The Infected (Book 5): Battleground

by Zuko, Joseph

  The scene played again.

  This time he licked the length of her cheek.

  Again, she’s hit with a different scenario.

  Ryder jammed dirty fingers into her mouth.

  Sara’s stomach twisted. Bile threatened.

  Stop torturing yourself, idiot! Sara dropped the mag she was working on and punched her thigh. The strike was hard enough to leave a bruise, but didn’t call attention to herself.

  She forced synapses to change direction. Now the dream played the way she wanted.

  Sara drove the barrel of her Beretta into Ryder’s mouth and yanked the trigger. Brains explode in a beautiful mosaic behind the asshole.

  The next bastard that threatens me, I won’t even hesitate. Sara pushed the full mag into the rifle. The metal clicked as the two became one.

  My favorite fucking sound.

  Chapter 17

  “Get us out of here!” Screamed Paul as he gawked at the approaching horde.

  “I’m trying.” Cooper shifted into reverse and tapped the gas. “We’re too heavy.”

  “Try harder. They are almost on top of us!” Paul readied his rifle.

  “Maybe if we disconnect the trailer…” Cooper panicked as he put the semi into first.

  “We don’t have time for that. They’ll be here in seconds.” Paul popped a front runner in the skull with a well-placed shot.

  “Nothing I try seems to work. If you have any ideas, I’m all ears, but don’t you dare say pray!” Cooper slammed the shifter into reverse.

  Brother Paul had nothing. He clenched his jaw so tightly Paul was sure he was going to crack a filling. He blinked away the blinding flop sweat pouring from his forehead.

  Think darn it. Think! His mind was blank. Every possible option would take too long or didn’t have a chance in Hell of working. He told himself the shaking gun in his hands was the vibration of the thundering horde, not the overwhelming fear growing at his core.

  Ideas spun at a fevered pace.

  Climb onto the top of the trailer and wait it out?

  If I can climb it, they can too.

  Radio someone for help?

  No time. I don’t have enough ammo to keep them from getting into this window.

  Get out and run for the church.

  They would catch us before we were safe.

  Plus, the moment I shut the door they would bust it open and tear us to shreds.

  Paul was desperate. The horde was close enough for him to smell the tainted blood on their infected bodies.

  Order Cooper to shoot me?

  Don’t be ridiculous. He won’t do it.

  Paul’s anxiety was less focused on being ripped apart. The idea was too big. No way to properly process the concept or compare it to any previous life experience.

  No, the thoughts he dreaded most circled around the idea of being judged by the Almighty.

  Had he lived a full life?

  Was there more he should have done?

  Was he even close to Christ like?

  Paul reasoned, he would discover the truth soon enough. He popped two more front runners. His time seemed to be at its end.

  Space was at a premium in the front row of the bus, so Dr. Bryant shifted her backpack to the floor. Michael was at her side. He kept his shoulders pinned to the seat. He continued to gaze out the windshield, frozen like a statue. His features, grim. Lindsey wanted to help the Pastor through this tough time, but she was too damned exhausted. Thirty hours and counting since she last rested.

  Maybe when we are rolling I can take a power nap. Her clothes were sticky, wet and clung to her body. Falling asleep would be a challenge in this disgusting getup. The pouring rain washed most of Miranda from her shirt, but a giant red stain remained. Lindsey wished there were time enough to get a fresh outfit, but that would have to wait.

  One, she hadn’t packed extra clothes and two, she wasn’t comfortable stripping on a bus full of children. She dreaded the minute the shirt dried.

  It is going to reek of decay. She reset her thoughts.

  I need to count my blessings.

  None of the children were harmed and for the moment everyone was safe.

  Outside on the street was a different story. A horde of infected marched with purpose. They appeared to be twenty yards away from the Hummer. Lindsey clung to her rifle.

  She craned her neck to see how Scott was doing with the second bus load. It was going to be close.

  Lisa smacked her gum. Fingers flexed around the steering wheel of the Hummer. Her heart pounded so loudly she could hear it slam against her chest. The anxiety among her group was high. She swore she could taste the fear surrounding her. At the back of her tongue was a sour, acid taste.

  Like licking a nasty old battery.

  The mass of wobbling bodies was ten yards away. Stained teeth snapped. Exposed bones drug against the concrete. Lisa had faced so many of these creeps in the last twenty four hours, she was able to pick out the audible clues of the infected. A crowd of them made a distinct noise. When a regular human walked or ran they did it to a beat. There was a pattern. Slow or fast the pattern was easily recognizable. The infected had no such rhythm. The disease seemed to disrupt their motor skills and many of them had sustained massive injuries to their legs. This added to the chaotic racket.

  Lisa growled. “Open fire.”

  The entire Hummer shook as Alayna unleashed the fifty-caliber. She aimed at the skulls and methodically worked left to right. The machine gun carved extensive holes in the enemies’ front line. Even with the powerful weapon they were moments away from being overrun.

  Mason and Brady opened fire from their windows.

  All three guns firing at once was like having someone drive a rusty nail into your ear. After this ride, Lisa was going to do her best to find suitable ear protection.

  Mason sat directly behind her. “Take this, you… ugly mugs!” He yelled to them between shots.

  Brady, hollered at the dead as well. “You want some, you dumb, dirty, dirtbags!”

  Lisa smirked.

  Hurling clever insults is not their forte.

  Lisa glanced around the vehicle. Her group may have had the weapons and the Hummer, but none of them were Marines. They weren’t even weekend warriors.

  They sang in the church choir. Helped at Sunday school. Mason worked part time at the movie theater and went to school at Clark Community College. Brady was home for spring break. In college he was working on a degree in Communications. Alayna was the assistant manager of a Cold Stone Creamery.

  And Lisa, well, she was in limbo. She hated her career path. Human Development and Family Studies sounded great at eighteen, but she couldn’t stand listening to people complain about their lives. It drove her nuts. The last few months, Lisa found herself fantasizing about exciting careers. Jobs involving risk. The daydreams ranged anywhere from driving the Goodyear blimp to raising tigers, skydiving instructor or stunt woman. Anything except sitting at a desk, filing paperwork, and counting seconds as her life ticked by.

  Lisa popped a fresh stick of gum into her mouth. The mint had a sharp bite to it. The sting helped her concentrate.

  Life certainly is more exciting with a deadly infection turning everyone into freaks.

  It was still early in the day and Lisa had already led her team onto a military base, stole a Hummer, raced across town, arrived in the nick of time to save her beloved church members and was about to lead a caravan out of a war zone. What else would she accomplish before sundown? Provided they survived this attack.

  Mason and Brady changed magazines. The pause in gunfire gave the creeps a chance to advance.

  Lisa would need to hit the road soon. If too many infected crowded the Hummer it might keep them from rolling forward. The last thing she wanted was to be a liability or to force the others to save her group. On top of everything, they hadn’t packed food or water.

  How long could the four of us survive in this vehicle?

  The answer scared the
crap out of her. She wasn’t claustrophobic, but there were limits to what she could take. Maybe the others would find a way to save her and her crew.

  Maybe? She hated the word. Had since childhood.

  Maybe. She thought to herself, generally meant no.

  Lisa positioned her foot above the gas pedal.

  Thirty more seconds, and we roll.

  Lisa glanced at her mirror. A steady stream of their people poured from the church. Out of habit, she said a silent prayer. She wasn’t sure why. God seemed to be on permanent vacation.

  Scott raced from the side of the building. He was the last person out the door. The pouring rain drenched him within three steps. Soaked to the bone. Glasses fogged. He swiped his index finger across the lenses and cleared enough steam to give him a full view of the street.

  The monsters are so close.

  Since the pandemic began, he had watched every gut wrenching video he could find about the infection. He figured, more information meant a better chance of survival. It was a sick obsession. He watched compulsively. In a few of the clips whole families were torn apart. In one of the more challenging videos a woman was attacked by two large infected men. At the tail end of the recording her skin ripped away from her chest and arm. The repulsive footage reminded Scott of peeling cooked skin off a chicken breast.

  Why did I watch it twice? He questioned his sanity.

  With all the research, everything he had observed, none of it really prepared him. The approaching horde was more than he could comprehend.

  Woman, guts dragging along the ground.

  Scott’s knees turned to Jello. He stumbled, caught the side of the bus and steadied himself.

  Child, no features on face.

  He tried not to stare.

  Man, crispy burnt flesh.

  Scott ran faster.

  Elderly woman, dangling skeleton arms.

  Scott considered removing his glasses, but was blind without them.

  Teen boy, torn eye socket, jagged stump on right arm.

  He rounded the front of the vehicle and did a head count.

  Ten people ahead of me.

  Scott scanned the area behind the bus. Motion grabbed his attention. A dozen infected stumbled from a gravel alley. They were on a collision course with him and the remaining five scrambling humans.

  Scott aimed his pistol. Four rapid shots. Each a miss.

  Action movies had convinced Scott that headshots were easy-peasy.

  Reality was far crueler.

  Thirteen bullets left. The group of attackers moved with incredible speed. Faster than expected. He hyperventilated. Sharp, short breaths withheld oxygen from his lungs.

  I can’t do this! Not now! He stepped backwards for the door. His heels tripped the person behind him. Scott glanced at a teenager on the ground, the boy clutched his bloody knee.

  Darn it!

  Scott stuttered, “G-g-get up, Owen.”

  He fired another shot and winged a nasty bastard with blistered skin. It appeared to have recently walked through a burning building. Its clothes were singed. Black blisters populated its gray skin.

  He fought for control, but knew what was coming next. Scott’s vision shrunk into a tunnel, as if he were playing pirates with a cardboard tube and using it as a telescope. Normally, losing his sight would be terrifying, but in this case, it helped him focus. The monsters were within a yard. Their filthy fingers reached for his pistol.

  I must take out the leader. He closed one eye, sighted in its horrid face and squeezed.

  Bang!

  He delivered a knockout blow. Brains flew from the back of its skull.

  Scott’s first kill.

  No time to celebrate. The others were crossing the sidewalk. Owen got his feet under him and jumped onto the bus. Scott scampered backwards. He put six rounds into the chest of a beefy infected woman. The shots did nothing to slow her progress.

  Scott made the first step of the bus and tugged at the hinged door.

  An infected woman thrust its thick arm through the sliding entryway and grabbed Owen by the leg.

  It yanked his skinny limb from the inside of the bus. Scott tried to close the door, but his timing was off, and he smashed it into Owen’s thigh.

  Owen shrieked. His wiry arms stretched above his head as he clung to the railing. He desperately kicked his trapped limb.

  Scott locked eyes with the terrified young man, grabbed him by the shirt and gave it a hard yank, but it was too late.

  The infected woman fell onto the flailing boy and viciously took a bite.

  Owen howled.

  “Help me!” Scott screamed to the driver.

  The driver gripped the teen by the wrists. Scott opened the door and emptied his gun in the infected woman’s face. The driver dragged Owen into the aisle before any of the other monsters got a hold of him. Scott closed and locked the door.

  The infected slammed against the side of the bus. Wet bloody hands clambered at the windows.

  Scott took the last few steps onto the rig, “I’ve got him. Radio the others we’re loaded.” Scott took off his belt and tied it around the boy’s thigh and inspected the wound. A three-inch gash exposed the red meat in Owen’s calf. Already, black lines extended in every direction from the gaping hole. Last night Scott had read multiple articles about this.

  It’s already spreading! A lump grew at the base of Scott’s throat.

  The driver plucked the CB from the dash. “That’s everyone, we are ready to roll.” He dropped the receiver on its cradle and put the rig into gear.

  “You’re okay.” Scott lied. Now, he really panicked. He was sure his poor heart was about to explode. There was no saving Owen and he knew it. The black lines spread farther along Owen’s leg. Scott had seconds to make a horrible decision. If he didn’t, he risked losing the entire bus to this disease.

  A swarm of infected bodies crashed onto the muddy field. More of them raced across the property like a tumbling wave but far more violent and destructive.

  Half the populace of Vancouver must have turned. Paul’s world went sideways.

  The big wheels spun on the semi.

  “You’re only digging them in deeper!” Paul fumed.

  Cooper let off the gas. Defeated, he released the steering wheel. “There’s nothing I can do!”

  Paul meticulously picked off any infected jerks heading for his window, but there were too many.

  I am only prolonging the inevitable.

  The last shell in his magazine ejected from the rifle. His fingers flew as he exchanged the empty mag.

  Why keep fighting?

  The mass of twisted flesh outside his window seethed. They appeared to be starving. Famished. Driven. Fully consumed by their desire to feed.

  There’s no stopping them.

  I’ve failed.

  An avalanche of bodies crashed into the rig.

  Paul released the bolt on his rifle the instant a creature clung to his door. Two clean shots removed its face. Right behind it was another set of snapping teeth. Paul fired and was splattered with black blood.

  More of the infected pummeled the semi and trailer. Paul killed the next infected at his window.

  A swell of emotion took Paul by surprise.

  Does everyone have this sensation when faced with their end? He was filled with regret. Paul had wrestled with this notion in the past, but not at this level. Sorrow, like he had never experienced before.

  I should have gotten married and had children. He loved his church and the community he had built around him, but in this final moment, his last breath on Earth, the love of a family seemed more appealing than life itself.

  A devastated, convulsing beast climbed the rig. Its lacerated fingers curled around the window frame. Paul was about to let the monster do its deed and give in to the infection. He couldn’t stand to wallow any further in the misery of his mistakes. The beast leaned into the cab.

  Outside, a miracle occurred.

  The force gener
ated by hundreds of thrashing bodies pushed the truck from its muddy ruts.

  Cooper sensed the shift and punched the gas. The spinning tires sucked a handful of infected under the rig. Bones crunched. The tires stopped spinning and gained traction.

  Paul clobbered the infected at his window with a short burst of lead. Before the two of them knew it, they were riding the wave of monsters off the field. As they pulled onto the street, both Cooper and Paul let out a triumphant cheer.

  A rush of faith filled the trembling men.

  “That was too close.” Cooper reached for the rig’s horn and gave it a mighty tug.

  Paul turned to his driver and said, “Oh, no.”

  Cooper released the horn after they spotted the giant horde as it encircled the Hummer. Their diseased bodies choked the street and blocked their escape. With the other horde nipping at their heels, they couldn’t afford to come to a complete stop. If Lisa didn’t punch through and blaze a path right away, they would all be sitting ducks. Very tasty ones.

  Chapter 18

  Leon shifted to a lower gear as the bus entered an intersection. The rain slowed to a mild sprinkle and patches of sun poked through distant clouds. A rainbow hung perfectly in the sky. The vibrant colors popped against the gray background. The end of its arch fell on what Leon guessed was their destination.

  “You think there’s gold where we’re heading?” He jested.

  No one laughed.

  The terrain outside had recently shifted from farmland with a few sporadic houses to homesteads sitting on one-acre plots. They had finally arrived at the outskirts of Battle Ground. The trip took longer than expected. Wrecked vehicles jammed intersections, which forced them to loop around the city and take the backway to Desiree’s home. If they were in a smaller vehicle, possibly they would have squeezed through a few spots. Tradeoff was the safety the big rig provided.

  Leon continued, “Most of the houses are fitted with barricades. That’s good.” He chatted like a nervous fellow on a blind date. “The windows and doors are all blocked up. That means healthy, normal people hiding out until all this blows over. Probably why I’ve only spotted a few pockets of… what did you guys call them?” The term hit him. “Z-bags, that’s it. I’ve only seen a handful of z-bags roaming the countryside. That rainbow must be a good sign.” He did a spot on Irish impression. “It’s all part of me lucky charms.”