“No,” said Darren bluntly. “We need to stick to the plan.”
They all agreed.
“I better see you two at that goddamn gas station,” Samantha said to Joe and David.
“You know I love gas station food,” David said as he hugged Samantha. “You guys be careful.”
The two pairs of survivors headed off in their directions, hoping they’d all see each other again.
*****
Walt and Cheryl walked to the entrance of the kitchen and listened for any signs that the infected were around. Heavy steps, guttural noises, the stench of decaying flesh.
“I hear something,” Cheryl whispered, “but I can’t tell how many there are or where they are.”
“We need to assume they are everywhere,” Walt replied.
Walt motioned to Cheryl to go back into the kitchen, and he walked to the overturned kitchen table.
Walt quietly flipped the table over and took some debris from the floor. He placed a broken coffee mug and an empty juice box atop it.
“We’re here,” whispered Walt as he pointed to the coffee mug. Then Walt pointed to the juice box. “We need to get there.” He traced his finger along the table to show Cheryl the general distance to the pharmacy.
“There’s only two rooms between the kitchen and the pharmacy,” Walt said as he placed two spoons on the table.
“This room is the janitor’s closet,” Walt explained as he pointed to one of the spoons. “It’s a small room that’s always locked. I’m not really concerned about it.”
“What’s the other room?” asked Cheryl.
“It was being converted into a massage and physical therapy room,” answered Walt. “There’s nothing in it other than a few tables and towels, and the door isn’t locked.”
Walt and Cheryl looked at each other. Each knew what had to be done.
“We need to check that room out,” they both said at the same time.
Walt picked up Stevie while Cheryl quietly unscrewed two heavy wooden legs from the kitchen table.
Walt looked at her.
“I can do more damage with these things than I can with a broomstick,” said Cheryl as she swung the wooden legs in the air.
“All right,” Walt whispered. “Let’s do this.”
6
Spicewood, Texas
Fi didn’t understand why this particular town had such a pull on her. Since leaving Austin, she’d always felt like she was headed to a specific location. A half-mile ago, she’d passed a sign with the words, “Welcome to Spicewood, Texas.” The words were meaningless to her, but in her bones, she’d known she had arrived someplace special.
Arrived at what and for what purpose was something she didn’t know.
Fi’s memory continued to get better, and now thought back to when her transformation had first taken place. She remembered that man biting her, eating her.
Then there was blackness.
The blackness, though, hadn't lasted long. She remembered seeing a tiny pinpoint of light that had slowly widened.
Then, when her eyes had opened, she’d felt the anger grow inside her. Fi hadn’t completely understood the anger, but she’d known what it would lead to.
The anger always led to playtime, and she loved playtime.
For two years she’d wandered among the various houses and found playmates. Humans made bad playmates. They broke too easily. She enjoyed other people like her. She liked to play with others who experienced the darkness and then woke up again.
They didn’t break so easily.
As she walked on the outskirts of the town of Spicewood, Texas, she knew she was in the right place. Over the last few weeks she’d felt her body changing. All the bite marks and torn flesh had healed. She could almost pass for human again.
Except her eyes.
Her eyes had become a feral yellow and gave away what she was. Fi believed it was her eyes that made the other reawakened ones avoid her.
Having arrived in Spicewood didn’t end the pull she felt. Whatever it was that guided her felt more focused. There was someplace in Spicewood she needed to go. Something she needed to find.
Or discover.
Ahead of her she saw a group of reawakened ones as they walked. She wasn’t angry, but still had the urge to play.
Fi picked up her speed as she caught up to the group of reawakened ones.
Recently, all the aches in her joints had disappeared. She could skip for longer intervals without tiring and she’d noticed she could go a lot longer without eating.
Fi loved to skip, especially after playing. When she discarded a broken body, her hands and body covered in blood and gore, she always loved to skip. She would circle around the remains as she skipped. She loved feeling the blood dry on her naked flesh.
As she thought about past playmates, Fi picked up her pace and approached the group of the reawakened.
The closer Fi got, the more she noticed that the five reawakened ones didn’t move the same way as other reawakened ones. There was no limping or dragging broken appendages behind them. None of the reawakened ones had any visible bite marks or torn flesh.
When Fi was within ten feet of the five creatures in front of her, they turned.
There were no scars, no ripped flesh, no intestines hanging over their belts.
These reawakened ones were in the same condition as Fi.
As Fi looked up to meet their gazes, she realized these five weren’t reawakened ones anymore. They had all changed, just like she had. They were now something different. Something new.
Fi wondered if they were drawn to this place just as she was.
A crooked, wicked smile crept across Fi’s face. When the others saw her smile, the same expression grew on their faces.
They all stood there looking at each other.
Looking into each other’s feral, yellow eyes.
7
Will to Heal Center
Spicewood, Texas
“It’s clear,” Cheryl whispered to Walt as she peeked her head around the corner.
Walt stepped out into the hallway and immediately froze like a deer in headlights.
“What’s wrong, Walt?” Cheryl asked.
Cheryl walked out of the kitchen and saw what had stopped Walt.
Twenty feet down the hallway stood four zombies. Walt recognized a few of them from the attack inside the gym.
Cheryl raced down the hallway toward the creatures as a blood-curdling battle cry bellowed from her throat.
Walt followed her and made sure no more of those bastards would sneak up behind them.
The infected ran toward Cheryl as she quickly approached. Walt watched her raise her new weapons as she met the first of the zombies.
Her battle cry long since faded, Cheryl gritted her teeth as she closed in on the first zombie.
Her wooden weapons raised high, she brought the first one down on top of the zombie’s head. The creature’s eyes bulged out, and Cheryl wasted no time and thrusted the other kitchen leg under its chin.
The two simultaneous blows rattled the zombie’s head and cracked its skull as it fell to the ground.
Walt was right next to her and brought Stevie down into the area between the zombie’s neck and shoulder.
The monster Walt struck fell to its knees. Walt quickly placed his foot in the zombie’s chest and worked Stevie loose from the thing’s neck and quickly brought the nail-studded bat down onto the stunned creature’s head.
The zombie’s neck retracted into its chest from the force, and Walt thought that, in a different situation, the sight would’ve been comical.
The other two zombies didn’t slow down at all and charged after Walt and Cheryl.
Cheryl kneeled down on her left leg and swung her right leg out. With a sweeping motion, she knocked the lead zombie onto its ass.
Wasting no time, Cheryl jumped up and slammed the wooden legs into the creature’s chest and face until there was nothing left but a bloody pile.
&n
bsp; Cheryl looked over and saw that Walt had Stevie stuck in the last zombie’s chest. The nails were lodged into bone.
“Walt!” Cheryl screamed. “Catch!”
Walt extended his free arm as Cheryl threw one of the wooden legs.
Walt caught the weapon and immediately smashed the zombie in the neck. Before Walt could strike the creature again, he heard Cheryl’s battle cry and moved out of the way.
Cheryl smashed the wooden leg into the zombie’s face and shattered all the bones. Walt heard a wet sound as broken bones pushed their way into meat. The zombie’s sinus cavities filled with bone shards and cartilage.
The zombie slid down the wall.
Cheryl and Walt gasped for air as they stared at each other.
“Where the fuck did those come from?” asked Cheryl between breaths. “I swear there was nothing down the hallway when I checked.”
Walt had no reason to doubt Cheryl. She wouldn’t willingly lead them into the arms of the zombies.
“Holy shit,” said Walt as he tried to catch his breath. “Do you think they heard us in the kitchen and hid?”
What other possibility was there?
Walt shook his head.
“We can ponder that question later,” Walt said. “Right now, I just wanna get these drugs and get out of here.”
Walt almost laughed as the words left his mouth. He used to say that exact line twenty-one years ago.
“The massage room is right up here,” Walt whispered to Cheryl.
They both pressed their backs against the wall as they made their way to the massage/physical therapy room.
The door to the room had a small window on the upper half. Walt crouched down and passed under the window to avoid being seen.
Cheryl and Walt stood on each side of the door and looked at each other.
Cheryl held up three fingers on her left hand and mouthed the words, On my count to Walt.
When Cheryl’s third finger disappeared, they barged into the room. Cheryl ran to the right side while Walt checked out the left side of the room.
Nothing.
In the center of the room was a table with towels that cascaded over the sides all the way to the floor.
Walt and Cheryl looked at each other and knew they had to check underneath the table.
“You jam your sticks under the table,” whispered Walt, “and I’ll hit anything that pops out.”
Cheryl nodded.
The two walked slowly toward the massage table. Walt walked around to opposite side and raised Stevie above his head.
Cheryl bent down and quickly jabbed the wooden leg under the table.
Nothing came out.
Cheryl and Walt sighed with relief and turned to walk out when the sound of shattering glass filled the room.
Walt and Cheryl quickly turned toward the windows that overlooked the pool and saw an explosion over by the shed. The force of the explosion had blown out the windows.
They looked on, stunned, as zombies ran around on fire. They watched as Darren appeared and took out three of the bastards.
“It’s lit up like New Year’s Eve in here!” Cheryl cried out. “We’re sitting ducks.”
“That explosion is gonna bring more of those bastards around,” Walt agreed.
“Let’s get the fuck out here before we’re trapped,” said Cheryl as she ran to the door.
Walt ran into Cheryl as she pulled herself back into the massage/physical therapy room and slammed the door shut.
“Too late!” Cheryl screamed. “There are six of those things running down the hallway.”
Just as Cheryl finished her sentence, two zombies slammed against the door.
Walt ran over and pushed the massage table to block the door.
“This isn’t gonna hold them very long,” Cheryl said.
“It won’t have to,” replied Walt as he ran to the right hand wall.
Cheryl watched as he raised Stevie.
“What the hell are you doing?” asked Cheryl.
All six of the zombies were now at the door, and all of them wanted to get inside. Cheryl was losing her footing as the zombies slammed against the door.
“When we were remodeling,” explained Walt, “there was a strict budget we had to follow.”
Cheryl looked at him, confused.
“I hired the cheapest contractors I could find,” continued Walt. “Those thieves cut every corner they could.”
Walt swung Stevie and the wall around the impact crumbled.
“The pharmacy is right next door,” said Walt, “and the builders used old, dried out wallboard.”
Two more strikes against the wall and Walt made a hole big enough for the two of them to get through.
“Go through first!” Cheryl cried out. “I’ll hold them off as long as I can.”
Walt climbed through the wall and saw a familiar face in the pharmacy.
Jonas.
Walt couldn’t believe Jonas could even stand. Jonas’ entire right leg was exposed bone. The flesh and muscle were completely stripped. Jonas’ entire body cavity was hollowed out with only fragments of a few ribs sticking out.
Walt stood there as he watched Jonas come toward him.
Jonas’ mobility was severely limited by his leg, and Walt effortlessly slammed Stevie into Jonas’ face. The body fell to the ground with Stevie still embedded in its skull.
“Rest peacefully now, buddy,” Walt whispered.
Cheryl crawled through the hole into the pharmacy and saw Walt as he looked down at a dead zombie.
“Are you okay, Walt?” Cheryl asked.
Cheryl’s voice snapped Walt out of his daze.
“Yeah, yeah,” said Walt hurriedly.
“I’m sorry, Walt,” said Cheryl softly.
“Me too,” Walt said.
Walt shook his head and returned to the task at hand. “I’ll get the drugs,” Walt said to Cheryl. “You watch the door and the hole in the wall.”
“We may have caught a break,” Cheryl said. “All the racket the others are making outside attracted the zombies’ attention. Most of them ran straight through the massage room and out the window.”
“Good,” Walt said. “That buys us a little more time, but they’ll be back.”
Walt ran over to the locked refrigerators where the liquid-based drugs were stored. He looked around for something to pry the door off the hinges when he noticed someone had already beat him to it.
“Help me out, Cheryl,” Walt said. “We need to go through these refrigerators.”
“Looks like someone beat us to it,” Cheryl said as she looked at the broken doors.
“Look for anything labeled Thorazine, Clozapine, or Haldol.”
“I’m not finding any of those,” Cheryl said as she rifled through the vials. “We’re running out of time.”
“This doesn’t make any sense,” said Walt as he started throwing bottles aside. “I just had…”
Walt never finished his thought.
Cheryl stopped searching for the pills and looked at Walt.
“What is it?” Cheryl asked.
“Before everything went to shit,” Walt said, “I had Jonas order a huge supply of antipsychotics so I could continue my research.”
“Yeah. So?”
“When I crawled through the wall, I saw Jonas searching through the pill cabinets.”
Cheryl was about to say something when Walt bent down and looked around Jonas’ lifeless body. Scattered around Jonas were vials of the antipsychotic drugs.
“What the hell?” Cheryl asked.
“I think it is best we don’t think about it right now,” answered Walt as he filled a discarded duffle bag full of the vials.
“Grab all the boxes of syringes on top of the cabinets over there,” Walt said in a hurried tone.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Cheryl said as she shoved the syringes into the duffle bag. “Which way should we go?”
“The window is out of the question,” said Walt as h
e looked at the window that led outside. “We know there’s a bunch of those things out there.”
Walt filled a syringe with the antipsychotic drug Haldol, recapped it, and put it in his pocket. He then slung the duffle bag over his shoulder as he walked toward the pharmacy door.
“I don’t think we should go back out through the massage room,” Walt said. “Those bastards might be waiting for us to do that.”
“Looks like we have one option,” Cheryl pointed out, “through the pharmacy door.”
“Should we go back out through the kitchen and down into the cellar to get outside?” Walt asked.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” answered Cheryl. “After the explosion, I only saw Darren outside. The others were barricaded in the gardener’s shed.”
“So?” Walt asked.
“That shed wouldn’t be able to fit more than three people,” Cheryl explained, “and we know Jonas didn’t make it.”
Walt waited for Cheryl to make her point.
“There was six of them,” continued Cheryl. “I saw Darren, and Jonas is right here. That leaves four more.”
Cheryl let the rest of her thought trail off.
“We don’t know that one more of them didn’t make it,” Walt argued. “If they were scared enough, all four of them would have crammed into that shed.”
“True,” Cheryl agreed. “But what if you’re wrong?”
An image of a basement full of zombies feeding on one of his friends flashed into Walt’s mind.
“Okay,” Walt finally said. “I guess the basement is out.”
“I guess that leaves going out the front door,” Cheryl reasoned.
“I guess it does,” Walt agreed.
8
Lago Vista Golf Club
Lago Vista, Texas
Melvin put on another pot of coffee as Butsko outlined his plan.
“The good news,” said Butsko, “is that a direct path to Spicewood is only ten miles away. Unfortunately, we don’t have a direct route. The Colorado River is in our way.”
Butsko looked around the room.
“Driving distance,” Butsko continued, “is around forty-five miles.”
“Fucking Texas,” muttered Vasquez.
“We have both the fuel and the supplies to get to Spicewood,” added Wilder, “but after this mission, we’re gonna be running on fumes on both fronts.”
Outbreak (Book 2): The Mutation Page 16
