Affliction Z (Book 3): Descended in Blood

by Ryan, L. T.

  The woman stopped in front of the seventh house. It was an old bungalow on stilts. Looked like faded jeans, its blue paint stained and streaked. Rust spread outward from nails in the trim. Without maintenance, the houses on the beach would succumb to the elements, either from a big storm, or years of salt eating away at the building materials.

  A pile of weathered lumber was stacked along the side fence. Then Turk noticed there were no stairs leading to the deck.

  The woman said, “We removed them once it was evident they were killing people. Those people—things—they aren’t smart enough to climb up without stairs.”

  “Nice move,” Turk said.

  A moment later, someone lowered a ladder. The woman climbed up first. Turk followed. Two men armed with pistols waited on the deck. Turk looked past them and spotted three women inside. They gathered in the kitchen, watching two children playing on the floor.

  The woman pulled back the sliding glass door. It took some effort. The door screeched on a rusted track and seemed as though it wanted to jump off. She entered the house, leaving Turk alone with the men.

  “Got a name?” The guy in black boots led Turk to the corner of the deck.

  “Turk. You?”

  “Rob.” He lit a cigarette then pointed at the two guys from the beach. “Those two are Jim and Randy. And those guys over there are the Griffin brothers. Just yell that out and one of them will respond.”

  “This your place?” Turk asked.

  Rob took a drag off his cigarette. Smoke leaked from his mouth when he spoke. “Been in our family for years. Our grandparents built it. I take it you figured out me and Rose are siblings?”

  “Twins.”

  “Sure enough. Anyway, my grandparents bought the land and built this place years ago, before we were born. So, we were here taking an after summer vacation when the world went crazy. It hit here about the same time the first reports were shown on TV. Over the past couple weeks we took a few stragglers in. Had a couple leave in the middle of the night last week. Kind of set everyone on edge. Wondering, will they return with others?”

  “Why the questions about the fort?”

  Rob shrugged, looked away and said nothing. The gestures did little to resolve the question running through Turk’s mind.

  Randy stepped back from his perch at the other end of the deck. “Got a few staggering down the street. We should get in before they hone in on us.”

  The Griffins secured the ladder, then followed Jim and Randy inside. Rob stood in front of the doorway. He aimed his rifle at Turk.

  “You know if you shoot that,” Turk said, “they’ll be on you like a fly on shit.”

  “Can I trust you, Turk?”

  Turk said nothing. It wasn’t as simple as replying yes or no. Rob was making his mind up about the stranger he’d found washed up on the beach. Did Turk pose a threat? Was he potentially useful enough to mitigate that threat?

  “What were you really doing in the harbor?” Rob asked. “All those boats out there are damaged. Hell, some might be harboring afflicted. I still haven’t seen one of them full-blown zombies in the water. Figure for all their ability to move, run and kill, they can’t figure out how to swim. Gotta be a chance one or two made it onto one of those boats and is now stuck out there.”

  How to respond? The truth? How much of it to tell the guy? These people could be an asset. Or they might be feeling Turk out to see if he was worth shaking down.

  “I was looking for a raft or some kind of small vessel. The kind of thing I could work my way down the shore on while looking for something larger that I can sail.”

  Rob seemed to consider this. “What would you do if you found one? I mean, once the gas is gone, it’s gone. Not gonna find any in the middle of the Atlantic. Right?”

  “Has to be the right one, man. A sailboat.”

  “And what would you do? Just sail around? What about maintenance and all that?”

  “Safer out there than on land.” Turk glanced over his shoulder and spotted the small pack of afflicted. They were gathered a block away. “Speaking of which, we should get inside.”

  Rob looked past Turk. “Not just yet. I’m trying to figure this out. So, you were in the harbor, swimming boat to boat. Right?”

  Turk nodded, said nothing.

  “And then you swam out to the fort?”

  He nodded again.

  “And then you got carried out in the current, and from there you made it back to shore?” He smoothed his stubble with his left hand. “How long were you in the fucking water, dude?”

  Turk shrugged. “Couple hours, give or take.”

  “Who are you?”

  If Rob planned on killing Turk, he’d have done it already. He assumed Rob was assessing how useful Turk could be to the group. Turk couldn’t be sure if it was as a member of it, or a tool for them to use.

  “I was a SEAL for twenty years. I had a bunker not far from town, but an electrical fire destroyed everything that made it useful. I came into Charleston looking for a way out. With my training, I could make it to the Caribbean if I found the right boat. Plenty of islands down there that were near deserted before this all went down. As fast as the virus hit, there’s a good chance those islands are still deserted. During my search, I went on base, the Coast Guard station. Got cornered and had to dive into the harbor. You know what happened from there.”

  Rob nodded and lowered his weapon.

  “Now tell me what you know about the fort,” Turk said.

  “In a minute.” Rob slid the door open. “Let’s get inside before those things notice us.”

  Chapter 13

  A hundred sets of eyes peered at Sean from within the shadows of the woods. At least it felt that way. The open road exposed him. At the same time, it allowed for faster travel. Faster did not equate to safer, though. Obstacles remained. Anyone—or anything—could see him. In the stillness, the ATV’s engine sounded like a 747 on takeoff. The wind that rustled tree leaves carried the rumble further. Sean was sure every afflicted within a ten mile radius could hear the ATV even when it was idling.

  The woods weren’t any better. The nature of the forest made travel slow unless traveling along a maintained trail or an old logging road. Stops and restarts were common, resulting in the need to back out of a tangle of trees and overgrowth of brush. There was no way to know if a group of afflicted had cut off the path back.

  After scanning ahead, Sean slowed the ATV in the middle of the road and studied the GPS. The medical facility was close. It did not appear to be a major hospital judging by the name. Was it worth stopping there? He scanned for a larger facility, but turned up nothing within three miles. Any further would lead him into the city. Not worth the risk.

  Even a basic doc-in-the-box clinic stocked the necessary supplies. Gauze, scissors, a scalpel, surgical sutures, and antibiotics. Everything Sean needed to help Barbara and prepare for any future injuries.

  So long as the place hadn’t been looted.

  A hospital contained that, and more. And in greater quantities. Supplies were stored everywhere.

  A downside existed, though.

  Hospitals invited death. They were a breeding ground for it. The kind of place that attracted a horde of afflicted.

  Worth the risk? Sean wasn’t so sure. And on top of that, time factored into the equation.

  He’d left Emma, Addison, Jenny and Barbara behind. They had found an abandoned campsite in the woods with a cinder block shelter that locked from the inside.

  The decision pained Sean. No one could protect Emma as well as him. But by concerning himself with her safety, he risked being unable to complete the task.

  Addison argued up a storm in an effort to come along with Sean. He had almost considered it after the courage she’d displayed at the house. But it was how she handled herself when they had been surrounded by attackers that he asked her to stay with Jenny to protect Emma and Barbara.

  In the ideal scenario, Sean would have located supplies
within a mile of the camp. Didn’t work out that way. The closest he found was the clinic, and that was over two miles away.

  Sean took one last glance at the screen. He wondered what lay beyond edges of the LCD screen. What if a larger facility existed in a more remote location? The chances of that were unlikely. Not in the Research Triangle area.

  They could travel east, but things bunched up in that direction. Sean dreaded the thought of leading his group any closer to Raleigh. He pictured streets littered with bands of armed survivors and hordes of ravenous afflicted. Both groups posed a threat to Sean and the women.

  Barbara’s condition had to be taken into consideration, too. Her injury was serious, and she was fading fast. In time she would turn unresponsive. She would become a liability. At least until she expired. Every minute that passed brought her closer to that outcome.

  Sean had to act now, and had to do so at the clinic.

  A half-mile away from his destination, Sean ventured into the woods and wove through the trees until the vegetation hid him from the road. A thick bush offered a decent spot to hide the vehicle. He cut the engine and attuned himself to the environment. The humming in his ears faded from a deep rumble to a high-pitched squeal.

  He had to travel due north to reach the clinic. He took several steps in that direction and stopped.

  The GPS.

  The device was their lifeblood. Sure, he could reach the campsite without it. Probably Charleston, too. But he needed it to pinpoint the entrance to Turk’s compound.

  Sean removed the GPS from its mount and tried to shove it in his pocket. It was too thick to fit. Even if it did, the weight of the device might yank his pants off his hips.

  He cursed under his breath and carried the GPS in his left hand, while holding the M4 with his right. If it came down to it, he would ditch the device in favor of the firearm.

  The hum in his ears faded. The sounds of his feet crushing dead leaves penetrated the silent woods. He heard no birds. No insects. No squirrels yelling out to the others about an approaching threat.

  He felt as though he stood in a vacuum.

  Sean grew aware of the sheen of sweat that had formed on his brow. The skin on his arms prickled. His gut tightened. He tried to shake the feeling that something bad lurked ahead.

  He moved twenty feet at a time, taking cover behind thick oaks and elms, using their massive trunks to hide him while he scanned ahead, to the side, and behind. He darted to the right. Then left. Backtracked a few times.

  What’s the worst that can happen?

  Death. But his fears lay elsewhere. His death would lead to Barbara’s. Emma would be on her own with only Addison and Jenny to look after her. The women had done a solid job at the house in Virginia. They followed Sean’s orders. But they weren’t experienced enough, or prepared for the difficult road they faced.

  What would become of them if left to their own devices?

  The same as most other people, Sean guessed.

  At least Jenny had survivalist training from her step-father. Addison had a toughness about her. She was the kind of person who refused to allow something as simple as the apocalypse to ruin her life, even if it already had.

  Sean regretted the decision to travel with the ATV. It bought him some time, but if something happened, the women would have to continue on foot. Barring them miraculously finding the ATV in the woods. In his gut, he knew where they would go. Addison would insist they travel to her grandparents, over a hundred miles away.

  How long would that take them?

  A week, at least.

  And that was assuming they could navigate without the GPS. Sean considered the route the women would take. A west-south-west trajectory would carry them past I-74 and get them to I-85. Addison had said the farm was west of Charlotte, so they would have to cross the Interstate, open and exposed on the abandoned blacktop. The major arteries scared him most. Plenty of survivors would attempt to travel on them as they offered the most direct route anywhere. And plenty of people with less than honorable intentions would wait by them knowing the draw the thoroughfares held.

  The debate raged on in Sean’s head. A pointless exercise that passed the time and kept him distracted from the dangers surrounding him.

  Leaving the ATV would have been a disastrous mistake had someone been following them. They would have tracked the noise to the camp. It would have only been a matter of time until they located the women. By Sean taking the vehicle another mile or so away, anyone trailing would have followed the sound. The woodland location would also give Sean the benefit of surprise upon returning.

  Focus ahead.

  He cleared his mind of thoughts about the ATV, Addison and Jenny, dying Barbara, and Emma. She was the toughest to forget. But second by second, step by step, he managed to force all concerns away, and focused solely on the mission.

  A shriek cut through the silence like a guillotine through a neck. Hundreds of crows tore through the canopy. The world around him shuddered. The treetops rattled. Fresh leaves floated in the wind.

  Sean took cover. He pressed his back to the bark and worked around the trunk. He saw nothing. But the forest made it difficult to see more than fifty feet in any direction.

  He glanced at the GPS. Less than a hundred yards stood between him and the road.

  He had to push forward.

  The commotion continued as Sean covered the remaining distance without stopping, without looking back, without wondering about the source of the horrific scream.

  At the edge of the woods he stopped to take in his new surroundings. On the other side of the road the world opened up. To his left stood the remains of a neighborhood. To the right the scepter of a shopping center. According to his GPS, the clinic was on the other side of the strip mall.

  Sean skirted the tree line until it ended at an intersection.

  Several cars were piled up on the other side of the road. He saw bodies smashed up against steering wheels. Blood coated and cracked windshields. Discolored limbs on the roadway.

  He dreaded stepping into the open, but the cars offered a place for cover.

  For anyone.

  And for that reason he waited before making his approach. Sean strained his eyes and watched for signs of movement. Five minutes passed and he didn’t see any, so he stepped out from the woods and made his way through the intersection.

  The burned-out traffic lights stood as a reminder that civilization no longer existed. He stared at the hollow lights, waiting for one to come to life. Perhaps deep down he hoped one would. That the world would go back to the way it was before he entered that hellhole in Nigeria where he first encountered the afflicted.

  On the other side of the stoplights, Sean halted next to a blue minivan. He peered through the driver’s side window. A woman slumped in her seat, her short hair flat and matted. Dried blood coated her face. But it wasn’t a gash or cut that the blood originated from. It hadn’t been caused by an accident or an afflicted.

  Someone had shot the woman at close range.

  As well as the two kids in the backseat.

  Sean decided against lingering in the street. There was little to gain by doing so. Who knew what waited in one of the cars, or stuck around in one of the nearby buildings watching and waiting.

  He jogged across the street, past the sidewalk, and through the parking lot. The sounds of his soles hitting the pavement echoed like gunfire.

  Sean took cover against the side of a convenience store and stole a glance at the GPS. To reach the clinic, he had to travel across the parking lot and slip behind the shopping center. There appeared to be an alley that ran behind the strip mall, but he could not tell if it accessed the main road.

  The storefronts provided cover or delivered a death sentence. From where Sean stood, he saw that several of the windows had been smashed out, allowing anyone to take up refuge. He decided the best option was to cross in the open where he could see any and all aggressors coming his way.

  Another shriek
tore through the silence.

  Sean spun around to face the sound. It originated deep within the woods, toward where he had left the ATV.

  And beyond that, where he’d left his daughter.

  “Gotta move,” he muttered under a deep exhalation.

  The final fifty feet between Sean and the corner of the shopping center felt as though it took an eternity to walk across. A high wooden fence covered in graffiti separated the far side of the building from a row of run down townhouses.

  He scanned the area, rifle following his gaze, ready to drop the GPS and fire on the first target.

  Since the outbreak, Sean had not ventured into a non-rural setting. He wasn’t sure what to expect. From what he recalled, there would be no more sick roaming around by this point in the outbreak. Those who contracted the virus and didn’t morph into afflicted should be dead. That left survivors and the afflicted.

  As far as Sean was concerned, little difference existed between either group.

  He butted up against the building as he traveled down the narrow side road. He stopped at the back corner of the building.

  Sean kept his head on a swivel, rotating it side to side, scanning the area while listening for sounds that indicated another’s presence. Something scurried across the asphalt out of his field of view. It sounded too light to be anything menacing. A rat or a squirrel, he figured.

  Sean eased around the corner of the building and scanned the back alley. It stretched a couple hundred yards.

  Empty.

  He turned his attention to the clinic, which stood fifty feet away.

  “It’s too easy,” he muttered.

  He hurried across the alley and stopped in front of the back door. His sweaty palm failed to grasp the knob at first. He tightened his grip and turned it.

  Unlocked.

  The door glided open. Sean waited outside, staring into the darkness in an attempt to make out shapes.