The Infected: (Book 1)

by Smith, Justin

  The four men stood in the garage while Tom and I smoked a cigarette. We discussed family and plans for the immediate future. Rob was certain his parents were safe, hundreds of miles from New York City. I had not heard from his family since the morning before. I told the guys I wanted desperately to try to get to my parents, but I was met with resistance. Matt had not considered leaving with only Melissa and Tom, whose health had deteriorated over the past few years. With two young men and four more guns, however, it was something he would consider. However, he doubted Melissa would want to leave the perceived safety of their home. Matt had also not heard from his parents since Saturday morning, but their proximity to Philadelphia caused him to fear the worst.

  CHAPTER 7

  Sunday, 9:45 a.m.

  After having had time to settle in at Matt's house, Rob, Anne, Sarah and I found ourselves in the garage. Sarah and I had gone out for a cigarette, and Rob and Anne joined us for the company. I'd been thinking about our current situation and decided now was as good a time as any to share my thoughts.

  "I don't want to stay here indefinitely," I said.

  My friend's faces didn't convey surprise. Instead, Rob nodded his head in the affirmative. Anne and Sarah didn't respond much at all, but exchanged glances before Anne spoke first.

  "And where do you suggest we go?" she said.

  "The way I see it, there's a couple options," I said. "But before I start, let me say that I fully intend on finding my parents."

  Sarah took my hand in hers and squeezed. She held it for a moment and then released her grip.

  "You know that's basically suicide, right?" Anne said. "There's no way. Everything between Philly and DC has gotta be crawling with those things."

  She might be right, I thought. She was from Allentown, just south of my parent's place in the Poconos, and traveled home the same way I did. She knew the area. And she knew as well as I that the whole drive was riddled with cities and towns and enough people to ensure the infection was around every corner.

  "I'm in," Rob said, interrupting my pessimism.

  "Here's what I'm thinking," I said. "I think we should make a deal with Matt to take one of the boats. He sure as hell doesn't need them both anymore. He's got bigger problems. Trade what we have to, maybe a gun, some ammo, food, whatever. We take the boat as far north up the Chesapeake as we can get. Once we've gone as far as the boat can go, you guys can let me off. Hell, you can come with me if you want, but I won't try to persuade you. Then you guys can keep the boat, and hopefully float along until this whole damn thing passes over. You can even keep my fishing rod, won't have to leave the boat even for food."

  It sounded like a convincing argument in my head, as I said it. Still, I didn't get the impression that Anne and Sarah were as excited with it as I had expected.

  "No way," Sarah said. I hadn't expected her to be so opposed. "There's no way I'm letting you go on your own. If you insist on doing this, I'm going with you."

  "You two are fucking nuts," Rob said. "I'm still going with you. But you're a couple weirdos. What are you, dating now? When did this happen, yesterday? Whatever, I'm in."

  I looked at Anne. She was looking down at her feet. I could tell she was thinking, trying to process everything.

  "You know if we take the Chesapeake north, I think we can keep going on the Susquehanna River," I said. "Stay on that for a little, and you should find yourself far enough west of the cities that you might have a decent shot of making it to Pittsburgh."

  I instantly regretted using her father as bait, but I truly felt it was in her own best interests. We certainly couldn't stay here. If the infection was in Sarah's driveway and the field across the street, it was only a matter of time before the entire county succumbed. Anne raised her head and met my eyes.

  "I'm not committing to anything," she said. "But I do agree that we're safer on water than on land. I'll give you that much."

  "Alright," I said. I felt blessed to have such close friends. I know it felt like the zombie apocalypse and all, but who else's friends would literally risk their lives for them? Sure, people said it all the time, but until now no one had really ever had the opportunity to prove it.

  CHAPTER 8

  Sunday, 11:15 a.m.

  Melissa refused to leave the house. Her father was her only family, and she had no desire to risk their lives on the off-chance that my parents, or even Matt's parents, were still alive in the devastation that had enveloped the four largest cities on the Atlantic seaboard. Matt agreed to let Rob, Anne, Sarah and me take one of his boats. Problem was, they both needed gas. They weren't empty, but they were almost there. Matt had four gas cans in the garage, but three of those were also dry.

  In exchange for the boat, Matt asked for one of the handguns. He and Tom only had their rifles. He also asked that, since we would have to venture out to get gas anyway, we stop at a pharmacy and somehow find Tom's blood pressure medication. Matt knew he was asking a lot. Getting gas shouldn't be too difficult, as long as the pumps were still working. Getting medication involved entering a store. Possibly, more than one store. Matt warned us that reports on the police scanner had indicated most grocery stores had been looted the day before.

  The nearest gas station was at the corner of Routes 5 and 243. Route 5 was the main road travelling north and south through the county, and the intersection with 243 was about six miles away. The nearest pharmacy was a Rite Aid, just off Route 5 about three miles south of Route 243.

  Rob eagerly volunteered to go. It seemed he was enjoying this new world. I had no choice to but to go with him. We each carried a loaded Beretta, Rob had his tactical rifle and I grabbed the backpack containing the extra ammo. Before we left the house, I gave Sarah a kiss on the forehead as she slept on the couch. After checking from an upstairs window that there were no infected waiting in the yard, Matt lifted the plywood off the hooks, opened the door and Rob and I slipped out.

  The truck backed out of the driveway, and turned down the way we had come. Back on public roads, there were again no signs of infected. We passed my house, tucked back off the road. Two miles later, we turned onto Route 243 and headed west toward Route 5. We passed the bait and tackle shop, sitting silent and abandoned, as were most of the houses along the road.

  I asked Rob to slow down passing the entrance to a small neighborhood off to the right. Most of the dozen or so ranch-style homes appeared untouched. Further down the street I noticed a car parked perpendicular across the road, passenger side door open. I saw movement near the front bumper and a figure shot upright, paused a moment, then darted in our direction. Rob saw it, too, too far to be a threat and slowly applied pressure to the gas, driving on.

  Twice more on our way to the gas station we passed infected. The first was a group of five or six that were busy disemboweling a lady lying in her driveway. The second was just one person that seemed to appear out of nowhere, bounced off the bed of the truck and, through the rearview mirror stood right up and gave chase. By the time we pulled up to the pumps, there was no one in sight.

  Rob got out of the truck and did a slow survey of the surrounding area, searching for any signs of movement. I grabbed the three empty cans from the back seat and placed them on the ground in front of the pump.

  "How do we do this?" I asked, realizing the gas station was closed, although the lights were still on and the pumps were lit up.

  Rob pulled his wallet from his pocket, took out a credit card and swiped it through the card reader. The display asked "Credit or Debit."

  I laughed. "No shit."

  I had just started filling the third can when we heard the jingle of a small bell. I looked up to see an infected standing in the door to the gas station, wearing the store uniform. I recognized him as Darren, the guy who usually sold me my cigarettes. Before I had a chance to speak or react, Rob placed a bullet directly between his eyes. The body formerly known as Darren crumpled to the ground, blocking the door as it slowly swung shut.

  Moments later a g
roup of infected emerged from behind an auto repair shop across the street. They must have heard the damn shot.

  I grabbed the cans and threw them into the bed. Rob fired off two shots, taking out one of the infected, but four other sprinters continued toward us. I had barely shut the passenger door when Rob stepped on the gas, heading straight toward the runners. As he hopped the curb, he ran over two more. They first bounced off the truck's grill, then I heard the crunch of bones underneath the weight of the F-350. Swinging the car to the left, south down Route 5, one infected managed to jump and grab onto the tailgate, struggling to hang on as Rob picked up speed and jerked the truck back and forth. Unable to shake our guest, Rob slammed the brakes, sending the infected feet over head into the bed of the truck. Rob jumped out, and, as the former human got to its feet, aimed his Beretta at its head and sent it flying backwards, falling over the guard and into the slow lane on southbound Route 5.

  Climbing back into the driver's seat, Rob chuckled.

  "What's up?" I asked.

  "I'm really loving this shit," Rob said. "It's like we're in a movie, man."

  "Great," I said. "Fucking action hero. Well we're not done yet. Still gotta hit the Rite Aid."

  Rob put the truck in gear and continued down Route 5 for another two miles, before turning left onto Mervell Dean Road, then a quick right into the Rite Aid parking lot. There were two cars parking at the front of the building, although neither appeared to hold any occupants. The lights were on inside the store.

  Rob and I scanned the surrounding area and, certain we had not detected any company, quietly slid out of the truck and closed the doors. Rob left the truck running.

  Rob took the lead, holding his rifle at shoulder height, eyes trained down the sight, as he moved to the glass doors. I peered inside as he double-checked the parking lot. No movement; nothing stirred. I pulled one of the doors and was surprised that it was unlocked. Rob went through, rifle still raised, scanning the interior of the store. The pharmacy was to our right, cash registers along the outer wall to our left, and the aisles ran parallel to the registers, preventing us from being able to see down them.

  "I'm gonna hit the pharmacy," I said. "You check the aisles and cover my back."

  "Got it, Captain," Rob said with a smile as I grabbed a basket from a pile near the doors.

  As Rob turned to check behind the registers, I pulled myself up and over the counter surrounding the pharmacy. I looked at the aisles and shelves full of medications, and I felt completely overwhelmed. Matt had a given me a list of acceptable drug names, things like Levatol and Loppressor, but that meant nothing to me now. I started with the first row and began reading the names of the various drugs. I slowly figured out the medications were organized alphabetically by brand name, but were mixed in with a bunch of generic meds, which must have corresponded to the popular brand name. I moved from the first row, to the next, checking the initial letter on each shelf, then finally found L's in the third aisle. I worked my way down the aisle, finding Levatol first, then Loppressor, filling the basket with every bottle of each that was on the shelf.

  With a little room left in the basket, I decided it might be a good idea to pick up some pain meds. I continued down the same aisle I was in, looking for the O's. As I determined that the O's continued into the next row, I heard pounding on a door.

  "Get the fuck out here," I heard Rob shout.

  I set the basket on the pharmacy counter, hopped over, and ran toward the back of the store, drawing the Beretta. Rob was standing with his back against a door, rifle pointed into the air. Along the wall next to the door was a long cooler, containing sodas and juices and other cold drinks, from floor to ceiling.

  "There's a fucking kid in there," Rob said, motioning to the door. "I was reaching in for a fucking Coke and I saw his beady ass eyes staring right back at me."

  "You sure it's a kid?" I asked. "Is he alive?"

  "I don't know, a fucking teenager, maybe," Rob said. "Scared the shit outta me. And yes he's alive. Well, he's not one of those things, if that's what you mean."

  "You probably scared him more," I said, relaxing at the knowledge that it was only a boy. Hell, might be one of my students.

  I walked over to the first cooler door and pulled it open.

  "Hey kid, listen, we're good guys," I said, leaning into the cold air. "We're leaving now, so if you wanna come with us, make up your mind quick."

  Rob and I waited for a reply, but were met with silence. I shrugged. Rob began walking toward the door. I went down the candy aisle and grabbed two handfuls of Reese's peanut butter cups. I walked to the counter and threw them in the medication basket. I considered going back for more candy, but instead followed Rob outside.

  I was looking at the pill bottles as I walked, causing me to bump into Rob. He didn't budge, staring out the glass doors. Following his eyes, I saw six infected climbing all over Rob's truck. They seemed fascinated. They must have been able to see that no one was inside, so maybe they were attracted to the hum of the running engine.

  "What do you think?" I whispered.

  Rob turned to answer me and his rifle's magazine clanked against the glass door. We both froze, but there was no concealing our location now. The infected creature nearest the door turned and saw us through the glass. He pivoted on the balls of his feet and came at us in a full sprint, slamming into the door, only to bounce off. Thank God the store doors opened outward.

  Rob shot through the glass pane and the creature fell limp to the ground. By this time his peers had taken notice and were moving quickly toward the shattered door. Rob continued spraying bullets, moving methodically from left to right, until all six lay in a pile just feet from the entrance.

  The shots had broken out the glass, otherwise it would have been difficult to open the door with six bodies in the way. I stepped through carefully, trying to tip-toe on concrete rather than step on the infected. Not that I cared about being respectful of these particular dead, I just didn't want to risk spreading the virus. God forbid blood clung to my shoe, then hitched a ride back to Matt and Melissa's, only to be deposited on the floor where Holly could lick it up.

  Rob reached the driver's side and opened the door as I trotted around the front toward the passenger side. Before my hand clasped the handle, something caught my attention from behind Rob. I lifted my eyes slowly, already aware what I was about to see. Approaching quickly from a neighborhood on the other side of Mervell Dean was a horde of maybe twenty infected. They were approximately three hundred yards away and closing the gap rapidly.

  Rob had followed my stare. He whipped open the car door and jumped in.

  "You better hurry the fuck up," he said, slamming the door shut. "I don't feel like sticking around to see if those things feel like talking."

  "What about the kid?" I said.

  "Fuck him," Rob said. "He didn't want our help."

  "I'm not leaving him here to die, man."

  "How bout this? Get in, I'll go slow up Route 5. They'll follow us and after we led them away a while, we'll just speed back up and get home."

  Not a bad idea, I thought. I nodded and opened the passenger door, lifting myself into the seat.

  Rob put the truck in reverse and backed away from the store front, before switching to drive and pulling onto Mervell Dean, headed away from the approaching mass. He pulled up to Route 5 and made a sharp right north, traveling about twenty yards. The infected shifted their course like a flock of geese, veering away from the store in our direction.

  Rob applied a little more pressure to the gas and the truck crept forward. The infected were only a hundred yards away now. I looked back at the store to ensure all of the infected were following us just as the kid emerged from the front entrance, stepping over the dead bodies. He saw us driving away, but he couldn't see around the corner of the store to the horde that had begun running nearly parallel to Route 5 in an effort to cut us off. Before I could say a word, the kid started waving his arms in the air and yellin
g for us to stop.

  What the hell are you thinking? I thought.

  Almost immediately, the back third of the infected mass stopped in their tracks and spun toward the sound. I pushed the button to roll down the window, urging it to retract faster. I shouted at the infected to try and get their attention, but about eight of them had already begun sprinting toward the store.

  The kid must have realized why I was yelling, because he took a few steps forward and peered around the corner of the building. Soon as he saw the infected heading his way, he ran back into the store.

  "We've gotta go back," I said.

  "Fuckin' shit balls, man," Rob said, swinging the steering wheel to the left and making a u-turn across the grass median.

  The twelve or so infected that were still following us adjusted their course once more. The eight other infected had reached the store and were struggling through the broken front door, pushing and climbing over one another in order to taste the first bite of flesh.

  Rob turned the truck to face down Mervell Dean, then stopped.

  "What the fuck are we supposed to do?" he asked.

  Before I could answer, an industrial door on the side of the store flung open. The kid burst through it, followed moments later by a line of infected. The kid saw the truck and began sprinting in our direction but only managed a few yards before he realized the infected that had been pursuing Rob and me stood between us. And now many of those infected had turned their attention to the kid. Perhaps he seemed an easier target.

  Rob threw open the driver side door and stepped down, resting his rifle through the open window. He fired three shots, taking down the two infected that were still racing toward the truck. Then he began firing on the infected that were now surrounding the kid.

  The kid changed directions again, sprinting north parallel to Route 5. But he was surrounded. He had no place to run. Rob managed to bring down three more infected but it was all in vain.

  First one infected tackled the kid from the side, throwing him to the ground. Almost instantly, the rest of the horde had converged on the kid's body, tearing and gnashing, gorging on his entrails.