“What if we don't find any gas?” A.K. asked.
“Then we walk.” Carlos replied as he looked into the rearview mirror.
He saw his friend, the only person he trusted right now, which was a strange feeling. A.K. was one of the men who'd been responsible for holding him in a jail cell like a caged animal not so long ago. Now, with infected dead...or zombies...or whatever in the hell these things were – the two unlikeliest of people were now partners in survival. Then Carlos turned his attention to Brooke, the beautiful college girl who cried quietly. Her tears seemed to come more freely with each thump of dead flesh beneath their massive military vehicle.
“It'll be OK,” he said, staring through the small piece of glass, directly into Brooke's eyes. “These infected, they're not like us anymore. If you think about them as humans it can be pretty depressing. So think of them as things that want to kill you.”
He could see her nod. It's all she could do at the time.
Carlos glanced back to A.K. and he could see it in his friend's eyes. A.K. thought Brooke was weak – too weak to be a part of their group, and thus a liability to them all. Surviving out here was hard enough without an emotional college girl tagging along, so Carlos would need to step up (just as Gordon had done) in order to protect her.
“It would have been nice if the Army would have left a damn gun up in the turret for us to use.” A.K. remarked.
Sure enough, like any standard military Humvee, there was a turret built into the top of the heavily armored SUV, complete with a shield to deflect bullets that may have been fired at its gunner. It had been latched closed during the first stages of the infection. What they didn't see was the gun that once rested up there.
“They probably took it with them when the shit broke out. I would have,” Carlos said. “Check behind the back seat and see if they left anything else behind that we can use.”
There wasn't much of a space between the back seat and the steel frame of the vehicle. After shoving his arm back there, A.K. came up empty.
“Maybe under the seats,” Carlos added. “But do it quick. We're out of gas.”
He could feel the vehicle slowly grinding to a halt. They had gotten clear of infected and could no longer see the hospital, but he imagined the living dead weren't that far behind. Time was certainly an issue. Like a desperate man looking for his saving grace, A.K. began reaching beneath each of the four seats.
“Got something.”
A.K. held up a Glock 9mm pistol and a first aid kit that looked brand new.
“The pistol's got one clip in it.”
“Better than nothing,” Carlos said. The vehicle had slowed to the point of no return and he rode it into the ditch on the curve. “Head for the woods. Brooke, you stay right with us and don't think about anything else but surviving.”
Again she nodded. Carlos parked the SUV half on the sidewalk and all four of its doors opened – they wouldn't take the time to close them back. Each person darted up a small embankment and into the thick cover of woods. There was no real plan involved. Stay away from the infected and live to see another day. That was it. Once they were out of the city and its limitless supply of infected dead, they'd figure out something together. For now, it was about putting one foot in front of the other and putting distance between themselves and anything that wanted to kill them.
-
The next morning had proven to be just as tense as the night before. Now, Derick was on watch and sat on a stumped tree as best he could while the rest of the group recovered from a not so great night of sleep. Derick had found that he'd kept his eyes on Spook just as much as the trees around them. He didn't trust the infected man as much as the others and planned to use caution around the hybrid zombie.
“Here,” Pam said, handing him a steel cup (the kind you'd typically take on a camping trip) filled with piping hot coffee. “We only had one pack of single serve coffee,” she admitted. “It's been ran through three times already, so it may not be the best.”
Derick looked into the cup and could faintly see the silver glow of the cup's bottom. Still, it was better than no coffee at all.
“It's fine, thanks.”
He continued to look away from her, finding that Spook now looked back at him with just as much investigation.
“Are you upset with me over something?”
He thought about bleeding his heart out to her and pleading for the mercy of the court. Isn't that what wounded lovers always do? Instead, he decided against it and fell back on the tried and true excuse.
“It's just everything around us, I suppose. All of this weighs down on you after a while, you know?”
Of course she did. This outbreak had given a new dimension to depression and it wasn't hard for the toughest of people to succumb to it. For all they knew, this was the true end of the world, just as the Bible had predicted.
“A lot of times I think about before all of this happened,” Pam admitted. “You know, back when I had the diner to go into every day and bills to pay. I always thought my electric bill was too high. I guess I don't have to worry about that anymore.”
She smiled. He didn't.
“I'm worried about you, Derick.”
“Don't worry, I'll do everything I can to make sure you're OK.”
“I'm not worried about that,” Pam said. “I'm worried about you. I'm worried about my friend.”
“Yeah, well don't be,” he replied, sharp as a knife. “I've got plenty of friends.”
Derick stood up and continued to lock eyes with Spook. He wasn't scared, to hell with that. He'd killed infected and survived. He would kill when it came down to it, and that included some freak of science that was caught between the lines. Derick wanted Spook to understand that he was willing and damn sure capable when it came down to it.
“Wonder what his problem is?” Ben asked.
Spook sat quietly beside his brother.
“Think he knows?”
“Does it matter?” Spook asked with a low tone. The kind you'd expect from a half-human half-wicked with a previous history of heavy smoking. “First chance I get to do the skinny bastard in – I will.”
“Not yet,” Ben replied. “We need to get them where we're going first.”
“I don't like the way he looks at me.” Spook said.
“We have orders, old friend.”
Finally, Spook broke away from Derick's investigative stare to glance at his brother. He understood...but that didn't make him want to kill Derick any less.
“Don't worry, you'll have your chance. They'll all find their end soon enough, and you can have Derick all to yourself.” Ben said.
Spook nodded and returned his stare to Derick.
Chapter 9
Gordon was the first to stop.
Surprising, since Brooke was considered the weakest of the group, but his three-hundred plus pound frame eventually became too much for his legs to carry. They'd ran for well over an hour, and the big man had simply had enough.
“Gotsta stop,” he said as he sucked wind into his lungs as best he could. “Damn.”
No one argued the fact and seemed pleased that someone had finally called it quits. Each of them put hands on their waists, or atop their heads, and breathed in as deeply as they could. Brooke seemed to fare the best, and suddenly her youth and college kid conditioning were just as important as the ability to kill. She was the fastest.
“We've gone far enough anyway,” Carlos replied.
He wasn't breathing as heavily as the big man, but sweat poured from the top of his head. The North Carolina heat and humidity had worked its bastard magic.
“Now what do we do?” A.K. asked. “We don't have any food or water and no real plan moving forward.”
“Not sure,” Carlos admitted. “The plan was to get away and to be honest, I didn't think we would. I figured on us being caught and killed.”
He glanced to Brooke and saw the horror on her face.
“Just kidding.” he smiled.<
br />
“He's right though, my damn stomach is aching.” Gordon said.
“I mean, we're surrounded by forest,” Carlos said. “We need to get to the highest point possible and we should be able to see the landscape around us. From there we can plan our next move, but I'd advise against going back toward the city.”
“Gonna be harder to find what we need if we don't.” A.K. cautioned.
“Yeah,” Carlos said. “And it's gonna be harder to eat if we're dead. I'm sure there's plenty of restaurants down there filled to the brim with food, but there's a thousand infected standing in our way.”
“Damn man, I dunno how much longer I can walk on an empty stomach.” Gordon admitted, which was hard for the big man to do.
“I have this,” Brooke said. She pulled an Almond Joy out of her pants pocket and it was half-melted. “I shoved it in my pocket back at the hospital, but after all the running I-”
Gordon swiped it from her hand as quick as a bear swiping a trout from some icy-cold stream in the mountains. He made no bones about the fact that he liked to eat, and right now his stomach was singing its ballad of pain. For a moment, the entire group watched the big man eat, going so far as to lick the slick paper clean.
“Will it hold you over, big fella?” A.K. asked.
“Pray tell?” Carlos added.
“I'll be aight' for a while, but we need to find some food...and maybe a few cigarettes.”
“A thanks would have been nice.” Brooke admitted.
She'd intended to split the bar with the entire group, not feed Gordon's starving face hole, but he'd given her no time. Likewise, he'd saved her ass more than once and had never gotten a thank you in return. For him, they were even. In fact, a single candy bar for a person's life seemed like a shit deal on his end. But, licking his lips clean, he'd let it slide.
Without offering a thank you, of course.
“So up there on that peak?” A.K. asked.
Pointing, it looked like the highest point around them and Carlos nodded his approval.
“Looks like the best spot to scout the area,” he replied. “Maybe we'll get lucky and spot a camping cabin or something like that.”
“A general store'd be nice.” Gordon said.
“A thank you, that's all,” Brooke muttered as the group began a much slower pace (walking, rather than sprinting like criminals bust free from a chain gang) up a steep stretch of woodland. “Or maybe even just an opportunity to officially offer it to you.”
“Thanks.” Gordon grumbled.
“I mean, you nearly ripped my hand off with it.”
The fuck do you want, flowers and a card? Gordon thought.
-
“Comic books?” Ben asked.
“Graphic novels,” Lamar replied from across the room. “Besides, they've come in pretty handy since all of this shit has broken out.”
Pam threw her hands into the air. She'd meant no harm by the comment.
The group had found a small trailer, single-wide, and it was barely hospitable and in pretty rough condition. Several of the windows were completely missing, which didn't sit well with Derick, but someone had been there recently enough. There were empty cans of soup scattered across the counter and a small pile of blankets in the corner of what had once been the living room area of the trailer. They'd figured someone found the place first, squatted on it for a while and then moved on. The food supply was gone, so it made sense.
Derick watched from across the room as Pam and Ben chatted.
“You OK man?” Lamar asked.
His words seemed to skirt Derick's attention like air swooping over a Nascar driver during the fastest part of the track.
“Derick.”
Finally, Derick turned back to his friend, the tech wizard.
“Yeah?”
“Are you OK?”
“Yeah man,” Derick lied. “Just wondering what our next move is, you know? If someone passed through and then left this place sitting, I think there's a reason behind it.”
“Probably got overrun or something and had to run.” Lamar said.
“Maybe,” Derick once again turned his attention to Pam and her conversation of small talk and smiles. “But they might have figured out that this place is deep woods. In order to survive long-term, we either need to figure out how to hunt and fish or we need to make our way somewhere else.”
“I hadn't fished since I was a kid.” Lamar admitted.
“Yeah, me either,” Derick replied. “And I lost my pole the one and only time I tried. I'm not sure what we're supposed to do now.”
“You like her?” Lamar asked.
For a moment, his question went unanswered – finally, it seemed to hit home and he could see the guilt on Derick's face.
“Oh, I just-”
“One thing about my graphic novels is there's always two people who are madly in love. Even with the end of the world approaching.”
“Not madly in love,” Derick lied once more. “I've just known Pam for a very long time and will never understand why she attaches herself to strangers the way she does.”
“You mean she's naïve.”
“I didn't say that,” Derick protested. “But since you did...yeah, maybe.”
“Everybody's something I guess,” Lamar said. “And right now I'm wondering about these windows being knocked out. I don't like the idea of being in here when all an infected has to do is crawl through.”
“Yeah. We'll need to pull watch, same as before. It shouldn't be that much different than sleeping outside, except if it rains – we're covered.”
“It's a lot different,” Lamar cautioned. “Out there, if these things stumble into our camp site we can pretty much run into any direction. Here, we'll only have two exit points, the front and back doors. I mean we could also climb through one of the windows, but if this place gets overrun, we'd be in some serious shit.”
“You're right. Tomorrow morning, we need to figure this thing out. If this place is our long-term solution, you and I need to get to work on fortifying it.”
“Damn straight.”
“Go ahead and cash in for a while – get some sleep. I'll pull first watch.”
“You sure?” Lamar asked.
“Yeah, I'm gonna stay up for a while and draw.” Derick replied.
“I wish I had those skills.” Lamar joked.
“You know where these art skills get you?” Derick asked. “Delivering oxygen for a living...but it's relaxing.”
“I hear that.”
Lamar quickly found his place on the floor and slid himself into a thick red sleeping bag. They slept for a few hours at a time and then pulled watch, so there was no time to waste. Neither of them (especially Derick) had any intention of trusting their lives to Ben or Spook, thus they were able to avoid watch.
Derick glanced across the room to Spook and found that the half-infected man was already staring back at him. He sat in the corner with a deep look on his face; something intentional. Meanwhile, Derick went back to sketching on a sheet of paper at the trailer's small kitchen table. By candlelight, of course. The same type of candle that they had several of – each of them positioned throughout the trailer. Sitting where the last group had left them.
As he began to sketch, that's when the truth started to hit him. These things weren't your prototypical zombies and they sure as hell were no longer human. The group had decided to name them the wicked and Derick thought it was a fitting name. Upon infection, their fingers lengthened and their skin took on a pale green and leathery form. It's for that very reason that Derick didn't care for Spook. It's not that the thin specimen of evil had wronged him (not yet, anyway), but rather the fact that looking at the half-wicked man made him sick to his stomach. Spook never blinked. Never! Derick could only assume that the rest of the wicked were just like Spook when it came down to it. Never blinked, never slept. They were almost primeval in appearance, like some race of beings that had come and gone millions of years ago. They didn't eat
brains, which Derick had always thought was a ridiculous idea (even for wicked). The wicked did enjoy human flesh, but he figured that it wasn't much different than humans eating animal flesh. After all the wicked were no longer human.
Glancing back across the room, he saw that Spook was awake and no longer casting a stare into his direction, while the rest of the group had climbed into their own sleeping bags and drifted off to a place of dreams – one that hopefully did not include the wicked.
Why had Pam become so cold toward him? That's the one thought that Derick couldn't seem to shake. He could deal with the wicked and all of their bullshit, and even die if need be. He certainly wasn't afraid to die, plenty of others had done so. Why did he deserve to live? Why was he so damn special?
As Derick scrawled his pencil across the paper and did his very best to sketch an impressive rendition of a wicked, he wondered why Pam had taken to everyone but him. He was the one she'd known prior to the infection, not them. Not the soldier who'd swooned her – the soldier Derick had chosen to leave behind for certain death, a decision that he didn't regret in the least. Pam had taken to the two newcomers in much the same way. A complete stranger and his half-infected brother. Even they had become more important in her eyes than Derick, the man who'd grown up admiring Pam and watching her from a distance. A man who, in high school, didn't stand a chance with her – she was the girl in school (every school has one) that every guy dreams of, but very few have her attention. Then, following high school, he'd taken on his decent-paying job (that he hated) and found her working a job of the same magnitude. From there, they'd slowly formed a friendship and deep inside, he felt like they'd formed more.
And now, for whatever fucking reason, Derick had once again become that guy watching her from a distance, and he hated it. That was the biggest reason he no longer feared death – inside, Derick already felt dead.
Deadworld Page 15
