The Outbreak Series (Book 1): Safe Haven

by Thomas Baker

  "More like #wereallscrewed." JT joked.

  "#its_the_end_of_the_world_as_we_know_it." Hannah volleyed back.

  "#holyshit_zombies_are_real."

  "#this_bites." Hannah was getting into it now.

  "You win!" JT exclaimed, laughing "That's a good one! #this_bites!"

  "How about #shut_up_im_sleeping!" Ashley grunted from the backseat.

  JT gave the Jeep a quick brake check sending Ashley off the seat and onto the floor. She quickly popped up, giving him the evil eye. JT just looked at her in the mirror as Hannah tried not to laugh.

  "#angryeyes" JT said with a completely straight face. Hannah doubled over laughing hysterically. Ashley put on her best mad face and slammed herself back in the seat, making a growling noise. She made a big spectacle of fluffing up her pillow and laid back down with an audible huff.

  "#Shhh," Hannah said, after composing herself. "Ashley needs her beauty rest." She did her best to control the giant smirk on her face.

  "#Fuck off," Ashley said, sending everyone into fits of laughter as she flipped them off from the backseat.

  Gus was panting heavily, trying to keep up the pace Dusty had set. Not for the first time Gus wondered what Sarge's story was. You would think a military man like him would be out there with his troops, fighting the zombie war. Guess he could be a lone survivor. Maybe the rest of his squad got turned or eaten. Gus didn't know what to think, but for now it was good to have someone who could fight with him. Even if he was too much of a smug prick. Without warning Dusty stopped and pointed. Gus nearly collided with him. Getting his bearings, Gus squinted off in the distance.

  "There!" Dusty stated, sounding pretty damn proud of himself. "That's the bus wreckage I was telling you about. Let's take that position, hole up there for the night. From what I can tell there are only a few zombies still mulling around. Wish I had brought some night vision goggles. Now that I'm not alone, let's see if we can get one of these buses running. I want to get the hell out of here."

  They had reached the wreckage with just a hint of sun over the horizon . The light of the dying day gave the scene a strange orange tint. Surveying the area, Gus saw three buses. The nearest bus was lying on its side, half on the highway, half in the grass. Another had a white utility sized truck speared through the front driver side. Broken glass, broken car parts and broken bodies littered the ground around it. The third bus just sat there, like it had been abandoned and left behind. It was surreal, seeing the bus sitting there among the carnage, looking almost normal. If you ignored the blood smears on the windows and the bloody hand prints that were practically glowing on the yellow paint.

  "Looks like they're only interested in the bus that's intact. You reckon there's something in there that's tickling their fancy?" Gus asked, looking to Dusty.

  "I guess we'll find out when we get there. You ready to move?"

  "Ready as I'll ever be," Gus said with a grin. "I don't think we'll be catching a cab clear out here."

  Dusty ignored him. Dusty gotta be great to have at parties.

  "OK," Dusty said, pointing as he talked. "We're going to move due East and make that ditch without being seen. When we take that vantage point we should be able to flank them from that overturned bus. Get to most of them before they even see us. Don't stir them up. We take them out, commandeer the bus, and regroup."

  Gus mockingly jumped to attention and saluted Dusty. "I'm not real sure what in the hell you just said, but I understood the 'don't get eaten' part loud and clear."

  Dusty stared at him, hands on his hips.

  "I'm trusting you with my life Gus," Dusty said, his voice dropping low. "This isn't a game, this is live combat. I want us to be the only ones left standing."

  Dusty swung his head side-to-side, popping his neck. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and unsheathed his knife. Dusty waved on Gus and headed for the ditch. Gus followed. They reached the shallow ditch about thirty feet from the wreckage of the overturned bus without incident.

  Dusty brought up his hand, which Gus took to mean hold up. Dusty laid down in the ditch and looked up over the edge. Gus copied him, worrying about if he was going to be able to get his old bones back up. Now that they were closer, the accident scene looked like the sight of a massacre. Dried blood clung to the sides of the vehicles. Bodies, none of which were still completely intact, laid here and there. A torso with no head and only one arm laid draped across the top of the overturned bus. Looking into the white truck, all that was left of the driver was a pair of legs with some intestines lying all over the seat. Gus felt his gorge rise. He could only imagine what the smell would be like if the wind were blowing their way. He was beginning to wonder if this was even a good idea after all.

  "Okay," Dusty whispered sharply, before Gus could object. "Let's drop our bags here. We will come back for them after we raid the area. No guns unless we need them. Let's make quick work of this. Learn from your mistakes at the farmhouse."

  Gus held back his sarcastic comment and instead nodded in agreement. He shouldered his rifle and pulled out his hatchet. Dusty led the way with swift, fluid motions. Both men made their way quietly to the bus that was on its side. Dusty motioned to go around the front of the bus.

  The zombies seemed to be congregating at the back of the seemingly untouched school bus. Gus counted five, maybe six of them. They seemed to be just shambling about, perplexed on how to get inside the bus. Gus was relieved none of them looked like the fast movers Dusty had warned him of.

  The first zombie they came upon was another football player. His school uniform was a rag. It made Gus kinda sad looking at it. Dusty snuck up on it and sank his knife into its skull. Dusty held the now lifeless body by the shoulders and brought it to the ground slowly, trying not to make a sound.

  One more zombie was on their side of the bus. It leaned against the bus, wobbling back and forth. To Gus it looked like a drunk frat boy who was barely functional. Looking down, Gus noticed the reason why. The zombie's left foot was hanging on by a tendon as it dragged it across the ground.

  Again, Dusty was able to sneak up on the drunk looking zombie. He stuck his knife into the back of it's head in one quick motion, and performed the same dropping technique.

  Dusty led Gus to the back of the bus. Stopping, Dusty turned to Gus and both men gave each other a nod as they slowly stepped around the corner of the bus.

  It was as if the rest of the pack knew they were coming. The corpses all stood there staring, silent as the night. The nearest, another football jersey boy, lunged for Dusty. It still had its football helmet on. Instinctively Dusty jabbed up his knife, plunging it into the creature's throat.

  Gus stepped around and swung at another, his hatchet catching it just below the ear. The zombie reeled, but didn't drop. Gus reared back for another whack. Another zombie, this one another cheerleader, collapsed onto him. He stumbled, his swing missing the target wildly. Sparks flew as the hatchet bounced off metal. Turned around now, he found himself pinned between the two zombies and the bus. Adrenaline pumping Gus held them at bay, pushing and shoving them back with everything he had. His chest felt fit to burst. He began to wonder what was going to do him in first, the zombies or a heart attack. They ripped and tore at his flannel shirt, their jaws working as they tried to sink their mouths into any part of his warm flesh. Gus figured if he got one bite, it would be all over for him.

  Gus saw a movement and jerked his head to the side. The cheerleader zombie's head bounced off the bus with the force of Dusty's attack. Free at last, Gus regained control of his hatchet. He brought it up and sank it down into the other one's forehead. The zombie collapsed to the ground at his feet. After Gus' up close and personal encounter, a realization hit him. "Christ. These are all just kids..." Gus trailed off as he fell against the back of the bus, rubbing his temples with his free hand. Dusty ripped off the helmet of the zombie who was still squirming on the ground and stabbed him in the forehead. The zombie finally stopped moving. Dusty surveyed the scene,
looked satisfied that it was all clear, and leaned on the bus next to Gus.

  "Gus," Dusty said. "It was them or us, you know that right? We aren't killing anybody. They're already dead."

  Gus didn't answer, he just let out a long deep breath. Stepping around the bodies of the zombies, Dusty and Gus continued on to the third bus. They approached it from the rear, Dusty's eyes seem to look everywhere at once. They were a few feet from the rear exit when Dusty gave the sign again to stop.

  "Gus you stay here. I'm going in, do a little recon," Dusty said. "Make sure nothing sneaks up on me."

  BANG! BANG! BANG! The noise came from inside the bus. Gus twirled around so fast he felt dizzy. The sound made him nearly shit himself. A set of eyes peering out the glass exit door of the bus. A light shone from his hand. Dusty dropped his knife and pulled his rifle, leveling it at the door.

  "Wait!" Gus yelled. "I think he's alive!" Gus ran and jumped in front of Dusty, holding his hands up and waving them around.

  "Don't open that fucking door Gus!" Dusty growled through clenched teeth.

  "Stand down Sarge. It will be no problem taking him out if we need to. Let's just have a look at him first. He's using a light for Christ sake. Don't you see?" Gus said, turning to the door.

  Now that he was right in front of the door, he could make out the face of a young man. the kid's eyes looked glazed over, his face was slack. Not in the way the zombies were. It looked more to Gus like some of the people you saw on T.V. after Hurricane Katrina. Most likely the boy was in shock. Gus was amazed he was still alive, between the accident and the zombies.

  "Hey kid?" Gus asked, speaking up to be heard through the glass. "You haven't been bit have ya?"

  The kid shook his head no in a twitchy sort of way. The light flickered around.

  "Open the door kid, but open it slow. We can help you," Gus assured him. He put down the hatchet and held up his hands to show he meant no harm.

  "This is a bad fucking idea old man!" Dusty snarked, adjusting his grip on his rifle. "Look at him, all slack jawed and jerky. You're going to get us killed."

  Gus dropped his hands and turned to face Dusty. "Well, if he bites me then you can shoot us both and be on your way. I'm not leaving some kid out here alone to fend for himself."Dusty glared at him for a moment, then nodded his head once. He didn't lower his gun.

  The kid inside the bus slowly reached for the handle of the emergency door. He hesitated with his hand on the latch. He locked eyes with Gus.

  "It's okay kid," Gus said raising his hands again. "Dusty here is just extra cautious. I won't let him hurt you."

  The young man started to lift the handle, then dropped back. He looked around, as if he was searching for something. Then he came back to the door and jerked the handle with all his might. The door groaned then swung out, smashing against the side of the bus.

  "Quiet kid. Damn," Dusty scolded, his eyes darting around. The young man retreated back into the bus, into the shadows.

  "Come on, it's okay. That's just Sarge, he's alway grumbling," Gus said.

  The boy scuttled back to the open doorway, like a small scared animal. He sat down, his feet dangling. He slid down to the ground. He looked down at his shoes, mumbling. He was a black kid, tall and skinny, but in a toned muscle way. Gus noticed his face was pretty beaten up. His skin was raw in spots on the right side. Dusty shoved Gus to the side and started backing away, his sights locked on the kid.

  "He lied Gus! Look at him! He's been bitten!" Dusty's voice rose. It looked as if he was about to pull the trigger.

  "Would you hold your damn horses!" Gus raised his voice too as he slapped the gun away. "If he was already turned, he would be trying to eat us for supper by now. Come on Sarge, he's safe."

  Reluctantly Dusty dropped his rifle to the ground. Gus could tell he was still ready to spring at a moment's notice.

  "Tell u what happened to you young man?" Gus asked.

  He just continued to stare down at his feet.

  "Talk!" Dusty barked. The kid looked up but stood frozen in fear.

  "Th.. the b..b..bus crashed.." The boy eventually stammered out. "There was glass hitting me in the face. I think I got kn..knocked out or something, you know what I mean? I woke up and everybody was gone...well not gone but turned into these crazies."

  Dusty shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He was constantly scanning the area, like they were about to be attacked any moment. Gus did his best to ignore him and concentrate on the kid. The boy licked his bruised and bloody pursed lips before he continued.

  "I saw you guys in the field but I was scared to call out. I don't even know how long I have been out here alone. I've been trying to call my momma but my phone wouldn't work. None of the other phones I found on the bus work either."

  "Well kid," Gus started. "I don't know how to tell you this, so for now let me give you the short version. Whole world's gone crazy. People turning into zombies, trying to eat the living. I have seen people get bitten and within a minute or two, they are trying to bite your dick off. It would be best if you come with us for now. We don't have much of a plan but it beats the hell out of you staying out here all alone in this shit heap."

  The young man just stood there, unblinking. He looked as if Gus just told him aliens had come to visit the planet, or that dragons had suddenly started appearing everywhere. The kid also looked as if at any moment he would break down and cry.

  "We're staying here for the night," Dusty ordered. "It's getting dark. We will move out at first light. Let's get back into the bus and get it set up for shelter. Gus, you and the kid can bunk down. I'll take first watch."

  The boy stood there, his eyes darting back and forth between the two men. Gus gave the kid a pat on the shoulder as he shot a glance at Dusty who had already walked away.

  He returned minutes later with the bags they had left in the ditch. He loaded them on the bus. Then Gus helped with a search through the bus with their flashlights. The kid just stood outside in the night, looking around aimlessly. After gathering up anything that seemed useful, Dusty secured the back door closed again. They assembled back outside in the darkness.

  "Tomorrow we can talk, make plans," Dusty said, looking at Gus and ignoring the kid. "You both go inside, I will wake you when I'm tired Gus."

  Dusty climbed to the top of the bus. He situated himself and sat on the edge, trying to look in every direction at once.

  After some more gentle words, the kid went with Gus. He shuffled his feet and walked with his shoulders slumped, like the weight of the world was on them. Gus thought he looked so shell shocked he would take orders from just about anybody.

  Gus picked some seats in the middle of the bus that looked relatively clean. They sat across the aisle from each other, stretched out.

  "You sure are lucky son, to have survived this long all by yourself. What's your name there, slick?" Gus asked.

  "Tyrone."

  "Tyrone huh? Well Tyrone I'm Gus and I'm mighty damn glad to meet ya. How long you been hiding in the bus wreck Tyrone?"

  "Feels like forever sir," Tyrone said, weariness seeping into this voice. "I don't even know how long I was knocked out."

  "Save those sirs for Dusty. He's the hot headed GI Joe on the roof."

  Tyrone cracked a smile at Gus "Can I ask you something sir?"

  "Again it's Gus, not sir," Gus chuckled. The kid had manners, even in such a horrific environment. His mom should be proud.

  "Sorry. Gus, can I ask you something?" Tyrone said, his smile fading away.

  "You bet, ask away."

  "Where do you think my mom and little brother are?" Tyrone was talking so low now, Gus could barely hear him. "Do you think they're still alive?"

  "Well sure I do Tyrone," Gus said, with as much conviction as he could muster. "I'll admit though, my ex wife always did call me an eternal optimist."

  They were silent for awhile.

  "By the way kid, when's the last time you had anything to eat?" Gus asked.
>
  "Yesterday, I think," Tyrone said. "I ate the last of the fruit snacks and Pringles I found on the bus. Mostly my throat hurts though, I'm real thirsty. There was no way I was leaving the bus."

  "Well let ol Gus see what he's got in his old bag of tricks here."

  Gus pulled out a bottle of water and some granola bars and tossed them to Tyrone. Tyrone brightened up at the sight of them. He quickly devoured the treats and guzzled down the water.

  "So what exactly happened sir? I mean Gus?" Tyrone asked, sounding more energized now.

  Gus felt himself drifting off. He shifted around, trying to get comfortable in the small bus seat.

  "There will be plenty of time for questions later," Gus said, yawning. "Let's get some rest while we can. One thing you can count on now Tyrone, you never know what tomorrow might bring."

  "No stop signs, speed limits." Alan laughed at himself as he sang the words aloud. It felt like years had passed since this all started. Or had it been weeks? To him it might as well have been a lifetime ago. Where he had once been happy, now his world had turned to shit. That's the understatement of the year. Anyway, what did it matter that time had gotten fuzzy now. It's not like he had to punch a clock or be anywhere important anymore. That life, that normal life he shared with his wife and two daughters, was lost now. He wasn't coming home to their beautiful smiling faces anymore.

  The song was over and out of instinct he pushed the button that switched the radio back over to FM. Then he remembered he had given up on the radio awhile ago. All it ever gave him now was static. He switched back over to the CD, which he had been listening to over and over again. He had to have some kind of distraction. When it was just silence, his mind couldn't help but think back to his family, to about what had happened. He couldn't let himself go there, or it would be all over for him too. Why he bothered continuing on, since they were gone, he didn't know. Wouldn't it be easier to have just floored it. I could have crashed into that wall of vacant vehicles I ran into on my way out of the city? Gone up in a ball of flame. The cars and trucks had clogged the roads so bad, he had to leave his truck behind. He walked for miles through a world of human wreckage. Along the miles he had fended off numerous zombie attacks. When the mass of cars and bodies had thinned out, he took the first vehicle he could start, which was the blue SUV that he was currently driving. The distraction of the three music Cd's he had found in the middle console was starting to wear off. Not for the first time he kicked himself for not grabbing his iPod out of the truck before he had to ditch it. At least he hadn't left behind his weapons, a crowbar and a meat cleaver.