by Jay Brenham
The first half of the driveway was paved; halfway in, it switched to crushed rock. They stepped off the bicycles and pushed them into the bushes beside the road.
The sound of their footsteps on the gravel seemed earsplitting and Sam was sure it would alert any infected nearby. One side of the driveway was covered in leaves and sticks and would be every bit as noisy as the rocks, if not more. Sweat slicked Sam’s palms and his heart beat a staccato rhythm in his chest. Would they be there? Would they be infected?
At Sam’s urging they slung their weapons over their shoulders and kept their hands in the air. Jill’s family owned guns and knew how to use them. The last thing he wanted was to get shot by accident because they mistook him for a thief.
The windows of the house were dark and unbroken and there were no cars in the driveway. It looked like the family had gone away for the afternoon—out for pizza, perhaps, or to see a movie. He was used to seeing the house bright, full of light and people and voices. He had to remind himself that the power was out; every home looked unoccupied.
They skirted the house carefully, hands still raised, checking to see if the house had been breached at any point. A full check of the perimeter showed the house to be completely secure.
Sam took a deep breath. The infected hadn’t been here. Jill and Grant were probably inside. He could already imagine Jill’s face when she saw him, her teary smile when she settled Grant in his arms. He went to the woodshed and felt above the door where his in-laws always kept the hidden key.
He knocked on the door, loudly and in a rhythm so that it wouldn’t sound like someone breaking in. Neither he nor Matt was stupid enough to knock on the door without having their weapons ready. Though Sam hated to think of infected pouring from this particular house, they needed to be prepared for the possibility.
There was no answer. Sam turned the key and opened the door.
“Jill?” he called as he stepped inside. “Hello? Jill, it’s Sam.” There was no answer. Feeling suddenly uneasy, he hugged the wall, not wanting to be silhouetted by the open door. Matt followed behind and shut the door softly. Dirty dishes were in the sink and a mug of tea that was half full sat on the kitchen table. It wasn’t clean but it was not a mess from the infected.
The two of them went room to room, clearing the spaces as they went. The house was empty. No Jill, no Grant, no in-laws. The gun rack in his brother-in-law’s room was empty though. So was the gun rack in his father-in-law’s closet.
“The guns are all gone,” Sam said, coming back into the kitchen.
Matt was going through the cupboards. “Most of the non-perishable food is gone too.”
Sam slumped against the wall, half relieved, half disappointed. They’d left, but they’d left with a plan.
“Did you see a note? Anything to indicate where they went?” he asked Matt.
Matt shook his head.
“She would’ve left a note,” Sam said to no one in particular.
“Maybe she didn’t have time.”
“They had time to get all of the canned goods. She would’ve left a note,” Sam said again. “She would’ve made sure there was a way for me to find her.”
“She probably assumed you were dead, Sam,” Matt said quietly. “It would’ve been a reasonable assumption. Or maybe she was afraid someone like Paul would see the note and follow them to steal their food and weapons.”
That was it, Sam thought. Maybe she’d left a note, just not in plain sight. Matt started to say something else but Sam pushed himself up from the wall. Her father had built the house himself. Piece by piece, as he earned the money. He’d put in all kinds of extras: built-in shelves, benches, a playhouse under the stairs.
Sam ran upstairs to Jill’s room, still pink from when she was a little girl. He went straight to the built-in window seat and felt underneath it for the latch. It had been Jill’s favorite place to sit and read when she was young. A flick of his finger opened the latch and he yanked the bench up. It was empty except for a single piece of paper.
Sam,
With everything that’s been happening we thought it would be safer to go to my parent’s rental house in Chincoteague. If you’re reading this, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get word to you before you traveled all this way, but I’m so, so grateful you’re alive. We’re all okay and doing well, all things considered. Please get to us. Grant and I miss you.
All my love,
Jill
A feeling of relief washed over Sam, followed by dread. Just because they’d started out for Chincoteague Island didn’t mean they’d made it there. It was far away, all the way on the other side of the Chesapeake Bay, on Virginia’s Eastern Shore. In the days before the infection it had taken four hours by car. It would take him and Matt at least two days to reach it by boat. Maybe more, because they’d have to stop to raid marinas for fuel.
Sam folded the note carefully and put it in his pocket. He turned around and saw Matt standing there. Sam took a moment and thought. He had come a long way since filling his bathtub with water in Norfolk and now he had a partner.
Sam turned to Matt, a smirk stretching over his face. “Do you have any plans for the next few days?”
Matt nodded. “Yeah I do actually. A buddy of mine, his in-laws have this place on Chincoteaque Island. They said we could use it for the weekend. If we can get there.”
Sam smiled. “Alright then. Let’s go.”
He left the house with Matt following close on his heels, watching his back.
Thanks for reading Exodus from the Seven Cities! I hope you enjoyed my story. Reviews really help drive sales for indie authors like me. So if you liked Exodus from the Seven Cities, please leave a review so other readers can connect with my work.
To leave a review visit www.amazon.com
Don’t stop reading! If you liked what you read you can get the novella, Fall of the Seven Cities, and start read about Matt and Jenna’s escape from Virginia Beach. Visit Amazon.com and type in Jay Brenham FALL OF THE SEVEN CITIES.
Visit my website at www.JayBrenham.com to learn how to get a free short story set in the world you just read about and sign up for my email list. When you sign up for my list you’ll be the first to learn about new releases and future free content. No spam, I promise.
Acknowledgments
First and foremost, even though this isn’t enough to express the extent of my gratitude, I want to thank my wife. Without her, I would never have been able to make this story publishable.
Thank you to my family for supporting me and, in particular, my mother and father for being good beta readers. C.T.C., thank you for your boundless enthusiasm and for throwing me a launch party.
In no particular order, I would also like to thank:
My childhood friend, Mike, as well as his father, for introducing me to a genre I love. As well as Mike’s mother for pretending not to notice we were watching age inappropriate horror and action movies.
My good friend, Nick F, for painstakingly reading what I produce and for volunteering to edit. I hope one day I get to repay the favor.
I owe a significant thank you to my beta readers: Sander, Casey T, Vic, Dave, James S, and my college roommate, M.K.
James Cook, author of the Surviving the Dead series, for sharing his pre-publishing checklist with a random fan. His books are a great read and anyone who’s interested in the survival horror genre should check them out.
Sean Platt and Johnny B. Truant, for replying to me when I asked for advice. Their book, Write, Publish, Repeat, was a key factor in getting my book finished.
And last but not least, Orson Scott Card, who is my favorite author of all time. When I’d written no more than a single paragraph, I wrote to him asking for advice about feeling self-conscious with my writing. To my surprise, Card wrote back to me and essentially told me to get over myself. That was exactly the kick in the pants I needed.
