This is the End 3: The Post-Apocalyptic Box Set (8 Book Collection)

by J. Thorn

  “Oh my God,” Rachel breathed, and took another step away from the Trooper.

  With a snarl he stepped toward her, arms raised to shoulder height and out at forty-five degree angles. Perfect for sweeping any prey into his grip. Rachel turned and ran.

  5

  For the moment the woman and I were the only living things in the parking lot other than a fat, glossy, black crow sitting on the roof of a red Chevy. It ‘cawed’ at us several times before flying away to the north, away from the inferno that was downtown Atlanta. The woman approached me slowly, carefully looking me up and down, her eyes nervously pausing on the weapon in my hand.

  “Were you bitten? Scratched?” Her voice was low and husky, raw from all the screaming she had been doing.

  “What?” I asked. Everything was too surreal and now this crazy, naked woman wanted to know if I’d been bitten?

  She took a cautious step forward, “Were you bitten?” She spoke slower this time as if I were a child.

  “No. They never touched me. Why?”

  She came closer and continued her visual inspection. “I watched that one and his friend,” she pointed at the young man I had shot in the head, “attack and bite the Trooper. Within one to two minutes he was just like them and trying to kill me.”

  I stood staring at her, breathing harder than I needed to, but the adrenaline from the fight was still in my system.

  I said, “They bit him? And he became like them? This is crazy. You’re describing something like a zombie or a vampire.”

  She raised her chin and stared back at me defiantly, “I may look like a brainless bimbo at the moment, but I know what I saw. The Trooper was fine, normal, until he was attacked. He was bitten and scratched and in less than two minutes I watched him change into one of them and start trying to kill me.”

  She crossed her arms under her breasts, and while I would have thought it difficult for an almost naked woman to look dignified she managed to pull it off.

  “OK, so I guess I believe you. Any idea what the hell is wrong with them? Why are they trying to kill us?”

  She relaxed and moved over to stand next to me, looking down at the body of the young man. “I was hoping you would know. All I know is New York got nuked last night. The owner of the club where I work wouldn’t close, and a few hours ago these things started attacking people in the club.”

  I looked back over at the dead Trooper, then out across the swamp. A couple of hundred yards away there were four figures wading through the water in our direction. Uh Oh. I scanned the parking lot and found no threats, but out on the perimeter road that came from my company’s office building there was a small group of figures walking towards us. I slowly raised my arm and waved, Rachel turning to see who I was waving at, but they didn’t wave back or acknowledge me in any way. Oh, shit.

  “We’ve got to get out of here. Now!” I said.

  I took her hand in mine as if it was the most natural thing to do and broke into a trot across the parking lot to where my rental SUV was parked. Half way there I skidded to a stop and slapped my pants pockets with a feeling of dread. No keys. They were in my room on the fifth floor of the hotel. There was no way I could climb the stairs, get my keys and get back before the approaching threat cut off our escape.

  “What’s wrong?” She asked me, not letting go of my hand.

  “No keys. They’re up on the fifth floor in my room. I don’t suppose you know how to hot wire a car, do you?”

  I didn’t expect an affirmative answer, and I didn’t get one. The look of horror on her face told me what I needed to know. We were on foot, multiple threats approaching from at least two directions, and she was already exhausted from fighting her way through the swamp. Exhausted or not we didn’t have a choice. We had to run.

  6

  We ran across the parking lot, her slightly behind and to my left, holding my hand as we ran. My right was my shooting hand and I was keeping it free and available to draw the pistol if I needed it. Considering these things, alright I guess I was ready to call them zombies even though they weren’t actually reanimated dead, apparently hunted by sound and smell. I didn’t want to have to fire off the weapon and attract every one of them within hearing distance. I suspected they used sound for finding their prey at a distance, then sound and smell when they closed in.

  Cutting the corner on the parking lot we made it to the road with about a hundred yards of clearance from each group of Zombies – infected? - but turned left towards the ones in the swamp. The water would slow their progress and let us get by them. I settled into a fast jog, the woman staying with me and maintaining a death grip on my hand. I was impressed. As freaked out as she had to be, as I was, she was staying with me and not slowing me down or complaining.

  We didn’t make much noise, just the sound of my running shoes and her bare feet on the asphalt along with our heavier breathing, but the infected in the swamp detected us and changed direction to pursue. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the group behind us almost speed walking after us, not that much slower than we were moving. My instinct was to push harder and open up some distance, but I was worried about tiring. I had slept most of the night and was relatively refreshed and strong. I was pretty sure she had been up a long time, certainly all night, and was already tired from her run through the swamp.

  Ahead the road curved slightly, then straightened as it approached a large intersection with shopping on each corner. Several cars were piled into each other in the intersection and I hoped we would find one of them drivable with the keys still in the ignition. My hopes were dashed when figures appeared from behind the cars as we approached and started coming towards us. Three large parking lots on the northeast, southeast and southwest corners were virtually empty of cars as none of the retail shops had been open when all of this happened. But there were groups of figures in each of the parking lots that all turned in our direction as we approached.

  The northwest corner, across the intersection and to our right, was a massive parking lot for a Wal-Mart Super Center. Cars were scattered across the parking lot, some belonging to employees and some to shoppers that needed something in the middle of the night. There weren’t any infected milling about that parking lot.

  “There,” I pointed with my right hand, making sure she knew where we were going.

  “How?” She gasped a response.

  “Be ready to run flat out. We’re going through the ones ahead.” I indicated the infected in the middle of the intersection, directly ahead of us.

  There were four of them, three men and a woman if it matters, and they were bunched up at the trunk of a mid-sized Japanese sedan as they tried to locate us. I would have preferred to go around, but there were broad drainage ditches on either side of the road as it approached the intersection and I didn’t want to get bogged down in mud or hurt by some unseen debris that lay hidden in the weeds. A sprained ankle or broken leg would be a death sentence.

  Coming up on the intersection I angled to the left, intending to keep the crashed cars between us and the infected. I also wanted a good look at the condition of the cars. The first vehicle we came to was a ten year old Chevy Malibu, and I dismissed it outright when I saw the crumpled front end and puddle of anti-freeze on the pavement under the engine. It was crashed into the side of a twenty year old Ford F-250 pickup that had been jacked up and outfitted with oversized wheels and tires. The truck was a four door behemoth, and its damage from the accident was limited to the left side of the rear bumper. It looked in nearly pristine condition, despite its age, and I was counting on the owner having cared for the drive train as meticulously as he had the appearance. Only one problem. When I dashed up to the driver side door I could see there were no keys in the ignition.

  The infected in the intersection had split up, the three men bumping and groping their way around a couple of cars, but the woman leapt onto the hood of first one car, then another. How she was doing this blind was beyond me, and she also seemed much more coord
inated and agile than the men. She sprang to the roof of the Chevy that was crashed against the Ford truck, then with a loud snarl on into the bed of the truck. She was moving fast. Too fast and getting too close.

  I drew the pistol which was ready to go and side stepped to get a better angle on her, and that’s when I saw her eyes. Blood red like the men I’d seen up close, but only the whites of her eyes were red. She still had irises and pupils and could obviously still see. This slowed me for a heartbeat, long enough for her to leap at us. I fired a single round that punched through her forehead and blew out the back of her skull. Her body went limp in mid leap, falling to the ground at our feet.

  I wanted to take a closer look at this one, but the men were fast approaching with snarls of their own, and the infected that had been following us down the road were now less than fifty yards away. I quickly glanced around and my blood ran cold when I saw the number of infected converging on us from the surrounding parking lots. First things first. I raised my arm and fired three shots and each of the men closest to us dropped dead to the pavement.

  The one in the middle was a guy about my age, mid 40s, built like a tank and wearing jeans, muddy work boots and a Ford hat. It didn’t take Colombo to deduce he was likely the driver of the truck and I dashed forward and felt in his pants pocket with my left hand, pistol in my right ready to fire if he so much as twitched. In his right front pocket was a wad of keys, and one of them was a big silver deal with Ford stamped prominently on it.

  We were running out of time and had to take a chance. If we got in the truck and this wasn’t the right Ford key we’d be trapped, surrounded by infected. If we didn’t get in the truck our only open path was the Wal-Mart, and while the parking lot was still empty I didn’t hold out much hope that the store wasn’t infested. I didn’t want to find out.

  “In the truck!” I guided her towards the open driver’s door and followed her into the cab. She scooted over to make room for me, but stayed close so we were touching when I sat behind the wheel and slammed the door closed. I inserted the key in the ignition and it fit! I took a breath, held it, and turned the key. It didn’t turn. Wrong Ford.

  “Goddamn it! I’m sorry.” I said, then the infected were at the doors and I just had time to hit the electric lock button before hands started pounding on the windows and body of the truck.

  A woman who looked no more than 20 leapt onto the hood and squatted directly in front of me, staring at me through the heavy windshield. Just like the woman I’d killed, the whites of her eyes were blood red, but she still had irises and pupils. Looking into those eyes I couldn’t see any sign of humanity, just primal hunger and predatory intelligence. I looked out the side window at a man who was hung up bumping against the outside rear view mirror and his eyes were the same solid red I’d seen back at the hotel parking lot. I wasn’t sure why there was a difference, but I was sure that women had just become what I always thought they were. The most dangerous members of the human race.

  The woman sitting next to me was shivering. It wasn’t cold. The sun was well up and the cab of the truck was quickly growing hot and stifling. In normal times I would never have presumed to try to comfort her, but these weren’t normal times. I put my arm around her shoulders and pulled her to me and just held her while she went from shivering to outright sobs. The female infected squatting on the hood watched us like a cat watches a mouse hole.

  When she got her emotions under control the woman straightened up slightly without breaking contact with me. She wiped her eyes with a grimy hand and sniffed back the last of her tears. Around us were now at least 50 infected, the men bumping into the sides of the truck and hammering on it with their fists and forearms in what seemed to be frustration. The women were what really scared me. Another woman had leapt onto the hood and squatted on the passenger side, staring at us through the windshield with her bloody eyes. Three more women had leapt into the bed of the truck and stared at us through the back window. At least ten more stood a few yards back from the truck, beyond the milling males, and just stared patiently.

  “What do we do?” She sat up straight and I slowly moved my arm away from her shoulders. I found myself moving slowly because of some instinct that told me not to startle the women sitting on the hood of the truck. If any of them had enough intelligence remaining to find a rock to smash the truck’s windows, we were goners.

  “Good question,” I answered. “But I don’t have a clue at the moment. It’s going to get real hot in here real soon, and I don’t think we’ll survive the day without water.”

  I slowly turned my head and looked around the cab of the truck. Clean and organized. Nothing out of place. I carefully checked the glove box which only held the owner’s manual and a small flashlight. I slipped the flashlight into my pocket after making sure it worked. Under the back seat was a small tool case with an assortment of sockets, Allen wrenches and various other tools in it. I held the case in my lap, considering my options, then pulled out the largest screw driver in the kit.

  She looked at me, but didn’t question what I was doing as I leaned forward and inserted the tip of the screw driver into the truck’s ignition. When I leaned forward the woman on the hood leaned in until her face was almost touching the windshield and curled her lips back in a snarl I could hear clearly through the heavy glass. Her teeth were stained red and there was debris, I didn’t care to think about the origin of, stuck between them.

  Ignoring her I pushed down on the screw driver while twisting to the right and there was a sharp snap from the ignition. Unfortunately that was all that happened. I didn’t know what I was doing. I’d never stolen a car before, only seen episodes of COPs where some kid gets busted for grand theft and he got the car running by ‘punching’ the ignition. I had to try something. I didn’t want to die today.

  7

  The heat and humidity in the cab of the truck had become oppressive. Sweat poured off both of us, soaking into the upholstery and continually adding to the humidity. Both of us had slept off and on throughout the day, startling awake whenever there was an aggressively loud impact on the truck from the crowd of infected. I didn’t think we had long. We were both severely dehydrated and recently she had started to cry out when her legs were racked with spasms from muscle cramps.

  The two women on the hood had not moved all day. Amazingly they had remained in the same squatting position despite the long hours and growing heat. They may have been infected, but they still had human skin and both showed signs of a severe sun burn. Neither indicated that they felt any discomfort. I, on the other hand, had a left arm that was nearly blistered from the sun coming through the driver side window. However, with four more hours of direct sun on the cab of the truck and surrounded by infected, this was the least of my worries.

  “We’re going to die in here, aren’t we?” Her voice was a dry mumble, barely audible above the constant snarling and banging from the infected.

  I thought about giving some upbeat answer, something to give her hope, but in the end decided she deserved honesty. “Yes, I think so. We likely don’t have much longer in this heat.”

  She sighed deeply, the sound conveying her resignation to her fate.

  “I don’t even know your name,” she said.

  I smiled. Names had not been at the top of my priority list. “I’m John. John Chase.”

  “Very nice to meet you, Mr. John Chase. I’m Rachel Miles. And I never thanked you for saving my life earlier.” Her voice gained a little strength as she talked, but she was still mumbling and her face was shrouded with stringy, sweat soaked hair.

  “You’re welcome. Not sure I did you any favors.” I looked out the windshield and met the eyes of the woman directly in front of me. She snarled but otherwise didn’t move.

  Rachel was quiet for a long time. So long in fact I was thinking about checking to see if she’d passed out, then she started talking in a low monotone. She told me she was in Medical School and only a year away from graduating. She told me
about growing up in North Carolina and moving to Atlanta after graduating from college. Her parents were both dead and she had no siblings or other family. She talked about dancing in the strip club and sleeping two hours a night so she had time to study and attend class. Then she told me the story of how she and I met in a hotel parking lot with infected people trying to kill us.

  I listened to her talk, undoing my pre-conceptions about a woman stripping for a living. She had a job that paid the bills so she could do something better with her life. That was more than most people could say these days. Then I wondered if there was anyone other than us left to worry about careers and having a better life.

  I happened to glance at the ignition with the screwdriver hanging out of it while I had these thoughts and my heart leapt in my chest. From the back of the ignition switch, hanging below the dash and barely visible were several wires. Apparently knocked lose when I broke the switch earlier, these had to be the wires that would start the truck. After all, what was an ignition switch other than a device that mechanically closed an electrical circuit so the engine would start and run?

  I grabbed the tool kit off the floor where I had dropped it and dug through until I found a small pair of wire cutters. Rachel picked up on my excitement and sat up straight, adrenaline momentarily overcoming dehydration and muscle cramps. I reached under the dash and carefully clipped all the wires, then stripped about an inch of insulation off the cut ends. Methodically, I started touching wires together; blue to white/blue, green to white/green, red to white/red; the red to white/red finally lighting up the dash and the radio started playing a country music CD. I had found the equivalent of the ‘key on’ position of the switch.