Slow Burn Box Set: The Complete Post Apocalyptic Series (Books 1-9)

by Bobby Adair

  “Wait.” I couldn’t believe what was happening. I looked over at Felicity. I didn’t mean to plead but it probably came out that way. “I risked my life to save you guys.”

  Felicity quickly spoke, “We’re so, so, so thankful for that. But, we saw what you did to those infected outside a little while ago. You worry us. We don’t know what you’re capable of, or what you might turn into.”

  Amber looked down and shook her head, “I don’t agree, Zed, but…”

  “This is bullshit,” I said. “Fine. I’m outta here. I’m not going to live in the servants’ quarters next door and run around and do your dirty work. You guys are on your own.”

  I turned and started to walk up the hall as Murphy backpedaled beside me.

  “Just so you know,” I told them. “I’m gearing up before I leave. Me and Murphy went out and collected all of this shit. I’m not going out empty-handed.”

  They’d all stood up by then, and walked into the hall to watch Murphy and me go.

  I stopped and turned, “What about you Jerome, are you coming or staying?”

  Wilkins spoke up, “Jerome, we’d like for you to stay. We just need to work out some kind of quarantine to keep us all separate. We can’t risk getting infected. You understand, right?”

  “I’d be by myself?” Jerome asked.

  “Well…” Wilkins started.

  Jerome shook his head. “No, no. I don’t want that. I’m going with them.”

  We headed up the hall to get our stuff from the room.

  Mark walked a few steps further up the hall and stopped. “Begone demon. Begone mindless monsters. You’re all going to suffer and die.”

  “Put a lid on it, Mark,” Wilkins told him.

  Ten minutes later, Murphy, Jerome, and I walked out of the dormitory, each with an M4, a pistol, a full load of ammunition in our MOLLE vests, canteens full of water, and enough junk food for a few meals. We hustled around the corner of the building and out of sight of the dormitory, just in case Mark went even more nuts and decided to shoot at us from the windows.

  With the afternoon sun blazing in the sky, the billows of black smoke roiling up out of southeast Austin, infected lurking everywhere, and the sound of gunfire in the distance, we started our trek northeast to search for Murphy’s mother and sister.

  Slow Burn Book 2, ‘Infected’

  Chapter 1

  Mid-afternoon in August is not a pleasant time to be outdoors in central Texas. The sun scorches anything foolish enough to leave the shadows and risk its wrath. Humid air flows north off the gulf and heats to an angry, gaseous broth, in league with the sun to punish any soul it catches outdoors.

  Every patch of grass without the blessing of a sprinkler system gets baked to crisp hues of tan and brown. Every concrete sidewalk and stretch of bleached asphalt shimmers radiated heat.

  And, as if adding a million mindless infected to Austin’s empty streets wasn’t enough to make August suck more than usual, the smoke and ash from the fires devouring east Austin tainted the hot air. Great gray columns rose a thousand feet into the sky, boasting of destruction before drifting to the northeast.

  Jerome spoke quietly, “We need to go somewhere and talk.”

  Staying in the shadow of the ROTC building as we walked away from the dorm, Murphy said, “There’s nothing to talk about. I told you guys what I’m going to do—go find my mom and sister. Come if you want. Stay if you don’t. I don’t really give a shit.”

  One of the things I’d learned about Murphy was that he had the ability to tell you he didn’t give a shit in a way that didn’t leave you offended. But that was irrelevant to my mood. I was already livid over getting evicted by Mark and his ROTC boys, and I needed to make a choice: go with Murphy, squat in a shadow across the quad from the dorm and think about revenge, or some other thing I hadn’t thought of yet. Long experience told me that choosing while angry, more often than not, led to bad outcomes. That never stopped me from doing it anyway.

  I continued walking. “I’m going with Murphy.”

  Jerome was miffed. “How can you just walk away? Mark and those guys hate us. They kicked us out of our own dorm for…for…”

  “For being white?” Murphy laughed.

  “For being infected,” Jerome answered, weakly.

  So Jerome was seething as well. It seemed only Murphy could smile and let the eviction roll off his back.

  Not me. Often times, anger was all I had, my sole defining characteristic. It clung to me like an insecure girlfriend, and I put as little effort into sloughing it off. Perhaps I could learn from Murphy.

  Jerome sulked, but came along.

  We followed a wide concrete staircase down past the fountain at the end of the east mall, skirted along a tall wall to keep out of sight of our old dormitory, and turned left past the drama department. If the ROTC guys had entertained any ideas of taking a shot at us as we left, they’d lost their chance.

  Long minutes in the debilitating heat ticked by and took the edge off of my anger. We walked on a winding, shaded sidewalk that followed Waller Creek’s course north.

  “That Mark guy was nuts,” I finally said.

  “Yeah,” Murphy agreed.

  Numerous infected squatted in the shadows of the trees and the bushes all along the creek. I lowered my voice, “You saved us back there, Murphy.”

  “I know.” Not a boast, just a fact.

  “How did you know what was going to happen?” I asked.

  “That things were going to go down the way they did?” He asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “I didn’t.” He looked around at the shrubs and shadows. “I just got a bad vibe from those dudes. That’s one of the reasons I didn’t want to waste any time getting out of there today. That’s why I went to Wilkins’ meeting geared up. When I saw things starting to turn in the wrong direction, I took a chance while everybody was watching Mark and Wilkins go at each other.”

  “It worked.” A few steps later, I added, “I wonder if this is how it’s going to be now.”

  Murphy asked, “What?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I feel like a drama queen when I say it. But it seems like every time I turn around, I’m on the verge of getting killed by something.”

  “Is that why you’re so stressed out?” Murphy asked.

  I stopped and gestured at the world around us. “Really?”

  Murphy stopped and looked at me. “Yeah, that was a stupid thing to say. If we’re not careful, we may need to go see a shrink one day. Heh, heh, heh.”

  “What’s up with that laugh? Did you have a favorite cartoon character or something that laughed like that?” I asked.

  “No, man, that’s just my laugh.” He exaggerated it the second time as he smile. “Heh, heh, heh.”

  Jerome came up and positioned himself on the wide sidewalk between Murphy and me. He looked around cautiously but kept his mouth pinched shut. He wanted us to know he was still pouting.

  The ringing of a telephone caught everyone’s attention.

  Murphy looked at me with a question on his face.

  I had no phone. I looked around.

  A moment later, it rang again.

  All of the infected within earshot showed an interest.

  On the third ring I identified a scatter of shredded, bloody remains by a building a short distance away.

  The infected were on their feet and looking for the source of the sound.

  “We should go,” Murphy whispered.

  Jerome shuffled nervously. I nodded up the path and we moved away.

  On the fourth ring, the infected swarmed over the clothes and bones.

  The phone didn’t ring again.

  Once we got thirty or forty feet distant from the spot where we’d heard the ring, I had a change of mind and announced, “I’m going to go back for the phone.”

  Jerome shook his head, “When the networks go down, that phone won’t be worth anything.”

  “They’re not down ye
t,” I hissed. “Murphy, do you mind waiting a few minutes? Once the infected calm down a bit and start to disperse, I’ll go over and find the phone.”

  Murphy made a show of looking at a watch that wasn’t on his wrist. “Cool, man, just don’t take too long. I’m gonna head up the trail and see what I can see.”

  Jerome said, “I’m going with Murphy.”

  “Don’t go too far,” I told them.

  “No sweat,” said Murphy.

  Once I neared the infected going after the ringing sound, I stopped and watched the infected rip through the clothes looking for something to eat. Keys jangled out. A billfold hit the ground. A pair of torn jeans was cast aside and out of those jeans, a cell phone flew in a long arc.

  Crap.

  It landed in the grass and bounced.

  Opportunity?

  Keeping an eye on the squabbling infected, I walked over, picked up the phone, and quickly put some distance between them and me.

  A half block away, I came across a shaded bench along the trail.

  I sat down and examined the phone. It was the same brand of smartphone that I had before the police emptied my pockets during my arrest. I turned off the ringer. The infected had damaged brains, but they weren’t so damaged that they didn’t know which sounds to associate with people, with food. I checked the battery. It still had most of a charge.

  I recalled the number that Felicity had given me for Amber’s phone the day before. Or was it two days before? So much was happening so fast that I was losing track. I opened up a text message window.

  Me: This is Zed

  I only had to wait a moment.

  Amber: Zed…sorry.

  Me: Nothing to be sorry for.

  Amber: You saved our lives. I didn’t know what to do.

  Me: NP. I won’t hold it against you. You did the right thing. Staying there is safer for you.

  Amber: I’m worried. Mark frightens me.

  Me: That was some crazy shit but your chances are better if you stay together than if you split up. Wilkins is a solid guy. He’ll keep Mark’s crazy ass in line. Stick with him if anything happens.

  Amber: Okay

  Me: You have weapons and food enough to last a good long while but feel free to text me if you run short of anything. I don’t know if I’ll be able to help but I may. I have a lot more freedom of movement than you guys do.

  Amber: You’re a good man : )

  Me: I have to go. The guys are waiting on me. I’ll try and find a charger for this phone. Keep in touch, if you want to.

  Amber: I do.

  Me: Me too.

  Amber: Be careful out there. Please stay safe.

  Me: Safe is my middle name.

  Amber: LOL. I KNOW that’s not true.

  Me: Gotta go. Bye.

  Amber: Bye.

  Stay safe? I hoped.

  Chapter 2

  When I caught up with the guys, I said, “There’s a University co-op up on the north side of campus.”

  “You want to go shopping?” Murphy asked, exaggerating his surprise to reveal how bad he thought the idea was.

  I said, “I keep getting ignored when I bring this up, but I need a computer and a flash drive.”

  Both Jerome and Murphy made a point of ignoring what I’d just said.

  I told them, “It’s only a block or two out of our way. It’ll take a few extra minutes.”

  “Fine,” Murphy said. “It’s probably a good idea, but don’t be asking me to stop at an internet café along the way. You can have all the time online that you want after we get to my mom’s house.”

  “I think it’s a waste of time,” Jerome butted in. “We probably won’t live long enough to run out of food, or electricity, or anything important.”

  “Oh, you’ll live,” Murphy said, smiling. “I have no doubt.”

  “Really?” Jerome asked, real curiosity in his voice. “What makes you think I’ll last?”

  “Because you’re a pussy.” Murphy’s big laugh caught the attention of every infected in sight.

  I shushed them both as I looked around. All of the infected were staring, but none were yet moving.

  We walked the next block in silence and the infected along the way lost interest. I stepped out ahead of the guys and made a left turn onto the cross street that would take us to the co-op.

  Through clenched teeth, Jerome told Murphy, “I am not a pussy.”

  Murphy asked quietly, “Oh? Who went out to get the guns while the other one sat in the room?”

  “It wasn’t like that,” Jerome responded.

  “It sounded like that when Zed told me about it,” said Murphy. “Did I miss something?”

  Jerome said nothing.

  “So I didn’t miss anything,” Murphy continued. “Let me ask you, did you help Zed rescue those sorority chicks that were stuck in the other dorm?”

  “They weren’t sorority chicks,” Jerome corrected.

  “Are you saying that you did help rescue those chicks?” Murphy asked.

  “I didn’t say that.” Jerome turned away as if looking for something to divert the subject to.

  We walked another half a block in silence before Murphy added, “Sounds like you’re a pussy.”

  Jerome shot Murphy a withering look and hurried ahead.

  I shrugged.

  Murphy grinned.

  Another block passed and Murphy said, “Man, I didn’t thank you for getting me away from the jail after we busted out.”

  “I think you did,” I said. “Besides, we helped each other that day.”

  “How’s that?” he asked.

  “You know,” I said.

  “No.” He shook his head.

  “You know,” I repeated. “When we were crossing the street when Earl got shot. I froze. You pushed me across. You probably saved me from getting hit, too.”

  “Man, you were just in my way,” Murphy told.

  I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. I said, “Whatever.”

  Sweating heavily in the heat, we reached the university building across the street from the co-op and came to a stop in a shady spot behind a limestone block wall. I knelt down behind the short wall and scanned the broad intersection.

  Two military Humvees sat in the middle of the intersection, empty. Bodies lay strewn about all over the asphalt, on the curbs, in the surrounding lawns, and in the parking lots.

  “I guess there was a battle here,” I said.

  “Do you think those Humvees have the keys in them?” Jerome asked.

  That was the question on my mind as well.

  Murphy said, “Humvees don’t have keys, dumbass.”

  “I’m not a dumbass.” Jerome was irritated and probably regretting his decision to come along with us.

  Murphy asked, “Did you lie about being a CDC scientist, when you really just owned a sub shop five blocks away?”

  “That doesn’t make me a dumbass,” Jerome told him.

  “No, but it does make you a pussy,” Murphy snickered.

  Jerome fumed. “I’m not walking all the way across town in this heat. I am not a pussy. I’m getting a Humvee.” Jerome stepped out from behind the wall and with a determined look on his face, made his way through the maze of the dead toward the middle of the intersection.

  “The infected don’t care if you step on them,” Murphy called.

  “Quiet,” I told Murphy. “I’m not saying that Jerome doesn’t deserve it, but lighten up on him a bit.”

  As Jerome neared the Humvees he slowed and glanced around.

  I said, “I don’t know if driving is a good idea.”

  “Those are up-armored Humvees,” Murphy told me. “They’re a lot more durable than that Toyota you totaled.”

  “Okay.” I didn’t really agree, but I didn’t want to disagree either. I had no desire to walk six or seven miles in the heat, especially not knowing what dangers awaited us.

  After a few moments of watching Jerome, Murphy looked back and forth across the w
ide intersection and said, “I don’t like this.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  He pointed in a few directions across the intersection. “Look around, man.”

  “Yeah?” I asked.

  “All those bodies lying around,” he said. “Where are the dead soldiers?”

  I looked. I didn’t see a single uniform. “Maybe they all got infected and wandered off.”

  “All of them?” Murphy asked as though my explanation was an admission of stupidity. “Wouldn’t at least some of them have gotten killed? I mean, look how many dead infected are out there.”

  “It’s a mystery,” I said, dismissively.

  Jerome arrived at the nearest of the two Humvees, opened the driver’s side door, and peered inside.

  “And those doors will keep out the infected?” I asked.

  “Unless they have a rocket launcher,” Murphy answered.

  “So driving one of those might really work out for us?”

  “Depends,” he said.

  “On what?” I asked.

  Murphy answered, “What are you going to do when you get to where you’re going and your Humvee is being swarmed by frenzied infected?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I suppose we could just wait for them to get bored and wander away. They eventually do.”

  “So we wouldn’t want to use it for short trips,” said Murphy.

  “No, I guess not,” I admitted.

  Movement from the opposite corner across the intersection caught our attention.

  Two soldiers in gas masks stepped out of some bushes and moved cautiously toward the Humvee into which Jerome was leaning. From Jerome’s position, his view of them was blocked by the other Humvee.

  “MOPP gear,” said Murphy, softly.

  “Mop?”

  “The military protective gear,” he explained. “The gas masks, hoods, gloves, and stuff.”

  “Oh.”

  “That’s why those soldiers aren’t infected,” he said, “but it doesn’t explain why they weren’t killed by the infected, like everybody else.”

  “They may be able to help us,” I said, as I started to stand, but Murphy put a restraining hand on my shoulder. That annoyed me. “What?”

  Murphy put a finger to his lips and shook his head. He hoisted his weapon.