The Zombie Virus (Book 1)

by Paul Hetzer

  “Don’t do anything stupid,” she said, sounding a lot like Holly, and then turned south down the road at a trot.

  I reached across the seats to the glove compartment and threw it open, taking out the small set of binoculars that I had last used at the Potomac River Bridge.

  I opened my door and stood up on the running board and, using the roof to stabilize the binoculars, looked out across the field at the closing group of infected. I prayed my boy wasn’t there as I quickly scanned the two dozen or so faces. The only children were female. He wasn’t there. I let out a sigh of relief and dropped down to the ground. I grabbed my pack and stuffed the binoculars inside.

  When I was withdrawing from the cab something caught my eye, or should I say the lack of something. There was a round smudge on the center of the windshield, exactly where the GPS unit had been mounted. Someone had removed it. I searched around the front of the vehicle. It wasn’t there. My hopes rose. My boy had to have taken it. It would guide him to the farm!

  I jumped back out of the truck and threw my pack on my back. I slid the sword and scabbard through my belt and grabbed Holly’s rifle, chambering a round from the magazine. The short-barreled Colts were only ‘minute of body’ at one hundred yards, although that was plenty accurate enough to take out the Loonies that were in the lead and well under one hundred yards away. I swiftly switched on the holographic sight and lay the rifle barrel over the truck’s engine hood. They all had to be Loonies. There was no way a survivor would be running with that pack like that. I couldn’t be second guessing myself if I wanted to survive.

  I put the sight center mass on a tall, naked, balding man running like he was in a marathon, his dick swinging in tempo to the rhythm of his pumping legs. He was nearly to the truck when I pulled the trigger and dropped him with the first shot. I rapidly followed that shot with another on the next Loony, and then another, continuing until the bolt snapped open and held there, indicating the magazine was empty.

  A dozen bodies lay strewn about the field, some writhing in the agony of their wounds.

  More were coming.

  I looked back over my shoulder and saw a handful running from that direction also. None of them were children. I deftly released the empty mag from the rifle as I started backing down the road, and slammed in a full one, hearing the mag catch click in place. I hit the bolt release and ran, sprinting toward the distant figure of Kera.

  CHAPTER 17

  We had to get away from suburbia. As long as we were in or near these population centers, we would always be running, and I was so tired of running. My soul yearned for our farm. It had taken on the illusion of some kind of Shangri-La in my mind. A paradise where all the nightmares we had endured of late would come to an end. It was as if deep in my psyche I believed that Holly and Jeremy would be waiting there for me like they had greeted me countless times before when I had arrived home from long, hard days at work.

  I closed the distance to Kera as I opened it on my pursuers. I had stirred the hornet’s nest with my gunshots and they were appearing from out of the framework of the countryside. There weren’t hundreds chasing us, but there was certainly enough to overwhelm us. I would occasionally stop when I thought I saw a young child among the horde, using the binoculars to determine if it was possibly my son. So far, what remained of my heart was unbroken.

  When I reached Kera she was swooning from the exertion and the heat. Sweat poured from her body in streams. We both stopped in the middle of the road, gasping for breaths of the humid air. When my heartbeat had subsided to a respectable level and I could speak without a breath interrupting every other word, I asked Kera for the umpteenth time how she felt. She just nodded, her mouth hanging open in her fight to catch her breath.

  I looked back at the chasing horde. They were again closing, and fast.

  “We have to push on,” I said urgently.

  She drew a deep breath and nodded again.

  Up ahead the four-lane road drew down to two lanes and the scenery became noticeably more rural. We were leaving the Fredericksburg suburbs behind. Far in the distance to the south, a thick pall of dark smoke hung on the horizon, probably from Richmond. Let that hellhole burn, we were going nowhere near it.

  We ran as fast as our tired legs would carry us. We were running on pure adrenaline now, although no longer outpacing the faster of the infected on the road behind us. They were like dogs on a scent that would never give up.

  After about a mile I saw an old two-story farmhouse sitting off the road to our left. Its white paint was peeling in places, a testament to the hard times farmers faced in this area.

  Behind it, in an arc, sat an array of barns and sheds with farm implements scattered between them. The farm complex sat back from the road about forty yards and was surrounded on three sides by large fields of tall corn. Several vehicles were parked in the driveway near the house.

  I knew we were both run out. We would hole up and make a stand there. Night was only a few more hours away. If we could last until then, maybe we could slip away unnoticed by the Loonies and make our escape. I didn’t see any other options. We were just too tired to continue.

  “There!” I said breathlessly, pointing at the farmhouse.

  We turned up the driveway, no longer running. The fastest of the Loonies, a young woman and a teenage boy, were close behind, running relentlessly on a seemingly never-ending reserve of energy. I turned and fired three shots with Holly’s rifle before I struck the woman in the leg, causing her to stumble and fall. I was shaking uncontrollably from adrenaline dump, and along with my heavy breathing I was having difficulty holding my point of aim.

  I fired twice more at the boy who was now about thirty yards away. I don’t know where I hit him. He just fell face first into the gravel of the driveway. I half-ran half-stumbled up the driveway and onto the porch where Kera was trying to open the front door.

  “It’s locked.” Her shoulders slumped as the last of her energy reserves drained away.

  Down by the road more Loonies were turning the corner and running up the driveway, their feet crunching loudly in the gravel.

  I took Kera by the hand and ran along the porch that hugged the entire front of the old house. We jumped off the end and turned the corner looking for another entry point into the structure. Kera was stumbling behind me like an automaton and I had to nearly drag her along.

  A set of slanted doors were sticking out of the ground for a storm cellar that led under the house. The slatted wood doors were painted a faded blue with large rusted hinges holding them to the old cinderblock frame. An old metal latch was across the doors with a brass padlock through it, luckily the padlock wasn’t closed.

  I reached down and unlatched the twin doors and threw one of them wide open, revealing worn concrete steps leading down into the darkness of the cellar. I shoved Kera down into the hole as I glanced over my shoulder at the Loonies pouring around the house and off the front porch. I hurriedly followed her down, slamming down the heavy wooden door behind me.

  I was engulfed in the cool, impenetrable blackness of the subterranean room. I could see nothing except for a tiny shaft of light that pierced through the edge of the doors like a flashlight beam illuminating the stairway.

  A loud thump reverberated off of the wooden doors when the first of the Loonies reached it. In seconds multiple fists were pounding and scratching at its surface. Dust stirred thickly from its slats, dancing in the narrow beam of light which quickly faded out as bodies crowded against the outside of the door.

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out the headlamp and switched it on. Kera sat near me at the bottom of the steps, her back against the wall and her head hung forward in exhaustion.

  The drumming on the door was unnerving, I wasn’t sure if the old wooden doors would hold up long to this unending assault. I spotted a long, thick piece of oak against the wall beside me, and realizing immediately what it was for. I sat the rifle down, grabbed the plank, and ran back up the steps with
it. A thick, angled piece of iron was attached to the bottom center of each door. I shoved the plank through them, effectively locking the opposing doors closed. It would help, but it did not make them impenetrable.

  Back down in the cellar I assessed our situation. We were safe momentarily, although it wouldn’t take those things long to find a way in. I’m not sure how many were out there, or even if we had enough ammo between us to fight them all off.

  “Please God make them stop!” Kera whispered. The beating on the door was nerve-rattling in the confined space of the cellar.

  I shined my light around. Shelves lined one wall, stocked with various canning jars filled with a variety of vegetables, sauces and meats. At least we wouldn’t starve down here. Junk and old furniture lay jumbled about the musty room, along with a large workbench lined with antique tools and jars of nails, screws and various other items. Cobwebs hung heavily in the corners and from the ceiling. Off to a side, an old wooden staircase led up to a door on what would be the first floor of the farmhouse. In the center of the room, attached to one of the thick wooden trusses for the main floor, was a light-fixture with a dingy white bulb stuck in it and a thin chain hanging down its side.

  I stepped over and pulled the chain hopefully. The switch clicked overhead, but no light sprang from the bulb. The grid was down here also.

  Suddenly I heard a sharp squeaking sound over my head. It was a brief noise, like someone had shifted their weight on the old wooden floor of the farmhouse. I stopped moving and tried to listen over the din of the growling, snarling, and banging of the Loonies for the noise to repeat itself. Could it have been the house settling or had one of those things made entry into the house? I was sure I would have heard a Loony breaching a door or window above me.

  Fatigue clouded my mind. Maybe I had imagined the noise. The ruckus from the creatures at the outside cellar doors made hearing anything difficult with the chaotic echoes rebounding off of the cut stone walls.

  “We should go upstairs and look around.”

  I wasn’t sure if Kera had heard me. The bill of her cap hid her face from my view when I shined the light on her. She slowly stood up. I felt sorry for her. I know she was exhausted and still in pain from her beating yesterday, plus the hit she had taken earlier from the Frank Loony.

  She stoically walked over to me and threw me a forced smile. “Let’s do it.”

  I grabbed her hand and led her over to the staircase that climbed sharply upward to a flimsy white wooden door. I hoped it was unlocked, however, I felt sure that if it wasn’t I would be able to shoulder it open without too much effort.

  We climbed the thick wooden stairs, each step eliciting a loud squeak from the well-worn wood. I reached out and turned the tarnished brash knob and the door unlatched and swung silently open, revealing the dimly lit interior of a small, cluttered kitchen. Dishes were piled high in a drainer next to the sink and an ornate teapot sat silent on an old gas stove. The remains of a meal were laid out across a wooden missionary style table that had two long butt-polished benches for seats.

  The meal could have just recently been abandoned by the look of it. Two plates sat on the table, with partially eaten rice, corn kernels, and what looked like chicken mixed in with it. Two empty glasses with milk film still visible within them sat next to the plates.

  My spidey-sense was tingling again.

  I stepped out of the cellar opening, allowing Kera room to come up beside me and quietly closed the door behind me, drowning out a good portion of the racket caused by the raging Loonies.

  I turned to Kera and put my finger to my lips.

  The food didn’t look old and there was no sign of insect infestation or rot. I stepped over to the table and touched the rice-meat mixture. It was still warm.

  I brought Holly’s rifle up to ready and pointed around the corner of the kitchen wall to where it opened to another section of the house, where I think the noise had emanated from when we were in the cellar. Kera un-slung her shotgun, her eyes alert and ready.

  I lightly stepped across the linoleum floor toward the next room, which was in the front portion of the old farmhouse. I stepped around the corner of the yellowing walls into a fairly large living room. My headlamp reflected off the face of an old tube-type television which sat silently and dark against a wall with peeling blue wall paper. Curtains and shades were drawn across the framed windows that looked out onto the porch, keeping the room engulfed in a gloomy darkness. Old throw-covered furniture sat arranged around the room with an antique wooden rocker placed strategically before the antiquated TV.

  My light scanned across the well-used sofa. A muffled scream pushed past my lips and my finger tightened on the rifle’s trigger when I illuminated two human figures sitting silently and still, huddled together and very much alive. The light reflected off of the whites of their eyes and I immediately released pressure on the trigger, my hand flew back against Kera’s chest to stop her from shooting.

  “You two are tresspassin’,” a voice like gravel in a tin can sprang out of the white haired figure of a tough, wiry-framed, bulbous-nosed old man that was sitting next to what I assumed was his equally old wife. Their faces were deeply lined with the wrinkled crevasses of people who spent most of their lives working hard outdoors. A double-barreled shotgun was leveled steadily at my chest.

  I let the rifle drop to my side and raised my hands to show that I had nothing in them. The couple squinted at me and I realized that I was blinding them with my headlamp.

  “Sorry,” I apologized, removing the band from my head and aiming the light at the floor between us.

  The shotgun stayed centered on my chest.

  “You two brought them things here,” the gravelly voice accused.

  Kera was standing next to me with her shotgun leveled at the couple.

  “I’m sorry,” I repeated, using my hand to force Kera to lower the shotgun. “We meant you no harm. I didn’t think anyone would still be alive here.”

  The incessant banging and screeching coming from the Loonies outside continued unabated.

  “This is our home,” the gray haired lady said in a soft but husky voice that did not fit her old frail frame. “You are not welcome here.” Her hands were in her lap, folded in the crease of the faded floral-print dress that she wore.

  “Do you two know what’s happening out there?” Kera spoke up, anger rising in her voice. I put my hand on her shoulder to calm her down.

  “We know that things have gone to Hell in a hand-basket and people have gone as crazy as a bag full of ferrets,” the old man croaked. Still his shotgun never wavered from its aim. “Now, y’all need to get out of here and take them things with you!” he ordered, emphasizing the direction we should go with the barrel of the gun.

  “Are you two stupid?” Kera snorted and raised her shotgun back up. “How about we—”

  “Kera, please! Let me handle this!” I hissed, pushing the barrel of her gun back down. I didn’t need her losing her cool with those two exceptionally large-bore holes pointed at my chest.

  “I’m sorry we led those things here to your home. If we had known someone was living here we wouldn’t have come.” I put as much sincerity as I could muster behind each word.

  The old man guffawed.

  “This is a house, why wouldn’t there be people living here?” the woman asked rhetorically.

  “Because most people are now dead or insane. There are damn few survivors and we should all be happy that we have found each other!” I felt my anger rising also. Were these people really this naïve?

  “But why did y’all have to bring them here?” the woman asked, her face tight with fear.

  “We’re sorry, but what’s done is done.” My voice took on a harsher tone, the ‘stern papa tone’, as Holly used to call it. “My friend Kera and I are not going anywhere for the moment. There are too many of those things out there. Now you can shoot me if you want, but I can guarantee you that when you do Kera will shoot the both of you dea
d before you can blink an eye and if you somehow do miraculously kill us both, then you two will be alone to deal with that horde of monsters that are for the moment outside your house!”

  As if to confirm my prediction, several shadows flitted past the shaded light filtering in through the windows and something banged hard against the front door.

  The old couple nearly jumped out their skin and for the first time since entering the room the shotgun moved off my chest and swung toward the door.

  I lunged forward and grabbed the cold barrel of the gun and roughly yanked it from the old man’s bony, wrinkly hands.

  “Hey!” he whined, his eyes round with shock. “That’s mine!”

  “Yeah, well when you learn to be a little more hospitable to guests you can have it back,” I said in a raised whisper, aware that more Loonies were piling onto the porch.

  I opened the shotgun’s breech and removed the two plastic-cased shells. Double-ought buckshot, that would have ruined my day. After pocketing the two shells, I set the gun against the wall and turned back to the old couple.

  Kera stood covering the couple, who had their arms around each other now. I felt sorry for them. I know that we had brought trouble into their isolated lives.

  The front door rattled violently when someone pulled on the handle trying to force it open. The man and woman both gasped in fright. I held my finger to my lips to silence them.

  After a moment the Loony released the door handle. I could hear multiple footsteps on the porch above the racket from the storm cellar doors.

  “Are we ready to treat each other a little more amiably?” I asked the couple in a low voice.

  They looked up at me with silent, angry stares.

  I let out a resigned sigh. “Suit yourselves, but our chances are much better if we work together against those creatures trying to get in here and kill us.”

  “What are we going to do with them, Steve?” Kera asked.

  The old lady let out a gasp. “You’re Steven? Steven McQuinn?” she asked excitedly.