The Outbreak Series (Book 1): Safe Haven

by Thomas Baker

  "My God," Hannah said breathless as she stepped out of the back bedroom.

  The cabin looked like a warzone. Plates, cups and even the kitchen table, laid broken in pieces among the carnage of zombie parts.

  "We have to remove this filth from my house now," Harold said, crossing the room like he was crossing a minefield.

  "We have quite the mess outside as well," said Dusty, turning from the window. "All of the tents were flattened in the attack and are buried under all the dead bodies."

  JT glared at Harold. He couldn't believe how calmly the guy was acting, after everything that just happened. After how coolly he killed Thomas.

  Thomas was totally right about Harold. JT felt guilty, if they had left when Thomas had said to, he would still be alive. JT looked down at his axe, and back over to Harold. Harold was flailing about the cabin, wild eyed, going on and on about the mess. JT dropped the axe. He wasn't a stone cold killer. There had to be some other way to do this. Maybe he could overpower Harold then drive him far away and dump him. Hannah's bawling pulled him away from his thoughts. He went to check on her. Hannah buried her face under his chin as he wrapped his arms around her. His steely gaze was still focused on Harold.

  "Ew, ew, ew," Ashley squealed, dragging a headless zombie out the door by its legs. She followed the now well worn line in the dirt to the field, where Harold directed them to pile the corpses up. After the first hour, even when Ashley began to whine about her protesting back and screaming ankle, Harold pushed everyone onward. He made threats about sending everyone off if things weren't cleaned immediately. Like his cabin was some ritzy million dollar mansion.

  After dropping the body off in the field with the rest, Ashley hobbled over to Harold.

  "That's it. That's the last body. It's break time."

  Harold pushed a shovel and a black trash bag her way.

  "Now we need to shovel up all the dismembered parts," he said, with no trace of sympathy. "You know, the arms, legs, and heads."

  "I don't care what you threaten or how much of a fit you throw Harold, I'm not doing that. No way!" Ashley crossed her arms in front of her chest in defiance.

  Harold sent her off with a wave of his hand, clearly irritated.

  Ha, I don't care how mad you get. I usually get my way she thought, as she headed inside.

  Ashley went and laid down on the couch, her wounded ankle propped up on a wooden stool. She definitely felt like it was getting better, but after that much use it was screaming right now. She couldn't wait for it to be healed. She was tired of being cooped up inside. Tired of having to hobble everywhere and ask for help every two seconds. Well except from Tyrone, he was kinda cute. Normally she liked older men, but she couldn't be so choosy now, could she. Maybe she could have some snuggle time with him when her foot got better. Most of all though, she was very tired of what felt less like examining and more like fondling whenever Harold checked her ankle. Plus, he smelled like old gym socks mixed with wet dog.

  Around her the others worked. There was Tyrone, with the shovel and trash bag. Sweat covered his body. Where the wooden floors had been cleared, Harold attacked them with a mop. He was going at it so hard, she thought the handle would break. The mop bucket came near her. It was filled with sickly grey water with floating bits of body on top. Ashley's stomach did flops. She looked away. Ugh it's all so disgusting.

  Ashley must have dozed off. The next thing she knew, Harold was shaking her.

  "The inside is done, and everyone but Hannah is outside working on the tents. If anyone is looking for me, I'm going out scouting," Harold switched tones, from all business to kind, almost loving. "Why don't you go lay down in a more comfortable place and get some good sleep?"

  Harold went out the front door, rifle in hand. Ashley shivered. Creepy creeper.

  Feeling like she couldn't go back to sleep, and she didn't want to be alone at that moment, she instead got up and stiffly walked back outside. The dawn light filtered through the trees. The area around the tents was clean and the tents were back up. She saw the guys, huddled together, between the tents and the woods. They spoke quietly among themselves. She couldn't really make out what they were saying until she got closer.

  "The whole time we have been here, the man has shared everything he has with us," Gus was saying. "Then the attack, the cleanup. He has to be exhausted. I think it's only right we help out more. I say we go to the nearest town for a supply run."

  "If you all are going, I'm going too. I don't want to stay behind," Tyrone said, sounding determined.

  "You know what I think," Dusty said. "Last night proves no place is safe. If you're going, I am. I want to look for a vehicle and get some things together for when we have to evac."

  "Okay, the four of us will go," JT agreed. "The rest can stay and get some sleep."

  "Great, and I'm stuck here again, like a beached whale," Ashley said, startling everyone.

  "Ashley," Tyrone said, giving her a half smile. "I don't know what you are talking about. You are far too fine to ever be compared to a whale."

  "Flattery only makes me feel a little better," Ashley teased. "You better pick me up something nice Tyrone."

  "Yes ma'am," Tyrone grinned, giving her a wink.

  "I'll go tell Hannah, Mike and Alan that we are leaving," JT said.

  "Leaving where?" Hannah said, strolling through the tents.

  "We're going into town. Supplies," JT said.

  "Just you guys? Why am I not going?" Hannah asked, hands on her hips. "What, you don't want a helpless woman going along?"

  "Eh, well..."JT stammered.

  "Boy, you're acting like a kid whose mama just caught him in the cookie jar," Gus chuckled.

  "Come on Hannah," JT said, sounding defensive. "You know I don't think that at all. You've held your own all along."

  "Gosh JT," Ashley said. "For a guy, you sure can't tell when someone is breaking your balls."

  Hannah laughed wickedly.

  "You know Hannah sometimes I think you just like giving me shit," JT said.

  "It is cute to watch you get all mad and turn bright red," Hannah smirked. "Anyway, I'll let everyone else know. I was going to ask Alan to help me do some practice rounds with the rifle. After last night, I could use some more training."

  "Just make sure that when you pull the trigger, the little end is pointed away from you," JT joked.

  "Laugh it up while you can," advised Hannah. "When I'm done, I will be shooting circles around you JT. Come on Ashley, let's leave the menfolk to their work."

  With that Hannah walked back to the cabin. Ashley shot Tyrone a wink of her own, then turned and followed.

  "Women," Gus snorted. "Can't live with them, can't feed them to the zombies."

  "I heard that Gus!" Ashley shouted over her shoulder.

  They all laughed.

  Ashley was alone, lying on the couch again. She couldn't believe Harold didn't have anything more entertaining than books and magazines. The guy didn't even have a DVD player!

  As she laid there, her eyes began to feel heavy. The windows were open. The wind, birds, and other sounds of the forest outside mixed into a drowsy lullaby. She didn't know how long she had rested her eyes, but when she opened them again, Harold was standing over her.

  "What?" Ashley said, her words slurred and groggy.

  "You know Ashley, you are so young and so beautiful," Harold said. His hands were behind his back. "Too beautiful for this ugly, ugly world. I can keep you beautiful forever. You can stay with me, be married to me and never, ever have to grow old."

  Ashley blinked, trying to clear away her confusion. She rubbed her eyes with her hands. She looked up at Harold, and saw nothing in his eyes. His smile though was pure ecstasy.

  She didn't even have a chance to scream. Harold's rough hands held some fabric over her mouth. Even as she began to struggle, she could feel herself slipping away.

  "Alright, I think here is a good place to stop and go in on foot," Dusty said as he pulled Haro
ld's truck over.

  The four piled out. In front of them stood a sign proclaiming that this was the home of '1991 National AA Football Champions'. Looking down, JT noticed that across the road, spray painted in big, bold orange letters, was 'SAFE HAVEN', with an arrow pointing back the way they had came.

  "According to Harold, he has only been to this town once and at that time it was clear," Dusty said, in military mode again. It felt good to be doing something. To be leading a squad. "Let's keep on our toes like it's not. Hey Tyrone, you hear me?"

  Tyrone had been staring down at the fluorescent words. "Oh yeah, sure. It is just strange, seeing that again. You know what I mean?"

  "Yeah," Gus added. "I think that last time we saw 'Safe Haven' it was pointing to the North, now this one is pointing South. Makes me think we should have stumbled on it, if it's that close by."

  "Unless it was written by some kinda lunatic," JT said. "Like those guys in movies with the end of the world signs."

  "Alright, enough, you yahoos. That's not what we are here for," Dusty commanded. "Let's all focus. Remember, use hand weapons only. Guns will be the last resort option. Okay, let's move out."

  "Aye aye sarge sir, roger and all that," Said Gus, giving a half-cocked salute.

  JT remained quiet. Dusty was glad, it make life easier on them all if JT just followed his lead.

  The four men moved together, weapons in hand, saddled with empty backpacks. Mostly clear of wreckage, they made good time down the main street. They came across a few dead bodies. It looked like animals had been picking at them.

  "Gruesome," Tyrone said, covering his mouth. "Every time I see it, I still can't get use to it."

  "Shhhhh," hissed Dusty. "Quiet."

  They reached the main shopping center in the middle of town. There was a semi, it's trailer still attached, on it's side in the intersection.

  Dusty went first around the trailer and scrambled to a stop. JT almost crashed into him. He was about to give Dusty some business, then he saw the four zombies. They were munching on what was recently an elderly lady. All four had their heads so far buried into her body, they didn't even notice the newcomers. JT began stepping backwards, thinking how lucky they were not to be spotted, when a shot rang out. It zinged off the semi truck. The zombies looked up as one.

  "Back! Back!" Dusty scowled.

  The four men dashed back around the trailer, the zombies rising after them. As the first one turned the corner, JT jumped in front of Dusty and caved it's face in with his bat.

  "Homerun," Gus cackled. "It's outta here,"

  "No time for horseplay," JT turned and gave him a shove. "Get going Gus."

  Another shot rang out, and little bits of pavement exploded by Gus's feet.

  "Well shit, we have zombies trying to eat us and people trying to shoot us," Gus puffed as he ran. "Wasn't this a great idea."

  "Save your breath old timer," Dusty said as he ducked behind a car.

  The others kept going and the zombies followed. When the last zombie went past Dusty, he sank his knife into the back of its skull. He pulled his pistol and was lining up a shot on the remaining two, when the window of the car exploded next to him Dusty ducked back down into cover.

  Tyrone ran full speed, getting way ahead of everyone. He stopped and pivoted, drawing his gun and dropping to one knee. JT saw him and motioned to Gus. The two split up, JT going left and Gus going right, pouring on the speed as much as they could. Pop, pop sounded Tyrone's gun. The last two zombies dropped to the ground, bloodless holes in their heads.

  "Guess them lessons are paying off, eh? Nice shootin' slickster!" Gus sounded proud.

  Bet they are glad they listened to me now. I told them we should never stop honing our skills.

  Dusty moved out of the intersection and moistened them to follow.

  "We'll regroup here. This will be outside the range of whoever is shooting at us."

  "I'm going to find that fuck shooting at us, and I'm going to stick my bat up their ass!" JT fumed. "They just about got us killed."

  Ashley opened her eyes. At least she thought she did, but everything was still really dark. A light came on in the distance. She could see dust motes floating by. She attempted to move, but she was bound at the wrist and ankles. Something was in her mouth as well, it tasted oily and old. Still she struggled, but quickly she ran out of strength.

  Her eyes began to adjust to the meager light. She could see a dirt wall in front of her, along with a stand alone bathtub. Hooks, brown with flakes of rust, hung from a wooden beam over the tub.

  She could hear someone humming behind her. It sounded familiar. Is that the wedding march? No way that's crazy. Wait so is this...

  Ashley tried to turn her head, but there wasn't much give there either. The light around her darkened as Harold stepped into view in front of her. He leaned in so close, she could count all the whiskers in his beard.

  "You are awake my darling," Harold said, his voice smooth as glass. "That is great. I didn't want you to miss seeing your wedding dress. I picked it out for you myself."

  He took a couple of steps back and held up the white gown in front of him, like a model.

  "I can tell by the look in your eyes you love it. That makes me very happy. Here, let me get you dressed."

  Ashley hung limp from exhaustion. Now she raged against her bonds like a back alley cat as Harold approached, adrenaline fueling her body.

  "Hush, hush my dear. I know you are excited. This won't take long."

  Harold ripped away her clothes, leaving Ashley shivering in only her panties. He ran his sandpaper hands over her bare breasts softly before leaning in and kissing her on the forehead. How can this be happening to me? Her thoughts reached a desperate pitch. Haven't I suffered enough already?

  JT popped up and ran from a car, to a truck, to a building, ignoring the sharp pains from his knee. He looked like some kind of absurd prairie dog. He was pretty sure he had figured out where the shots were coming from. He was going to kill the bastard. Nothing was going to stop him.

  Gus and Dusty trailed behind him. Both were shouting at him to stop. Tyrone had stayed back out of range. If he had to go in there by himself, he was fine with that.

  A crack echoed down the empty streets and glass shattered nearby. "That's right moron," JT hissed to himself through his clenched jaw. "Keep firing so I can track you down."

  Two buildings down, he saw movement on the second floor. Then another shot rang out.

  "Bingo motherfucker."

  He sprinted at full speed, determined to get to the building front and under the gunman. His right knee screamed in protest. It buckled out from under him as he hit the sidewalk. Down he went. He rolled with his fall and crashed into the brick wall. Pavement bits flew up seconds later from where he had just been.

  He thought he was pissed before. JT now felt like a volcano had gone off in his chest. He erupted up and half ran, half hobbled to the building's entrance. The door was gone, ripped from its hinges. Without slowing he went through the entrance. In an instant he was face first on the floor. His nose crunched as it hit the hardwood and he could feel warmth on his lip.

  JT let out a guttural growl. He got up to a sitting position and looked behind him, one hand on his nose. Squinting, he could see the broken wire that ran across the doorway, right at ankle height. He couldn't remember the last time his anger had broiled inside of him like this.

  Apparently his bat had skidded out of his hands during the fall. He wasn't going to waste time looking for it. "I'll just strangle this prick."

  He was in what use to be a shoe store. Boxes and shoes lay strewn all about the place, along with random garbage. JT walk slowed down as he favorite his knee. He had to keep wiping his nose as well. In the back room he found the staircase to the second floor.

  Step by careful step he took the stairs. He was about half way up when he noticed another wire. If he had charged up the stairs like he originally planned, that would have led to a nasty fall. Maybe ev
en a broken neck. He stepped over it and continued on. The staircase turned. He came to the top and found himself in a corridor. There were two doors, one set about half way down and one door at the very end.

  The one at the end had to be the room facing the street, he concluded.

  He forced himself to take it slow, and in what seemed like hours he reached the end of the hall. He turned the handle gently, then threw all his weight against the door in a mad rush in.

  A girl was kneeling out the window, looking through her rifle scope. She turned at the crashing sound of his entrance. He had completely startled her. He could clearly see it in her face, as time seemed to slow down. What is she, about eight...nine...ten?

  He was running at full speed, down low, like he was about to tackle someone. He saw surprise turn to horror in her eyes. She began to turn the rifle towards him. He tried to stop. His momentum carried him forward, smashing into her. She flew over top of the windowsill and disappeared out of his sight. Dear God, what have I done.

  He sat on the floor, with his back to the window, hands covering his face, when Gus and Dusty found him.

  "That kid with their head splattered all over the sidewalk down there was the shooter?" Dusty asked.

  "Jesus, Sarge, do you even know of the word tact?" Gus exclaimed.

  Normally JT would have snapped at Dusty's rude comments. Right now, he didn't think he'd get that angry ever again.

  "Was she here all by herself?" Dusty continued on.

  "I don't know, I haven't checked the place," JT said, weakly. "I would guess if there were other people here, I would be dead by now."

  "Damn it jock, you've got to start thinking better," Dusty said, exasperated. "Didn't you just learn, you must be on your toes at all time? I'll check the perimeter."

  Gus sat down next to JT. Silence dragged on minute after minute.

  "You know, it wasn't your fault," Gus offered.

  "Yeah," muttered JT. Blood dripped from his nose in a soft pitter patter onto the floor. It was less blood than that girl's losing out on the sidewalk.