Bill lifted the rifle and aimed at the one nearest Kit. He needed to allow them close enough to Kit so they couldn’t turn on him without risking her life. He realized his hands were shaking and the barrel was unsteady as he eyed along the sights.
I can’t screw this up. I’d never hear the end of it.
He steadied himself, relieved only four zombies had entered. The old-timer moved more slowly than the others, who seemed to gain speed with a warm meal in sight. Bill took down the first one with a neck shot that shattered the spinal column at the base of the skull, cocked the lever, and blasted the next one between the shoulder blades. It flopped across a pew, driven by the impact of the bullet, but it kept crawling toward Kit, who was now ashen-faced and pressed against the front door. She reached for the handle, even though the hammering grew more insistent due to the commotion.
“Don’t open it!” he yelled.
The third zombie staggered toward Kit, but the old-timer gave a slow pirouette and lurched toward the source of the loudest noise.
Like attracts like, I reckon.
Bill ignored the approaching deader and took down the third zombie. The second had regained its footing and continued the chase, blood soaking its coat. Bill wasn’t about to let it reach Kit, even though the old-timer was closer to him. Kit didn’t wait for Bill to fire again. She darted to one side, racing around the back row of pews. The zombie changed direction just as Bill fired, and its movement was so uncoordinated that Bill couldn’t anticipate its trajectory.
As he levered another round into the chamber, he thought: Two more shots. And two of them.
Kit was now halfway up the outside aisle, heading back toward the altar. The wounded deader took the direct route, sliding between the pews toward her, bumping into the corpses slumped there. That gave Bill the opportunity to deal with the old fart, who was now five yards away, one gummy eye socket staring at him, desiccated mouth gaping to reveal bare gums and a papery gray tongue.
Bill snorted in laughter and relief. The old bastard’s lost his dentures.
But the gnarled hands reached for him, and those filthy nails looked like they could carve a groove deep enough into his skin that the old-timer could scoop up a snack. Bill slapped the probing hands away with his rifle, but the deader was either quick or lucky, because one palm closed around the barrel and held on with surprising tenacity.
“Shoot ‘em!” Kit yelled, sprinting across the front of the altar, leading the bleeding deader on a merry chase.
Bill realized she could’ve run through the office and out the back door, leaving him to his fate, but she’d stayed and played her role as a distraction. The old-timer even cocked its mottled head her way for a moment, giving Bill the opportunity to slap the butt of the Winchester against that leathery temple. The crack was so loud Bill was afraid he’d splintered the wood, but it was just bone yielding. The deader flopped to the floor onto its knees, where it swayed a moment as if praying for absolution, and then it pitched forward into a heap.
“Now it’s your turn,” Bill said to the last zombie, stepping over the deadest corpse and walking toward the pews.
Kit slowed down, jogging onto the altar behind him. The zombie wobbled toward both of them, the hole in its chest revealing blasted bits of rib and ragged heart tissue. It was an ugly thing—snaggle-toothed, wide-nosed, eyes spaced too far apart. And the gray-green complexion didn’t do it any favors, either.
Bill was reluctant to use the butt again, since he didn’t want to damage the rifle. He waited until the deader reached the aisle and accelerated toward him. Bill raised the barrel and watched down the sights as that hideous countenance grew larger and larger, and then blam—
After it fell, he reloaded from the box in his pocket, dropping a couple of rounds on the wooden floor in his haste. “We need to get out of here before the others come around.”
“I thought you could shoot,” Kit said.
“Tough conditions,” he said. “This is a long-range weapon. If I had my pistol—”
“I think you’re just old,” she said. “How old are you, anyway?”
“Fifty-five,” he lied. To kids, anybody over thirty was ancient, anyway.
She went to the back door and he followed. The hands and fists slamming and thumping against the front door sounded about the same, so Bill was hopeful the deaders were too damn dumb to know an easy meal was just around the corner. Kit reached for the box of wafers but Bill stopped her.
“You don’t need that,” he said. “My house is just through the woods.”
“Why? You got something better?”
“No, but I shop at Whole Foods.”
CHAPTER TEN
“This is a no-go zone,” Rocky said, peering down on the interstate from the edge of the woods.
“Must be a thousand cars packed bumper to bumper,” Meg said. “I doubt if Hannah could even get her motorcycle through it.”
“A thousand deaders, too,” Jacob said, which was a wild guess that was as good as any. Meg put a hand on son’s shoulder in reassurance.
“That’s why they’re down there instead of up here,” Arjun said. “Looks like they’ve got plenty to eat.”
They’d emerged from Umstead Park hoping to find Interstate 40 less congested now that they were farther away from downtown Raleigh. Now Meg didn’t see any way they would be able to find a vehicle and drive the remaining ten miles to Research Triangle Park.
“We have to go around them,” Sonia said. “If we backtrack and circle to the south, we’ll be going twenty miles out of the way. Maybe we’ll have better luck on the backroads, but it’s a crap shoot.”
“Well, the airport’s straight ahead,” Meg said. “You can see the control tower from here. But it looks like it partially collapsed.
“We haven’t seen any planes all day,” Rocky said. “Not even military jets.”
“Infrastructure’s degrading,” Sonia said. “The planes have their own power source, but there’s nobody to direct traffic, service the engines, or operate the terminals. Maybe you could get a flight crew together and an armed squad and get one in the air, but I’d guess the runways don’t look much better than the interstate, so good luck landing.”
“How many people are at a major airport at any given time?” Meg asked. “Thousands? They’re like a small city. So figure that many dead people and zombies.”
“So what you’re saying is we have to walk between the interstate and the airport,” Sydney said. “And hope we don’t draw any attention.”
“It’s not all bad news,” Rocky said. “It’s not as developed out this way, and most of it’s commercial. We’ll have plenty of cover. And once we’re past the airport, we can probably try the interstate again.”
“It’ll be dark before then,” Meg said. “We’ll need a place for the night.”
“Lots of hotels around the airport,” Sonia said.
“Sounds good,” Rocky said. “As soon as Hannah gets back from her scouting run, we’ll head out. It won’t hurt to stock up on more supplies, either.”
They passed the time checking their weapons and taking stock of their food and ammo. Arjun and Sonia stood watch, even though the threat of attack was diminished once they moved back into the forest. Meg sat with Jacob as they chewed on granola bars and washed them down with bottled water. The deep ache of Ramona’s loss and Ian’s absence still haunted her, but she was grateful she still had her son.
“It’s kind of weird,” Jacob said.
“What is?”
“I was thinking this is like a longer vacation, but when you’re never going back to the way it was, I guess it’s not. I wonder how many of the kids at school are dead now.”
Meg didn’t know what was worse: that her son had become a nihilistic philosopher or that he’d already accepted their new way of life.
Or new way of death.
She almost told the comforting lie that things would turn out fine and eventually life would go back to normal, but Jacob was f
ar too smart to fall for that. Ramona would be dead forever. Ian might find them one day, but they’d never get back the days they had lost. She had no idea if their home was still intact or if it had been bombed or burned to the ground. Even their city was a wasteland, with deaders walking the scarred streets and the only glimmer of light a megachurch headed by a tyrannical psycho who believed himself a man of God.
But things could change. Otherwise she wouldn’t risk these people’s lives with her mission to isolate the virus. Maybe in her own way she was as arrogant as Reverend Cameron Ingram. But she knew she couldn’t solve this problem alone—she could only contribute all her knowledge, experience, and energy to a team effort that would save the human race. Like Ingram, she was driven by faith.
“I’m sure some of your friends are still alive,” Meg said.
“I don’t care about them,” Jacob said, sniffling a little. “I want my dad and my sister.”
She hugged him and kissed the top of his head. He’d not bathed in days and she was startled by his smell, almost as if he were shedding civilization and devolving back to a more primitive animal state. His face was creased with exhaustion. He’d been forced to grow up way too fast, and even though he was determined to not be a burden, she had to remind herself he was only ten years old. It seemed like years had passed since the outbreak even though it had been less than a week.
Soon she heard the sound of Hannah’s engine, throttling down as she approached their agreed-upon meeting place. Amid the silence of the trees, Meg wondered if the noise would travel to the zombies on the interstate. Hannah must have considered the possibility, because she cut her engine before she arrived. A few minutes later, she walked out of the trees, complete with another loaded backpack and a rifle.
“This is for you,” Hannah said, giving the weapon to Sonia. “Now we’re all ready to kick ass if necessary.”
“What about me?” Jacob said.
“I’ll teach you to shoot when we get somewhere safe,” Rocky said.
“No, I’ll do it,” Meg said. “When you’re ready.”
Hannah reported that the airport was completely shut down, and she’d spotted no survivors. A few zombies still walked the terminal, but most of the travelers who’d been caught there were dead. She’d run into a group of people holed up in a hotel just off the interstate, but they weren’t open to more guests. Other hotels were located nearby, as well as a residential neighborhood between the commercial zones served by the airport.
“Best of all, it looks like the interstate opens up a little once you get past the 540 Beltway,” Hannah said. “No signs of bombing, either, so maybe the military gave up on this area.”
Sonia, Rocky, and Hannah gathered around the map to plot their course. Meg pulled her phone from her handbag and used some of her dwindling charge to see if Ian had somehow messaged her. She still received no signal, but she thumbed to her photos folder just to see his face. Then she saw a picture of the four of them a stranger had taken at the beach. She wiped away a tear at the sight of those smiling, carefree people from a different time.
Sonia called the group together, and they headed out with Hannah again riding ahead. Moving north toward the airport, the forest didn’t end and give way to civilization. Instead, commercial plots had encroached into nature here and there, and soon they encountered subdivisions, condominium complexes, and residential areas, but none of the development was as dense here in the outer suburbs of Raleigh. They were able to stay relatively hidden as they made their way parallel to the interstate, with Hannah’s motorcycle audible in the near distance.
The only time they were exposed to any great degree was crossing the boulevards that connected the airport with the interstate. A few deaders saw them, or else had been attracted by Hannah’s engine noise, but the group managed to move on before they were close enough for a fight.
“Do you think they can track us?” Sonia asked Meg.
“They don’t seem to exhibit any short-term memory. They respond to immediate stimuli based purely on instinct—sight, smell, hearing. My guess is they can’t really detect prey from a distance. It’s just one more thing we’re going to have to research.”
“You might end up burning through a lot of guinea pigs to find out,” Arjun said.
“Too bad we can’t just do a Twitter poll,” Sydney said. “‘How did you get eaten by zombies? A, B, or C?’”
The hotel Hannah described was visible above the trees near the interstate. The group veered clear of it, not wanting to be accidentally shot by survivors mistaking them for zombies. Despite Rocky’s killing of the man at the gas station, there was no logic behind survivors fighting each other when they had a far more menacing common enemy. Perhaps at some point resources would become strained, but Meg didn’t think they should take any chances now, while everyone’s nerves were frayed and the shock of the outbreak had yet to wear off.
With dusk approaching, Sonia suggested they find a hotel while they still had enough natural light to conduct a thorough search of the place. They picked out Hyatt Place because its brick façade looked formidable, even though the parking lot was nearly full. Sonia called Hannah on the walkie-talkie to let her know the location.
“We’ll check these cars for keys tomorrow,” Rocky said.
“More likely, we’re going to have to break into some rooms and search corpses for keys,” Arjun said. “These people didn’t die inside their cars like the people on the highway. These people are up there.” He pointed to the blank rows of windows in the seven-story building.
“I guess we’ll have to draw straws ,” Meg said. “Nobody wants that job.”
“Arjun will do it,” Sydney said.
Arjun swallowed. “Uhh...we can talk about it after we settle in.”
Meg grinned to herself at their budding relationship. Arjun was awkward and intelligent, and seemingly unsuited for these harsh conditions, but he tried hard to impress them all, especially Sydney. For her part, Sydney overplayed her role as a ditzy blond, whether through manipulation or else a belief that it would inspire Arjun into the role of protector.
The sliding-glass doors leading into the lobby were shattered from the inside, judging by the direction the glass shards had spread. A broken table and some potted plants lay in the wreckage on the sidewalk.
“Power probably went out, and maybe some people turned deader in here,” Rocky said. “Guests in the lobby were trapped and couldn’t make it to the emergency exits, so they broke through.”
“So we have an extra exit if necessary,” Sonia said.
“I hope they take credit cards,” Sydney said as they entered the lobby. “I could use the travel points.”
Aside from a few scattered chairs and overturned floor lamps, the place looked largely intact. Papers were strewn around the front of the check-in counter, and the unmistakable rotten-sweet odor of decay hung in the air. Meg put her arm around Jacob’s shoulder, her Glock swinging in her free hand. The others had guns at the ready as well, all of them stepping quietly into the hushed space.
Sonia peeked over the counter. “Two dead here,” she said, not bothering to specify whether they were victims of zombie attacks or had died due to disease. Meg’s scientific curiosity wasn’t aroused enough to ask. She figured she’d get plenty of population data before the epidemic was over.
Rocky conducted a recon of the dining area, where plates of spoiled food sat on tables as if the outbreak had caught people in mid-meal. With his M16, he pushed open the swinging door that led to the kitchen.
“Looks like it hasn’t been raided,” he said. “In the morning, we can search for food.”
“Does our room come with a complimentary breakfast?” Sydney asked.
“Breakfast might be you, if the zombies find us,” Arjun said.
“It’s a little weird,” Sonia said. “Where are all the bodies?”
“Maybe they either all got out or they’re holed up in their rooms,” Rocky said. “Or some of both.”
“You know what that means,” Sonia said. “Some of these rooms probably have deaders in them. Maybe even most of these rooms.”
Arjun turned to Sydney. “And you were so eager for me to search for car keys.”
“We still need to do that,” Rocky said. “But we’ll do it slow and safe, in teams.”
“It’s getting dark in here,” Meg said, feeling exposed as the shadows stretched down the hall. “The elevator’s out so we’ll have to take the stairs, and I doubt there are any windows in the stairwell.”
“Flashlights,” Sonia said. “Keep the beam low so we don’t attract any attention from outside. We’ll take rooms on the second floor. A little bit safer, but closer to the exits if we need to scramble.”
“So we’re not all sleeping together?” Arjun asked, glancing at Sydney.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m too tired for anything but sleep,” Sonia said.
“What does she mean?” Jacob asked Meg.
“I’ll tell you when you’re fifteen,” Meg said.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
When Cameron Ingram received the radio message that a scout team had encountered Sarah Beth and Cyrus and were escorting them in, he dropped to his knees and whispered a prayer of thanks.
He left his office on the top floor and descended through the building, now full on all levels except the top, which was reserved as a command center. Col. Hayes and the FEMA officials had stepped up their organizational efforts and a sense of stability, if not calm, permeated Promiseland. After securing a wide defensive radius around the church, Hayes had applied resources to policing the refugee population and expelling those who refused to take the mark. God had indeed blessed this church.
Although he’d held a service today, he was surprised how many of the refugees recognized him, and how many of them were active at this late hour. Some of them greeted him warmly on the stairs. When he reached the bottom landing, he’d been swarmed by a crowd of devoted followers. They touched him as if his very presence provided healing, and even though he knew he was only a conduit of the Lord, he couldn’t help the surge of pride over being chosen for this role.
Revelation: A Post-Apocalyptic Zombie Thriller (Arize Book 2) Page 7
