She glanced into the rearview mirror. The lawn behind her had become a ball of flame, casting orange and yellow ripples across the property. She hit the brake and ducked down in her seat, unsure of how far the shrapnel would travel, fearing that the vehicle would be hit. From behind her, the creatures shrieked and groaned.
She remained low, hands shaking, unsure of what to expect.
Would it be enough to incapacitate the bulk of the creatures?
When the noise had subsided, she raised her head and peered behind her at the tattered lawn. The creatures had been decimated. Pieces of them were scattered across the grass; of those that remained, most were on fire. She watched them stagger sideways across the grass, their features melting under the lick of yellow flame.
A voice cried out in the distance, and she struggled to make out the words. She strained her ears, and suddenly the message became clear. It was Dan; he was shouting at her from the house.
“Swing the truck back around!”
Although she could barely hear him, she complied, yanking the wheel and driving back toward the explosion site. When she reached the vicinity, she kept to the perimeter of the yard—far enough away to avoid the burning creatures. Every few seconds the rifle clapped, and she watched the remaining creatures drop to the ground one by one, reduced to a mangled pile of skin.
When she reached the house, she pulled up to the broken rear window. Several creatures still milled about, and she fired off the remaining rounds of her pistol to hold them off.
Where were the others?
She stared through the opening, waiting for her companions to appear, but there was no sign of them. She glanced back into the yard. Though they’d incapacitated the majority of the creatures, they hadn’t killed them all. Several of the things were unscathed, and when they took notice of Meredith in the pickup, they ambled toward her.
“Come on!” she shouted through the window.
A few seconds later she saw movement, and suddenly her companions were spilling from inside.
“Let’s go!” she shouted.
Dan and Quinn appeared first, John limping behind them. One of the roaming creatures tried to snag Quinn, but Dan fired off a shot, knocking it to the ground. The air was thick with smoke and flame, and the three of them coughed from the smell.
A second later they were throwing the doors open and jumping inside, filling the vehicle with smoke and sweat. Meredith hit the gas.
The pickup sprang to life, propelling them across the lawn and onto the driveway. Behind them, a cluster of fiery bodies danced across the lawn, knocking against one another like broken marionettes. Meredith blinked hard and forced herself to look away.
Once they were out of immediate danger, she glanced at the seat next to her.
Quinn sat in the passenger’s seat, her head buried in her lap. Meredith reached over and caressed the girl’s hair.
“It’s OK, sweetie,” she said with a smile. “We made it.”
30
“Are you sure you’re OK with this, Meredith?” John asked. His face was lined with worry.
Meredith leaned on her shovel. Below her was the charred body of Paul Stevens, her old neighbor—the creature she’d seen at Ben and Marcy Sanders house. He must have traveled to the farm at some point during the attack.
“I’ll be fine,” she said.
It had been over a day since they’d left the farm. Meredith surveyed the backyard, which was still covered in bodies.
They’d been picking up remains for hours: hefting them into tarps, dragging them to the pickup, driving them to a remote corner of the lot. Meredith had insisted that they give the townsfolk a proper burial.
No one had argued.
In order to spare Quinn from the gory scene, Dan and his daughter had remained at the Sanders’ house. Inside they’d found an assortment of blocks, puzzles, and dolls. After arriving, Meredith had recalled that the Sanders had had a niece; they’d probably kept the toys there for when she visited. In any case, they’d been a welcome distraction for both Dan and his daughter.
Meredith stuck her shovel into the blackened lawn and wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. She looked over at John, who still held a look of concern.
“Do you think it’s over?”
“I hope we’ve seen the worst of it,” John said.
She let her gaze drift to the house. Although the downstairs windows were boarded up, a few lights blazed upstairs. After all that had happened, it was a miracle the power was still on. She wondered how long it would last. With no one to maintain the power plant, it was possible that it would be cut off soon, but she was grateful for every moment they had it on.
“Are you sure you want to stay in town?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” she said. “I’m through running. From my family, from the infection, from you…”
She let her shovel fall to the dirt and walked over to John, and the two locked lips under the inviting rays of the sun.
“Thank you, Meredith.”
“For what?”
“For giving me a second chance.”
“I wish this place had more bedrooms,” Meredith said, fluffing the pillows and sheets she’d set on the floor of the Sanders’ bedroom.
“Are you kidding me?” Dan laughed. “This is the best setup we’ve had in days.”
She had set up Dan and Quinn in the second bedroom; she and John would sleep in the master. For the remainder of the night, they’d agreed to take shifts watching over the property. Since leaving Meredith’s farm, there’d been no other signs of danger, but none of them wanted to take any chances.
It was a small price to pay for stability.
Meredith had agreed to take the first shift. Although she was tired, she knew that Dan and Quinn must be exhausted. They’d been on the run for days; they deserved to get some rest.
“Are you comfortable, Quinn?”
The little girl smiled at her from the bed through half-closed eyes. They’d been talking a few minutes, and already her niece was starting to relax. Meredith leaned over and kissed her on the head.
“I’m so glad you came to find me.”
“Me too, Aunt Meredith.”
Dan had arranged himself on the floor next to the bed. Meredith noticed he’d chosen a spot by the window. Even though it wasn’t his turn to watch, she was sure he’d been keeping an eye out just the same.
The thought gave her comfort, and she smiled down at him in appreciation.
“Try to get some sleep,” she told them.
“We will,” Quinn said.
“Goodnight.”
Meredith walked out of the bedroom, snapping the light off behind her.
When she went downstairs, John was in the kitchen, rifle propped at his side.
“Do you see anything?” she asked him.
“No. We’re all clear for now. Why don’t you head into the bedroom and get some sleep?”
“No, you go ahead and rest, John. I’ll wake you up in a few hours when I get tired.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
He handed her the rifle. In the wake of the attack, they had only a few guns left with ammunition. Those they had left were stacked on the dining room table, easily accessible to anyone keeping watch. Since arriving, they’d cleaned up the house; Meredith had even transported some of her pictures and belongings from the farm. Between the fumes of the propane and the smell of the bodies, they’d decided to vacate her old house, at least for now.
John kissed her on the cheek and headed upstairs. She looked after him, then switched her focus to the boarded windows. Through the course of her shift, she’d make the rounds to all of them, keeping a careful watch on the premises.
Hopefully that would allow her comrades to sleep.
The wind gusted from outside, blowing a gentle breeze through the cracks and crevices. It was still summertime, and the fresh air felt refreshing against her skin. In the coming days they’d have to figure things out. They’d need to reinforce the windows, get more weapons, figure out a long-term plan.
But for now, she was just grateful that they’d all found each other, and that they’d all survived another day. In the wake of what had happened, there wasn’t much more she could ask for.
Something brushed past her leg, and she jumped before realizing it was Ernie. He launched into the air, aiming for her arms, and she smiled. She picked him up and held him close.
The dog lapped at her face. Since arriving at the Sanders’, he’d spent most of his time pacing, doing his best to get adjusted. Now it seemed like he was settling down.
“You know what, Ernie? We’re going to get through this,” she whispered. “And no matter what happens, we’re all going to be OK.”
31
For the first time in days, Dan awoke not to the sounds of a disturbance, but to the smell of a home-cooked meal. He rolled over in his sheets and rubbed at his eyes. Even though he’d lain down, he hadn’t expected to sleep.
He glanced up at the bed next to him. The sheets were rumpled; his daughter was gone. For a split second he felt a tinge of worry, then he heard the sounds of laughter from the other room.
It was a sound he hadn’t heard in a while, and it felt damn good to hear it again.
He rose to his feet and looked out the window, which he’d kept open. The sun shone through the windowpane, promising another day of light and warmth, and a few birds circled overhead. He ignored the memories in his head and did his best to focus on the smells coming from the kitchen.
Still fully dressed, he turned and walked across the room, then padded down the stairwell. The dining room table was set. Meredith and Quinn sat across from each other, and John sat at the window with a plate on his lap.
“Am I the last one up?” Dan asked.
The rest of them smiled.
“You almost missed lunch, Dad!” Quinn said.
Meredith pointed to a place setting at the head of the table, where a plate full of garden-fresh potatoes and vegetables awaited. Dan pulled out the chair and sat, feeling more grateful than he had in days. He took a bite of his potatoes. Even though they were a little cold, he found himself thinking they were the best he’d tasted.
Sometimes a meal was only as good as the company you kept, and right now, he couldn’t have asked for better companions.
“How are things looking outside, John?”
“All clear since last night.”
“That’s great news.”
Dan took another forkful of food and wiped his chin with a napkin. He studied the man perched at the window. In all the commotion of the night before, he’d hardly gotten the chance to know him.
“So what did you used to do, John? I mean, before all this…”
“I was a woodworker. I have a furniture shop in town. That’s how Meredith and I met, actually.”
Meredith pointed to the boarded windows, which they’d transported from the farm. “All this wood was from his store.”
“You seem like a good guy to have around.”
The four shared a laugh. Quinn speared a piece of tomato with her fork, dropping it onto the floor on the way to her mouth. Ernie swooped in to pick it up.
“Ernie!” Meredith scolded. “Mind your manners.”
The dog licked Quinn’s pant leg in apology. She patted him on the head, leaning down to give him a kiss of her own.
“It’s OK, Ernie. I would’ve shared it with you anyway.”
When everyone had finished eating, Meredith stood from the table and reached for the empty plates.
“Anyone for seconds?”
Dan paused for a moment. His stomach was still rumbling; it’d been a while since they’d had a decent meal.
“Sure,” he said.
Meredith retrieved the dishes and returned to the counter.
“How long do you want to stay here?” she asked.
Dan paused, glancing around the room at his companions. For the first time in over a week, he had no pressing desire to leave. In just over a day, the Sanders’ had become not only a place of shelter, but also a place of familiarity; a place that felt like home.
“I’ll have to check our appointment book. We don’t have anywhere to be, do we Quinn?”
The little girl shook her head and smiled.
“Well, I have enough food to last for a while,” Meredith said. “Between the crops I brought from the farm and the packages you brought from the car, we should be all set for a while.”
“That’s great news.”
“I also saw a nice garden out back. I’ll bet we can harvest the crops.”
“Excellent,” Dan said.
“There’s a catch,” she said, holding up her finger.
“What is it?”
“I’ll need help. Anyone who wants to eat is going to have to work for it.” Meredith grinned.
Quinn immediately raised her hand. “I’ll help you, Aunt Meredith!”
“Anything for a meal!” Dan quipped.
The group laughed. John rose from his perch.
“You don’t have to worry; Meredith is a great teacher. Before helping her on the farm, I couldn’t even look at a plant without killing it.”
“Now he’s a regular farmhand,” Meredith said, punching his arm.
“We’ll need to figure out schedules for keeping watch, too. Maybe take some trips into town for more supplies.”
“Let’s talk about that later,” Dan said, giving the others a warm smile. “For now, let’s just enjoy our meal.”
The others nodded and turned to other conversation.
Within minutes, laughter filled the room. In the coming days, they’d have a lot of things to figure out. But all that could wait. Regardless of what had transpired, regardless of what the world had become, they’d found each other.
And right now, that was the only thing that mattered.
BOOK FIVE: SURVIVAL
DEDICATION
To Ricky,
my best friend and writing companion.
You will be missed.
RIP 2003 - 2014
PART ONE – HUNTED
1
“Over here!”
The men were coming. Through the haze, Noah could hear the rumble of motors and the cry of voices. He struggled to open his eyes, but they were swollen shut. His face burned with pain.
After a few attempts, he cracked his eyelids. The rays of the midday sun pierced his retinas, and he squinted to reduce the glare. The fact that he was alive was either a miracle or a curse; at the moment, he couldn’t decide which. He wiggled his fingers and toes. As far as he could tell, nothing was broken.
But that didn’t make him feel any better.
He lifted his head, biting back a fresh swell of pain. He was lying in the forest, about fifty feet from the road. Around him was a legion of pines. Just minutes ago, he’d been thrashing through the underbrush, hoping to find respite in the depths of the forest. After expending his last bit of energy, he’d dropped to the ground behind one of the large, sap-covered trunks.
Now he lay exhausted, listening to his pursuers approach.
He patted his pockets, hoping to find something he’d missed, but his ripped khaki shorts were empty. His only hope was to summon enough strength to continue.
If he didn’t move, he’d die.
He thought of his family in Portland and clenched his teeth. For the past few days, the image of Mom, Dad, and Ricky had been the only thing keeping him going. Now he f
ound himself wondering if he’d ever see them again.
Don’t give up now.
Noah forced himself to his knees, ignoring his aching muscles, and crawled through the thickets. Keep low, and keep moving. He needed to put distance between himself and the road. If the men couldn’t find him, perhaps they’d grow bored and stop looking so closely; maybe they’d even give up.
The forest floor crackled under the weight of men’s footsteps. The men had stopped talking, but their breathing echoed through the trees behind him. In a matter of minutes, Noah had become their target, their prey. Seconds after seeing him, they’d forced his truck off the road and into a tree.
If only he’d taken another road…
For the past few days, he’d been practicing the art of avoidance, doing his best to steer clear of the infected and the survivors. After a few close calls with trigger-happy lunatics, he’d been hesitant to trust anyone. At the same time, he’d known the solitude couldn’t last forever. Sooner or later he’d be forced to fight or flee. As much as he hated to admit it, his current situation was long overdue.
He should’ve stayed at the salvage yard in Arizona.
Leaving his former companions behind had been one of the hardest things he’d had to do, and the guilt had eaten at him for days. He could only pray that Sam, Delta, Dan, and Quinn were safe.
But he needed to find his family. Whether they were alive or dead, he needed to find them. He needed to know.
He scrambled ahead through the forest, listening to the snap of underbrush behind him, using his pursuers’ movements as cover. When they moved, he moved. When they stopped, he stopped. He darted from tree to tree, using the thick trunks for cover as if he were in the real-life version of a video game.
His vision was still bleary from losing his glasses. His prescription was weak, but he’d been wearing them regularly for driving, and his eyes struggled to adjust.
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