grinning, “let me introduce you to your new roomie. This is Marcus.”

  The man held his hand out. “Hi, I’m Daniel.”

  I took his hand and gave it a brief shake. Now that we were close, I could see I’d been mistaken. He was too tall, his face was too thin, and his eyes were different—brown, not blue. The tension in my body eased, but the fear that I might meet someone I knew here stayed with me.

  Daniel pulled aside the tent flap. “We’re just getting ready to play cards, and you’re welcome to join us.”

  I peered inside. Three more faces looked out at me, all male, all belonging to people perched on the edge of the narrow camp beds that took up most of the space in the tent. A sudden feeling of claustrophobia welled up inside me. I started second-guessing my decision to go with Melissa to the bus. But I’d missed my chance to leave Hope, and I had to ride this out until morning. I could minimize the interaction with other people, though.

  “No thanks. I’d like to get some fresh air for a while.”

  Melissa winced. “Sorry, we have a curfew. Harwood’s cronies will be around soon to make sure everyone’s tucked up in bed, safe and sound.”

  Her voice gained a hard edge when she spoke the captain’s name, but the apologetic look on her face stayed.

  I raised my eyebrows at Melissa.

  “It was Parker’s idea.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “I think she spent too much time looking after kids at camp.” She smiled. “I’d better go. Make sure you’re up bright and early. Captain Harwood wants to leave as soon as possible in the morning. We’ll meet outside the ranger station after breakfast.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there.”

  She stared at me, eyes narrowed. “You’d better be. Right, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, boys.”

  She winked at me and turned away, jogging quickly in the direction of another cluster of tents.

  “Come on,” said Daniel. “I’ll introduce you.”

  I counted to four then ducked inside the tent.

  The air was thick and heavy, already tinged with the smell of stale sweat. Daniel directed me toward the nearest empty cot. I sat down, gingerly balancing myself on the edge and trying hard not to tip the flimsy bed up.

  “Right,” said Daniel. “We have Eric, an insurance salesman from Indiana.”

  A middle-aged man, bald with a patch of sunburn on his head, nodded at me.

  “Then we have Mo, our friend from out east. He used to be a fitness instructor in Toronto.”

  Mo was dressed in orange jogging pants and a purple, stain-covered sweatshirt. He was in his fifties, at least, and massively overweight. His hair was thin but long and hung around his pudgy face. He looked more like a banker gone to seed than a gym rat. But when he leaned over to shake my hand, his grip was firm, and there was a look of intense confidence in his eyes.

  The third man was on his feet before Daniel could introduce him.

  “Hey, man, I’m Aidan.”

  “Aidan is a free spirit,” said Daniel.

  I raised my eyebrows at Aidan. He winked at me, the leathery, tanned skin of his face crinkling as he did so. He, too, was bald but wore it better than Eric. He clutched my hand in both of his and gave it a firm shake. The tips of black tribal tattoos peeked from the sleeves of his tie-dyed shirt.

  As he held my hands, Aidan looked into my eyes. The depth of his gaze made me uncomfortable, but I couldn’t quite look away. His dark-green eyes had me entranced somehow. After several seconds, he frowned. He pulled his hands roughly away.

  “Aidan is our resident psychic,” said Eric. Skepticism dripped from his words. “What do you make of our new friend, Aidan?”

  Aidan held his frown for a moment then shook his head and broke out into a broad grin. “Never mind that, how about that game?”

  Daniel rooted around beneath his own cot. He pulled out a battered pack of cards and a metal cookie tin. “You play poker?”

  I shook my head.

  “Aha,” said Eric, “fresh meat. I mean, don’t worry, I’ll explain how to play.”

  Daniel slid the cards out of the pack and began to shuffle. “Come on, join us.”

  “No, I’d rather not. I’m pretty tired, and I’ve got an early start. I’d like to try to get some rest.”

  “Okay, we’ll try to be quiet, then.”

  “Yeah, that noise you hear will be me taking all Daniel’s money,” said Eric. “Again.”

  Daniel rolled his eyes and popped the lid off the cookie tin. It was filled with small pebbles of varying sizes. Numbers were scratched into each pebble—the number one on each of the smallest, five on the medium-sized stones, and ten on the largest. Eric grabbed the tin, almost greedily, and began dividing the stones into three even piles.

  I removed my shoes and put them under the cot. It was narrow and sagged heavily as I climbed beneath the blankets. I tossed and turned a few times, trying to find a position that was even vaguely comfortable.

  In the end, I settled for just facing away from the three men. I stared at the bright-orange tent while behind me the men played their game. Their conversation veered between banal chatter and good-natured goading. Although they started off keeping their voices quiet, they were quickly talking and laughing so loudly I thought they might bring down a swarm of zombies themselves.

  I wasn’t the only person thinking that because about half an hour into the game, one of Harwood’s militia stuck her head into the tent and told them to “shut the hell up.”

  It did the trick for a while, but by the time the game began to wind down a couple of hours later, they were back to their raucous selves. When Daniel finally declared he’d lost enough cash for one night and was going to bed, I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Eric protested, and I crossed my fingers, praying that Mo and Aidan would side with Daniel. They did, and half an hour later the tent finally fell into relative silence.

  I was still the last to get to sleep. I lay there for what felt like hours, listening to the men breathing around me. One of them, Aidan, kept snorting, and each time, he jerked himself awake again.

  The shadow was there, too. Dark thoughts wove through my mind, and as the minutes dragged by, the shadow urged me to act on them. I still had my knife, and none of the men would be expecting it. Daniel was the biggest threat; he looked more muscular than the other two. I’d have to start with him, but if I was quick, I could slit all three throats before anyone knew what was happening.

  I took a deep breath, forcing the shadow back into the corners of my psyche. For a while, I considered getting up and sneaking outside, but the beds were too close together, and there was no telling where Harwood’s watch might be. I only had to last for a few more hours anyway, so I lay there, fighting the urge to murder my tentmates until sleep finally took me.

  Chapter 17

  On the Road

  Daniel woke me in time for breakfast. Despite Eric and Mo’s protestations, I managed to avoid joining them to eat. Instead, I took my food and ate outside where I could see the ranger station. When I saw Melissa and Parker arrive, I took my empty bowl back into the mess tent and then joined them at the station.

  The captain wasn’t happy. He’d wanted to leave at dawn to avoid meeting any swarms, but Melissa had insisted we wait until after breakfast and then kept Harwood waiting while she discussed something with Parker.

  In my experience, our departure time wouldn’t make any difference. The zombies I’d met paid no attention to the time of day. Day or night, rain or shine, they were equally relentless.

  Santos and Novak stood beside Harwood, and all three of them were carrying automatic rifles. Santos had two massive knives hanging from her belt.

  As I walked up, Novak made a comment about Melissa—something about how it was typical for a woman to be late. I thought she was going to punch him.

  Parker ignored the exchange and addressed me. “Thank you for helping, Marcus. We appreciate it.”

  “I’m still not st
aying.”

  “I understand.” She gave Melissa a sideways glance. “Although Melissa seems to think she can convince you to change your mind.”

  I smiled halfheartedly. I was already regretting agreeing to go along with them.

  Parker wished us luck then went back inside the station.

  “You got a gun?” Melissa said.

  I patted the knife on my belt. “Just this.”

  “Me, too. I guess we’ll just have to hope the big strong soldiers look after us.”

  “I will always look after you,” Novak said. He winked at me.

  Melissa rolled her eyes. “Never mind, I’ll just hit them with my tool kit.” She raised a brown leather case and dangled it in front of Novak.

  My heart skipped a beat. For a second, it was my tool kit. Then I realized it was a bag, not a case, and it was far too big.

  The five of us climbed into the Jeep. Novak was driving with Harwood in the front passenger’s seat. That left me in the back, wedged between Melissa and Santos.

  It felt awkward. The hard seat and the close proximity of the women made me intensely uncomfortable, and they knew it. I caught Melissa giving Santos a conspiratorial look as we pulled away. They shuffled position, reducing the amount of space I had even further.

  Novak drove steadily, but still the Jeep bounced and jostled me into both Melissa and Santos. I clenched my teeth and counted to four, breathing deeply. Melissa smirked.

  Santos leaned close to me so that I could hear her over the Jeep’s engine. “So, what did you do before it all went to hell?”

  I spent my time trying to work out what normal looked like and trying not to murder everyone I met.

  “I was a technician in a medical lab in the city.”

  “So, on the front lines of the breakout, then?”

  “Not really,” I lied.

  Melissa frowned at me. “I thought you said you were an assistant?”

  I gave myself a mental kick. “Technical assistant, so…” I shrugged and let my voice trail off.

  The Jeep slowed as we rounded a bend. A zombie stood beside the trail. He was big, either decay or excess calories bloating his body. He twitched as he heard us and raised his head.

  Santos aimed her pistol at him, but Harwood raised his hand. “Don’t waste your ammo.”

  Novak shifted to the opposite side of the trail and accelerated. As we passed the zombie, he twitched the Jeep right. The front bumper clipped the zombie at the knee, and he went down. I looked back to see him struggling to get to his feet. His left leg was shattered and gave way as he put weight on it, dumping him back onto the ground.

  I expected Harwood to reprimand Novak, but he was staring out the front of the Jeep, ignoring the grin on Novak’s face.

  Melissa looked at me expectantly, eyebrows raised. Eventually, she said, “I worked in a supermarket, thanks for asking.”

  “So, on the front lines of the breakout, then.”

  She laughed.

  Captain Harwood turned around and glared at us. When he pressed a finger against his lips, Melissa blew him a kiss. I couldn’t help but smile at the look of disgust on his face.

  “Yeah,” Melissa said. “Things got pretty bad once the state of emergency hit. One or two of us tried to stop the looting, but it wasn’t worth risking our lives over. So, I went home and hoped it would pass. When it didn’t, I hiked out of the city and came up into the mountains.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “My dad used to bring me here a lot. We’d go fishing or canoeing in the summer. Skiing in the winter.”

  I nodded.

  “You’re not very talkative, are you?”

  “I prefer my own company.”

  “You said. So, where does someone who prefers their own company hang out during a zombie apocalypse?”

  “I found a store, by the highway.”

  It was partly true. I’d discovered Sally’s Home Comforts, a general store attached to a gas station, while I was staying at Camp Redfern. Mike, Lucy, Alex, and I were almost killed when it was overrun by a swarm while we were trying to stock up on food.

  Melissa’s face brightened, and I realized I’d made a mistake.

  “A store, like with food?”

  “No, no. It had been raided. Anyway, a swarm came through, and I had to get out.”

  “And that was why you were out in the forest when Harwood found you?”

  I nodded. It was as though she was trying to make it easy for me to lie.

  “How did you get out of the city?”

  “I was visiting with friends in Whistler when the outbreak hit. We thought it would be safer if I stayed with them.”

  “But it wasn’t.”

  I shook my head and pointedly looked out across the forest.

  “What about family?”

  God, this woman won’t shut up.

  “I’m an only child, and my parents died a few years ago.”

  “That’s probably a blessing.”

  She paused, and I thought she was finally going to stop talking, but she didn’t.

  “My parents were in New York when they locked it down. I try to believe they made it out before the bombing started, but I haven’t heard anything from them if they did. We lived in a town called Hillside. It was small, only a few hundred people, and it got overrun. We tried to get away, but my brother didn’t make it.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. It seemed like the thing I’d be expected to say.

  “Thank you. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Allison.” Melissa’s voice was soft, thoughtful. “Back then, she was still sending out groups to look for survivors. I’d given up. I was starving to death and just waiting for the zees to arrive when they found me. I’d have gladly died, but Hope gave me something to live for.” She laughed a little. “It sounds cheesy when I say it like that.”

  She brightened. “And I get to mess with cars all day long,” she said, a broad grin on her face.

  “Harwood mentioned something about a rescue mission that went wrong?”

  Melissa’s smile evaporated. “Yeah, there’s another ranger station a few miles north of ours. We were pretty sure there were people there, maybe even a helicopter.”

  My heart rate increased.

  “We sent a scouting group out. Five people. They walked right into a pack of zees. Only one made it back, and he died a few hours later.”

  “Did they find the ranger station?”

  Melissa shook her head.

  The Jeep slowed as we reached another narrower trail that crossed ours. The intersection was rutted and wet. The Jeep bounced as we splashed through a deep puddle. I was thrown to the left, against Santos. Behind her, off down the narrow trail, I saw a cluster of zombies.

  The Jeep swept past the trail, and the zombies were obscured by the trees before I could get much of a look at them, but there were at least fifteen. That was more than enough to cause problems on the way back. From the look on Melissa’s face, she’d seen them, too.

  The Jeep accelerated again. Harwood had a map out, and he jabbed a finger at it then looked over his shoulder. “We’re about two miles from the main road. From there, it’s a downhill run to the bus.” He gave Melissa a stern look. “It’s an exposed site, so I’ll give you thirty minutes to get the bus running. After that, we’re leaving, with or without the vehicle.”

  Melissa gave the captain a sharp salute.

  A figure in a blue raincoat, another zombie, flashed past. My eyes tracked it for a moment. Melissa noticed and looked over her shoulder at it. She grimaced. “I can’t get used to seeing people like that.”

  Santos snorted. “They’re not people, just sacks of meat.”

  Melissa leaned past me to look at Santos. She was scowling, her eyes intense. “No, they’re human beings.”

  “Whatever made them human is long gone.”

  “We don’t know that,” Melissa said. “For all we know, the person they were is still there, trapped inside.” A pained look came over her.
“They might be aware of what they’re doing and just not be able to stop themselves.”

  The idea lodged itself in my mind. I could feel the shadow’s excitement as it explored the possibilities that would unlock, and my heart quickened. The concept that my recent subjects might be as aware as those I’d worked on before the outbreak was intriguing.

  The Jeep hit a pothole and jounced sideways, snapping me back to reality.

  Santos was shaking her head, but she was smiling slightly. “You’re too sentimental, Melissa.”

  Melissa rolled her eyes. She wasn’t taking the discussion as lightly as Santos. “Caring about your fellow human beings isn’t sentimental. It’s… it’s human.”

  Santos’s smiled deepened. “Marcus, what do you think? Are zombies people, too?”

  My throat tightened. They weren’t people to me. They were so much more. “I—”

  “Shit!” Novak said.

  The Jeep bounced hard as it clipped the end of a tree that had come down at the side of the road. The front left corner dipped then caught. The vehicle slewed left, and there was a metallic crunch. The engine whined. Novak slammed the brakes, fighting with the steering wheel as the Jeep slid sideways. Its wheels caught on the rough surface of the trail, and it tipped. I grabbed at the seat in front of me, convinced we were going to roll and all too aware that I wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. Then the Jeep rocked back and to a halt.

  The engine died, and we sat in stunned silence for a few seconds, each of us letting our body find its way out of adrenaline-soaked shock.

  Harwood started shouting orders. “Santos, take the back. I’ll cover the front. Novak, find out how bad it is.” He turned to Melissa and me. “You two stay in the vehicle, but keep an eye out for zees. If you see them, tell us, but for God’s sake do it quietly.”

  Santos was already out of the Jeep. She had her rifle at her shoulder. She prowled to the back of the vehicle, her movements controlled and alert.