Zombie Apocalypse Series (Book 4): In Shadows

by DeGordick, Jeff

  A few moments later the door to the small room opened and Carly came in. Her eyes were wide, thinking something was wrong, but then she saw that Sarah was okay and calmed down. "What happened?" she asked.

  "Sorry, I..."

  Carly's eyes fell on the wild daffodils lying limply on the floor. "Oh, that's okay. Just something I got to help cheer you up."

  "They're pretty, Carly," Sarah said, straining her neck to look down at them.

  "So how are you feeling?"

  "Was everything fine with me?" Sarah asked, glancing down at her body with a tinge of fear in her voice.

  "Yeah," Carly said, "just a lot of cuts, but we sewed you up where you needed it, and they also took a bullet out of your arm, I think."

  "Who did?"

  "Ron. Apparently he knows his way around medical stuff."

  "Carly, I'm sorry," Sarah said suddenly.

  "For what?"

  "For everything."

  Carly looked at her with a sense of pity and forgiveness, but she wanted to hear Sarah say the words.

  "I haven't been treating you very well lately," Sarah continued. "I've gotten so wrapped up in everything that's going on that I feel like I've been pushing you to the side. I just want you to know that you're not an afterthought to me. You've always been there when I've needed help and that's something I'm not sure I can ever pay back to you. So I just wanted to say I'm really sorry."

  Carly cracked a smile and started laughing. "Jeez, you don't have to sound like such a dildo."

  "Did you just call me a dildo?"

  "Yeah, you know, you can just say thanks. You don't have to get all teary-eyed on me."

  "Teary-eyed?! You're one to talk!" Sarah said, starting to laugh too.

  Carly picked up a pillow sitting on a desk next to her and swung it at Sarah, hitting her in the torso.

  "Ow, ow, ow!" Sarah cried, raising her arms to block the strikes. "Don't!" she shrieked between fits of pain and hysterical laughter. "It hurts!"

  Carly put the pillow back on the desk and walked up to Sarah's side. "So does that mean you can't stop me when I do this?" She ruffled Sarah's hair vigorously as Sarah squinted her eyes and waited for it to stop.

  "I'm going to kill you when I get out of this bed," Sarah warned her.

  "Well I'll let you get some rest so you can do that," Carly said with a wink, turning for the door. Just before she left the room, she stopped and turned around. "But... thanks for saying thanks. When you heal up, we can leave and get as far away from this city as possible."

  "Carly..."

  "What?"

  "I have to save that girl."

  "What? You've gotta be shitting me! You don't even know her!"

  "I have to do it!" Sarah shouted back, an undertone of genuine rage boiling in her voice. "She's out there and they're doing God-knows-what to her! If she doesn't get my help, she's going to die or worse!"

  Carly scoffed, turning in the doorway, not sure whether to leave or to stay and argue. "Look at you!" she shouted. "You almost died! Don't you get it? You almost fucking died! What the hell am I supposed to do if that happens?"

  "Carly..."

  "Just don't," Carly replied miserably as she left the room.

  Sarah raised her head off her pillow and watched her go. She was suddenly hit by just how much energy she'd expended, and her head fell back down. Her eyelids drooped and then she fell back into a deep sleep.

  She felt someone touching her arm and she rolled her head over on the pillow and opened her eyes to see Ron sitting next to her, fiddling with something.

  "Oh, you're awake," he said. There was an IV hooked up in her arm and Ron was hanging the fluids bag on a peg on the wall.

  "Where did you find that?" Sarah asked.

  "I have my ways," he replied with a smirk.

  Sarah watched him work for a while in silence, then she said, "There's something about you."

  "Oh yeah? Like what?"

  "You just seem like there's more to you than you're letting on."

  Ron gave a wider smirk. "Your intuition is a lot keener than the others. I pegged that in you right from the start."

  "So what's your story?" she asked. "You don't seem to be too good at keeping up this scared, hapless guy routine. Sometimes you do okay, but every once in a while I see you slip."

  "I got a C- in drama in high school," he said. "The teacher said I wasn't a very good actor."

  Sarah lay there, waiting for an answer.

  "There's not too much to tell," Ron continued. "I am from Queens and I've lived in Raleigh for a while, though for a bit longer than I said. I do have a sister."

  "What else? What have you been doing in Raleigh? Does it have something to do with the zombies?"

  "No," he said.

  "Then what is it?" she asked. "Do you know about that man? The one with the skull on his face?" When he stayed silent, she added, "You do, don't you?"

  "Yes, I know about him, but I can't say anything more than that."

  "Why not? Who is he?"

  "I don't know who he is, I just know some of what he's been up to," Ron said.

  "Which is?" Sarah asked pointedly.

  He sighed, looking around the cozy room of the church. "I can't say."

  Sarah sat up in the bed, feeling much better than when Carly had come in. Her body ached, but she had more energy. "What is going on?" she asked. "You show up out of the blue, saying you are running away from zombies, which was a lie. And now you're here living with our group and you know what's going on but you won't say. Are you spying on us?"

  "No," he said. "And I only know some of what's going on. I'll tell you everything I know, but I can't right now. You're just going to have to trust me on that. All I'll say is that the man in the mask was at the heart of the zombie outbreak, and he wants to foment total chaos and wipe out every last vestige of humanity that remains."

  "But why?"

  "I don't know."

  "Back at the factory, he said he was looking for someone. He asked me where 'he' is. Was he talking about you?"

  Ron searched his memory, trying to find an explanation to the cryptic question. "No, he and I have never crossed paths. He doesn't know me."

  "Was he talking about... Wayne? Curt?" Sarah theorized to herself.

  Ron shook his head. "I don't know."

  "And the way he just walked through the zombies without them paying any attention to him," she continued, "I haven't seen anything like that since my son. There's something big going on here, and you know what it is, don't you?"

  "I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't even know you have a son."

  "Had a son," she corrected soberly.

  "I'm sorry," he said again. He stood up. "I don't know as much about what's going on as you think I do. But like I said, I'll tell you more when the time is right. You'll just have to trust me." And with that, he gave her arm a gentle squeeze on a spot that hadn't been injured, and he turned and walked out of the room.

  Curt passed him out in the hallway and he came into the room, folding his baseball cap in his hands. He stood beside Sarah's bed and looked down at her with pity. "I, uh... I hope you're feeling okay."

  "I've been better," she said, "but I'm all right."

  "Good, good... I'm glad to hear that," he said. "I just wanted to let you know that me and my folk will be packing up and leaving soon. Don't know where we'll go, but it's sure as shootin' gonna be as far away from this place as possible. We were going to go a few days ago, but I wanted to let you heal up and get back on your feet first."

  "A few days?" Sarah said. "How long have I been out?"

  "Five days, I think."

  "Five days?" Panic swelled in her chest and she sat up in her bed. She pulled out the IV in her arm and swung her legs over the edge and onto the floor.

  "I don't think you should be moving around so much," he said, concerned.

  "I can't be here," she said frantically. "I have to find her! Oh God, please don't be too late." She searched around
for her shoes and found them after ripping open a drawer in a panic. She threw them on and ran past Curt into the chapel. Everyone had been sitting around, glumly talking to each other with a hint of nervousness in the air. But they all stopped their conversations when she came in and stared at her.

  Curt came up behind her, not sure what to do.

  "Give me a coat," she told him.

  "A... what do you—"

  "A coat!" she shouted.

  Curt continued to stand there dumbfounded for a moment, then he left and returned with a spare coat.

  She put it on and then ran over to one of the gun lockers they kept, taking out a handgun and making sure it was fully loaded, with a few magazines to spare.

  "Sarah! What are you doing?" Wayne said cautiously.

  "I have to save Amanda," she said, stuffing the gun and extra magazines into her pocket and heading for the door.

  "Sarah, don't! Please!" Carly said, trotting after her. She grabbed Sarah by the arm, but Sarah winced and shook her off.

  "I'm leaving," she announced as everyone continued to watch the scene in silence.

  "Good fucking riddance," someone said.

  Sarah stopped and saw Doug making his way over to her. There was anger written all over his face and his large size made him seem like a charging bull.

  "You know we gotta get out of here now, thanks to you?" Doug said. He got right in her face and she could feel his hot breath rolling over her skin and his spittle spraying her with every harsh syllable. "We had it good here, then you had to come along and screw everything up for us. So take a hike, bitch. I hope you get eaten out there."

  "What did you say to me?" Sarah said, shoving herself against him as her anger blossomed.

  Doug screwed up his face and raised one of his meaty arms, balling up his hand in a fist. Just before he threw it at her, Wayne sidled up to him and caught it. He threw his arm the opposite way, twisting Doug around and making him stagger. But Doug recoiled and threw a fast and heavy hook at Wayne, decking him square in the cheek. Wayne fell to the floor and slid backward a good foot from the force.

  "Doug, that's enough!" Curt barked, getting between them. Even though he was a tiny fraction of the size of Doug, he still somehow managed to push him away and calm him down.

  Wayne got back to his feet and rubbed his face, glaring at Doug. Sarah didn't waste any more time with the confrontation and she headed for the front door of the church.

  "Hey, you can't go out there," Curt said to her as she marched off. "It's not safe!"

  "Sarah, wait!" Wayne said.

  And soon enough, Sarah left the church into the pouring rain crashing down from the night sky and headed for the police station with Wayne, Carly, Curt and Ron all following behind her in protest. Wayne had stopped at the gun locker first to stock up, knowing where this was going.

  But Sarah didn't care who was behind her or who was against her. In her mind, she was going at this thing alone. She thought of Amanda's sweet little face as she marched through the night and promised herself that she was going to see it again. She already let her son die in front of her. She wasn't going to make the same mistake again.

  15

  Going Down

  "I don't see anyone," Sarah said.

  "Maybe they're gone," Curt said.

  "Wouldn't that be lucky for us?" Wayne replied.

  Sarah studied the police station from behind the corner of a building a couple blocks away as torrential rain soaked them to the bone. There was no one on the roof this time, and they had been watching the station for some time without seeing any activity through the front doors, either. It was just as dark and quiet as the city surrounding it.

  "I don't trust it," Carly said. "They're probably just waiting for us to show up."

  "Have you seen anybody around?" Sarah asked, turning her head to her.

  But none of them had. They were cautious on the journey over to the police station, expecting a Humvee to fly out from behind a building as if it had just been spawned from Hell itself, but there was nothing. If it weren't for the haunting memories and the scars to prove it, Sarah might have thought that there were no such things as special-ops soldiers in black or a man so huge and terrifying that it struck fear into her very soul just to think of him.

  "I'm going," Sarah told the others, as if to add You can come with me if you want. As she stepped out from around the building, Wayne put a hand on her shoulder.

  "You don't have to do this."

  She turned to him. "That's just the thing," she said. "I do."

  He let her go and she crossed the drenched street, looking in all directions and still expecting that ambush that they never got. The others waited for all of about fifteen seconds before grunting their disapprovals in their own ways and hurrying to catch up. When the five of them reached the sidewalk in front of the police station, they moved forward quickly until they were pressed up against the rain-slicked brick. Sarah led the way to the entrance, a set of two steel-framed doors inlaid with glass. When she reached them, she held her handgun at the ready and leaned her head over to peek inside.

  The interior was too hard to make out behind the rain washing down the glass and distorting what lay inside, which was also shrouded in almost complete darkness.

  She reached out and slowly pulled on the door handle. To her surprise, it opened. She held it open for the others as she stepped through the threshold, steeling herself against some unknowable force that she irrationally thought was going to attack her as soon as she crossed that invisible line; she was now in the very place where the Shadow Man and his twisted cohorts performed their demented experiments.

  "Flashlight," Sarah whispered over her shoulder, holding out her hand. Wayne passed her one and she turned it on, holding it against the handle of the pistol as she aimed into the darkness. She expected to find a police station converted into a makeshift laboratory with various machines and medical equipment lining the lobby and halls. But that's not what she got at all.

  The place looked completely empty, like whoever had been stationed there before had left. In fact, the place appeared to be completely ordinary, albeit run-down from years of neglect. Sarah pointed the flashlight up at the ceiling where drops of rain slipped through a crack and fell down to the floor in a pitter-patter. She traced the drops down, looking at the large puddle around her feet. The puddle that was a decidedly red color.

  "Oh God," Sarah uttered, taking a step back. She bumped into the others as they tried to come through the doorway and they shuffled back out into the rain.

  "What is it?" Ron asked from behind, peeking around the others in front of him and wiping the rain off his glasses.

  Sarah stepped aside and cast the light at an angle that illuminated most of the lobby's floor. "Take a look."

  The bodies of at least a dozen soldiers lay strewn on the floor, washed in a mix of rainwater and blood.

  Most of them put their hands to their mouths as they cautiously stepped inside, being careful to stay against the walls and away from the bodies.

  "Did the zombies get them?" Curt asked, horrified.

  "No, if they get bitten, they turn," Ron said.

  Wayne took the flashlight from Sarah and crouched down beside one of the bodies. He aimed the light at the soldier's chest and ran his fingers along a series of bullet holes that had punched through his Kevlar. "Armor-piercing rounds," Wayne muttered, withdrawing his fingers and inspecting the blood on them.

  "They were all slaughtered..." Sarah said.

  "But why?" Carly asked.

  "I don't know," Sarah said. She looked at Ron with an accusing eye, silently urging him to divulge the answer. But he shook his head, just as in the dark as she was.

  Wayne handed the flashlight back to Sarah and she carefully stepped over the bodies and lit the rest of the lobby, looking for some kind of clue as to what was going on. An unpowered elevator sat next to the reception desk and she cursorily looked over both of them before going down a hallw
ay leading past some offices. But everything just seemed like a normal police station. If there hadn't been a bunch of dead soldiers lying in the lobby, there would have been nothing out of the ordinary at all.

  "How is this where they're being made?" Sarah asked herself aloud. "They must be coming from somewhere."

  "Don't go too far ahead," Wayne warned her, holding the AR-15 he brought at the ready.

  Sarah stopped when she got to the edge of the bullpen. Desks and partition walls filled the large room, with chairs kicked out into aisles or tipped over, old papers left in a mess everywhere, blood. The place was too quiet, and as Sarah moved the flashlight around, the shadows hiding behind the walls and the desks shifted.

  The others behind Sarah were huddled in the darkness, the only one thinking to bring a flashlight being Wayne, and he had already given his to Sarah. Most of them had long since regretted their decision to accompany Sarah into the station, but they did it anyway out of some sort of loyalty, misguided or not, or maybe even just simple curiosity. But they were all starting to change their minds.

  "There's nothing here," Wayne said. "Anything that was is gone. There's no girl here."

  "She's here," Sarah said forcefully, more to reassure herself than anything. But she wasn't convinced at all. She had a terrible feeling the entire way here that she was long gone, wherever she was. When she saw the bodies in the lobby, her heart leapt into her throat and she immediately assumed that Amanda was dead, too. But she hadn't been among the dead, and none of this made sense; the little girl had pointed out this building as the place where the scratchers were being created and unleashed upon the city, and this was the only building that had been guarded by the soldiers in the Shadow Man's employ. She didn't want to think that they could have up and moved everything out of the place, including possibly killing the guards who now knew too much, but alternative explanations were dwindling. As painful as it was to think about, maybe being bedridden for five days was too long and maybe it was too late.

  Something groaned on the other end of the bullpen. Sarah jerked her arm in its direction, pointing the flashlight at it. But light and oddly-shaped shadows played against the back wall like a projector on an old drive-in movie screen. It sounded like the groan of a normal zombie and didn't have any of the grunting or huffing and puffing of the scratchers, but sound and light played funny tricks on the mind in this enclosed and isolated place.