“I pref—”
“I know, you prefer your own company. I get that, I do, but you lived in the city before the outbreak. You had friends, family, people you worked with.” She looked up from the engine. “Look, I know it hurts. But we’ve all lost people we love. It’s time for you to move on. You need Hope, and Hope needs you.” She grimaced. “Yes, it’s cheesy, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”
My life before the outbreak… I’d had no friends, and no family worth mentioning. My time around other people had been spent pretending to be a normal, fully functioning member of society. Every morning, I’d put on a mask and gone to work to play at being human.
The outbreak changed all that. It had dismantled civilization brick by brick, brought down governments, turned entire countries into killing zones. But for me the outbreak brought freedom. Freedom from the need to hide who I was, freedom from lies. Going back to Hope would take away that freedom. I’d have to wear the mask again.
“Things will get better,” Melissa said. “We’re going to take this bus, and we’re going to get to Sanctuary. We’ll be safe there. We’ll build a new life for ourselves and our children.”
Children. The idea seemed laughable to me. The human race was on the verge of extinction. Surely, there would be no more children?
I’d seen couples in Hope, holding hands or kissing, but would they really want to bring a child into a world filled with so much death?
“You can make a difference,” Melissa said. “You can live a normal life, despite this madness. You can help build a better world.”
Melissa’s eyes were filled with an almost frightening intensity. She was a believer, maybe not in God, but certainly in the human race. What if she was right? Maybe I could be reborn alongside civilization.
“He’s not going to stay.”
Santos stood at the front of the bus with a contemptuous smirk on her face. “He sees the world for what it is. A cesspit we’ll never climb out of.”
Melissa arched one eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be standing guard?”
Santos flicked her head at something behind Melissa. Two more zombies—one male, one female—were shambling down the road toward us. Their clothes were torn and shredded, their bodies covered in bruises.
Santos winked at me as she walked past.
Melissa watched her for a moment. “She’s wrong,” she said, but her voice was quieter.
It took Santos a handful of seconds to take down the zombies. She moved with practiced ease, and again I was struck by how incongruous her physical appearance was.
One of my managers had a saying: “Adversity doesn’t build character; it reveals it.” I always thought it was a worthless platitude on the same level as “work smarter, not harder” or “dress for the job you want, not the job you have,” but the outbreak had changed my mind.
“Oh crap,” Melissa said.
More zombies had appeared out of the trees. They’d made it to the road and were now advancing steadily down it toward us. I counted eight, but there were other shapes moving inside the forest.
Chapter 19
Running
“Captain, we have a problem,” Santos said.
Novak appeared. He muttered something in what was presumably his native tongue.
“Santos, Novak,” said Harwood, “you know the drill. Jennings, you’ve got three minutes to get that bus up and running.”
Two more zombies had stepped out from the trees on the left. Santos ran toward them, knives out. Novak headed right. I waited for the captain to tell me what to do, but instead he moved out of sight around the back of the bus.
Melissa grabbed the tool kit from me and put it on the bus’s wheel arch. “Get inside. When I say, try to start the engine.” She grabbed a couple of tools from the kit and ducked her head back beneath the hood.
Santos and Novak were standing at the edge of the forest, one on either side of the road. Two zombies lay on the ground near Santos, a third a few feet away from Novak.
Shapes moved inside the forest as more zombies converged on the road. As I climbed up the steps into the bus, a young boy ran out of the forest toward Novak. He was moving quickly, too quickly for a zombie, and for an instant I thought it was one of the children Melissa had envisaged. Then I saw the gash across his stomach and the raw, red flesh inside.
Novak stepped sideways as the boy reached him, sticking a leg out. The zombie tripped, and his momentum carried him to the ground. Novak dropped to his knees, slamming his knife into the back of the boy’s head. The shadow inside me murmured its approval at the smile on Novak’s face.
I climbed into the driver’s seat. It smelled of cigarettes and sweat. My knee caught the photo frame hanging from the key chain. I watched it swing and twist. The plastic was old and scratched, but the picture inside—a family portrait—was still visible. It showed a man and a woman sitting on a beach, a toddler kneeling between them. The child was holding up a crab, a proud smile on his face.
Harwood was visible out of the driver’s window. He was kneeling on the ground, his rifle pointing back up the hill. Dark clouds had rolled in since we’d arrived, swallowing up the meager sun and thrusting the forest into shadow, but the zombies were visible enough. There were four of them, lined up across the road like a shooting range. I’d have expected Harwood to start firing at them, but he didn’t. He just knelt there, his gun trained on the zombies as they advanced steadily toward the bus.
A few splashes of rain spattered across the windshield. I peered down at Melissa working on the engine. She’d switched to a hammer, and it made a dull clanging sound as she banged it against whatever recalcitrant bit of machinery she was trying to fix.
Santos and Novak were still at the side of the road, but they were outnumbered by the zombies now. Santos had backed off and was slowly moving toward the bus again. Novak was close behind, his smile gone.
I jumped as Melissa slammed her hand on the bus’s hood a couple of times. “Fire her up.”
I turned the ignition key. Silence. I turned it again. Nothing happened.
“You’ve made it worse,” I said.
Melissa frowned and ducked back under the engine cover.
More zombies were filing onto the road behind her. Two shots rang out, and one collapsed to the ground. Another shot, and another went down. Apparently, Santos and Novak had reached the part of the drill where they started shooting things.
There had to be at least thirty zombies in the road now, with more appearing out of the forest every minute. The situation on the other side of the bus wasn’t quite as bad. There were only a dozen or so figures advancing toward Harwood, and they were spread across the road. We could still get past them, for now.
Melissa shouted to me to try the ignition again, and this time the engine gave a reluctant shudder before it fell silent. I pumped the gas pedal a couple of times and turned the key again. The engine whined and caught, turning over a dozen or so times before spluttering to a standstill.
“Now would be a really good time to get that bus fixed, Jennings,” Santos said.
“Give me a sec.”
“That’s pretty much all you’ve got.”
Santos and Novak had backed up almost at the bus now. They were standing back to back, each one covering half of the road. Novak tapped Santos on the shoulder and pointed to the left where a pair of zombies, workmen of some sort, were clambering across the ditch at the side of the road.
“Captain?” shouted Santos. “Things are getting spicy back here!”
“I’ve nearly got it, Captain.”
“You’ve got thirty seconds, then we’re gone.”
Novak fired again, hitting the nearest zombie in the chest three times before finally connecting with his head and taking him down.
“Take your time,” said Santos.
Novak muttered something under his breath and fired four shots in quick succession. Two zombies went down. The other bullets went wide.
Melissa appeared beside me
in the cab. “Okay, let me have a go.”
I struggled out of the seat and stood in the aisle while she took my place. She flicked a switch on and off, checked the gear stick, and pumped the gas pedal. Then she pulled the keys out of the ignition, kissed them, and put them back.
Gunfire crackled from outside the bus. Captain Harwood had started firing as well now—crisp, precise shots, one per zombie.
Melissa turned the key, and the engine whined and rattled. “Come on, come on.” She pressed the gas pedal a little. “Come on, baby.”
The engine chattered and caught. There was a pop, and a cloud of black smoke billowed from the back of the bus as the engine kicked into life.
Melissa let out a whoop and pressed the gas. The bus rewarded her with a deep-throated roar. The floor juddered beneath my feet.
“Come on!” said Melissa.
Novak was first on the bus. “I hope you drive better than you cook.”
Melissa sneered at him as he kicked open the emergency exit window halfway down the bus and aimed his rifle outside. He squeezed off a couple more shots, the sound loud in the enclosed space.
Santos stood at the foot of the stairs, picking off any of the zombies that strayed too close. She was blocking the way off the bus. There was no way she’d let me past. I’d missed my chance. Melissa saw me looking at Santos and smiled. She slammed her hand against the windshield. “Come on, Captain.”
Harwood fired off another round, taking down another zombie, and then ran around the front of the bus. “Get on!” he shouted at Santos.
She took a couple more shots and then charged up the steps. She moved to the third row and knocked out another emergency window with the butt of her rifle.
Two zombies rounded the rear of the bus. Captain Harwood turned on them and fired. The first couple of rounds went wide, but then he found his aim, and the zombies’ heads exploded in a mass of blood and bone that spattered across the back of the vehicle.
Harwood backed toward the bus’s door. Another zombie, a cop, rose up from the front of the vehicle. Melissa shouted. Harwood turned as the cop lunged toward him.
He just managed to wedge his gun beneath the zombie’s jaw before the thing’s teeth could sink into his face. He pushed against the zombie, but he was off balance and struggling to get leverage. The cop flailed at Harwood and caught him on the cheek. His ragged nails left three red lines across the captain’s skin.
Santos was sliding off her seat to go to help Harwood, but I was quicker. I almost threw myself down the stairs, pulling my knife from its sheath as I went. My feet hit the asphalt. I launched myself at the cop. He still had Harwood in his grip. The captain’s rifle was the only thing between him and the zombie’s jaws.
I grabbed the zombie’s hair. It was short and almost slipped through my hand, but I managed to get enough of a grip to yank his head back and away from Harwood. The captain pushed, too, and together we managed to loosen the zombie’s grip.
The cop moaned and snapped, his teeth clacking. I swung the knife into the side of the zombie’s head. There was a sharp crack and a moment’s resistance, and then the knife sank into his skull.
The zombie let go of Harwood and twisted, trying to get at me instead. Foul breath wafted over me. I drove the knife deeper, the force driving the zombie backward. I twisted the blade and then pulled it downward, like a lever. The black orbs of the zombie’s shark-like eyes rolled upward. He let out one last, guttural snarl and then fell to the ground.
“Get in!” said Harwood.
I shook my head at him. The road beyond the bus was full of zombies. I could hear their monotonous droning, and in a few seconds, they’d be swarming over us. The opposite direction was clearer, but there were still enough zombies that I couldn’t risk trying to go that way. I’d have to take my chances in the forest.
Harwood gripped my shoulder, but I knocked his hand away. I pointed toward the approaching mass of zombies. “You don’t have time to argue, Captain. Get out of here.”
Santos appeared in the door and seemed about to add her voice to the discussion, but the captain didn’t need any more persuading. He darted onto the bus. Melissa was glaring at me, but the captain shouted something at her, and she closed the door.
The engine revved, and the familiar beep-beep-beep of a reversing signal joined the swarm’s ever-growing murmur. The bus began to back up, and one of the zombies, perhaps sensing her prey was in danger of escaping, lunged at the bus’s hood. Her hands slid across the yellow metal, leaving a smear of black blood in their wake.
The front of the bus swung around in a broad arc. The zombie’s leg got caught beneath the front wheel. Bone snapped as she was pulled down to the ground. Her head cracked against the road. Her leg tore in half. Immediately, she rolled onto her stomach and began crawling toward the bus.
Melissa had the vehicle backed all the way around now, and she was staring at me through the windshield.
I jabbed a finger up the road and shouted, “Get out of here!”
She revved the engine hard. A cloud of blue-black smoke billowed out of the exhaust. A group of four zombies threw themselves against the side of the bus. Their hands beat against the windows as they tried to get at their prey.
There was a heavy grinding sound as aging gears ground reluctantly into place. The bus lurched forward. It rolled over the female zombie with the broken leg as it pulled away, crushing her skull.
I heard a low-pitched growl behind me. A zombie charged across the highway in my direction. He was moving quickly, just like the child, and I didn’t have enough time to raise my knife before he hit me. The impact carried me over, and then my head slammed into the ground.
The zombie was heavy on top of me. I punched out blindly and managed to catch him in the side of the head as he lunged at my throat. The blow was enough to divert the attack, but the zombie was already raising his head to try again.
I drove the point of my knife into the back of his skull. He fell forward, and I felt his mouth against my neck. But the bite never came. I yanked my knife free and rolled the body off me. I got back to my knees, fear and excitement lighting my senses on fire.
The bus was fifty feet away. It weaved to the right, and for a moment, I thought Melissa had lost control. And then I heard a heavy double thud as the bus hit a couple of zombies, and I realized she was clearing me a path. The bus veered to the left, and another zombie went down. She’d created an opening, but it was closing fast.
I ran.
There were ten or eleven zombies ahead of me. Most were tracking the bus, stumbling unevenly up the road in pursuit, but three had seen me. They were cutting off my escape. I turned, running parallel to the zombies. The bus’s horn blared—Melissa trying to draw them away from me.
I leaped over the ditch that ran along the roadside and plowed into the mass of undergrowth beyond. The tangle of vines caught around my ankles, and I went down onto one knee, grunting in pain as it hit a half-buried chunk of rock. Forcing myself back up to my feet, I drove forward, tearing my way through the bushes.
A movement just off to my right caught my eye. As I turned to look, a zombie stepped from behind a tree in front of me. I threw myself out of his reach, and my shoulder hit another tree. I careened off it, my arm numb from the impact. Branches snapped behind me, and the deep-throated snarl of a zombie came from somewhere close.
Then I broke free of the undergrowth onto a trail. It was narrow but clear. I paused to get my bearings then turned right, leaving the road and the zombies behind me.
As I got farther away from the highway, I slowed. The trees began to open out, but the ground was uneven and littered with debris. It would be easy to twist an ankle or worse. I checked behind me every now and again, but the swarm was nowhere to be seen. In my experience, they tended to gravitate toward the roads, so there was a good chance I could avoid the bulk of them.
The sound of the bus quickly faded into the distance. Part of me wondered whether I’d made the right decisio
n. There was still time for me to turn back. I could circle around to the road, get ahead of the swarm, and find the trail we’d used on the way out. I thought through the idea for a while, but I was just going through the motions. I knew the shadow would never let me rest if I went back to Hope, but my mind needed to consider the option. It would only be a matter of time before I killed, and the community was too small for me not to get caught.
Decision made, I slowed to a walk to catch my breath. I knew roughly where I was. The road we’d traveled down was one of two major routes through the area. The other was the road Captain Harwood and his men had taken when they’d driven me to the camp.
My cave was located on a ridge that ran parallel to those roads. Assuming my sense of direction hadn’t let me down, the ridge would be easy to find, and then I should be able to travel south until I reached my cave. It was still early, so I had plenty of time.
The only problem was that I wasn’t sure I should go back to living in the cave. Yes, it was my refuge, and it was as close to an ideal home as I was likely to find. It was also much too close to Hope for comfort. Parker might even send someone to look for me. I didn’t think she would, and I doubted they’d find me if she did, but I couldn’t be sure.
From what Parker had told me, Sanctuary might be even closer. With a group of people living nearby, it was only a matter of time before I ran into them—or worse, they stumbled upon my cave and found me in the middle of my work, when I was at my most vulnerable. I should get my instruments and move north, farther away from what passes for civilization these days.
The faint rumble of thunder rolled across the forest. Heavy drops of rain pattered through the trees. Winter was fast approaching, and the farther north I went, the colder it would be. If I didn’t have somewhere to shelter, I wouldn’t make it to spring.
A branch snapped somewhere off to my right. I froze. Thunder rumbled off in the distance. As it died, I heard the familiar moaning of a zombie. A single shadow moved through the trees. It passed through the gap between two trees. It was a woman. She was in shadow, and I couldn’t see what had killed her, but she was small, not too dangerous.
Serial Killer Z: Sanctuary Page 11
