Affliction Z: Abandoned Hope (Post Apocalyptic Thriller)

by L. T. Ryan

A block further, she spotted a mountain bike lying in the middle of the road. She increased her pace while scanning the street ahead, keeping tight to the building beside her. The shadows it afforded kept her hidden.

  The air looked hazy. She smelled smoke. The burning in her nose confirmed that it lingered in the air. The area looked deserted up to and around the bicycle. Beyond that, though, she spotted a group of people hanging out in front of a drug store. There were four of them, maybe five, and they looked young. Addison wouldn’t take any chances with them. She reached into the messenger bag slung over her shoulder and pressed tight to her side, and she withdrew one of the pistols. She held the gun in her left hand, pressed against her thigh.

  Crossing an alley, she glanced to her left. Plumes of dark smoke rose from a building a few hundred feet away. She saw someone cross the street between her position and the burning building. She had no idea what waited for her down those roads. If the group of people ahead made a move toward her, she’d have to retreat back to her apartment.

  At least she knew what to expect there.

  The closer Addison got to the bike, the closer she walked to the concrete building. Her bare elbow scraped against the gritty wall. So far, the group had not noticed her. That could change the moment she stepped out from the shadows and onto the street.

  She stopped when the bike was about twenty feet away diagonally. It looked to be in good shape. The rims did not appear to be bent and the tires weren’t flat. She couldn’t tell if the chain was on or not. As long as she could get back to the alley unnoticed, she could fix any minor issues.

  Taking a deep breath, she shuffled the pistol from her left hand to her right and then stepped off the sidewalk. Her head spun side to side like it was on a swivel. No one seemed to notice her presence. Halfway to the bike, she started to jog. She reached the bike, squatted down and grabbed it by the handlebars. While the chain looked fine, the brake lines had been disconnected. She started forward while lifting the bike up by its handlebars.

  “Hey!”

  The voice that called out was high-pitched, but not feminine. She glanced over her shoulder. The group of youngsters she had spotted a few minutes earlier had spread out. They all faced her now. She hesitated. They started running. As they got closer, Addison realized they were kids, none of them older than twelve or thirteen. She froze at the sight of them waving baseball bats as they ran. Children or not, they had anything but friendly intentions.

  She held the bike in front of her like a shield as she lifted the pistol into the air. The group of kids slowed down, coming to a stop fifteen feet or so away.

  “What do you want?” she asked, her voice shaking.

  They all stared at her, some looking between her and the weapon. The one in the middle spoke up.

  “You’re taking our trap.”

  “What?” she said.

  “The bike,” the kid said. “We left it out there so we could catch someone.”

  “Who?” She realized that they had spotted her, but had ignored her so she would continue approaching.

  The kid said nothing.

  She jutted her arm forward like she was going to shoot him. “Who?”

  “Anyone,” he said.

  “Why?” She looked at each of them. They didn’t look like problem children. There was nothing tough about them if you took their bats away. They appeared to be scared. Like most people, she figured, including herself.

  “All our parents are sick,” he said. “Or dead.”

  She lowered the weapon an inch. Her gaze traveled from one kid to the next. None of them looked like her roommate had. That didn’t mean they weren’t sick, though. She had no idea what all the signs and symptoms were even though she’d watched that news report at least three dozen times.

  “Can we come with you?” another kid asked.

  How quickly things changed. A moment earlier, they were prepared to lynch her. Now, they wanted to hitch along. They saw strength and power in her handgun, she presumed. For a moment, she considered giving the second pistol to them, but changed her mind. And she couldn’t take them along. Any one of them could be sick. At the very least, traveling with a group of pre-teens would slow her down. She envisioned pointless bickering and one or two wandering off, halting the group’s progress.

  Every kid stared in her direction, hanging on her answer. She adjusted the bike’s handlebars and wheeled it back a few steps.

  “No,” she said.

  The kids appeared to grow angry. They gripped their weapons tighter and lifted them. Addison responded in kind.

  “I’ll pull the trigger,” she said. “So help me God.”

  “You can’t just leave us here,” one of them said.

  Addison continued her retreat. “I’m sorry.” She said the words repeatedly as tears fell across her cheeks.

  The kids eventually shrugged and left in the other direction. She figured they had found an empty store or apartment to stay in. Perhaps some place that was close to where they had been standing when she first saw them. Once they were out of sight, she ducked into a narrow alley and repaired the bicycle’s brake lines. The bike had a tool pouch attacked to the seat stem. She used a wrench she found inside it to adjust the chain.

  As she steadied the bike and kicked her left leg over it, she thought about where to go next. Her inner voice kept telling her that she should head in the opposite direction of civilization. While she knew plenty of people throughout the populated neighborhoods of the city, she only knew one person outside the city. Her general manager had a place on five acres about ten miles to the southeast, off U.S. 501. That’d do until she could figure out how to get to Charlotte.

  She pulled out her cell phone and turned it on. She had figured that leaving it on all the time would drain the battery faster as the device searched for a signal. The GPS pinpointed her location, and she used the map application to help her determine the fastest route out of the city.

  U.S. 501 was only a half mile from where she stood. She’d have to pass the kids, then turn left on Kemper Street, which would merge with the highway she needed. Another mile and she’d be clear of the city.

  Addison set off, sticking to the middle of the road. She reached the spot where the kids had been and veered toward the opposite side of the street. Without slowing down, she passed through the intersection, looking right and then left. The group of children was nowhere to be seen. She felt a weight lift from her body. It might have been too much to see them again after having sentenced them to a possible death at the hands of the thugs who roamed the street. Or worse, at the hands of someone like Carly, scared and sick.

  She slowed down as she came up to Kemper. The chaotic scene beyond the intersection gave her pause. There must have been fifty people in the street fighting. Some held weapons such as baseball bats, pipe irons, and rifles. Others held nothing at all. And those people appeared to be winning. One or two of them fell, but for the most part, they absorbed the blows and proceeded to pounce on their attackers. Scattered around the warring groups were bodies on the ground.

  Addison picked up her pace the final twenty yards and took the corner without slowing down. The bike’s tires almost lost their grip on the pavement. She adjusted and righted the bicycle. She saw flames from a fire rising up on her left. She presumed that if she had waited ten more minutes, the road might have become impassable. For now, the only thing in between her and the countryside was a wall of smoke. She raced toward it, determined to pass through no matter what she encountered.

  She still clutched the handgun in her right hand. It made it difficult to steer, but she managed. Beyond the city, the roads would become a bit trickier as they wound through the mountains. She knew she’d feel a little safer and could tuck the gun away at that point.

  The smoke wall grew darker as she approached. Visibility became reduced. A thought passed through her that caused panic to rise. What if the fire blocked the street past her view?

  Nonsense, she thought.
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br />   She had been at the other end of the road and saw that it hadn’t. Her vantage point back there had been higher. She had to push forward. There was no other choice.

  Addison shifted gears and pumped the pedals harder, guessing she’d topped twenty-five miles per hour. If something waited on the other side for her, the accident it caused would probably be enough to end her life. Given the circumstances she faced in this new world, that might not be such a bad thing. She shook those thoughts from her head and focused, preparing herself to move fast enough to avoid anything that blocked her path.

  The wall approached, black and dense. It moved like a living thing. In, out, side to side. She took a deep breath. The air was already thick with smoke. It burned her throat and lungs. Still, it had to be better than what she was about to encounter. Addison resisted the urge to clamp her eyelids shut. She held them wide open, for a moment. The smoke stung her eyes. She closed them in response. The air inside the smoke wall felt hotter. She feared that she was pedaling into the heart of a fire. She heard it roar in her ears. Sweat coated her body. Her skin felt like it was going to combust at any second. Wood was popping and snapping to her left. She opened her eyes. The smoke was thinning, and beyond it there was no fire.

  She pedaled harder, pushing forward through the final wisps of smoke and city. She took in her surroundings. After determining that she was not in any immediate danger, she stopped the bike and looked behind her. The blaze rose high and had enveloped a sizable section of the city. It was out of control and would only continue to grow without a fire department to put it out. She glanced toward the sky. Over the city, the smoke blocked the view. But toward the countryside she saw a clear night, stars already out in force. There would be no relief for the burning city on this evening. Perhaps not ever.

  Addison tucked the pistol in the back of her waistband, as she’d seen done in the movies at least a hundred times. Then she began pedaling again. Nine more miles to go, she figured. In the dark, on twisting and winding roads. She considered pulling over and camping for the night. There were streetlights for at least two miles that she remembered. She decided to ride on until she ran out of light.

  She passed through a dark stretch of road under a canopy of trees. She couldn’t see three feet in front of her. Through the twisted maze of trunks and limbs, she thought she saw burning eyes of those like Carly. They waited in the woods, perhaps for prey. Perhaps for her. She pedaled harder, shifting her gaze and focusing on the small oval of light at the end of the tunnel of tormented trees. When she reached it, she took a deep breath and let the bike coast downhill for ten seconds or so.

  Though there were plenty of dark spots, the lights along the road provided just enough illumination for her to make out where the road went next. She wondered when they would stop turning on. She was doubtful they’d be around in a couple days’ time.

  Coming out of a bend, she noticed the sky brighten behind the next streetlight on her right. She continued toward the source of the light cautiously.

  The source of the brightened sky became apparent a few minutes later. A neighborhood had been set on fire. She wondered who had done it. The residents? Or was this someone’s way of controlling the outbreak? On a twisted level it made sense.

  Eradicate through the cleansing power of fire.

  There was no way around the section of road that butted up to the infernal neighborhood, so she stuck to the opposite side of the road and pushed forward. She made it another quarter-mile before being forced to stop. The streetlights continued on for at least another mile, but she was unable to follow them. Coming out of a turn, she saw five pickup trucks blocking the road and the grassy shoulder to the left and right of it. There was no room to pass on the sides. The trucks butted up to fences topped with barb wire.

  Addison hit her brakes hard. She realized at that moment that she hadn’t properly reconnected the front brake. The back of the bike began to fishtail. A few moments later, she lost control and was thrown from it. She hit the ground and rolled repeatedly, coming to a stop half on the road, half on the grass. Her head and right arm and hips seared with pain. She heard footsteps approaching. Ignoring the pain, she pushed herself off the ground and reached behind her. The pistol that had been in her waistband was gone. Worse, the messenger bag had fallen off.

  “Get up,” a man said, his voice scratchy.

  She pushed her torso off the ground and brought her knees up under her. The guy blocked out the light. She could tell that he was bigger than average. He wore work boots that were worn above the toes, revealing a steel casing around the front of his foot.

  “Let me see your hands,” the guy said.

  From behind the guy, another man, who appeared to be larger than the first, said, “What you got over there, Ralph?”

  “Just a minute,” Ralph said. He squatted down in front of Addison, letting the barrel of his rifle come to rest a few inches from her face. “What’re you doing out here?”

  Addison tried to force the lump in her throat down with a hard swallow. She opened her mouth to speak, but found herself unable to say anything.

  Ralph moved the rifle a few inches to the right so that it was no longer in her face. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll use it on you.”

  She mustered up every last ounce of fight she had and spoke. “I’m trying to get away from the city. It’s crazy there. Fires, looters, kids out trying to kill people. My roommate went crazy and I—”

  “She was sick?” he said, rising.

  Addison shook her head, wondering if she should have left that out.

  “What about you?” He kept his rifle aimed at her head.

  “I don’t think so. I haven’t started coughing or feeling bad or anything like that. I haven’t wanted to kill or eat anyone.” She forced herself to smile.

  Ralph didn’t smile back. “Get up. We’ll figure out if you’re sick or not.” He waited until Addison was up, then he walked behind her and jammed the barrel of the rifle into her lower back. “Yeah, we’ll make sure. Ain’t that right, Phil?”

  The other man stepped out of the shadows. He had long salt and pepper hair with a beard to match. Silver strands seemed to glow in the artificial light. The smile on his face told Addison that these men were not the knight in shining armor type. Phil walked up to her. He was thick and wide with muscles. His body odor caused her to gag. She wondered if he’d showered in the past week.

  “Where you headin’?” Phil asked.

  Addison glared up at him and said nothing.

  He reached out and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I asked you where you were headin’. You best answer me.”

  She tightened the muscles of her abdomen and thighs. Slowly she shifted her right foot back a few inches. The guy wasn’t much taller than her. She could drive her knee into his groin with a slight jump step.

  “Just stop it right there,” Phil said. “I see what you’re doing. I promise you, you won’t like the results.” As he spoke, Ralph jabbed at her lower back with the rifle.

  Addison gave up her plans for attack. She also decided it was best not to mention her general manager’s property. The guys might head there and burn it down, too.

  “I was heading to my grandparent’s house,” she said.

  “Where’s that?” he asked.

  “Charlotte.”

  “North Carolina?”

  “Where else?” she said sarcastically.

  “You were going to bike to the other end of North Carolina during this shit?”

  Addison nodded. “And I’d like to get going. I figure nighttime is the best time to travel.”

  “You’re not going to North Carolina,” Phil said. “You’re coming with us.”

  She felt a chill travel through her body. The force of it made her teeth chatter. She had no escape route. It wasn’t as if she could run off. Ralph had a rifle to her back. He could fire a round into her before she got five feet away. She’d have to wait for a more opportune time to make her break. />
  “Let’s go,” Phil said, grabbing her elbow and pulling her forward.

  They walked past the line of pickup trucks. Two more men greeted them. Phil told them to take over. He and Ralph led Addison to a rusty F-150. Phil climbed into the driver’s seat as Ralph escorted her around the front of the cab. She got in on the passenger side. The two men sandwiched her. Their body odor fought for control of her gag reflex.

  This is what it’s like to live in a dumpster, she thought.

  At Ralph’s feet was her bag, which held the pistol she desperately wanted to reach.

  They drove away from the city. Addison asked where they were going a few times, but neither man answered her. They said nothing at all during the trip. Phil dodged the occasional stalled car and person, refusing to stop for those who flagged him down for assistance. Addison was grateful for that. With no more room in the truck, she shuddered when she imagined what the two men might do to someone else.

  After fifteen or so minutes of driving, Phil cut the lights and pulled off road. The truck slowly bounced along a dirt path.

  Where were they going? What did the two men want with her?

  Panic set in and Addison began to plot her next move. In the dark she could move faster than they could react. Could she act fast enough, though? An elbow to Ralph’s solar plexus would render him useless for at least twenty seconds. She wasn’t sure that she could reach her bag in time. And even if she did, could she get the pistol out fast enough? And delivering a blow to Phil after Ralph was out of the question. He’d react before she could act, setting herself up to be an easy target. This was not the time, she decided. If they were going to do anything to her, they’d do it outside of the truck. She could better take advantage of the surroundings then.

  A couple minutes later, Phil turned the headlights back on. The path angled to the right about fifty yards ahead. Had he known this? The men were what she would call backwoods, so maybe they lived or hunted regularly in the area they were driving through. Finally, after several more minutes, Ralph stopped the truck and turned off the headlights. Addison saw beams of light passing through the trees in front of them.