Infected (Book 1): The Fall

by Caleb Cleek

  Matt’s eyebrows raised. “You think you’ll have it done within eight hours?”

  “Assuming we don’t run into any snags. But then, I can’t remember ever drilling a well without any snags,” he responded with a grin. “There are a lot of potential snags on this one. We don’t know where the underground utilities are and there’s no one to ask. Hitting the gas main would put us up there talking with Jesus in a hurry. We don’t even have a permit. The county could shut us down at any minute,” he said as his grin grew even wider and turned to a laugh. “And then there are the wild folks out there. The more I think about it, we’re going to be lucky if we ever get it done.”

  “You worry about the underground utilities and gas mains. We’ll take care of the rest,” I said before I was cut off by a rhythmic beeping as the backhoe cautiously crawled off the flatbed semi trailer. The operator effortlessly dug a shallow trench away from the back of the drilling rig. He appeared satisfied with the trench and began excavating a pit at the end of it.

  While the pit was being unearthed, Wim and the other two workers were erecting the boom on the drilling rig. About the time the backhoe shut down, the rattle of its diesel engine was replaced by screeches and clanks as a section of pipe was hoisted from the back of the second truck. Wim stood at the back right corner of the rig and manipulated a series of levers to control the hoist on the boom while carefully eyeing the pipe as it was pulled aloft to the top of the boom. Once the pipe was vertical, it was moved directly below a ram with a round threaded shaft at the bottom. The shaft began to spin slowly and lowered until it entered the end of the pipe. The threads in the pipe engaged with the threads on the shaft. The entire length of pipe began to spin slowly around. One of the workers picked up a short metal fitting with three fins coming off the sides and threaded the drill bit onto the bottom of the pipe. The entire contraption was lowered to the metal platform which had a hole slightly bigger than the diameter of the bit. When the tip of the bit was a foot above the hole in the platform, it stopped descending. Wim left his post and carefully examined the bit and pipe. Satisfied with what he saw, he returned to the control panel.

  “Let’s find some water,” Wim yelled as he yanked on a lever, which started the shaft spinning. With a pull on a second lever, the spinning shaft plunged into the soft earth.

  Water, which was being pumped to the top of the boom, through the pipe, and into the bottom of the hole, bubbled out the top of the hole, carrying the dirt and debris the bit had loosened from the bottom of the bore hole. The water trickled through the trench the backhoe had dug and into the pit.

  Matt, Jeb, Frank and I spread out around the drilling equipment. We started on separate sides of the rig about seventy five yards out and walked around it in a clockwise direction. The view was constantly changing, which made the monotonous job a little more interesting. After three trips around the drilling sight, I heard two semi trucks approaching the school. When the trucks got closer, the motors roared as the drivers engaged the engine brakes. The high compression engines overcame the inertia behind them and slowed the trucks without the brakes being applied. Both trucks stopped along the baseball field, which was about fifty yards from the drilling rig.

  The drivers exited their respective cabs and climbed onto their trailers, unfastening the chains that secured the huge yellow machines. Once the first man had loosed the tethers, he climbed around the machine, checking fluids and giving it a quick inspection. He entered the cab and turned the engine over. The huge caterpillar motor sputtered and grumbled to life. The second driver performed a similar ritual with his machine. Both machines guardedly inched their way off the trailers and onto the baseball field.

  Resisting the urge to watch the machinery in action, I continued looking outward for possible threats. Walking along the edge of Sixth Street, I noticed movement in several windows. The curtains had been parted slightly in two houses. When I came back to that side of the perimeter a few minutes later, I realized that several faces were now smashed up against the windows. A big plate window in one house had two faces pasted to the glass. The side of both faces slid back and forth against the cool clear surface as the mindless bodies they were attached to paced the length of the glass. They were drawn to the sound of the construction like bees to nectar in a flower.

  With each successive pass around the perimeter, the two infected behind the plate window were becoming more and more agitated. Three other houses along the perimeter also had infected peering through windows. Transformed families were trapped within the confines of their own homes. Their attempts to exit were thwarted by confounding door knobs. The simple device they had manipulated their whole lives was now beyond the comprehension of their witless, infected brains.

  Matt and I had already seen the end result at Marty’s house. Eventually, they would become agitated enough to break the glass. I called everybody together and we formed a new plan. Rather than spreading ourselves thin and walking a perimeter, which could lead to one person engaging multiple infected by himself, we retreated closer to the drilling rig and climbed atop the accompanying truck. We had a three hundred sixty degree view and we could all bring our weapons to bear on the same spot if we were attacked.

  I looked to the baseball field. The first earth mover had bogged down as the blade cut deeply into the sod covered earth. The second machine approached from the rear and began to push the first. With the combined power, the hopper on the first quickly filled. The drivers were secure in their enclosed cabs and didn’t need immediate protection.

  The drillers, however, were completely exposed. We would react to any attacks on the earth movers, but the focus of our attention was on the drilling rig and its workers.

  One of the infected in the closest house began to bang its head against the window as it became more and more irate. Then the inevitable occurred; the head struck the window a final time and the clear barrier cracked. Shards tumbled from the frame to the ground, leaving a gaping hole. Within seconds, the rest of the glass was knocked free. The two infected clambered through the empty casement. With both feet firmly planted on the ground, the first tilted and slowly turned its head, visually taking in the street to either side. It lifted its nose three inches in the air, its head jerking up and down as if the act would force more molecules past its heightened olfactory nerves. The second followed suit and uttered a howl that was audible over the sound of the earth movers and drilling rig.

  The howl sent the infected in the other houses into overload. Immediately, a second window was broken. The three brutes within were freed from their prison. Shortly after, the third window was broken and five more infected liberated themselves from their confinement. Three of them were children. Finally, those in the last house escaped as well.

  The thirteen came together, forming a pack. They didn’t advance. Jeb fired several rounds. An infected nearly toppled, but was able to right itself and continued to stare at us, unabated. They were just a little too far to be able to reliably connect with a head shot. Jeb ceased his fire, saving his ammo until they were closer. The pack of infected began a series of wailing howls and whimpers. Replies arose from all around as unseen voices joined the ruckus.

  The clamor reached a crescendo that was so loud, Wim shut down the drilling rig and climbed the boom to look around. With the rig shut down, I could hear glass shatter as more and more infected released themselves from the confines of formerly secure homes.

  Wim called to me, “Are you sure you can handle this?”

  As if waiting for their cue, three infected emerged from around the corner of a classroom behind us. At full speed, they hastily cut through the buffer zone between us and the buildings. Frank and Matt easily cut them down at over fifty yards from the drilling rig.

  “I’d say you’re in good hands,” I yelled back as the third and final infected in the group slammed into the ground.

  The chorus continued to grow steadily, but there were no more attempts to test our perimeter. More and more i
nfected appeared across the street and held their distance just out of range, as if they were waiting for an unseen signal to attack. At least fifty paced along the perimeter of the road, keeping at the edge of rifle range.

  An hour turned into two, which turned into three. The burning sun continued to slowly slide toward the horizon. There were still a couple of hours before sunset, but it was not far off.

  The calls were relentless. They never diminished in intensity and the number seemed to be growing. The idea of trying to work through the night was becoming more and more suicidal by the minute.

  I jumped off the back of the pipe truck and expeditiously crossed the twenty feet to the drilling rig and approached Wim.

  “I changed my mind,” I said, swallowing my pride. “There’s no way Frank and Jeb are going to be able to keep them at bay once the sun goes down. Let’s plan on clearing out at least an hour before the sun sets.”

  “I reached that conclusion an hour ago,” Wim shouted above the noise of the rig. “We’re in the water table right now. We still need to go deeper to get the best flow rate from the well, but we’ll have to finish it up tomorrow.” He looked at the three men helping him and then looked to the perimeter. “I’m going to shut it down and get everything cleaned up so we can get out of here before the sun hits the hills.”

  As one of the earth movers began a pass in my direction, I waved my arms furiously in a futile attempt to get the driver’s attention. He was oblivious to my efforts. I tried again on his next pass with the same results. On the third pass, he noticed my frantic arm movements atop the truck. He finished his pass and guided the monstrous machine to a stop beside the drilling rig, shut the engine down, and walked to the side of the pipe truck upon which I was standing.

  “We’re going to clear out in an hour. I don’t think we’re going to be able to hold this position once it’s dark,” I explained as the drilling rig shut down.

  He looked around in alarm at hearing the surrounding upheaval for the first time. “What’s that noise?” he asked.

  “That’s the reason we can’t stay here,” I answered.

  The drilling rig was between the cab and the infected so he couldn’t see what was on the other side. He jumped down from the cab and moved around the rear of the drilling rig. Noticing the horde of nearly seventy infected for the first time, he stammered, “Where did they come from?”

  “They were drawn to the noise,” I guessed.

  The second earth mover parked beside the first and shut down.

  As suddenly as the howling had started, it ceased. Completely. After listening to the howling for several hours, the eerie silence drove deep into my bones and sent a shiver coursing through my body, covering my arms with goose bumps, even though the temperature was still close to eighty degrees. The infected quit pacing back and forth. Standing completely still, their unwavering attention was focused on the ten faces staring back at them.

  “I don’t like this,” Matt said, obviously as shaken as I was. “We need to get out of here while we still can.” To punctuate his concern, an audible snap pervaded my hearing as he clicked the safety selector on his rifle up to the fire position. Two more snaps broke the stillness as Jeb and Frank followed Matt’s lead.

  The driver of the first earth mover climbed atop the pipe truck to gain a better vantage over the situation. He pulled himself erect and moved to my side. He had a 1911 pistol strapped to his leg in a thigh holster. The way he wore it gave the impression that he knew how to use it. Impressions aren’t worth much. I hoped this one was correct.

  Two shrill screams obliterated the silence and sent at least half of the seventy or so infected across the street charging through the neutral zone that divided our group and theirs.

  Hiccups in their unnaturally fast gait caused their heads to bob and jink in an unpredictable manner as they streaked across the field. Head shots were virtually impossible.

  Everybody held their fire. It would only be seconds before the horde had closed enough distanced to increase the surety of a hit and justify expending the bullets. With thirty-five to forty infected approaching, every shot counted. The time needed to reload could easily mean the difference between life and death. We needed to wipe out most of the onslaught in our first magazine.

  I briefly looked over to check the drillers. They were frantically scampering up the boom of the drilling rig like a troop of chimpanzees. They would be safe enough in the short term. I glanced behind to make sure we weren’t being flanked. The back side was clear.

  I turned my attention back to the approaching horde and clicked the safety to the fire position. I focused on taking deep breaths, forcing myself to relax as adrenaline was dumped into my system, further testing whether there is a limit to how much a body can produce in a day.

  As the horde passed through the hundred yard line my mind had imagined across the field, I took a knee to create a steadier shooting platform. At seventy yards, I began taking the slack out of the trigger as I struggled to keep the bobbing head of the lead infected in my sight picture.

  A gun boomed to my right and the bobbing head in my sights exploded, spraying the face behind with goop. I quickly moved my aim to the left and squeezed the trigger. The bullet flew true, snapping a head backwards. The twenty something year old girl fell to the ground. I moved to the next target. My focus was on the front sight as I squeezed the trigger again. The head wagged to the side as the gun went off and the bullet missed. The errant bullet hit the head of another infected behind the intended target.

  Bodies were dropping throughout the group. By the time they reached my imagined fifty yard mark, ten to fifteen had fallen before our hail of bullets. As they got closer, more of my bullets struck their intended marks. I was still missing nearly half of my shots. At thirty yards I was hitting three quarters. By fifteen yards all but ten had been eradicated as they crossed the grassy area.

  My bolt locked back after expending the last round in the magazine. There was no time to reload. I released my grip on the rifle and pulled my pistol from the holster. The rifle hung suspended at my chest. Shooting moving targets with the pistol was much less effective than the rifle had been. Three infected reached the trailer in front of me. I shot the first two before my pistol ran out of bullets. The last one to reach the truck leaped onto the lip of the flat bed. He landed in a crouch. I was standing on the stack of pipes, which was three feet higher than him. I reached out with my foot and kicked him in the face as hard as I could. He toppled from the back of the truck and landed sprawled out on the ground. In less than a second he was back on his feet. I had already dropped my pistol and was reaching for a rifle magazine when the driver of the earth mover fired his .45. The finishing bullet drove the last infected back to the ground where he remained, unmoving.

  Before I had time to release the breath I was holding, Wim yelled, “Look out behind you!”

  I turned and was devastated to see another forty charging. The horde was nearly at base of the trailer.

  Chapter 35

  I was placing the new magazine in the rifle when I turned around. As the magazine clicked into place, I simultaneously hit the bolt release. Before I could bring the rifle up, an infected had scaled the back side of the trailer. Jeb turned around as the creature lunged at him. He instinctively sidestepped, trying to evade the fiend. It was enough that its teeth missed his neck as they clacked shut on air. It wasn’t enough to dodge its grasping arms. The two tumbled over the back side of the trailer, grasping at each other in midair as gravity took effect and dragged them toward the awaiting ground.

  The fall lasted less than half a second. In that brief time, Jeb was able to wrap both hands around the beast’s emaciated neck. He refused to release his steely grasp despite the battering he received from the lanky, flailing arms.

  And then gravity completed its task. The creature landed on its back as Jeb rode it to the ground. The body hit, and the head followed. The grass was sprinkled every morning. The moist dirt beneat
h the grass cushioned the landing. The beast’s head bounced after striking the damp earth. It wasn’t enough to knock the monster unconscious. The impact was enough, however, to knock the wind out of Jeb; I saw it on his face. He retained his grip around the scrawny neck, which was the only thing that kept the searching teeth from sinking into his unprotected flesh. The beating he was taking from the relentless arms and legs was moments from breaking his hold on the monster.

  Frank bounded off the trailer and landed at Jeb’s side. I turned back to the encroaching horde. Jeb was in Frank’s hands now. Matt, the tractor driver, and I were left alone to defend the trailer, which was about to be overrun.

  I didn’t take time to align my sights on anything. The horde of stinking flesh was so close I didn’t have to aim. I pulled the trigger over and over. Nearly every shot painted the grass behind with a conglomeration of bone, blood and brains. The mass of bodies parted as those on the edges washed around the ends of the trailer like water flowing around a boulder in a burbling stream. The center of the mob climbed the trailer in a frontal attack. The calm air was fractured with unrelenting gunfire from the trailer as well as the sound of Frank’s rifle hammering away behind. At least Frank was still alive. I didn’t have time to look back and see if Jeb had survived.

  The bodies were so close, I was placing the barrel of my rifle firmly to flesh before I pulled the trigger on most shots. I couldn’t miss. I still couldn’t kill them fast enough. Our only salvation was the elevated advantage we held. The infected’s forward momentum slowed when they were forced to ascend the trailer. I knew that advantage wasn’t going to help Frank or Jeb. The bodies going around the trailer weren’t slowed like the ones that had to climb it. And Frank and Jeb were being attacked from both the right and the left. All I could do was utter a silent prayer for them as I fought my own hopeless battle.