The Outbreak Series (Book 1): Safe Haven

by Thomas Baker

  "Time to beat a retreat," Dusty said.

  Tyrone and JT got on either side of Ashley and scooped her up.

  "Think you can run?" JT asked.

  Ashley was still sobbing and could only shake her head yes.

  "Damn Hannah. I saw your moves out there. Don't ever get mad at me, you know what I mean," Tyrone said, impressed.

  "Cheerleading combined with self defense classes my Dad talked me into taking. Thank God he did."

  A crack echoed out as tree bark exploded in front of them.

  "Enemy fire! Time to move it!" Dusty commanded.

  No one argued with him. They all ran.

  Everyone was dragging their feet. Morale was at an all time low. JT didn't know how long it had been since they left Greenville, but it felt like weeks. Since then, most of the time they walked. It had to have been hundreds of miles by now. For a few days they lucked out and found an abandoned vehicle that worked and had used it till it wouldn't run anymore. JT wished they had a car now.

  The days had been getting hotter and they had been rained on all day and night more than once. We're probably quite the sight by now JT thought. Dirty, stinky, wearing the same clothes day after day. He didn't know what was at the top of his wish list, a hot shower or a reclining chair with a video game controller in his hand.

  More and more he found himself secretly agreeing with Ashley. She whined at least once a day... Were they ever going to find someplace they felt safe to stop at? Were they ever get to sleep inside instead of in a crappy tent?

  JT didn't want to approach any more towns, at least for the time being. He ignored Ashley's whining as best he could and ground his teeth instead.

  He began to second guess that leaving the truck stop was a bad idea. He couldn't remember a time his feet hurt as bad as they did right now. Not to mention his back too, from lugging around all the camping equipment. He glanced over at Gus several times during the day, worried. If it was this hard for him, how was the oldest of them all holding out?

  The road they followed started to rise slightly. JT, who had been just plodding along with his head down, looked up. He saw they were coming up on a bridge. It was an old metal one, painted green. He was about to say something to the group when Dusty spoke up.

  "I see a bridge ahead. Cluttered with cars. Everyone take five while I go scout it out." Dusty started to trot off.

  "Hold up there Dusty. I'm going with you. I don't think anyone should be going anywhere alone," JT said.

  Gus dumped his pack on the side of the road. "I'm going with you guys too. You need a supervisor."

  "Gus, that's really not necessary. Why don't you take a break?" JT said.

  "You forgot to add old man in there. I want to go. Ain't you ever heard about respecting your elders?" Gus was firm.

  "If you are coming, let's go, daylight's wasting." Dusty strode off.

  JT glared at Dusty's back, then dropped his backpack and followed, with Gus beside him. All three carried their weapons. At this point they were like extensions of their arms.

  "We need to approach the bridge at an angle, so we can get the best view of what's going on up there," Dusty said, as JT and Gus caught up.

  The three of them headed off down the embankment and alongside the river, perpendicular to the bridge. They hadn't gone far when Dusty stopped. He used the binoculars he had around his neck to survey the bridge.

  "I didn't expect to see that," Dusty said, after a few minutes.

  "See what?" JT asked.

  "There is a woman running across the bridge in our direction. She has one of those baby carriers on her chest. Behind her it looks like about twelve zombies. It's slow going, there are cars every which way, jamming the bridge."

  "Well what are we just standing here pulling our peckers for? We gotta help her," Gus said, heading back the way they had came.

  "Why is that?" Dusty said.

  That stopped Gus. "Why is that? You just said there was a woman with a child, being chased by a herd of zombies and you have to ask me why is that?"

  "Yeah, I don't see why we should risk our necks for someone we don't know again," Dusty said. "We are living in a new world now. Besides, look at what has happened with everyone else we've ran into. It's almost got us killed every time."

  Gus looked incredulous.

  "You've got to be fucking kidding me Dusty. Gus is right, we're going up there," JT said.

  For a moment JT thought Dusty wasn't going to come. He and Gus were almost at the point where the bridge met the road before Dusty followed.

  They went a few feet onto the bridge, each picking a car to use as cover. JT gripped his pistol. His heartbeat quickened and his breath sped up as the adrenaline rush kicked in.

  "Alright, here she comes," Dusty shouted. Gunfire erupted.

  JT stood up. He saw the lady running towards them. The baby in her carrier jiggled as she made her way left and right through the maze of cars. He looked to his left and saw Dusty extended over the hood of a Mustang, his rifle flashing as he took down the zombies. The woman didn't even respond to the sounds of gunfire, she just kept coming forward as fast as she could.

  She ran past them a few feet from JT's position, in between him and Gus. She didn't even acknowledge their presence. She just ran on. JT then got a good look at the baby in her carrier. He then looked at Gus, who looked liked he might blow chunks. JT closed his eyes for a second, then went back to killing zombies.

  When the last one was down, Dusty turned to JT. He was clearly pissed.

  "See, you see what happened. She didn't even stop, not even a word or a thank you. For all we know the noise we just made could bring a much larger herd down on our heads."

  Gus turned to look at JT, then to Dusty. "Did you not see the baby she was carrying? That might be the most disgusting thing I have seen yet, and by this point that is saying a lot."

  "No, I was too busy killing the targets. Why, what was wrong with it?"

  "It was dead," JT said in a harsh whisper. "No, worse than that, it was a zombie. Its eyes were white, it's skin was pale. She had put duct tape over its mouth."

  Dusty was stunned into silence. "That's crazy," he finally said. "Why would she do that? Why wouldn't she just put it out of it's suffering and then bury it?"

  "Mother's love," Gus answered, shrugging.

  "I'll go back and get the others," JT said. "I think it'll be clear for at least long enough to safely cross. Maybe we can even check a few of these cars, see if they have anything good in them."

  "Before we go, let's not mention the women or the baby to the others," Gus suggested. "Everybody's pretty down as it is. Let's not add on one more sad moment to their mood."

  "Agreed. Morale is important," Dusty said.

  "Alright. We'll just tell them we had to clear out some zombies to pass, and leave it at that." JT turned to leave.

  A few moments later, JT was leading the group across the bridge. They searched the vehicles as they went. Someone had already hit the area. They had all been fairly picked over. Most of the cars still had keys in the ignition but had either been left running until their tanks were empty or had been siphoned of all there fuel. None of the ones JT tried would even crank over.

  They were a little more than halfway across when JT heard Ashley scream out in pain. He rushed back to her, joined by Hannah, and arrived to hear a string of expletives.

  "What is it?" Hannah said.

  "My fucking ankle. I thought I could squeeze between those two cars, but when I tried, my foot got caught and I fell. I heard a pop and now it hurts like holy hell. Even worse than before." Ashley was on the verge of tears. "It was just getting better too."

  Back in the direction they came from, they heard a voice call out. "Hey is somebody there?"

  Another voice said. "I swear I just heard a woman scream. Lets keep searching but be careful. They're probably armed."

  JT saw the look of panic in Ashley's face.

  "Don't worry, we're getting out of here r
ight now," JT assured her.

  "Tyrone!" JT hissed. Tyrone had stopped, but was standing back and off to one side. "Help me prop up Ashley. She hurt her ankle again and we need to get out of here. Someone is coming."

  Again they each took a side and picked Ashley up. The two went as fast as they could as she hobbled between them.

  "Hey!" JT whispered when he caught up to Dusty and Gus. "There are people behind us. They are searching for us."

  "Who knows what their intentions may be. We’re in no shape right now to find out," Dusty's voice was hushed but still commanding. "Alright we need to double time it people. Let's get across this bridge and into the woods. I will cover our flank. Move it people, move it."

  Harold looked down from the ridge upon the mass of people shuffling, stumbling and heaving themselves down the highway. Somehow, even with all their random movements, the group of people were steadily going South down Highway 10. Except you couldn't call them people anymore, not really.

  Harold raised his binoculars up to his eyes for a closer look. As he scanned the horde of forty or so, he saw rotting limbs, decomposing faces. A woman with one eye hanging from its socket by a tendon, like a grotesque spider dangling from a sick web. A man who bounced back and forth in the group like a pinball, his entrails painting red lines behind him, marking his path. Even, God forbid, a little girl, looking almost normal, that is if she still possessed her arms, instead of just bones sticking out of her shoulders.

  As far as Harold knew, as far as anyone knew, there was no explanation as to why they always seemed to clump together like this. There was no explanation to be had for any of it. The zombies were like a cancerous tumor roaming the countryside, devouring people. If you were really unfortunate you were attacked but lived through it. Then you became one of them, added to their ranks.

  The way the group of formerly dead moved made it easy for Harold to spot the other group. The regular people, off on the side of the road, in the trees. They must be either really stupid or really desperate, Harold thought, to get so close. If they had survived this long, Harold doubted they were stupid.

  Harold adjusted his binoculars, taking in the group of normals. There were seven of them. He strained to make out more, until the image became blurry. He couldn't tell for sure but he thought one of them was an attractive young woman, who looked to be limping. Could be why they were taking such a risk. One of them suddenly stopped, turned and seemed to look right at him. Instinctively Harold jerked back from the binoculars. There was no way they could have seen him, could they? Harold could barely pick out the group among the trees and he knew where they were.

  He thought about looking again, then realized there was really nothing more he could learn about the situation. He raised his left hand into the air, pointed up with this index finger and twirled it three times. From behind him in the brush emerged two figures dressed in camo cover suits and hunting boots. Both carried bolt-action hunting rifles at the ready. The two carefully made their way to Harold, who spoke to them in hushed tones.

  “Down there across the road in the woods, is a group. I count seven. One of them is possibly injured. On the road is a group of about forty dead, shambling down the highway. The two groups are on a collision course. Mike," Harold said, pointing to the man on his left. “I want you to go back to the cabin and gather up some medical supplies. Thomas,” He continued to the other man on his right. “You stay here with me and we'll keep tracking them. Let’s hope we don't need to bail them out. If we do, be ready Mike."

  The two men complied without a word. Mike raced back uphill. Thomas looked nervous beside Harold. Harold set a brisk pace as he made his way down the ridge and ahead of the pack. Harold was quiet, like the rustling of the wind. The same could not be said of Thomas. When the two got to the tree line close to the highway they stopped.

  “Thomas, you stay here. Things must be done delicately from here on out. Stay in cover and when we come back this way, be ready.”

  Harold raised his rifle up to look through the scope. He swept it both ways across the highway, and then took off silently again. He crossed the empty highway like a soldier crossing a war-torn no man’s land. When Harold reached the other tree line, he increased his speed again. He judged that he should reach the other group in no more than five minutes.

  Harold came to a small clearing and decided it would be better to wait here for them. There was less of a chance of getting shot by a panicked trigger finger. He lit a flare and tossed it, hoping they would be smart enough to come towards the light. He heard them before he saw them.

  Lucky that pack isn't chewing them up already, Harold thought.

  An older man stepped into the clearing, pistol raised. Nice move, coming alone. Maybe they are smarter than I am giving them credit for.

  “What’s going on here? Looking to lure us all in here and ambush us? How many more ya got?” the older man said.

  “I don't know if you are aware of this or not. Just through the trees there is a group of about forty flesh eaters. How they haven't already heard you and come tearing through the forest like a ravenous wolf pack, I don't know. I do know I saw you from the other side and came to see if you would like some help. One of your number looks wounded.”

  He could almost see the old man's gears grinding as he tried to decide what to do. Before he could reply to Harold, another man came into the clearing. He walked in with an attitude that was all business.

  “Come on Gus! I knew I should have gone first instead. I seem to be the only one here capable of making a good decision.”

  “Yes you should have. Fuck it all I am too old for all this shit. Sure as hell too old to put up with a pecker like you. Always on everyone's case,” Gus said.

  “Can we stop this and focus please?” Harold said through his teeth. “In case you forgot, I'll remind you again. There is a zombie pack almost on top of us. I have no problem leaving you here to fight them. This is the last time I am offering you my help.”

  “Dusty, what if he is right? I have made it this far. I would hate to become one of the items on an all you can eat zombie buffet.” Gus said.

  Dusty glared hard at Gus. Then he turned to Harold.

  “Fine, fucking fine. What's your plan man?” Dusty was clearly not happy.

  “Harold.”

  “OK, Harold.” Dusty spit out.

  “Get the rest of your group in here and let me look at the one that is wounded. See if there is anything I can do. Quick, we won't have much time.” Harold was starting to feel very antsy. He was just about to leave them all and go back.

  “Wait a damn second….” Dusty started. Harold cut him off with a look.

  “Then”, continued Harold, “I have a cabin up on the ridge on the other side of the highway. It is safe there."

  “Gus, you go back and get the rest. I will stay here with our new friend Harold,” Dusty said. His face suggested they would be anything but friends.

  “I will not wait much longer,” Harold stressed.

  When Gus was gone, Harold hunkered down, looking at the forest floor. Dusty continued to glare at him.

  Harold was just about ready to leave, thinking the group must have been scared off, when they all came into the clearing.

  “You're going to help us?” asked one of them. He was a big guy, looked like he could have been a football player back in the normal world.

  “I am,” said Harold, "if you'll do what I say."

  “Gus said you were going to look at my ankle?” asked the limping woman.

  “I wanted to, but I don’t think we will have the time now due to your tardiness. We are going to have to make our way back across as best we can. I have a place-"

  "Is it Safe Haven?" The other woman interrupted.

  Harold froze for a second, caught off guard by her comments.

  "It's a cabin, across the highway and up the bluff. Think you can carry your wounded friend fireman style, big man? If it comes to that?” Harold said, recovering.

/>   “Sure. By the way, I’m JT.”

  “Follow me, be as quiet as possible and I will get you out of this alive.”

  Harold turned and started back the way he came, not giving a second glance if they were following him.

  Harold set a slower, more deliberate pace and still the group made too much noise for his liking. He heard a rustle and a crack of breaking branches. It wasn't from behind him. That was his only warning before a body slammed into him.

  Harold kept the attacker's momentum going and rolled with the body, landing on top of it. The zombie hissed silently up at him. Harold jumped up to his feet and fired a silent shot into its head. It was all over before anyone from the group could reach him.

  “What the hell?” Dusty said.

  “Outlier. Doesn't happen much from what I've seen. Means the pack is not far behind though. Let's move a little faster.” Harold was thankful he had equipped his silencer before leaving the cabin. A gunshot would have brought the horde down on them for sure.

  Harold quickened the pace. He began to hear more crashing and cracking from his right than he did from the group behind him. His heart began to beat a little faster.

  He then saw something flash out of the corner of his eye. He lifted the rifle, got it in his sights and fired. He then ran to the deer he just dropped, pulling out his knife as he approached it.

  The group caught up to him as he was slicing the deer wide open, scattering its entrails around.

  “Um, what’s he doing?” he heard one of the women say.

  “Creating a diversion, I hope. Don’t you hear that?” Harold said.

  The sound of snapping and breaking wood was practically on top of them.

  “Run,” Harold said, keeping calm.

  The group broke into a chaotic scramble. Harold easily stayed in the lead, shouting commands over his shoulder. The time to be quiet was over.

  It sounded as if the whole forest had come alive and was coming to kill them. Harold imagined this is what it would sound like if he was being chased by Ents from Lord of the Rings. Harold turned and ran backwards, surveying the scene.