Turning the wheel at the last instant, Doug pulled up beside the large form, extending his arm out the window as he slowed. What used to be Jason dropped its arms, sensing Doug would be like him soon. “I’m sorry, Jason,” Doug said, pulling the trigger of his 1911.
Doug’s ears started ringing from the shot as Jason’s head burst. Taking his foot off the brake, Doug continued through the neighborhood. He was going to go to Hawaii with the others, but his mother was in the hospital in Nashville, and the doctors had told him she didn’t have long. The cancer had taken over.
For the last week, he sat beside her, and when she was awake, they would talk. His whole life, his mother had given all for him. His father had left when he was only a month old. Not giving up their house, his mother took two jobs and made ends meet. Everything he wanted to do as a kid, his mom made sure he had the chance.
When he joined the Navy, she stood behind him. She didn’t like him becoming a SEAL, but she supported the decision. He was ten years into his service when his mom was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Knowing she didn’t have insurance and that was the only way to get her the care she deserved, Doug left the Navy and started an executive security business.
After five years of treatment, his mother was cleared, and that’s when he bought the house in this neighborhood and met everyone. Then last Christmas, his mother passed out while she was shopping. At the hospital, the doctors told them the cancer was back, and treatment wasn’t an option.
While Lance and Ian were testing for their brown belts, Doug was at his mother’s bedside as she took her last breath. He wiped his tears away as a nurse came in, turned off the machine then left him with his mother. As Doug sat there, he started smelling rotten eggs but ignored it as he got up and stood over his mom.
When Doug kissed his mother and hugged her for the last time, he heard a growl and pain on his chest. Jumping back, he felt warmth running down his chest as his mother looked at him with a bloody chunk of meat in her mouth. “Mom,” he said as she swallowed it and lunged forward, almost biting him again in the same spot.
Doug grabbed her and forced her back on the bed as he screamed for help. Nurses and doctors ran in, restraining his mother as Doug screamed for answers. They took him to the ER and cleaned his wounds but wouldn’t let him see his mom.
As he sat in the hall that night, he saw several other patients become violent in the ICU. Doug watched a man bite the throat out of one nurse. He watched her blood spray across the ICU as she collapsed to the floor.
Her co-workers put her on a stretcher, but Doug saw the last pump of her heart as the blood stopped shooting out of her neck. As the team hooked her up to monitors, the nurse sat up and bit one. Before they had her tied down, all seven at the bedside had bites; one on the floor was bleeding from the neck.
When the man on the floor stood up and started attacking people, Doug took off running. He got trapped on the third floor with a nurse that had a small bite to the arm. She looked healthy when she went to sleep right before dawn, but Doug found himself fighting her an hour later.
She had lunged at him, baring her teeth in a growl. He was able to get her in a choke hold and broke her neck. When he dropped the body to the floor, he jumped back, seeing the jaw open and close and her eyes follow him. Smelling the rotten eggs again, Doug made the connection.
He made it to the parking garage that morning and finally had a gun as he dove in his Escalade. Infected were running around everywhere now, and when he backed out, they started piling on his SUV. Fighting his way out, he heard the voice from the Escalade tell him, “Fuel level is low.”
All in the streets, he saw what everyone was calling “riots.” Pulling into a gas station, he shoved the hose in and turned on the pump. Seeing a large group of people trotting at him growling and covered in blood, Doug took off into the store and locked the door.
He found the owners, a husband and wife, and both had bites smaller than his. They sat in the store as the group outside pounded on the glass. None of their cellphones worked, and the phone just made a buzzing sound. The wife kept talking about how sleepy she was, and Doug had to admit he was ready to drop even with what was happening. Only his training kept him awake.
The wife was only asleep for a few minutes before she lunged, growling, at her husband. She was totally fine before she went to sleep, then—bam—she wanted to munch on people.
Doug and the husband tied her up, and the husband sat down beside her. Doug watched as he too went to sleep. Grabbing zip ties, Doug tied his hands and feet together, and thirty minutes later, he woke up growling.
Knowing he was over thirty hours, Doug found a phone book and found the address to a pharmaceutical warehouse he knew of. It didn’t advertise what it was, but he had assigned a security detail there once.
Drinking anything with massive amounts of caffeine, Doug made it out of the store and to his Escalade that afternoon. Stopping in front of a non-descript building, he found the warehouse locked up. It took some work, but he broke in and knew what he needed.
Pulling out his cellphone, he tried calling Bill and Johnathan but couldn’t connect. Since he changed cellphones every month, they didn’t have his number. Calling his answering service, Doug got his messages. Filling a bag he found, he headed to his SUV and drove off.
He was ambushed the first time a block away. Gunfire tore his SUV up as they told him to get out with his hands up. A vehicle pulled behind him, blocking him in. Dropping the SUV in four-wheel drive, Doug hit the gas.
It was night before the group that ambushed him figured there was easier prey. Doug didn’t know how many he killed or the roving bands of infected that showed up killed, but he wasn’t one. As he drove his busted SUV down the road, he passed cop cars parked on the road with lights flashing but no one around.
Several blocks later, a big group of infected swarmed in, and he stomped the gas and plowed through. When he lost them, Doug turned toward the interstate only to find it was jammed with stalled cars.
Taking another route home, a woman holding a small child ran out, asking for help, saying a group of people chased her other kid up a tree and were growling at him. Checking his pistol, Doug got out and felt fire fill his belly.
The gunshot resonated around Doug as he looked up, seeing two men stand up behind parked cars, aiming pistols at him. Snapping his pistol up, Doug hit both in the chest. The woman screamed at him, and Doug swung his aim to her chest. Dropping his aim, Doug squeezed the trigger as the woman grabbed her belly. Climbing in his SUV, Doug pulled past the screaming toddler.
He didn’t know how far he traveled when he saw an ambulance that was crashed into a telephone pole. Parking beside it, Doug looked in the back and saw blood everywhere. Knowing what he needed, Doug foraged through the mess until he found them.
Walking over to an abandoned building, Doug crawled in the bushes around it and started tending his wounds. As he went to work, a running gun battle between two gangs erupted on the street in front of him. Setting his pistol on the ground beside him, Doug just continued to work on his wounds.
One gang was chasing the other down the street in front of him, firing guns wildly. When he finished, Doug just sat and watched the battle. He watched two men and a woman get shot before the battle moved further down the street. The three sat up and attacked the closest person to them.
Doug watched one teen they bit sit down next to his Escalade holding his arm. The groups were long gone but still shooting at each other several blocks away when the bit teen nodded off. Doug just sat and waited. In less than an hour, the teen jumped up and trotted toward the gunfire.
As the teen left, Doug looked at his destroyed SUV and figured that’s why no one bothered to check it. Pulling his shirt on and grabbing his pistol, Doug climbed in his Escalade and headed home.
He saw much worse horrors and had to fight past an ambush from rogue cops before he made it home.
Doug shook his head to stop his mind from wandering as he pu
lled out of the last street in the subdivision. Looking behind him in the rearview mirror, Doug was impressed with the crowd following him. He dropped his eyes. “Oh shit,” he yelled, yanking the steering wheel around a tight pack of infected.
The main street into the subdivision was packed with infected moving toward him. Weaving the truck around the more packed areas in the road, Doug hit the four-wheel drive button. Feeling his eyes getting heavy, Doug started pounding his belly wound.
“I’m not dead yet, fuckers!” he screamed, pushed the pedal down, and plowed through the mass of bodies.
Hands tried to reach in and grab him, but even when one did, it let Doug go. He was almost one of them. Almost to the entrance to the subdivision, one managed to climb up enough to stick its head in the passenger window. It looked at Doug and was backing out as Doug raised his pistol and shot it in the face.
“I’m not one yet, bitch,” he growled, looking at the mass of bodies behind him as he pulled out on the road and headed toward town. Driving slowly, he led the pack several miles from the subdivision and sped up and stopped on the side of the road.
Feeling lightheaded, Doug climbed out and staggered to the bed of the truck and climbed up. Bringing his rifle to his shoulder, he grinned. “Last stand of the Alamo.” He squeezed the trigger as the first gunshot of his stand roared across the countryside.
With his barrel smoking, Doug patted his vest and didn’t feel any magazines. Looking down at his feet, he saw a dozen empty ones. “Time flies when you’re having fun,” he said, pulling his pistol out and looking at the mass of bodies lying on the road and more walking toward him. “I just wanted to go home, drink, and eat a bullet, but my team needed me.”
Having a mission, he pulled one magazine out and held it in his mouth and went to work as the 1911 roared, spitting out .45 caliber rounds. He didn’t know how long he squeezed the trigger before he realized nothing was happening. Looking down at his vest, he saw it was empty, and all his pistol magazines were in the bed of the truck.
“Been fun, guys,” he said, taking the magazine out of his mouth. He crawled over the side of the truck and slipped, landing face first on the pavement. He heard feet shuffling behind him as he fought to stand up. Doug watched the infected just walk past him.
Grabbing the door of the truck, Doug climbed inside. “I’m coming, Momma,” he said, pulling out a bottle of water, fighting to keep his eyes open. “Fucking zombies. Who knew?” he mumbled and turned the bottle of water up and held a mouthful. Releasing the slide and chambering a round, Doug put the pistol under his chin. Hope this helps the boys, he thought, pulling the trigger.
The bullet burrowed through his jaw and hit the mouthful of water. All the energy was transferred to the water as the bullet passed through, and Doug’s entire head disappeared in a pink mist.
Chapter 9
They watched Doug round the corner and heard gunshots. “We have work to do,” Lance said, stepping back. He looked at Jennifer with watery eyes. “Jennifer, you need to start on the ice chests. Allie and Carrie, you know how to close the shutters. They are just like the shutters at the cabin. Just turn the wheel till they close.”
“Let’s see what’s in the trailer already,” Ian said, and Lance nodded. They headed downstairs and into the garage. Lance and Ian pulled the empty ice chests over, and Jennifer went to work filling them. Walking over, they looked at the black Hummer and black, enclosed trailer. Lance didn’t know how big it was, but the trailer had three wheels on each side, and that seemed like a lot to him.
The Hummer and trailer were in the long bay that Doug had built for his RV. He only had the RV for a year and sold it, saying he could use their dads’ RVs. It may have been built for an RV, but the Hummer and trailer did a good job of taking up the length of the bay.
A door on the side of the trailer allowed them to get in, and they found the trailer was empty. “Damn,” Ian mumbled.
“Let’s look for straps so we can start stacking shit in here,” Lance said, feeling exhausted, but looked down at the trident in his hand. “Can’t quit,” he mumbled and pinned it to his shirt.
They walked into the kitchen and looked over the list on the counter. “He told us where everything is at,” Ian said and moved over to the ammo boxes stacked in the living room. It was dusk when they dragged all the ice chests over and fought to push them in the trailer.
“Stupid fucking thing,” Allie said, kicking the last ice chest.
Standing up and wiping his face, Lance said, “I’m sorry, but you can’t cuss. It’s not right.”
“You do, so I can,” she huffed and kicked the ice chest again.
Giving up, Lance leaned over and grabbed a handle, and the others moved over, helping to get it in the trailer. They stacked the ice chests over the wheels, four on each side and then two high. As they worked, Jennifer left to cook. When the list was done, the trailer was three-quarters full with an aisle down the middle.
“We haven’t even put anything in the Hummer yet,” Ian said, wiping his face. “Think we can take this harness and vest off while we work?”
“I don’t care. I’m taking mine off and going to find a holster to clip on,” Lance panted.
They laid their gear on the couch and headed to the office. They found their clip-on holsters for the XDMs and paddle magazine holsters. Clipping them on, both felt like they could fly they felt so light. They smelled food and took off to the kitchen to find Jennifer still cooking.
“Oh man, thank you,” Ian huffed then turned on the water in the sink and stuck his head under the faucet.
“Why did Doug have all this stuff here?” Jennifer asked, pulling out plates.
“He owned a security company, and this was gear he gave his guards to protect stuff,” Lance said, moving over to the sink as Ian stepped away with water dripping down his body from his head.
“Most security guards don’t even have guns, much less this stuff,” Jennifer said, putting the stack of plates on the kitchen table. Allie and Carrie ran over and started setting the plates around the table.
Ian shook his head, sending water everywhere. “No, his employees guarded like people from other countries or government sites.”
“And he kept it here at his house?”
Lance yanked his head back, throwing water off in an arc. “No, this is just extra. He owns some land outside of Knoxville where he trains his workers. It has whole buildings full of gear. It even has a driving course. He just keeps stuff here so he can ship things out and test.”
“One of the bedrooms upstairs has shelves full of clothes. Camouflage uniforms with knee and elbow pads, black pants, khaki pants, polo shirts, boots, under armor stuff, and tennis shoes. I thought the pants were dress pants, but they are thicker and have pockets on the side,” she said, turning off the stove.
“Those are tactical pants. Where do you think Ian and I got the tactical pants we’re wearing from?” Lance asked, grabbing a dish towel to wipe his face off.
“Can I see if some fit me?” Jennifer asked hopefully.
“He had girl guards, so there should be some up there, but you’re awful tiny,” Ian said, grabbing glasses, and opened the fridge. “Oh yes, he has Coke,” he cried out, and everyone cheered. Soda was banned at all of their houses.
Jennifer set the pots on the table. “How much more are we going to take?”
“As much as we can,” Lance said, grabbing a spoon and piling food on his plate.
“Can I have a gun like you two? If I have to fight, I want a big gun to do it with.”
“Yes, but we will have to teach you,” Ian said, shoveling food on his plate.
Dino came over and sat down between Lance and Allie. Sitting on the floor, Dino’s head was higher above the table than Allie’s. “Hold on, Dino; let me eat first,” Allie said, reaching back and rubbing his head. Moaning, Dino laid down on the floor.
Pausing the vacuuming up of his food, Ian sat back in his chair. “How about all of us take the clothes
from upstairs that we can fit in?”
Dropping down in a chair at the kitchen table, Jennifer looked over. “How long do you think this can last?”
Shrugging, Ian said, “Hell if I know,” as Lance finished his plate off.
“I’m just thinking if it lasts a few years, we will outgrow our clothes. We need to get a few sizes bigger,” she said, grabbing her glass of Coke and savoring it.
Getting up, Lance nodded. “That’s a good idea.”
“When are you going to listen to your dad’s message?” Ian asked, leaning over the plate, and started shoveling food in his mouth.
“I think when I get to the cabin. I don’t want to cry,” Lance said in a soft voice as he put his plate in the sink. “Before we go crazy with the clothes and boots, let’s load up guns, ammunition, and stuff like that first. If someone attacks us, I would rather be naked and shooting back than clothed and waving at them.”
Chuckling, Jennifer pointed in the den and asked, “What about those hard boxes?”
“That’s night vision, and it goes in the Hummer. We will not leave that for any reason,” Lance said.
“Nothing is worth dying for, remember?” Jennifer said, draining her glass.
“Screw that. It’s scary out there at night. I want to see if something is coming,” Lance snapped and walked off.
When Lance was gone, Jennifer leaned over the table. “Did I make him mad?” she whispered to Ian.
“No, he doesn’t like to admit it’s scary out there at night,” Ian said, getting up. “But he’s right; it’s spooky in the woods at night.”
Seeing everyone leave, Allie grabbed the pots off the table and put them on the floor. “Here, Dino. You can eat now.” With a content moan, Dino lowered his muzzle into the pots.
Jennifer cleaned up and found Ian and Lance in the office, putting guns in hard plastic cases. She watched them put one gun in a case, close it up, and stack it. “Why are you only putting one in?”
Forsaken World (Book 1): Innocence Lost Page 12
