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

by J. Thorn

  I had awakened to a hot and humid Georgia morning and turned on the truck’s radio to see if there was anything broadcasting. As before there was only static as I scrolled through both the FM and AM bands so I had left the radio on the frequency I’d first heard Max on, and when I returned from the bathroom was rewarded with his update.

  Rachel was still in the back seat, silent and unmoving and I thought she was still sleeping until she spoke, “Why would the government cut us off like this? Shouldn’t they being doing everything they can to help us?”

  I thought about it before answering, “I don’t have any idea. It doesn’t make any sense to me either.”

  She turned over and looked at me for a few minutes before climbing out of the backseat and disappearing into the bathroom. She returned a few minutes later and hopped up on the lowered tail gate next to me.

  “I don’t suppose we have a toothbrush or any toothpaste.” She said.

  “I’ll put it on the list.” I said, trying to make it sound light hearted but failing miserably.

  Rachel looked over at me through tangled hair, “So what’s the plan?”

  I let out a big sigh before answering. By nature I was a person who analyzed situations and made decisions quickly. The US Army had recognized this trait early and honed it to a fine skill. College and work after the army had polished it, but at the moment I felt like I was in a daze and thinking at about half of my normal rate.

  Trying to get my brain in gear I started to lay out our situation and options.

  “We’re cut off from any form of government help or protection. In fact, I haven’t even seen a cop since this all started. Infected are roaming the streets and will attack as soon as they see us, but I think the bigger danger may be from other people.

  This just started and already we’ve had to escape an attempted ambush. Fortunately those guys were amateurs or we might have been in some trouble. We might not be so lucky next time.

  I’m heading for Arizona to get to my wife. I don’t know what it’s like there, but if anyone can hold out it will be her. That’s at least 1500 miles through what sounds like will be hostile territory. No comfortable hotels or restaurants along the way.

  I guess the first question is what are you doing?”

  I looked at her and reached to my shirt pocket for a pack of cigarettes that wasn’t there. Another item for the list the next time I looted a store.

  Rachel shook her head, the tangled hair swirling around and hiding her face.

  “I don’t have anywhere better to go, and sure don’t want to be on my own, so I guess I’m with you.” She answered while staring between her swinging feet at the stained garage floor, reaffirming her prior commitment to go with me.

  I was relieved. She had already shown a good head for crisis situations, not to mention saving my life at the first gas station we’d stopped at.

  “Good. First thing we need are more supplies. These protein bars aren’t going to last long. Just as important we need weapons. We’re going to have to defend ourselves and a tire iron and nearly empty pistol aren’t going to cut it. And, I need to find a map.”

  Talking was helping and I was starting to think again; starting to plan how we would actually make it across the majority of the United States.

  “Why a map? We just follow the freeways, right?” She asked.

  “If the freeways are open and safe that would be great, but I have a feeling that there’s going to be a lot of bad guys ready to ambush anything moving on the interstate system. Also, freeways go through big cities. We need to go around them. I know how to get to Arizona, but I don’t know how to avoid all the dangers between here and there.” I answered.

  She thought about that for a moment then nodded her head in agreement. “You’re right. OK, so what’s first?”

  “Weapons, then food, medical supplies, then a map. In that order.” I didn’t even hesitate with my answer.

  12

  I started the truck, twisted the right wires together to keep it running and stepped out of the cab so Rachel could slide behind the wheel. In place, she put her foot on the brake and held it there while shifting the big transmission into drive so the truck was ready to go the instant I raised the garage door.

  The roll up door had a row of grimy windows set into it at head height, so I was able to look out to the parking lot and surrounding area for any threats. Several infected males were slowly lumbering down the street, apparently aimless in their travels. They were far enough away to not be an immediate concern.

  I was more worried about the females. The one that had attacked me the night before had been so damn fast and strong it was scary. My only advantage had been that I outweighed her by a good 100 pounds, and not for the first time I was thankful that as I settled into corporate life I had kept myself in shape.

  Two hours a day in the gym had been a pain, but I was still one strong son of a bitch. All that said, I didn’t want to get in a foot race with one of the females.

  I scanned the area again, moving to change my viewing angle, but still saw nothing other than the males. No vehicles moving, no other uninfected people moving, no animals, and thankfully no infected females.

  Glancing back at Rachel we made eye contact and I nodded that the area was clear. She nodded back to indicate she was ready. Glock in my right hand I released the door’s locking pin with my left and pulled up on the door, shoving it all the way open.

  I stepped out of the open bay door and into a two handed shooting stance with the Glock at low ready which means the weapon was at a forty five degree down angle from my body with both arms straight out in front of me. It would take a fraction of a second for me to raise the pistol and engage a target if we were threatened.

  The note of the diesel engine rose as Rachel fed it some fuel and the truck rolled out of the garage and stopped when it was completely clear. I started moving quickly for the cab but spun around when I heard running feet behind me. The pistol swiveled with me and raised as I spun, eyes searching for a target, but I was caught off guard by what I saw.

  Running towards me with a guttural snarl was a little girl that couldn’t have been more than ten years old. The front of her shirt was covered with blood and her eyes fairly glowed red. I hesitated pulling the trigger. Any adult attacking me would have already been shot, but I wasn’t prepared for a child.

  Recovering from my hesitation I realized it was too late to shoot. Stepping to the side as she launched herself into the air I clubbed the back of her head with the pistol butt as she flashed past me, landing in a heap of flailing limbs by the rear tire of the truck.

  Now I’m a big, strong, solid guy and I hit her hard. Not a tap. Hard. Hard enough to have brought down a grown man. She couldn’t have weighed more than sixty pounds, but she sprang back to her feet like all I had done was slap her.

  “Fuck this,” I muttered to myself and side stepped so the truck was no longer behind her in my line of fire.

  She snarled and raised her arms, hands held like claws, but I fired before she could charge. The body dropped to the pavement and lay still.

  Spinning, I sighted in on the males that had been in the street, but they were still more than 20 yards away and moving just slightly faster than a slow lumber. Grabbing the handle, I yanked the door open and slid behind the wheel of the truck as Rachel moved out of my way.

  Dropping the truck into drive I accelerated straight for the approaching infected males and ran down two of them. The massive push bar on the front knocked them to the ground then they felt like minor speed bumps as the big off road tires bounced over the bodies.

  At the street I turned right and continued our westerly direction of travel. After a bit I realized that Rachel was watching me and I turned to meet her gaze.

  “Are you OK?” She asked.

  “Just fine,” I answered after a bit. “I always wanted to shoot a little girl in the head.”

  After a moment Rachel placed her hand on my right arm and left
it there. We drove that way for a while, neither of us saying anything.

  13

  We kept working our way west, keeping our speed down enough to avoid accidents and the lumbering males, but fast enough that all the females could do was run at us as we quickly outpaced them. I was not comforted to see that when they started chasing us they didn’t give up until we were out of sight. This didn’t bode well if we ever found ourselves on foot. We’d be quickly run to ground unless we could find secure shelter or fight them off.

  We had yet to see any uninfected people since the attempted ambush the day before. This changed as we approached a four lane state highway that ran roughly north and south.

  A small group of five men stood around an ancient Ford Taurus in a convenience store parking lot, staring at us as we approached. They looked like blue collar workers and were armed with a variety of hunting rifles and shotguns.

  I felt Rachel tense up next to me as we approached, but she didn’t say anything. The men didn’t try to flag us down and didn’t make any threatening moves with their weapons, but I’m not a great believer in the goodness or charity of the human race so I accelerated slightly as we drew abreast of them and kept going.

  “You didn’t trust them?” Rachel asked when we crested a rise in the road and could no longer see them behind us.

  “Let’s just put it this way. We’re in no position to help them, and at the moment we don’t need their help. Probably better for all to keep our distance.” I answered.

  “People are going to be getting hungry very quickly, and they’re already scared. That’s a dangerous combination. Add to that the fact that civil authority has evaporated and there’s not much that would prevent a group like that from trying to kill me and take you and the truck.”

  Rachel thought about that for a moment before answering, “You have a pretty dim view of society.”

  “I can’t remember who said it, but the quote is something like ‘Society is only a thin veneer that masks the animal that man really is’, or something like that. I’ve seen for myself what people do when there’s no authority in charge.”

  Rachel started to answer but stopped herself and pointed at a side road we had just passed. “Would an outfitters shop have what we need?”

  By way of answer I hit the brakes and slowed the truck enough to make a U-Turn in the middle of the road. For once in my life I wouldn’t have minded a cop showing up to give me a ticket for the illegal maneuver.

  I drove back to the side street and turned the direction Rachel had pointed. A block down on our left was a small cinder block building with a chain link fence protecting the rear parking lot. The sign on the front advertised that it was an outfitter for hunting and shooting. Underneath, in slightly smaller lettering that looked like an afterthought, the sign said the store was a one stop shop for all my tactical needs.

  I grinned from ear to ear. This was like a present being dropped in my lap. A moment later the grin disappeared when I turned the corner to get the truck off the main road. The shop”s steel security door was torn out of its frame and lay on the sidewalk. The inside of the store was dark and I couldn’t tell if there were a hundred infected waiting inside for me or if it was empty. Oh well, only one way to find out.

  Parking the truck by the door I left the motor running. I was torn as the diesel engine was so loud it would mask the sound of threats, but having the truck ready to go might save our lives. I opted to take the risk and deal with the engine noise.

  Carefully scanning in all directions I couldn’t detect any threats. I told Rachel to slide behind the wheel, lock the doors, put the truck in drive and keep her foot on the brake. In an emergency I could dive into the bed of the truck and she could have us moving instantly.

  Pistol in a two handed combat grip, I stepped around the back of the truck and flattened my back against the cinder block wall next to the open doorway. I wasn’t wild about stepping into that doorway and silhouetting myself for anyone lying in wait, but we needed the type of supplies that were hopefully in the store.

  I leaned my head forward and tried to see through the door, but the daylight penetrated a few feet at best, the rest of the store invisible to my day adjusted vision. Taking a deep breath I moved, stepping sideways through the door and out of the light as quickly as I could.

  Pistol up and ready to fire I scanned my surroundings as best I could in the dark, my hands keeping the pistol perfectly synchronized with my line of sight as I’d been taught so many years ago.

  A bumping/shuffling sound caught my attention from deeper in the gloom and I focused on the direction it was coming from. My eyes were adjusting to the dark interior and I realized it wasn’t pitch black in the store. I could see what looked like a body on the floor a few yards away, then it stood up and the stray light caught its eyes which flashed a bright yellow.

  I was caught off guard, expecting an infected to stand up. Instead a large German Shepherd stood there, tail held tightly between its back legs and head lowered below shoulder level. He stared at me and me at him. A long moment later he let out a low whine and slowly sat down.

  Now I’m a sucker for dogs. Trusting that the dog would be more agitated if there were any threats in the store I cautiously approached him. He tracked me with those yellow eyes the whole time, head and ears up, but he didn’t try to move away or exhibit any aggressive behavior.

  When I got close I started talking to him in a low, even voice. I kept approaching until I was a foot in front of him with my hand held out for him to sniff the back. He gave me a sniff, then a lick on my hand and another low whine. His tongue and nose were as dry and rough as sandpaper.

  I raised my hand and placed it on top of his head, gently scratching between his ears, then working down to his collar. A leash that I couldn’t see in the gloom connected his collar to an eyebolt set into a steel framed display case.

  Trusting my new friend I squatted down with my face just inches in front of his and unhooked the leash. He immediately stood up and shook, then nuzzled my hand and moved to press his flank against my leg.

  The dog was seriously dehydrated, probably having gone a couple of days without water. I’d take care of that shortly. He was going with me if he would get in the truck.

  Stepping behind the display counter I started searching the store. From next to the register I grabbed a fistful of plastic bags and started filling them with everything I could find that might be useful. I was excited to find a handheld GPS and stuffed that into a bag with lots of extra batteries. A lantern, portable cook stove, a mess kit for camping, socks, boots (I took a guess on Rachel’s sizes), clothing, and much more.

  The store had been ransacked and so far it looked like the looters had been after weapons and ammunition only. Those were the two things I hadn’t found any of yet. Still grabbing items I came across some canvas duffel bags and shoved all of my filled plastic shopping bags into them.

  When I had two large duffels so full I could barely zip them I set them by the end of the counter and snapped on a small flashlight I’d found. The display cases that apparently had held firearms were all smashed and empty. The shelves behind them that were stickered for ammunition were also bare.

  I started looking for a back room or office, doubting that the owner had his entire inventory out on display. A door behind a rack of boony hats was marked PRIVATE and was still intact. Grabbing one of the hats and putting it on my head I opened the door and walked into the arms of an infected male who had been trapped in the office.

  The dog let out a growl and launched off the ground, clamping his powerful jaws on the man’s forearm. The weight of the dog drug the arm down and unbalanced the infected. This bought me the opportunity to push away, shove the pistol into the soft tissue under its chin and pull the trigger. The muffled shot blew out the top of its head and the body dropped to the floor, the dog releasing his bite and sitting down as if he were guarding the body.

  I scanned the office with the small flashlight
and spotted what I’d hoped to see. A vault was set into the side wall of the room. The door was closed and I held my breath as I tugged on the handle. I sighed with relief when it came open, battery powered lights snapping on to illuminate the inside.

  The vault wasn’t large, probably no more than eight by ten feet, but as I hoped there were weapons and ammunition stored inside. I looked over my shoulder at the infected I’d just killed, probably the store owner, and thanked him.

  Ten minutes later, freshly armed, I stepped out of the vault with a duffel bag full of ammo. It must have weighed well over 100 pounds, which sounds like a lot of ammo, but I know from experience just how fast you can burn through bullets in a firefight. I had cleaned out the vault and it was time to go.

  Back in the main store area I adjusted the sling of the M4 rifle I’d just acquired, grabbed the two waiting duffels with my left hand and ammo duffel in my right and headed for the door where I could hear the waiting diesel idling loudly. The dog stayed by my side and I was glad to see his tail had come up slightly as he got more comfortable with me.

  We stepped through the door into the daylight and I was momentarily blinded. I knew better, should have stood inside the doorway looking out for a few moments to give my eyes a chance to adjust, but my mental clock was screaming at me that we’d been in one place too long. The dog growled deep in his chest as a deep voice with a thick Georgia accent told me to stop right where I was.

  14

  I froze in place, one step outside the doorway, and turned towards the voice. It was the group of men we’d passed earlier. I mentally kicked myself for being dumb enough to stop so soon after seeing them.

  The man that had spoken was a big, hard looking guy with any equally big belly. He was dressed in well-worn jeans, a checked work shirt and work boots with dried mud on them. He looked like he hadn’t shaved for a week and greasy hair stuck out from underneath a ball cap that was so dirty I couldn’t tell what it originally advertised. The others were similarly dressed and my guess was they were co-workers.