. . .
It was nearing sunset when Jerry spotted the SUV in the middle of the road. The right front tire was flat and there were three bullet holes in the fender. He approached warily but there was no sign of life near it. A few yards on the other side of the vehicle, however, lay the bodies of the librarian and the young couple. Both women were naked from the waist down, blouses ripped open and he didn’t need much imagination to guess why. All three had had their throats cut and sightless eyes stared blankly at the darkening sky. Perkins, a rope around his neck and his face still purple and bloated, was hanging from a tree limb nearby. There was, of course, no food or water left in the SUV, but the keys were still in the ignition and, after putting on the spare tire, Jerry turned down the nearest crossroad in the hope that he’d avoid whoever murdered his former companions.
On the very outskirts of the city, he found an abandoned duplex and forced open the door to a cinder block garage, in which he decided to spend the night. There was nothing of any value in the garage and it was growing too dark for him to feel comfortable going through the house so he pulled a few boards loose from a fence, jammed them against the door from the inside and settled into the corner furthest from it. He tried not to think about Teddy and what must have happened when the infected reached him. Once he’d pulled the trigger, he walked away quickly, never looking back. He didn’t have much sympathy for the librarian who’d doomed him, but he was saddened by the thought of what Perkins and the young couple must have endured in their last moments; saddened, but determined that he wasn’t going to be another victim himself. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep while trying to recall all the good times he and Teddy enjoyed in their long professional and personal relationship.
Morning found him hungry, thirsty and aching from sleeping on a bed of cardboard on the hard, concrete floor. A long, careful scrutiny of the area assured him he was still alone and he got back into the car and continued on his way to wherever the road took him. The countryside beyond the suburbs was dotted with single-family homes and a few allotments. The parking lot of a roadside diner held one semi, two pickups and three cars but seemed to be deserted nonetheless so he decided to pull in and check it out. There were a few ravaged bodies on the asphalt and the door to the diner lay wide open. Inside, several more corpses, with their attending swarms of flies, littered the floor, but no sign of human life. A rack next to the counter held bags of chips and pretzels and a glass-fronted cooler contained beer and soft drinks and a dozen or more bottles of water. Jerry opened one and guzzled half the contents before moving into the kitchen. There he found enough canned and boxed food to make his spirits soar and he ate most of a forty-eight ounce can of chunky chicken soup before he started to carry cases of food out to his car.
The semi looked huge and formidable, but he’d never driven one and didn’t have the time to learn now. The two pickups looked like they’d seen better days and, of the three cars, one still contained the ragged remains of a driver and passenger, one was a tiny sub-compact and the third was a convertible. Still, he searched each vehicle, finding a couple more bottles of water, some snacks and, in the cab of the semi, a .40 caliber automatic with a spare magazine and a box with twenty-six shells. Smiling at his good fortune, Jerry finished loading his SUV, tucked the .45 in his belt, lay the .40 on the seat next to his thigh and put the .38 with its one remaining round under the seat, partially covered by the floor mat.
Six miles later, he had to slow to a crawl to maneuver around a group of abandoned vehicles when three men came out from behind them, pointing rifles and handguns at his car. Two others appeared behind him and he was left with no options. One of the men pulled open the driver’s door and ordered him out of the car, yanking the .45 from his belt as he did. He immediately spotted the other automatic on the seat and confiscated it.
“Where you going, man?” a tall, stocky man demanded.
“I’m just trying to find a place to-“
“Wrong! You ain’t goin’ nowhere!” the man cut him off. “Looks like you got our supper in there. Nice of you to bring it to us; behave yourself and we just might let you live.”
This started a couple of the others laughing until the big man, obviously the leader, cut them short with a hard look.
“You can unload it for us now, if you don’t mind, that is.”
Seeing no way out, Jerry opened the side door, picked up a case of canned goods and carried it a few dozen yards to where the outlaw group had set up a campground. The others followed, laughing and loudly commenting to each other how pretty he looked. When Jerry set the case on the ground, the leader began to sort through it, keeping most for himself, and allowing that the others could have what was left.
“Danny, you walk him back and get another load,” the man ordered.
Danny grumbled a bit, but shoved the barrel of a 9mm pistol in Jerry’s back and walked him back to the car. The others were already opening cans and arguing over them when he reached the embankment by the road.
“Damn! You got a case of beer in here!” Danny yelled happily. “Take that next! Gimme one first!”
Jerry handed the man a can of beer and lifted the case out of the car. When the others saw the beer, they cheered and practically tore the case from his hands in their eagerness. They began guzzling the beer immediately and the leader demanded to know if there was any more. When Jerry said he thought there was another case, he ordered Danny to take him back to the car to fetch it.
Grumbling again that he was always the one who had to do the chores, Danny jammed the pistol hard into Jerry’s ribcage and shoved him along. When they reached the car, Jerry said he thought the other case was in the rear and he’d have to push the release by the driver’s seat to open it. Danny told him to hurry it up and took a long swig of beer. Jerry opened the door and reached under the seat, turning around with the .38 in hand and fired his last round into Danny’s throat as he had his head back draining the last of the can. Danny dropped the beer and the pistol and grabbed at his throat. Jerry shoved him with both hands, knocking him to the ground, and scooped up the pistol. He had no plan, no thought of what to do next; he simply charged into the camp and began shooting. The shocked outlaws were slow to react and only one of them managed to get off a shot, the bullet missing Jerry by several feet, before they were all down with gunshot wounds.
Jerry dropped the now-empty 9mm and grabbed his own .45 from the man who’d stolen it and stood looking down at the four outlaws. Two of them were obviously dead and a third was gasping and choking as his lungs filled with blood. The leader had taken a hit to the shoulder and a second high in the chest, but was still conscious and glared at him.
“Shoulda killed you right away,” the man said. “Shoulda slit your throat like we did with them others!”
“That was you, huh? I was planning to put a bullet through your brain, but now I think I’ll just leave you here. All this noise should attract some wanderers. I’ll let them finish you off.”
“You son of a bitch! Them women screamed and begged, especially the young one! I did her first, then we all took turns until we got tired of her! I cut her throat myself!”
“If you think you’re going to make me angry enough to finish you off right now, you’re wrong. I’m only too happy to let the infected have you,” Jerry answered, evenly.
The man made an effort to get to his feet and Jerry shot him in the knee with the .45.
“You might be able to crawl a little ways before they get to you, but they will get to you,” Jerry said as the man howled in pain and cursed him.
Jerry picked up his other gun and two more pistols and two rifles from the dead and dying men, searched them for ammo and took it all back to his SUV. Danny was still writhing on the ground, hands clutching his throat and blood bubbling through his lips. Jerry paid him no attention at all but did note that several infected were already closing. He drove away and never looked back.
Chapter 10: New Additions
Eth
an walked slowly through the little graveyard, reading the inscription on each of the three dozen or so headstones. The earliest date was 1918 and the latest was two years ago. All the markers named the rank and branch of service of those interned. By the dates it appeared that each of those had died during one conflict or another and by their names, that at least three had been women. He felt strangely at ease there, surrounded by people not unlike himself, people who’d served and died for a cause. In some ways, he felt more of a kinship to them than to anyone he’d met since leaving the service.
Karen watched him from the back door of the chapel, worrying. He’d become quiet and withdrawn since the incident with the young girl and even more so since his nightmare two days earlier. She’d tried to reach out to him, to comfort him, but he seemed more distant each day, almost each hour. He rarely spoke anymore and when he did, it was only the briefest reply to a question she’d asked. Last night she went to wake him for his turn at watch and found him sitting cross-legged in the grass facing the cemetery, staring off into the distance.
“Ethan? I think it’s time we moved on. There’s nothing for us here.”
She called to him twice more before he slowly turned to look at her. After a while, he nodded and walked back to the chapel. They packed up silently and headed for their trucks. Ethan took the spare gas cans from his truck bed, put them in hers, and started to move the food and water also.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice faltering.
“You’ll need this,” he answered in a monotone. “There’s no point in my taking it. I won’t be around much longer.”
“What are you talking about? Are you just going to leave me alone?”
“It’s not what I want to do,” he looked at her, a sad smile on his face. “I just don’t think I have it in me to go on much longer. I don’t see any way out, any light at the end of the tunnel, any point in going on.”
Karen stared at him, frightened, trying to think of something to say to snap him out of this dark mood, but he just stared back at her, his face a mask of calm composure, of finality. Without thinking, without even realizing she was doing it, she slapped him across the face as hard as she could. Ethan staggered, taking a step back as his hand went to his cheek. Karen slapped him again and raised her hand for a third time when he reached out and grabbed both her wrists. His grip was strong, crushing, and painful enough to bring tears to her already wet eyes. He bent her forearms back and she went to her knees, biting her lip against the pain, refusing to cry out or to whimper.
Ethan released her suddenly, snapping his hands back, a look of horror on his face. She made no attempt to get up, just remained on her knees, trying to massage some feeling back into her wrists and looking up at him. His body seemed to go limp all at once and he fell to his knees, rocking back on his heels. He tried to speak to her, to tell her how sorry he was, but he couldn’t form any words. A tear rolled down his reddened, already purpling cheek and he turned his head from her. Karen went to him immediately, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly, face buried in his neck. He wrapped her in his arms and they clung to each other for long minutes before either of them moved again.
“You’re not leaving me, Ethan Tyler,” she finally said.
“I’m never leaving you, Karen.”
She kissed him lightly on the lips and placed her fingers gently on his bruised cheek.
“I want you, Ethan,” she said simply. “I need to be with you. I need to know that you still want me.”
He kissed her and they got to their feet and Ethan swept her up in his arms and carried her back into the building.
. . .
The miles passed quickly as they headed farther north; there were only a few places they had to stop and either clear the road or bypass a blockage. Around noon they came upon a small village that might have been a replica of Mayberry were it not for the desiccated corpses strewn along the streets and sidewalks. The town had been hit hard by the infection and the bullet-pocked walls of many of the downtown buildings attested to the fight the townspeople had put up. A wooden building just off the town square had been literally torn apart by the infected; the doors were ripped from their hinges and every window was shattered. In some places the walls themselves had been breached, boards splintered and wrenched free. Inside bodies covered nearly the entire floor, evidence that the town had made its last stand in this building. Ethan sent Karen outside to stand watch while he searched the remains for weapons and ammunition. He came out with a pair of .38s, a police riot shotgun and nine magazines that would fit their various pistols, along with nearly two hundred rounds of assorted ammunition.
“Is this all they had?” Karen wondered.
“It’s all that was worth saving. We have more than enough pistols and long guns now. A shotgun can always come in handy and these .38s are a matched set. Somebody spent big bucks having them custom made.”
“Well, I saw a few infected moving a couple streets that way,” she pointed, “but they didn’t see me and kept on moving. There’s some smoke coming from that direction, too.”
“We should check that out. It’s probably nothing, but you never can tell.”
Two of the magazines fit Karen’s Beretta and she stuck them in her pockets while Ethan held onto one that fit his Colt. Everything else but the shotgun they put in the trucks before going to investigate the smoke. Just before rounding the last corner to reach the source of the smoke they heard gunfire; several rapid shots followed by single, spaced shots. Motioning for Karen to stay behind him, Ethan flattened himself against a wall and peered around the corner of a bank. Giving wide berth to a burning auto, dozens of infected swarmed around a two-story house. They’d already broken down the doors and smashed the windows and were milling about inside. From three of the second story windows, someone was firing down into the writhing mass of doomed souls, but the firing tapered off while he watched until only one gun was left. The shooter was taking careful aim with a hunting rifle, making every shot count and Ethan could see the stress on the man’s face.
“Stay here,” he told Karen. “I’m going to move in close and get their attention with the shotgun and try to get them to follow me. When they get close enough, you open up on them from here, but don’t take any chances. If they come for you, fall back to the trucks and get inside one. I’ll be right along after you.”
Their full attention was concentrated on the house and the infected didn’t even notice him until he began sending loads of buckshot into their midst. Reloading, he managed to bring down eighteen of them, dead or with crippling injuries, before tossing the empty shotgun onto the grass and drawing his .45. Most of the crowd began to pursue him and he dropped one after another with his weapon before it locked back on an empty chamber. Shoving the .45 into his belt, he drew the pair of .38s and backed toward Karen’s position but on the opposite side of the street. She added her firepower to his until nearly fifty more infected lay sprawled, dead or dying, along the street.
Before doing anything else, Ethan took the time to reload both revolvers and the magazine from his Colt while Karen did the same with her Beretta and Glock. Only after he’d picked up the shotgun and reloaded it also did they approach the besieged house. A few infected still milled about inside and were quickly dispatched.
“That was ridiculously easy,” Ethan commented as they approached the barricaded stairway that led to the upper floor. “I’m always suspicious when things go too well.”
“I’ll take easy any day,” Karen answered. “I’d be happy if it was this easy every time we came across a group of infected.”
Ethan only grunted, then called out a “Hello” up the stairs.
“Hey! Man, are we ever glad you came along!” a male voice answered.
Three men appeared at the top of the stairs and began pulling the barricade apart.
“I thought we were dead for sure,” the first man said. “We didn’t think they’d know we were up there, but the damned thing
s found us!”
Ethan took a few casual steps, increasing the distance between him and Karen as the men, all carrying rifles, climbed down.
“We sure are glad you guys came along,” the man continued. “We owe you our lives for sure!”
“I’m just glad we finally found some more survivors,” Karen smiled happily.
“So, it’s just the two of you?” the man asked, looking her up and down.
“Yeah, we’ve been on our own for so long-“
The man was holding the rifle in his left hand and suddenly grabbed at a pistol stuck in his belt, but Ethan was already squeezing the trigger of his shotgun. At a range of less than ten feet, the heavy shot tore through the man’s chest and he dropped, dead before he hit the floor. The other two tried to draw their own weapons but Ethan cut both of them down before they had a chance.
“Jesus God!” Karen shouted. “What the hell was that all about?”
“I don’t know. I guess it’s too late to ask them now. Let’s check upstairs.”
Ethan thumbed his last three shells into the shotgun and cautiously scaled the steps, Karen staying ten feet behind him. The first room was a bathroom, empty. Two bedrooms, one on either side of a narrow hallway were also empty. In the last bedroom at the end of the hall, they found a naked woman bound and gagged, tied to the bed. Her face was badly bruised, her lip split and it was obvious why they kept her there.
“Oh my God, what kind of animals were those people,” Karen cried out as she began untying the woman.
“Evil! They were just evil!” the abused woman told her. “They dragged me up here two days ago! I couldn’t take it anymore and when I heard them talking about a big crowd of infected coming up the street, I screamed my head off just hoping they’d hear me and put an end to it! One of them started hitting me, saying he was going to kill me and I prayed he would, but the others said they could still use me, even with the infected right downstairs, so they tied me up and gagged me.”
The Complete Lethal Infection Trilogy Page 54
