The Complete Lethal Infection Trilogy

by Tony Battista

  “You think too damn much,” she said, kissing him

  Jake enjoyed the kiss, she knew he was enjoying it, but he pulled away just the same after a few moments. This time she could see pain in his eyes, not physical pain, but just as real nonetheless. She didn’t press the issue, instead softly saying goodnight as she rose and walked to her room. Jake sat, wide awake, on the bunk for a long time, thinking about Vickie, about how easy it would be to walk across the room and knock on her door. But other thoughts overwhelmed his desire, thoughts about the last minutes before he left his home forever, about the family that no longer existed

  . . .

  After an uncomfortably quiet breakfast the next morning, Jake went upstairs to shower and shave. When he came down again, he didn’t see her anywhere in the house. Somewhat worried, he went out the back door and found her out behind the house, shooting arrows at a target she'd set up a hundred feet away, consistently hitting the mark.

  "Say, you're pretty good," he told her.

  "One of the few sports I actually enjoy. I took up archery as a hobby while in college, but I haven't used a bow since I graduated. It seems to be coming back to me, though."

  "This could really come in handy. There's a couple infected stumbling around near the bridge. See if you can take them down with the bow."

  "I... Okay, I'll try," Vickie hesitantly agreed.

  Two infected men were by the gate. One kept bumping against it and striking at it with its hands in an uncoordinated manner and the other had caught the sleeve of the jacket it wore on a hinge and seemed puzzled by its inability to walk away. From the near shore, Vickie raised the bow, drawing back the string and taking aim at the snagged one. She held the bow, staring at the infected as it struggled to free itself. Her arms grew unsteady and she finally lowered the bow, trembling visibly.

  "I can't," she said uncertainly. "I can't just kill him like this."

  "You've already killed a couple with a gun," Jake pointed out.

  "They were coming at me, at us! This one is just... well, he's just pathetic! He's got his sleeve caught and can't figure out how to get loose. He hasn't even seen me."

  Jake let his breath out in an audible sigh.

  "You can't think of them as people anymore, Vickie. Whatever they were once, now they're just mindless killing machines. There's no humanity left in them. They have no pity, no mercy, and no human emotions. They exist only to feed now, on any living, breathing thing, you and me included. They can't be saved, they can't be cured, can't be reasoned with. If I turned into one of them, I only pray to God that someone puts me down. And if you turned, believe me I wouldn't hesitate to do the same to you."

  "I know you're right. I know it in my head, but I can't bring myself to just kill them out of hand. If they were coming across the bridge, if we were in any real danger, it would be different."

  Jake looked at her face, the twitching of her facial muscles, the tear forming at the corner of her eye.

  "It’s all right," he finally told her. I guess I understand. Even with them being what they are, it wouldn’t be right to simply use them for target practice."

  Seeing the way she looked up at him, the way she smiled even though her lips were still trembling, he knew he said the right thing. He also knew that he was lying, that he would take any opportunity to kill one if he could do so silently, without alerting any others, that every one of them was a deadly threat. It would be an act of mercy. If any part of them remained human, remained aware, it had to be sheer hell to know what they were doing yet be incapable of stopping. Vickie went back to continue practicing, but Jake remained out front for a long time, watching as the first infected continued slapping at the gate until he lost interest in it and wandered off. The second struggled until his sleeve tore free and he followed the first, heading south. Jake shook his head in annoyance at the way he still referred to them as ‘he or she’. They should properly be referred to as ‘it’. They weren’t human anymore after all. Were they?

  Back inside, he found her sitting at the table, glancing through an old magazine article about the infection that had just then been reported in Africa. He poured himself a cup of coffee and brought another to her, sitting down across from her.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know this can’t be easy for you. It wasn’t easy for me either, at first. You’ve led a fairly sheltered life since this broke out, living in that house and not having to face them day after day, fighting for your life the whole time. I’ve had to fight enough of them, kill enough of them that I’ve learned not to be queasy about taking them down. If you want to survive, you’re going to have to learn that too and to learn to accept that there’s no other way to deal with them. You can’t reason with them and you can’t negotiate with them. Either you avoid them or you kill them. It’s as simple as that.”

  “I know,” she said sadly. “I know it in my head, but the reality of it is something else. I can’t just turn off my emotions. I can’t stop thinking that they were once people, that they’re sick, that what they’re doing isn’t really any fault of their own. Am I making sense?”

  “You are making sense,” he answered, laying his hand gently atop hers. “You can’t help being who you are. You’re a good person who’s caught up in a situation that was unimaginable only weeks ago. I wish you didn’t have to go through this, but it’s out of our hands now. All we can do is to survive from day to day until we and whoever else is left can start to sort it all out and bring some kind of normalcy back. That will happen eventually, I promise you. We’ll win out in the end.”

  “I believe you,” but her voice was uncertain.

  After an early supper that evening, he headed to bed, telling her to be ready to go first thing the next morning. He wanted to drive to the hardware store to find a generator and some wiring and other supplies to help make the island more livable. Vickie went into her room and lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about what he said, knowing that it made logical sense to deny the humanity of the infected, but also knowing in her heart that none of them chose for this to happen to them. She thought about Jake, about how he’d twice come to her rescue, both times saving her from certain death. She thought of him in the next room, lying alone in his bunk only a few steps away until she finally drifted off into a fitful sleep.

  Chapter 12: The Hardware Store

  The rising sun shining on her face through the window woke her. Stretching and yawning, she walked out onto the balcony and, not for the first time, wondered how such a beautiful morning could exist in a world so full of ugliness. She used the bathroom, washed her face, dressed, and went downstairs to find Jake was waiting none too patiently for her.

  "Daylight's burning," he told her, setting a plate of eggs, toast and canned meat on the table for her, along with a cup of coffee. Vickie took the hint and quickly devoured her breakfast. "Grab that bag and the shotgun. The field's clear now, so we should get going right away."

  "Do we have to do everything in an absolute rush?"

  "Well, not everything, I suppose. I guess I’ve been used to being alone and making up my own schedule. We do have all day and the trip shouldn’t take more than a few hours, but you can never tell anymore.”

  “I get the hint. I’m ready. Let’s go.”

  They carried their weapons and supplies to the Hummer. Along with Jake's two 9mms, they took an AR, a twelve-gauge pump, two machetes and several hundred rounds of ammunition. With Vickie's 9mm, it added up to an impressive amount of firepower. They also took half a dozen MREs, several power bars, a dozen water bottles and a first aid kit along with the bow and a quiver of arrows. He refilled the Hummer's tank from a five-gallon gas can and they set off toward the hardware store.

  The infected were out in small groups ranging from three up to a dozen or so with only a few loners wandering aimlessly down the road. Jake maneuvered around the ones he could and slowed the vehicle to push through the larger groups. Infected pounded on the hood and the windows and a few g
rasped at anything they could get hold of and were dragged along for a few yards, but most of them were simply pushed aside. Where there were woods or rougher, overgrown terrain the infected tended to mostly follow the road, but spread out more into clear fields. Since the island was at the southern edge of the town, the area they traveled through was mostly small neighborhoods and single homes, thinning out into pasture and farmland. In the early days there had been plenty here for the infected to feed upon; cattle and other farm animals, dogs and cats when they could corner them and, of course, people. Just beyond the mall they'd visited a few days before, stood an elementary school and adjoining high school. The carnage that had taken place there was still visible from the road and Vickie began to sob softly.

  Ten minutes past the schools, approaching the outskirts of the next town, they found the hardware store.

  "I always liked shopping Home Depot," Jake mused. "I knew at least half of these people by name. Anyway, I know the store layout. Last time I was here, they had generators near the door on the far side of the building. We'll start there."

  At least nine infected milled about the parking lot, two of them struggling over an animal carcass. Most of them spotted the Hummer right away and began moving toward it. Jake slowed down enough to bounce a few of them off the fenders without causing serious damage to the Hummer and pulled to a stop near a garage door. Telling Vickie to stay inside and keep the doors locked, he came quickly out of the vehicle, machete in his right hand, hunting knife in his left, and took them on one at a time, always backing and stepping aside to keep them from ganging up or surrounding him. Four infected had gone to the Hummer and were banging their hands and faces uselessly at the glass. Once he'd dispatched the rest of them, Jake took those last few down one after another and leaned against the hood, panting heavily, sweat pouring down his face. Vickie got out of the car and waited, gun in hand, while Jake caught his breath. Head swimming, it was a good five minutes before he felt able to continue, Vickie trying to convince him it was still too soon and they should come back another day. Shaking off her objections, he sheathed the knife and machete after wiping them off on the clothing of the dead and took the shotgun with him and they walked to the entrance.

  Looking inside, they could see a number of infected moving about, mostly customers or refugees who had sought shelter there, but several wearing Home Depot shirts.

  "That's Arnie Minder, store manager. Nice guy. He collected beer steins. I was at his house once. He must have had two hundred of them, all shapes and sizes and a story to go with each one. Over there is Alice Heywood. She'd bring in homemade doughnuts every Friday. If I get a chance, I'll take both of them down. I hate the thought of leaving them like that."

  "You could really kill them? After knowing them? After visiting him at his home, you'd kill him?"

  "Yeah. With no hesitation. They aren't Arnie and Alice anymore. The kindest thing I could do would be to put them down. They were good people when they were alive. Neither one of them would want to go on like this. Look, we have to get to the other end of the building and make some noise, draw them away from this door, before we can go in after those generators. I can see two on display from here. We'll grab them and get out. I'll leave these doors open and maybe they'll start to wander out and we can come back in a week or so."

  They walked around the outside of the building toward the garden center, taking out two more infected along the way. A nagging ache was ever present in Jake's left shoulder after all the exertion, but he ignored it as much as he could while moving that arm as little as possible. Under the roof in the open garden center, he took down another infected with a spade and then they were in the clear. Lying flat on the floor near a stack of garden fertilizer, he found a life size, plywood and cardboard cutout of a smiling man holding a bag of grass seed and he stood it up in front of the glass entry doors to the main store. He banged on the glass with a garden trowel, getting the attention of nearby infected in the building, continuing until a crowd had gathered by the door, snarling and raking their fingers over the glass. Backing away from the door, he was pleased to see that they perceived the cutout as a real person, focusing all their attention on it as he and Vickie hurried back to the opposite end of the building.

  Jake opened the back of the Hummer and sat leaning against the fender, feeling weak and dizzy from all the exertion.

  "We should have waited a few more days to let you build your strength back up," Vickie scolded. "I told you it was too soon!"

  "Yeah, I guess you were right. I'll be okay, just give me a minute. We'll grab a couple generators and get back to the island and I'll take a couple more days off."

  The glass entry doors slid open with a little effort and Jake found a flat cart and loaded two boxed generators onto it, one 3500 and one 6500 watt, and wheeled it to the door while Vickie stood guard with a drawn 9mm in hand. Trying his best to ignore the throbbing ache, he strained to lift the two generators painfully into the back of the vehicle and noticed a few infected at the edge of the parking lot moving their heads about curiously. Vickie was still in the building and Jake went back in to find her loading a hand basket with bottles and cans of juice and energy drinks from the cooler near the checkout.

  "We gotta go," he whispered. "We've made too much noise already."

  Vickie nodded and started for the door when an infected stumbled into a battery display a few yards away, falling as it tipped over. She dropped the basket and leveled her pistol, but Jake told her to forget about shooting and just get to the car. Turning to go, she stepped on one of the dropped cans and her foot slipped out from under her. She bounced against the checkout counter as she tried to recover and dropped the pistol which went off with a deafeningly loud report. She heard glass shatter and Jake yelp and looked to see him clutching his right thigh, a darkening bloodstain swiftly spreading down his pants, bits of broken glass still falling from a large light fixture and shattered window overhead. Horrified, she picked up the pistol and helped him to the passenger door. The infected were now closing in on the noise and Vickie fired off seven rounds, taking down three infected and injuring a fourth before she made the driver’s door. Jake had left the keys in the ignition and Vickie started it up and drove quickly out of the lot while Jake used his knife to cut away his pant leg.

  A large shard of thick, heavy glass had embedded itself in the outside of his thigh. He took hold of it and, with a deep, guttural groan of searing pain pulled it free and the wound started bleeding copiously. He opened the first aid kit and poured peroxide over the wound before pressing a wad of gauze tightly against it.

  "I can't believe I shot you! On top of everything else, I shot you!" Vickie's voice crackled on the edge of hysteria.

  "I can't believe it either!" he shouted back. Then, seeing the fragile state of near panic on her face, he added in a more subdued voice, "It's not all that bad. It's just a cut. Like they say in the movies, it’s just a flesh wound. It didn't slice an artery or anything. I'll get the bleeding stopped and it'll be okay."

  Vickie wanted to say more. She wanted to tell him how awful she felt, how sorry she was, but the words just wouldn't form, so she just kept driving, concentrating on the road through tear blurred eyes. After a few miles, Jake did manage to stop the bleeding and put antiseptic and a clean bandage over the wound, wrapping it tightly with an elastic wrap and tossing the bloody refuse out the window. Nearing the island, finally, they were met with the unnerving spectacle of scores of infected crowding the field near the footbridge. They had trapped a small herd of deer, four or five by the looks of it, and were feasting on and fighting over the carcasses.

  "Turn up Spring street," Jake instructed. "There's a brick ranch house, sits by itself near the top of the hill. We can hole up there until the field clears. Park as close as you can to the door."

  Once she stopped the car, Vickie looked over at Jake anxiously. He had his eyes closed, the seat partly reclined and his head lying back against the headrest. She touched his a
rm and his eyes opened and he smiled weakly. Reassured, she squeezed his hand, then looked out the window to find only two infected in the near vicinity and maybe fifteen or twenty further down the block.

  "I don't have the strength, Vickie," he wheezed. "Take the bow and take down any of them nearby. Don't use a gun unless you don’t have a choice. We need to do this as quietly as possible. Then, you're going to have to check the house yourself, make sure it's clear, and then you'll have to help me get inside. I'm counting on you. It's going to be all I can do to make it up the porch steps."

  Vickie bit her lower lip and fought down the panic that threatened to paralyze her. Taking the bow and arrows, she started to open the door when Jake's hand, cold and feeble, took her arm in a weak grip.

  "Put a fresh magazine in your pistol, just in case," he told her.

  She did as he said and climbed out of the car. Both of the closer infected spotted her and began shambling toward her. Vickie notched an arrow, drew back and let her breath out slowly, releasing the string and sending the slim missile to bury itself in the forehead of the closest infected. The second arrow hit the other one in the cheek and it seemed confused and swiped at it ineffectually until Vickie sent a third arrow into its temple. When she turned back toward the car, she saw Jake leaning against the door, pistol in hand, watching her back. He nodded to her and gestured toward the house with his chin.

  Holding the pistol in her left hand, she drew her machete and made her way to the front door, which was slightly ajar. Pushing it open with the gun, she held the machete in a tight grip and slipped inside. She checked the living room, kitchen, dining room, two bedrooms and the bathroom, not neglecting to check the closets. All were empty. After checking the back door, she hurried out to the Hummer to get Jake. He had to lean heavily against her to keep on his feet and she struggled to get him inside the house and lay him out on a sofa. Dreading every step of the way, she went back to the vehicle and grabbed the bag holding the ammunition, tucking the first aid kit under her arm, and went back into the house, bolting the door behind her.