The kid cried out for his life. I stared helplessly, fully aware that there was nothing I or Rob could do. After a minute, though, he stopped screaming.
Rob and I looked at each other solemnly and climbed into the truck. He swung another u-turn across the median and headed north.
We rode uneventfully, silently, back to Matt's house.
CHAPTER 9
Sunday, 1:45 p.m.
Matt had called it. The power went out shortly after noon. Within an hour, the late May sun had warmed the house considerably. Holly stretched out on the kitchen tiles. Tom sat in front of an open window upstairs in the guest bedroom. Anne, Sarah and Melissa sat on the balcony off the master bedroom, overlooking the backyard. They sat in silence; Tom had reminded them to be quiet and not attract any unwelcome visitors.
Rob and I had been in the garage discussing when they would leave when the room went dark. Having witnessed the young man's violent end at Rite Aid, we were anxious to get on the water, and hopefully out of reach of the infected.
Melissa had been hesitant about leaving her home, but with the realization that a power outage meant no running water, no air conditioner and no method of storing food, she was beginning to relent. She, Matt and Tom had retreated to a room upstairs and when they returned, they were all in agreement that they would be safer on the water. Melissa wasn't yet ready to agree to any search-and-rescue missions, but she was at least willing to leave the house in search of a safer, more secure location.
Rob wanted to leave before dark. He was convinced that the situation would quickly get worse and they might wake up with a house surrounded by infected. Melissa, Anne and Sarah wanted to sleep one more night in the comfort of a home. So far the infected in southern Maryland seemed scattered and oblivious to anything that wasn't moving, so Rob acquiesced and agreed to crash on a couch.
Rob, Matt, Tom and I immediately got to work organizing what we'd need. In addition to our guns, we agreed to take a couple fishing poles and tackle, the gas cans, a hand-crank radio, ammo, a portable propane grill that used one pound tanks (Matt had often used it for camping), a few pots and however many canned goods and non-perishables we could squeeze into a backpack. Everything we were taking was placed in a pile in the middle of the garage.
Matt, Rob and I went up to the master bedroom to get some fresh air while Tom continued down the hall to lay on the guest bed. We'd spent the past hour going back and forth between the garage, kitchen and basement gathering supplies. Without air conditioning, the first floor was a sauna and the garage was hell on earth.
We left the bedroom door open to let the draft pull air through from the small balcony overlooking the back yard. Rob and I went directly to the French doors, yanking them open and soaking in the gentle breeze as it flowed through the room. There was only room for two to fit between the doors and the balcony rail, so I moved away to allow Matt to slide in. As I turned toward the bedroom, something caught my eye from across the pasture next to Matt's house.
Three infected. Dashing across the field toward the home. Over the past six hours, I'd learned to recognize the infected's form. It wasn't like a normal person's running style. It was almost a half-gallop, half-sprint, as if their brains or instincts wanted to carry the body faster than the legs would allow. It looked awkward, but they still moved fast.
Matt shoved me out of the way when he caught my stare, forcefully taking my spot on the balcony.
"Jesus Christ, where are the guns?" Matt said, looking around the room and at Rob and me for answers.
"I think they're downstairs," I said, trying to remain the calm one. "Maybe in the kitchen or garage."
I ran from the room, nearly bouncing off the wall as I turned down the hallway, down the stairs, and used the post to fling myself around toward the kitchen. I looked around but didn't see a single firearm. The girls all looked up from their seats in the living room, clearly confused by my hurried movements.
"There's three infected coming toward the house," I said, not sure if they'd hear me I moved away from the living room toward the garage door.
Just as I placed my hand on the door knob, three thuds rattled the boarded-up windows next to the deck doors. The girls jumped from their spots on the sofas, rushing away from the sound to the other side of the room.
I slowly crept across the kitchen, then into the living room. The creatures continued banging on the boards outside, but as I inched closer I didn't see any discernible damage to the glass itself. And from the sounds of it, they weren't even trying to climb over the outdoor furniture that Matt had stacked in front of the deck's glass doors.
Confident that the boards would hold, I ran back to the garage, grabbed Matt and Rob's rifles that had been leaned up against a workbench, and scooted back to the master bedroom. Matt and Rob were standing a few feet into the room, away from the balcony, discussing how to proceed. Tom had joined them from his nap. He must have heard the pounding from downstairs. All three of them looked at me as I entered with the guns.
"I don't think those'll be necessary, son," Tom said.
I returned a confused look. I'd just sprinted across the house to find them.
"We shoot those three out there, I bet we find ourselves fighting off a whole lot more," Tom continued. "Ain't worth the trouble."
"So what the hell are we gonna do?" I asked. "Melissa'll never agree to leaving tonight. And there's no way anyone's gonna sleep with those things out there."
"Give it time," Tom said. "Stay away from the windows. They ain't too bright, I reckon. They'll get bored quick."
CHAPTER 10
Sunday, 5:30 p.m.
After about an hour and a half, the pounding had subsided. It hadn't stopped, but it was becoming less frequent. Only problem was, we never knew where it would come from next. They were checking the house, moving from window to window and back again. There was no consistency to their search, and no urgency, but the randomness of it kept us on edge.
Melissa prepared a feast of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, kosher dill pickles, and Girl Scout Thin Mint cookies for dessert. Following dinner, the guys passed around a bottle of Jameson and the ladies shared a bottle of pinot noir.
Sarah shared a few memories of her parents. Family vacations, silly antics, parties, that sort of thing. She laughed more than she cried, and so we all kept the banter upbeat, chiming in with our own stories of humorous family misfortunes.
When the candles were blown out for the evening, Sarah climbed onto the reclining chair I'd chosen. Thankfully she was a little thing, because it certainly wasn't intended for two. I wrapped my arms around her and breathed her in, trying my best to ignore the desultory thuds of the infected. Somehow, I managed to fall asleep.
***
Monday, 7 a.m.
We grabbed the occasional handful of dry Cheerios and chugged warmer-than-it-should-be orange juice as we prepared to leave in the morning. The banging had persisted throughout the night, so at first light we began looking out the upstairs windows. The angles made it difficult to get a decent vantage point, but it appeared there were at least two infected still hanging around. We didn't step onto the balcony for fear of attracting more unwanted company.
The plan was simple. Anne, Sarah and Melissa would carry the fishing gear, gas cans, the portable grill, and three backpacks, one with a couple one pound propane tanks wrapped in towels, one with the ammo and the other filled with canned vegetables and soup. Once the guys eliminated the infected waiting outside, we would make a run for the dock, down a path about 100 yards long. The guys would shoot anything that got close. Matt and Tom would start the boats, while the girls untied the ropes and Rob and I provided cover.
We reviewed our plan for the umpteenth time. Standing around the island in the kitchen, we all recited our roles. Satisfied, we turned to Matt. He was the catalyst.
Matt turned, rifle slung over his back, and stalked up the stairs. The rest of us headed to the garage. Rob and I assumed our position against the rear wal
l of the garage, his rifle and my Beretta trained on the large garage door that would soon lead us away from the safety of the home.
The girls and Tom stood back from the doorway between the garage and the kitchen, each of the girls carrying a backpack and gear. Melissa shuddered as we heard one, two, then three shots ring out from the balcony.
I steadied my aim and took a deep breath as I heard Matt clambering down the stairs, yelling "All clear" as he entered the kitchen. Melissa hit the garage door opener.
The door creaked upward. Light spilled in through the growing crack at the floor. Matt's shots off the balcony were meant to attract any of the infected that remained outside; but the door moved so slowly, so loudly and mechanically, that before it was six inches off the ground, shadows appeared.
As the space between the garage floor and the bottom of the door grew, two infected fell to the ground, thrusting their arms through the crack. One tried to shove his head into the garage and Rob fired off a shot, blowing the creature's brains all over the driveway behind.
The garage door was four feet off the ground now and the other infected dropped to its knees. Rob fired again, hitting it in the chest and sending it flying onto its back. From this angle, Rob shot a third time, striking the second infected between the eyes. It twitched momentarily, then fell limp.
With the nearest infected neutralized, we waited as the door continued its ascent. Moments later, it was high enough to walk through. Rob and I crept out the center of the garage, our eyes searching from left to right. Once in the driveway, he swung to his left and I to my right, turning and scanning the area around the home. It appeared clear.
The girls lumbered out to the driveway. Anne and Melissa were clearly burdened by the weight of their gear. Tom followed, slinging his rifle over his shoulder as he offered to take the gas cans from Anne. Melissa and Anne then each took one side of the grill that Melissa had been carrying.
I put my fingers between my lips and whistled. Holly emerged from the kitchen and sprinted to my side.
Matt hit the opener, then ran beneath the closing door.
We were all accounted for, and only a few hundred yards from the boats.
CHAPTER 11
Monday, 7:45 a.m.
No other infected in sight, we began a light jog toward the dock. Rob led the way, followed by the girls and Tom. Matt and I took up the rear, rotating from backwards to forwards, scanning the rear and sides.
As Rob rounded the back of the house, about halfway through the yard, he was finally able to see beyond the deck. He stopped in his tracks.
"Girls. Run," he said, staring out toward the neighbor's field.
Sarah, Anne and Melissa began moving as fast as they could, somewhere between a sprint and a jog, bending forward to support the backpacks. Tom was right on their heels.
Matt and I ran to catch up to Rob.
Coming directly at us was a group of about fifteen infected, crossing the same pasture from which the three infected had arrived yesterday.
I turned to the girls. Sarah, Anne and Melissa had reached the trail leading to the docks. Tom had slowed down and I watched as he stumbled then fell, almost in slow motion. He reached out his arms to break his fall, and the gas cans slammed into the ground. I saw one of the gas can caps explode off the can, as gasoline poured into a puddle next to the fallen Tom.
Melissa heard the crash. She stopped and turned, screaming for her father to stand up and keep moving. Matt was already there. He had slung the rifle behind him and put an arm under Tom's shoulder. They left the cans on the ground as Matt basically carried his father-in-law down the trail.
Rob and I stood our ground, firing round after round toward the approaching mass of infected. They were closing quickly but still too far away for a clean head shot. And body shots were just a waste of ammunition. Even a shot to the chest only knocked the infected down for a few seconds before they bounced up and resumed their uncomfortable sprint.
No longer able to see our friends on the trail, Rob and I took off after them. Upon reaching the dock, Melissa already had her boat started and Anne and Sarah were working on untying the ropes for both vessels. Matt had just reached the other boat and was helping Tom step over the ledge and down onto a seat. Tom nearly collapsed from exertion in the back of the boat, the seat nearest land.
Matt easily stepped into Tom's boat and found the captain's chair. I heard him cranking the motor but I could tell it wasn't turning over. I looked back to see Matt struggling with the ignition, as he glanced toward me to see how close the infected were.
Rob continued running once we hit the dock, and I watched him throw his rifle into Tom's boat. He yanked the rope from Sarah's hand and pointed for her and Anne to get into Melissa's boat. He finished untying the final knot, and I was relieved when the three girls pulled away from the dock and into open water.
I turned away from the dock and peered into the woods. The infected had reached the trail and were now only perhaps a hundred yards away. I was firing repeated shots with little effect. I glanced behind me to see Rob holding the final rope, still standing on the dock.
The infected were about twenty yards away. I began walking backwards toward the boats as I heard Matt continue to struggle with the engine. I was starting to make out the infected's facial features from this close, and I swear I saw my old landlord among the pack. I continued firing, only managing to cause a few to stumble and fall, slowing down the others.
Finally the engine turned over and I heard the motor roar. Matt and Rob simultaneously yelled at me to run. Holly was beside me and raced ahead, jumping confidently into the boat.
I was about fifteen feet from the boat when I heard the infected's footsteps hit the wooden planks of the dock. Ahead, Rob stepped into the boat as Matt began slowly pulling away from the dock.
I leaped over four feet of water and nearly tumbled forward and out the other side of the boat when I landed. Matt thrust the throttle forward just as my feet hit. Before I could regain my balance, I fell backward into the seat next to Tom, dropping my Beretta at his feet.
I saw the creature hurtling through the air in my peripheral vision. My body responded before my brain could process what was happening, and I leaned away from the direction of the dock. Rob saw it too and instinctively allowed himself to fall out of reach, toward the front of the boat.
The creature's outstretched arms latched onto the boat's diving ladder, and pulled itself up, thrusting its body toward Tom. The man's eyes were closed, having been exhausted from the efforts of the morning, and he was totally oblivious to Rob's and my reactions.
Tom's eyes sprung open as the creature dug its nails into his shoulders and bit down on his neck. Tom let out a guttural cry and tried to stand, only to be held down as the infected continued to gorge. Blood squirted from Tom's neck, spraying the boat.
In his writhing, Tom inadvertently kicked my gun to my feet. Upon the sight of my Beretta, I snapped out of my trance and, without thought, grabbed the gun, aimed at the creature biting into Tom's neck and fired. The creature's skull broke open, spilling more blood over Tom. The creature went limp, as its legs caught in the water and pulled it off the boat. I watched it bob and float behind us before my attention turned back to Tom.
It took less than 10 seconds for Tom to turn. The three of us, Matt, Rob and myself, stared in stunned disbelief, oblivious to the shouting and cries coming from the other boat. Tom's body jerked and twitched, then finally settled. A moment later his eyes snapped open, revealing pure black. No whites, no soul, just the empty blackness of space. He lurched forward as Matt brought up his rifle and fired at his head, the proximity causing it to explode like a watermelon, spraying blood and brains all over the boat. Tom's body hit the floor with a thud. I could hear Melissa's gut-wrenching sobs, but my gaze was fixed on the lifeless body of her father. After what seemed like an eternity, I felt the boat move slowly forward.
CHAPTER 12
Monday, 8:45 a.m.
After n
avigating the creek through a series of turns, the two boats had made their way to open water, far enough from any land to feel safe. We passed under the Thomas Johnson Bridge and came to a rest five hundred yards off the boardwalk at Solomon's Island, a picturesque little town containing no more than two dozen shops and a handful of restaurants. Technically we were still in the Patuxent River but the Chesapeake Bay was less than half a mile away.
Each boat dropped anchor and tied together with rope, working in silence. Melissa crawled over the edges of the boats and knelt down beside her father, weeping. Matt held her back and warned her not to go near his blood.
Rob and I quietly climbed into the adjoining boat with Anne and Sarah, as Holly easily hopped over to join us. Matt and Melissa cried for a while, and then began talking in hushed voices. Finally, Matt stood up.
"We're going to go back to the dock and lay Tom to rest in the water by our house," he said softly. "We'll be back in an hour or so, then we should all get in your boat. Don't wanna take any chances with the blood or anything."
Rob, Anne, Sarah and I waited for what felt like longer than an hour. When Melissa and Matt returned, Tom was not with them. They passed over the guns and fishing poles without saying a word. Matt untied the ropes from each of the docking hooks, just in case and tossed them into the increasingly crowded boat.
As Matt brought up the anchor and started toward the Chesapeake Bay, I couldn't help but think about what I'd lost over the last 24 hours. I'd said goodbye to my home. I'd abandoned my friend's home, a place where I'd played countless games of poker, rode four-wheelers and dirt bikes into the early morning hours and eaten dozens of crabs. And now I was leaving behind one of my friend's boats, from which I'd fished and drank beer and more recently, seen a kind, old man die. Twice, in a way. I knew when I heard the news of the explosions in four American cities that life would never be the same. I never imagined it would change so drastically, so permanently, and so quickly.
The Infected: (Book 1) Page 5
