Walt and Cheryl smiled at each other.
Walt always thought there was something between the two of them, but could never explore it. He was, after all, the director of the rehab center she was a patient in. His priority was always getting people who wanted to get clean and sober, clean and sober.
“Thanks for staying with me back there in the basement, Cheryl,” Walt said. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Oh please,” whispered Cheryl as she smiled. “You’re a tough old man.”
“Who you calling ‘old,’ girl?” said Walt as he threw a small stone at Cheryl.
Cheryl’s smile faded from her face as she looked at the ground.
“Do you think we’re gonna make it, Walt?” Cheryl asked.
“To the gas station? Absolutely,” Walt answered.
“No, Walt,” Cheryl said as her tone got serious. “Do you think we’re gonna make in general?”
“I can’t honestly answer that, Cheryl,” Walt said. He saw the look on Cheryl’s face in the moonlight. “Look,” said Walt. “All we can do is the same thing we do in recovery: take it day by day. We need to think about the future, but we need to plan for the ‘right now.’ Besides, I think the plan to head over to Schoepke Springs is a good one. There’s a ton of land over there and it’s all fenced in. All we need to do in close the front gates, then clear the property of any zombies, and make sure the fence is strong.”
Cheryl’s eyes brightened the more Walt talked about the Springs.
“Who knows,” Walt said. “In six months we might be living in the safest compound in the world.”
“I like your optimism,” Cheryl said as she smiled. “We better get going.” Cheryl said as she nodded to the moon. “The sun will be up soon, and I don’t want to get caught in the sunlight in zombie-infested woods.”
“You and me both,” Walt agreed.
Walt stood and reached down to help Cheryl up.
“It should only be a few more miles that way,” Walt said as he pointed over his shoulder.
Off in the distance, Walt and Cheryl heard what sounded like people as they trampled through the woods.
Walt put his finger up to his mouth and they stood in silence as their bodies were close together.
They heard the creatures fade in the distance and decided it was safe to start moving.
Walt saw the lights of the water tower and started to head in that direction.
Truth be told, Walt would’ve been happier standing in silence with his body against Cheryl’s.
4
Lago Vista Golf Club
Lago Vista, Texas
Wilder, Butsko, Melvin, and Jones looked from around their barriers to the front door. The pounding had gotten louder and more aggressive, but then a few moments ago the noise completely stopped.
“That can’t be good, can it?” Melvin asked Jones.
“I’m not sure what the hell’s going on,” Jones answered, “but no, that can’t be good.”
Jones stood and looked over to where Butsko and Wilder were. He caught Wilder’s eyes and shrugged, but Wilder was just as clueless as the others.
Wilder took his first two fingers, pointed at his eyes, and then at the door.
“Well, what did Wilder have to say?” asked Melvin.
“He signaled for us to keep a tight watch on the door,” Jones said as he crouched back down behind the barricade.
Just as Wilder was about to ask Butsko what he thought they should do, a new, louder banging almost knocked the door off its hinges.
“What the fuck was that?” Wilder yelled.
“It sounds like something metallic is being used,” Butsko said.
Wilder checked his weapon one last time and braced himself for the worst.
“Get ready you two!” shouted Butsko as he stood and yelled across the room to Melvin and Jones. “They’re coming in!”
Before Butsko could duck, the door exploded inward as splinters and pieces of the door rained on them.
Butsko saw two groups of zombies run into the foyer, but before Butsko knew what was happening, one of the groups turned to Butsko and Wilder’s direction and the other group turned toward Melvin and Jones.
The zombies heaved something at each target as they ran towards the humans.
Butsko saw what the zombies threw—the half-eaten body of Trunst. The lifeless corpse slammed into the barricade and made Butsko and Wilder crouch even lower.
Butsko knew this was exactly the reaction those bastards wanted, and immediately stood and started spraying the group of zombies with his carbine as they charged.
Wilder saw Butsko open fire and did the same thing. The infected were too close and moving too fast to line up head shots, but Wilder went for the next best thing—the center of mass. He shot the infected in the chests and the kneecaps. He knew it wouldn’t kill them, but without knees, they couldn’t run. It was simple human physiology.
Across the room, Jones and Melvin experienced the same thing.
“What the fuck did they just throw at us?” yelled Melvin.
“Trunst,” was all Jones said in reply.
Jones also stood and sprayed the group of zombies with bullets. He caught a glimpse of Wilder’s version of a double tap. Instead of a chest and head shot, Wilder was doing a chest and knee shot.
Zombies fell on both sides of the room as the soldiers and Melvin gunned them down. More of the infected flooded through the front door and got closer to where the humans had barricaded themselves.
All four of them were now standing as they shot down the zombies. Wilder and Butsko worked together to mow down the zombies as they attacked them. Jones, though, was having to be more selective with his shots. Melvin may not have had the combat discipline of a trained soldier, but he was proving himself to be a crack shot.
The zombies stopped pouring into the foyer. Wilder estimated that there were about twelve of the bastards left inside, and they all looked pissed off and hungry.
“I’m getting low on ammo!” Melvin yelled to Jones over the noise.
“Keep shooting, Melvin!” Jones shouted. “Keep firing until your last bullet, and then we’ll take the rest down by hand.”
Jones ejected a cartridge from his carbine, and the nearest zombie took advantage of him being temporarily unarmed.
An infected woman jumped over the bodies of two other zombies and tackled Jones to the ground. Jones managed to hit the creature in the side of the head with the butt of his rifle.
When the rotted thing hit the ground, Jones slammed the heel of his boot into its face. He felt the creature’s facial bones crack. When he took out his sidearm and leveled the pistol, Jones noticed blood trickling down his arm from under his sleeve.
Jones quickly shot the thing in the face twice and holstered his gun. Time seemed to stop for him as he pushed up his sleeve and saw a broken fingernail lodged in his arm.
“That bitch!” Jones screamed. “She scratched me!”
Melvin couldn’t hear what Jones was saying over the roar of his weapon.
“What?” Melvin asked. “Are you okay?”
As his last word left his mouth, Melvin saw Jones staring at his own arm.
Melvin saw the fingernail and the blood.
“Jones,” Melvin started to say, but Jones held up his hand.
“You don’t need to say anything,” Jones said. Jones made a fist, then let go of his weapon and dropped to his knees as he lost control of his muscles.
Melvin kept shooting as the zombies charged him and watched as his friend succumbed to the infection.
“Shoot me!” Jones yelled to Melvin. “Shoot me in the head before the infection takes me!”
Melvin looked at Jones.
Jones looked at Melvin and pleaded with his eyes.
Melvin took out his pistol and shot Jones through the eyes. The back of Jones’ head exploded, and Melvin saw shards of skull and Jones’ brain on the zombie that stood behind him.
Melvin turned with tears in his e
yes and shot the three zombies that were closest to him. The zombies flew back from the impact. Melvin watched them land, but saw the four zombies he and Jones had previously shot as they started to stand back up.
Melvin glanced over at the body of his friend and decided he’d had enough.
Melvin shot two more zombies, then turned and ran from the carnage. He ran to the far end of the massive foyer and shot the window out with his sidearm. Without stopping, Melvin jumped through the windowpane.
Butsko and Wilder saw what happened, but neither man said anything.
They’d watched as Jones realized he was infected.
They’d watched as Jones begged Melvin to kill him.
They’d watched one friend kill another.
Wilder hoped Melvin would make it, though he was doubtful. He knew Melvin was low on ammo and his hand-to-hand combat skills weren’t good.
“I’m out!” barked Butsko as he holstered his pistol.
“Me too,” Wilder said as he fixed his bayonet to the M4.
Butsko and Wilder jumped into the fray and fought the infected face to face.
*****
Fisher was huddled behind the cash register embankment when she heard Mears and Vasquez’s gunfire getting closer. She held her M4 at the ready and tried to prepare herself for battle.
Fisher watched as two of the mannequins fell over and saw Cain’s foot appear. Then, to her right, Fisher saw movement.
It wasn’t Mears or Vasquez.
She watched in horror as Cain’s leg stuck out from the mannequins. She wanted to yell for him to stop moving, but she knew that would be a death sentence for both her and Cain.
The zombie walked behind the racks of shirts. Fisher thought the creature was either looking or listening for movement.
Cain freed his lower half from the cluster of mannequins, then scooted along the ground to free the rest of his body.
Cain’s sleeve got caught on one of the mannequin’s feet and Fisher heard the man curse as his shirt tore.
“Son of a bitch,” Cain said.
Fisher watched as the zombie turned its head to Cain’s location. The creature then looked around as if making sure Cain was alone.
Fisher raised the rifle to her shoulder and looked down the sites of the barrel. There was no scope on the carbine, but her father had taught her long ago how to use a weapon’s sights.
The zombie was behind the rack of shirts, giving Fisher no shot.
As Cain began to stand, the strap of the carbine got caught around a mannequin’s leg. Cain tried to free the rifle and knocked over three more mannequins.
Fisher rolled her eyes.
“Why don’t you just set off some fireworks for fuck’s sake?” Fisher whispered.
The creature’s head jolted up as the mannequins toppled over. It reminded Fisher of a deer who’d heard a noisy hunter.
Only this time, the roles were reversed.
The creature ducked, and Fisher lost sight of it.
Cain finally stood and started to walk in Fisher’s direction.
Fisher kept her eyes fixed on the last location she’d seen the zombie and saw the shirts begin to move.
Fisher immediately brought the rifle up to her shoulder. The zombie was still in the shirt rack and was using it for cover as it moved closer to Cain.
Fisher took her left hand and waved for Cain to get out of the way. Cain saw Fisher and waved back.
The zombie freed itself from the rack of clothes and moved in on Cain, but Fisher still had no shot. Now Cain was standing between her and the zombie.
“Get out of the way, Cain,” Fisher whispered.
Cain walked slowly toward Fisher until he saw the rifle fixed on him.
“What the hell are you doing, Fisher?” asked Cain. “It’s me, Cain.”
The zombie silently moved in on Cain and was in striking distance.
“Get the fuck down!” Fisher finally screamed as she saw the creature leap for the clueless man.
Cain turned, saw the zombie a few feet away from him, and froze.
.*****
A shot echoed through the pro-shop.
“When somebody tells you to get down,” said Vasquez in an even tone, “it is best if you get down.”
“I… I didn’t even hear it,” Cain stuttered as he looked at the zombie on the ground.
Fisher ran over to where Cain and Vasquez stood.
“That son of a bitch just snuck up on me,” Cain said.
“You were making enough noise to let Helen Keller know where you were,” Fisher said.
“Thanks, Vasquez,” Cain said. “You saved my ass.”
“Be more careful next time,” said Vasquez in a stone-cold voice. “It’s all our lives you’re endangering.”
Cain looked away from Vasquez’s gaze and saw the zombie as it crawled toward where they stood.
Before Cain said anything, he saw the flash of a metallic, T-shaped instrument come smashing down on the zombie’s back.
Cain, Vasquez, and Fisher looked to see Mears standing over the creature with an instrument groundskeepers used to dig holes in the greens.
Mears leaned on the hole-cutter as it severed its spine. He twisted the tool, and the others heard the hole-cutter hit the floor as it went through the zombie.
A perfect circular hole was left in the zombie’s back, and the others could see the floor through it.
Vasquez flattened the creature’s head with the butt of her carbine.
The two soldiers nodded at each other.
“These fucking things are getting smarter,” Mears finally said as he tossed the hole-cutter aside.
“How do you mean?” asked Fisher.
“There’s a broken window in the back,” Mears answered as he pointed to the back of the pro-shop. “When Vasquez and I got back there, about seven of those fuckers were jumping through the window.”
“We picked them off easy enough,” Vasquez added, “but we hadn’t realized other zombies had already jumped through the window and were hiding among the clothes and racks of golf clubs.”
“They were hiding?” asked Cain.
“Yeah,” Mears said as he turned toward Cain. “The ones coming through the window were a distraction to throw us off and make us think we got them all so we wouldn’t search for the ones that were already in the shop.”
“Do you think you got them all?” Fisher asked.
“We got a bunch of them,” Mears answered, “but I’m not a hundred percent certain there aren’t more in here.”
As Mears finished his sentence, Cain suddenly unholstered his pistol and aimed his weapon at Mears’ head.
“Duck!” yelled Cain.
Mears fell to the ground as pure instinct and training took over. Vasquez turned but fumbled with her weapon.
Five feet behind Mears was an infected man, hands extended, and its mouth wide open.
Cain fired two shots and nailed the creature in the throat and the upper chest. The zombie fell back and gave Vasquez enough time to jump on top of it and stomp its head into the floor.
Mears stood, gun in hand, and watched Vasquez rejoin the group.
“Nice job, Cain,” Mears said.
“Yeah,” Vasquez said as she winked at Cain. “Good reflexes.”
Three windows shattered in succession in the back of the pro-shop. The four of them stared into the dimly lit store.
“That didn’t sound good,” Fisher said.
“There were four windows back there,” Mears said. “Sounds like they just made their grand entrance.”
“Since their stealth entry didn’t work,” Vasquez said, “I guess they’re trying the more direct approach.”
Mears, Cain, Vasquez, and Fisher raised their weapons to their shoulders as the noise of the zombies got closer. The sounds of moaning and heavy footsteps filled the pro-shop.
“That sounds like a lot of them,” Cain said as his voice trembled.
“Everybody out!” shouted Mears. “Vasquez, help
me with this gate.”
Mears reached up for the chain gate used to lock up the pro-shop. Vasquez ran and grabbed ahold of the other end.
“You two, watch our backs!” Vasquez shouted to Fisher and Cain.
Fisher and Cain stood side by side with their rifles raised.
Before Mears and Vasquez could lower the gate, the first zombie ran past them into the building.
The zombie was so fast that neither Cain nor Fisher had time to fire a single shot.
Cain and Fisher looked at each other, confused.
Six more zombies ran out of the darkness and into the building. None of them looked twice at the humans.
“What the fuck is going on here?” asked Mears. “Why the fuck aren’t they attacking us?”
Three more zombies appeared from behind the clothing racks.
Fisher raised the rifle and was about to fire when Mears stopped her.
“Hold your fire!” Mears barked.
Fisher didn’t fire, but she also didn’t lower her rifle.
“Are you sure?” asked Fisher as her voice trembled. “I have one targeted.”
The three zombies jumped through the racks gracefully and slowly approached the humans. They sniffed the air and walked around them as they seemed to scan their bodies.
“What are they doing, Mears?” Vasquez asked out of the corner of her mouth.
“I have no fucking clue,” Mears said, “but stand still. If they wanted to infect us, they already would have.”
Fisher was scared shitless as she stood there letting the zombies examine her. But there was something different about these creatures.
Their eyes.
“Look at their eyes,” whispered Fisher. “They look different from the other zombies.”
Fisher was right. The eyes of the creatures in front of them were a feral yellow. They practically glowed.
“What the fuck are these things?” Cain asked.
Elsewhere in the building, the four heard gunshots and screams.
The eyes of the zombies darted past the humans into the darkness of the clubhouse.
The yellow-eyed zombie next to Cain lifted its head and sniffed the air. It emitted a bone-shattering scream as it ran between Cain and Fisher into the darkness.
The other two zombies followed the first.
“Those things are hunting down the other zombies,” Fisher said after the three ran off. “I’ve seen the look on a wolf’s face, in its eyes, when it hunts. Those yellow-eyed things had the exact same look in their eyes.”
Outbreak (Book 2): The Mutation Page 19
