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

by J. Thorn

  Seeing me coming, Rachel leaned across the seat and popped open the passenger door. I ran, skidding, to the side of the truck and dumped my looted goods into the cab. I heard the snarl and slap of feet behind me and reached for my pistol, but my hand was tangled in the plastic shopping bags. Leaping back, a bag full of canned goods came with me swinging from my right wrist, the tough plastic refusing to break.

  The infected was right there, running at me, leaping, eyes wide, lips skinned back from bloody teeth, a snarling scream coming up from her throat. Not even thinking, just reacting, I stepped to the side and swung the heavy bag of cans. I swung hard. The bag hit her squarely in the face and exploded open, cans of chili and soup flying in every direction.

  The impact stopped the infected in mid leap and she crashed to the ground, immediately jumping back to her feet and turning to attack. Hand free of the weight of the bag I pulled my pistol and shot her in the forehead, stepping over her body as it was falling. I had to get the nozzle out of the truck’s tank and the cap back on so we didn’t lose precious fuel as we drove away.

  A male infected met me by the pump and I dispatched him with another well placed shot, yanked the nozzle out of the tank and let it drop to the ground as I fumbled the truck’s fuel cap back on. I had glanced at the pump’s readout and was surprised that the truck had held almost 15 gallons in the partially empty tank. Quick and dirty math told me I probably had two 50 gallon tanks. I was betting the truck would get around fifteen miles per gallon so we should be good for close to 1,500 miles before we ran out of fuel. That wouldn’t get us to Arizona, but it was sure as hell a good start.

  Rachel had scooted over and closed and locked the passenger door and I was starting to step up into the cab when my left leg was yanked out from under me. I hit the ground hard, breath whistling out of my lungs and lay there, momentarily paralyzed as my body refused to respond. A crawling infected, he must have been under the VW and worked his way back, gripped my right foot and started pulling himself up my legs, teeth snapping the whole time.

  His head had just reached my feet and he bit down on my right foot, the shoe saving me for the moment, when my body started responding again. I took a deep breath, yanked the pistol out of my pants, took careful aim at my attacker’s head and pulled the trigger. Nothing. Either a misfire or the weapon had failed to lock open when it ran out of ammunition.

  I started kicking the infected in the forehead with the heel of my left foot and manually cycled the automatic pistol’s slide, but it locked open, empty. A snarl above me heralded the arrival of another infected, ready to fall on me and have a feast. I kept kicking, trying to scoot away from them both, but the damn thing had a hold on my foot like a Terrier on a rat. It wasn’t letting go.

  Looking up, I prepared to fend off the latest dinner guest. Hoping I would be able to crack his skull using the empty weapon like a club, I was startled when a shadow leapt over me from the cab of the truck. Rachel landed on both feet, astride my upper body and swung the tire iron with both hands. If Hollywood was still in business I had the perfect Wonder Woman for them.

  The tire iron connected with a sickening crunch and he dropped like a puppet with cut strings, bloody head bouncing on the concrete a few inches from mine, dead red eyes staring at me. Rachel spun, dispatched the infected chomping on my shoe in the same fashion and grabbed my shirt, screaming at me to get in the truck.

  Scrambling to my feet I followed her bare ass into the truck, slamming the door behind me. Before I could even hit the lock button, fists started pounding on the window trying to get to the prey that was escaping. I dropped the tranny into reverse, hit the gas and roared backwards a few yards, then into drive and swung around the VW, crushed a few infected in the process and turned back east onto the road with a skittering of tires.

  I headed to the toll road ramps, bounced over the median, and turned onto the southbound off ramp heading north against the direction of travel for those lanes. I hadn’t seen another vehicle moving since the evening before and driving against traffic seemed a better idea than driving closer to Atlanta. My breathing finally slowed down as we settled into a steady 40 mph on the toll road. Rachel took a couple of deep breaths also. I could feel her body shaking as the adrenaline drained off. After a mile or so she picked through the bags on the floor, pulling out a bottle of water for each of us.

  “I don’t suppose it would be too much to ask for you to get me a shirt the next time we stop, would it?” She asked with a perfectly straight face, handing me a bottle of water.

  10

  The water revived us as we drove, and we devoured several of the protein bars I had liberated from the gas station market. Even with all of the sugar and protein I was exhausted and started to get concerned about finding a place to spend the night.

  We had driven north on GA400 for a few miles before heading west on surface streets. We didn’t really have a plan other than getting away from the inferno that was Atlanta. We soon found ourselves in a residential neighborhood with neatly maintained lawns and tree shaded streets.

  Some of the houses we passed had obviously been abandoned in a hurry, garages standing open and empty. Others looked buttoned up tightly. Some of these were occupied, blinds twitching open as the sound of the truck’s big diesel rattled down the quiet streets.

  I slowed as we approached a four way intersection where two police cruisers completely blocked the road, roof lights flashing. No one was visible and one of the cruiser’s doors was standing open. Easing to a stop 50 yards short of the intersection I scanned the area looking for any threat.

  Despite not seeing any danger, the short hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end. I rolled my window down as I scanned the neighborhood, but all I could hear was the idling of the diesel. Not wanting to turn off the engine I eased the transmission into reverse and backed into an empty driveway as the street was too narrow to make a U-turn with the big truck.

  The sound of roaring engines reached me as I was shifting back into drive and two sedans, both Toyotas I think, screeched out of adjacent driveways and slid to a stop in front of me. I was blocked in, a closed garage door only feet from my rear bumper. I didn’t hesitate to floor the throttle.

  The diesel engine roared and the rear tires screamed in protest as the truck lurched forward and crunched into the sedan on my left. Time seemed to slow down and I saw the white oval of a face behind the wheel of the car as the big Ford bulled it aside. From the corner of my eye I registered movement to my right and then bullets were smacking into the cab of the truck.

  “Down,” I screamed to Rachel as the path in front of us opened with a rending of sheet metal.

  Rachel dove to the floor and rolled herself into a ball in the passenger side foot well. The truck was accelerating away from the ambush but moments later a bullet punched through the rear window of the truck, then the windshield, traveling a path where her head had just been.

  I took the first side street I came to, the truck threatening to roll up onto two wheels as I wrenched it through the turn without letting off the throttle. A final bullet pinged off the back of the truck then we were clear. Expecting pursuit I kept on the speed with an eye on the mirrors, but nothing appeared behind us. A couple of miles and several turns later I felt it was safe to slow down.

  “What the fuck was that?” Rachel asked as she climbed back onto the seat.

  “That was the human race at its best,” I answered, taking another turn to get us heading west once again. “World’s always been full of assholes, and I’m guessing these guys either wanted the truck, you, or both.”

  Rachel didn’t have a response to that and we were quiet for a bit as I kept pushing us towards the west. The neighborhoods were all the same, a mix of obviously abandoned houses and houses that were occupied by people hunkering down.

  We hadn’t seen any infected in some time and I stayed on high alert for any more ambushes. We were poorly armed and in no way able to fight off a concerted attack. I
knew many of the houses probably had guns and ammunition in them, but was hesitant to stop.

  Reaching Georgia Highway 20 I continued our path west, dodging abandoned car accidents and the occasional roving band of infected. We saw no more people on the streets, but the further west we went the more infected we encountered. The males slowly shambled after us, but the females charged us at a frightening speed. I didn’t think we would last long on foot trying to outrun them.

  It was now fully dark and after the third time a screaming infected female ran into the side of the truck, scaring the shit out of both of us, we decided it was time to find a secure place to stop for the night.

  “There was a service station with roll up doors about two miles back,” Rachel said, placing her hand lightly on my arm. She was exhausted and spooked, the light touch a plea to get off the road.

  “Let’s see what it looks like,” I said and cranked the truck into a U-turn.

  The service station looked like it had once been a chain gas station but was now an independent automotive repair shop. I drove past, slowing slightly, and didn’t see any obvious danger. U-turning again I wheeled into the parking lot and backed the truck to the one vacant service bay.

  Loosening the Glock in my waistband to make sure it would draw smoothly if needed I grabbed the tire iron and stepped down out of the cab.

  “Slide over and be ready to back into the bay when I get the door open.” I said, slamming the truck door before Rachel had a chance to respond. I watched for a second to make sure she got behind the wheel, then stepped behind the truck and tried the door. Mercifully it was unlocked, and I was able to raise it with a squeal of poorly lubricated metal.

  Moving out of the way I slapped the side of the truck as an all clear and Rachel quickly backed into the garage. Turning to step in behind her my only warning that I was being attacked was the slap of feet on pavement. I spun around in time to meet an infected female that launched herself at me from a full run. She wasn’t a big woman, but 110 pounds hit me square in the chest and knocked me flat on my ass.

  The tire iron flew out of my hand, clanging across the garage bay. I got my hands in front of me and locked on her shoulders, holding the snapping teeth at bay, and with a mighty grunt I shoved her away. She flew a few feet and hit the front bumper of the truck with a sickening thud, scrambling back to a crouch faster than she should have been able to.

  Fumbling for the pistol and raising it, I snapped off a shot as she launched herself like a missile. I was happy to see the long dormant skills hadn’t atrophied too much as the hollow point round punched through her face and continued on to blow out the back of her head.

  Frozen for half a second I stared at the twitching corpse then swiveled to scan the driveway. I didn’t see any additional threats, but then I hadn’t seen the female that had just nearly killed me. Standing up, I kicked the corpse out of the garage and jerked the door down, slapping a locking pin home to secure us inside.

  “How do I shut the engine off?” Rachel asked out the open driver side window. “We don’t need to asphyxiate ourselves after surviving this long.”

  Opening the door I reached across her bare legs and disconnected the two wires that kept the engine running. The diesel clattered to a stop and silence descended in the garage, the ticking of the cooling engine the only sound.

  I rolled the truck window up, locked the door and after telling Rachel to stay put I closed her in the cab. The next several minutes were spent checking the entire garage and office area and making sure all the entrances were secure. Satisfied at last, I returned to the truck and motioned Rachel out.

  Stepping stiffly down from the cab she looked down at the puddle of blood on the floor from the infected I had shot. Then her gaze moved to the front driver side tire which was completely flat. A whole the size of a half dollar was visible in the sidewall.

  Unlike in the movies where you see the hero shoot someone in the head and everything behind that person gets splattered in only blood and brains, in real life there’s also a bullet that exits the back of the head and can still cause damage. The shot I was so proud of had exited the infected woman’s head and torn through the sidewall of the tire.

  My body cried for sleep, but I wasn’t going to rest without making sure our transportation was ready to go. Finding a floor jack I raised the truck and got the tire changed. I searched the garage but they apparently didn’t sell tires, so we were stuck going forward without a spare. I still put the ruined tire and wheel into the back of the truck in case we could find a replacement tire as we traveled.

  Next I inspected the truck for damage. The gleaming push bar on the front bumper was now scuffed and scratched from battering our way out of the ambush, but it was still solid. There were numerous bullet holes in the truck’s sheet metal and glass, as well as the cracked rear window from the infected female that had tried to head butt her way in. I reinforced the glass as best I could with duct tape.

  Raising the hood I checked over the engine. Hoses and belts were good, oil and coolant were fine as well. Closing the hood I looked to the back of the garage bay and noticed a roll of heavy gauge wire mesh. Having seen how quickly our windows were failing I dragged the wire over to the truck, then went in search of tools.

  I had finished covering the back window with the wire mesh, cut to size and attached around the edge of the glass with sheet metal screws into the truck’s body, when Rachel returned. She was barefoot and wearing a set of mechanics coveralls that would have been large on me. She had wet hair and a clean face.

  “Think that will stop them?” She asked, combing her fingers through her hair.

  “It will at least slow them down,” I answered, driving the first screw for one of the side windows. “You look better.”

  “I feel better. I’m just glad the water is still on.”

  Rachel watched me work for a few moments, then stepped up beside me and started helping. Working together we had all of the truck’s glass covered in less than an hour. Stepping back, I appraised our handiwork. It wasn’t pretty, but I doubted the glass by itself would survive another day.

  We spent another half hour gathering jugs of motor oil, anti-freeze, brake fluid, anything we thought the truck might need and got it all stowed securely in the bed of the pick-up. I found a couple of cans of pressurized tire inflator/sealer and threw them in with the haul.

  We filled every bottle we could find with water from the small sink in the bathroom off the garage office and secured it in the back seat. Two tool boxes full of tools I selected went into the bed and were strapped down tightly.

  Finally I searched the entire building for weapons, but found nothing except a rusting filet knife. Never knowing what use it could be put to, I tossed it into the truck and headed to the bathroom to clean up as best I could.

  Exhausted, but cleaner, I returned to the truck to find Rachel curled up on the back seat fast asleep. Careful so as not to wake her, I crawled into the front and lay across the seat on my back. I fell asleep in seconds, the pistol resting on my stomach with my right hand lying on top of it.

  11

  “Max here again with the truth about what’s happening. Information is sketchy, but I’ll tell you what I know and what I think I know.

  “First, don’t approach cities. The cities that were attacked are death traps. The effects of the nerve agent that was released are deadly to both those exposed to it as well as those who were not initially infected. The exposed are coming out of comas in a hyper aggressive state and will attack anyone not already exposed. I don’t know how or why this is happening, but I’ve got dozens of reports of people being attacked and ripped to shreds by their friends, family or neighbors.

  “I’ve also personally seen women that have been exposed, infected I guess, so aggressive that I can only compare them to a lioness. They are fast, don’t seem to feel pain, and are nearly unstoppable. The infected men I’ve seen are just as dangerous, but slower and much less coordinated. I can’t e
xplain it, but I’m sure there’s some scientist somewhere that can.

  “As far as I know the infected aren’t contagious, but I think it’s a safe bet that if they have any of the nerve agent on their skin or clothing you would be infected by coming into contact with them. Reports are that the infection is spreading.

  “The government continues to remain absent, and reports are that the entire command structure of the US Government has retreated to hardened bunkers and is communicating with the military via secure satellite links. Civilian communications of all sorts remain offline.

  “There is severe civil unrest in the cities that were not attacked. Rioting, looting, fires burning out of control. Avoid the cities at all costs. It’s only going to get worse.

  “More missiles have been launched, some going north which can only mean Russian targets, but most going west. There have been no reports of retaliation and so far I’ve had no luck in reaching anyone outside the continental US to find out what’s happening in the rest of the world.

  “We’ve had to move twice in the last twelve hours. Once to avoid military forces that were tracking our signal, and again to escape a large group of infected. We’re ready to move again before the military triangulates our signal and we get a visit from one of the drones they so love to use.

  “Again, avoid the cities. Avoid the infected at all costs, and don’t trust the authorities. I don’t know why they’ve abandoned us, but at this point they can’t be trusted. Until my next broadcast, be safe.”

  The signal cut off before Max finished speaking the word safe and was replaced with the sound of static.