The Infected Dead (Book 6): Buried For Now

by Howard, Bob

“I think since yesterday, but it could have been two days. What’s been happening?”

  It was the first time she saw something in their eyes that she had in common with them. They were nervous and maybe a little more than scared. Randal and Stokes both seemed like they had been reminded of something, and their heads swiveled on their shoulders to take in their surroundings.

  “We need to get back inside,” said Stokes. “We’ll explain everything in there. We also have more work to get done on the ditch up at the road to the house. If we get that done fast, we can flood the area and seal it off.”

  “Seal it off from what?”

  Neither of them answered this time, and Stokes dropped his facade of southern charm. He didn’t wait for her to take the lead as he walked down the dock. Randal fell in behind him like a big puppy dog. He was winding the rope around his arm in loops and carrying his cinderblock.

  “Wait, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just been bad out there. I mean, I don’t really even know what day it is, and I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “No time to be all blubbery, girl. Just follow us. You’ll find out what’s happening in due time, then maybe you can explain it to us.”

  She took that to mean Stokes and Randal didn’t know much more than she did, but at least she was alive because of them. They could take care of themselves, and that was a lot more than she could say about Paul. She fell in behind them and noticed they were both watching their surroundings closely as they walked toward the house at the end of the dock.

  There had been around six or eight “ripe meat” gathering at the end of the dock, but several had already fallen off into the marsh. Instead of trying to get back up onto the dock, they tried to walk through the water to reach the trio of living people. When they reached the deeper water, they disappeared.

  Now, there were only four of them staggering along the wooden planks of the dock. One more fell through an opening in the railing, and Randal threw the cinderblock at the remaining three. He was remarkably accurate, and one by one they were eliminated.

  The dock met solid ground about twenty feet from the back porch of a brown house that would have fit nicely on any piece of beachfront property. The back yard had an eight foot privacy fence around it that gave her a feeling of safety, but Stokes and Randal were even more vigilant now that they were off of the dock. She started to say something, but Stokes’ left hand shot upward at the elbow, and they both stopped walking as if someone had yelled for them to freeze.

  Sarah Beth instinctively did the same, and she watched as Stokes very slowly began stepping to his right, and Russel did the same while carefully stepping in the same places as Stokes.

  She knew it was totally random, but she thought they were acting like they were crossing a minefield. Then she saw that Stokes was carefully avoiding small twigs and branches, and Randal was able to stay quiet as long as he followed Stokes. She decided she would stay where she was until they told her to come forward.

  Stokes pointed at one section of fence, and Randal nodded. They walked like a pair of cats across the yard until Stokes could press his face against the wooden fence. He held up one finger, and Randal nodded in understanding. Randal walked quietly for a stocky man, and he eased over to a lawn chair. Sarah Beth was amazed that he carried the chair over to the fence and climbed onto it without making sound. He hefted the cinderblock and reached over the fence with it.

  Randal swung the cinderblock like it was a boxing glove on his fist, and they heard the sound of it hitting its target. Just as quickly, he ducked back down below the top of the fence and moved back in her direction.

  As Stokes passed by, he said under his breath, “There’s ripe meat all over the place in these woods. Once we get the road finished, they won’t be wandering up on us like that.”

  “What exactly are you doing to the road?”

  “This place is an island except for the road. We’re digging it out so that it fills in with water. Anything that gets across we can deal with.”

  Sarah Beth followed them to the house wondering how they planned to dig out the road. She didn’t know they had driven to this end of James Island on a backhoe from a cemetery. The scoop on the front could be used to break apart asphalt then dig a nice, wide trench across the road. They had already gotten a good start and had at least partially flooded the area, but the racket they had made driving it to the house had been an open invitation to every piece of ripe meat for miles around.

  There were other people in the house. That surprised Sarah Beth. She didn’t know why, but she had expected the house to be empty. The others were going about jobs that were assigned to them by Stokes. For some reason he was the chosen leader even though none of them had seen how truly evil he could be. When they had arrived, one by one or in small groups, everyone took for granted that he was the one who made all of the decisions. He wasn’t going to disagree with them.

  Sarah Beth had enough education to know that a leadership vacuum could be filled quickly if there was a shortage of leaders, but she hadn’t ever seen people defer to one person more quickly. Maybe they sensed something the way she did. She just knew she would try not to cross Stokes.

  “You look lost.”

  The voice that spoke to her was a young, dark haired guy who looked like he was a college student. She was used to boys finding a reason to talk with her at parties, but she had never felt lost the way she was at the moment, so his line was more accurate than the pick up lines she was used to hearing. She really did feel lost.

  He held out his hand, and unlike her mental alarms that made her hold back from shaking hands with Stokes, she readily accepted the gesture.

  “My name’s Gervais. What’s yours?”

  “Sarah Beth.”

  “Ah, Charlestonian?”

  She tilted her head to one side and said, “You’re from the Midlands, maybe a USC student.”

  “Gamecock all the way,” he smiled.

  To an outsider, it would have seemed that they were squaring off for a fight, but where they were from was actually an ice breaker in South Carolina social circles. She was from the Lowcountry, and he was from the Midlands. That wasn’t a great combination, but it wasn’t as bad as someone from the Lowcountry socializing with someone from the Upstate. For a small state, South Carolina had well defined borders within its borders.

  Gervais continued, “It looks like where we’re from doesn’t matter so much right now. The fact that we’re alive might be the most important thing.”

  He wasn’t unpleasant, and Sarah Beth didn’t detect danger the way she had with Stokes and Randal, so she was grateful to have him stepping up.

  “Does anybody know what’s happening?”

  He shook his head. “Most of us were here for the day to sit in on some labs at the College of Charleston. I hardly know any of these folks. All I know is that people started biting other people. Crazy people were running around killing each other, and campus security couldn’t handle it. Next thing I knew there were security officers attacking students, too. Police showed up, and they didn’t last ten minutes before they were either dead or attacking everyone. Afterward, there was no one left to attack.”

  “How did you get here then? Why didn’t you become one of them?”

  “Same reason you didn’t become one I guess. You didn’t get bit by anyone.”

  Sarah Beth thought about Paul. He had left the boat feeling fine, but he came back dying. She finally understood he got bit when he went to get help.

  “Stokes and Randal found me in a boat and brought me back here. Are we safe here?”

  “So far,” said Gervais. “They dug out enough of the road to make it hard for those things, whatever they are, to get to the house.”

  “They call them ripe meat,” said Sarah Beth. “I still think of them as people, so I don’t really like what they call them.”

  “I would get used to it if I were you. If we’re lucky we won’t be stuck here for long, but I hav
e a bad feeling we’re going to be here a very long time.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Captured

  Six Years After the Decline

  All of that seemed like it had been someone else’s life. Sarah Beth thought about that first night every time she came back and reached up toward the wooden ladder they had added to the dock. The tide was in, so they had drifted quickly past the spot where she and Paul had spent the night. She was having trouble remembering how many years had gone by. She thought it was six, but it could be seven or even eight.

  “We’re going to need help getting them up to the dock,” said Randal.

  “Do ya think?”

  Sarah Beth had given up any attempt to disguise her feelings toward Randal. As for Randal, he figured if she fell overboard, he would throw her an anchor before he would throw her a life preserver.

  Despite being constantly insulted, Randal dutifully ran ahead down the length of the dock to get some help. He returned a few minutes later with two stocky men trailing behind. A few others tagged along just to see what was going on.

  One of the stocky men dropped down into the boat and easily lifted Molly over his shoulder. When the second guy saw the pretty face and thick black hair of the teenager, he offered to take her from the first guy.

  “Keep your hands to yourself, dirtbag. You can get the other one.”

  Bert Smalls was about as popular as Randal. That’s why Stokes had pointed at him and Al Wilkes to go help Randal and Sarah Beth with whatever was so important that Randal had burst into the house stuttering.

  Bert’s eyes went down into the boat hoping to find a second attractive teenager. It was another teenager, but it was a skinny boy. He grumbled the whole time, but he knew better than to keep Stokes waiting, so he made quick work of retrieving the limp body from the boat. He caught up with Al at the end of the dock, and they followed Sarah Beth and Randal to the big house that was mostly hidden by trees.

  Noise was kept at a minimum as everyone walked inside, and even though there was very little light in the big living room, each of them wiped their feet on the mat by the door and then removed their shoes. They were left neatly along the wall in pairs. Stokes liked to keep his house clean.

  Sarah Beth saw that the shades were all drawn tightly shut on the windows, and only two candles burned in the room. It had to be a precaution due to the unusually high amount of ripe meat walking around on the mainland.

  “What have we got?” asked Stokes.

  His voice was soft and low, but everyone in the room knew it was because sound carried too well at night, and he didn’t want anyone to discover their home.

  Sarah Beth stepped forward to explain. She didn’t want Randal to give his version of the events because he would screw it up. She didn’t know how, but she knew he would.

  “It was a routine night patrol, Sir. Me and Randal….”.

  Stokes raised his hand with the palm outward, and she knew to stop speaking. Then she realized what she had said. Stokes had a rule about good grammar. If you knew how to speak properly, he wanted you to do so. If you didn’t already have the skill, he just tolerated you.

  “Randal and I were on our way back from the campus when these two dropped in on us from above. I thought they were ripe meat, so I swung at their heads as soon as they landed. Turned out to be alive.”

  “That’s it?”

  Stokes was leaning forward from a large leather sofa. His long hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and there was an array of weapons spread out on the coffee table in front of him. His right hand was lingering over a knife with a beautifully carved handle. Sarah Beth knew that much of what he did was for show, but everyone was on edge about the sudden increase of ripe meat in the area. The home was separated from the mainland by creeks and a moat they had dug by the main entrance to the property, but ripe meat could still get across if they didn’t get stuck in the mud.

  She didn’t know what he expected, but she did know he didn’t want speculation. He wanted facts.

  Stokes focused his eyes on Randal for just a moment, and Randal took it as a sign that Stokes wanted his version. As he started to speak, the hand came up again.

  Sarah Beth went on before Randal could make a mistake and wind up wandering in the woods with his entrails in a loop around his neck. Although when she thought about it, that didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

  “Sir, they fell over ten feet, and they were likely to have been stunned already when I hit them, so they haven’t been questioned.”

  Stokes smiled. Even in the dim light his yellow teeth made Sarah Beth feel ill. His greasy hair framed his faced and made him resemble someone who had just been pulled from a grave. He would actually enjoy it more if he had all of the information first hand, and he could get it straight from the two teenagers as soon as they woke up. He would do it privately and then decide how much to tell his followers. His hope was that they knew something about Fort Sumter or the people on the aircraft carrier.

  “Where exactly did you find them?”

  “Where the creek passes close to shore between the college buildings and the government buildings. It’s the highest bank along the marsh.”

  “So you didn’t see where they were coming from?”

  Stokes liked Sarah Beth because she did what she was told and had no ambitions of her own. Most of his followers felt like they should be in charge, and he had to make an example of them from time to time. Sometimes he wished Randal would try something so he could have an excuse to get rid of him. Randal made everyone feel just a bit safer, as if he was a layer of insulation between them and Stokes’ temper.

  “No, Sir. We didn’t even hear them coming, so they must’ve been running when they jumped.”

  Stokes gave orders to have the teenagers locked up. Then he disappeared to his private rooms. His trusted officers were allowed to stay in the house, but everyone else had to stay outside. Sarah Beth preferred to be outside because she felt like she was one step closer to escaping if she had to. She always felt like she was going to either have to escape from Stokes and his cutthroats, or the ripe meat would find a way onto their little island paradise in large enough numbers to overrun them.

  She walked outside onto the broad front porch and peered into the darkness. It was oppressively hot and humid, and the mosquitos seemed to be getting bigger. For about the thousandth time she wondered when the infection would mutate and be able to spread by mosquito bites.

  “That would really stink,” she said half out loud.

  “What would?”

  She didn’t jump or let on that the question from the darkness had spooked her, but it had. When she had spoken, she knew deep down that none of the ripe meat would be close enough to hear her, but she had forgotten about Gervais.

  Sometimes Sarah Beth thought at least half the people in South Carolina could trace their roots back to someone rich or famous in the history books. Gervais certainly could. He proudly told people to call him by his last name because his ancestor had been a South Carolina state senator as well as a delegate to the Continental Congress. She had grown up in a family like that, so she understood his desire to hang onto his family roots. A lot of good it did for any of them now.

  “I was just thinking out loud about the infection and how much worse it would be if it could be carried by mosquitos. One itchy little bite, and bam. You’re ripe meat.”

  “You’re in a dark mood tonight.”

  He didn’t have to be able to see her well to know that she was glaring at him. It was a bad play on words even for him.

  “Hey, I’m sorry. What’s eating at you tonight?”

  That one was unintentional, but even she had to stifle a laugh. Somewhere in the distance a piece of ripe meat moaned.

  “The teenagers we found this evening. Good looking kids. Well cared for. Probably been eating well and had people to look after them. Why they were at Fort Johnson is beyond me. They should be home with their families, but now Stokes has them.”
>
  “Why do you care so much?”

  Gervais wasn’t trying to be mean or insensitive, but after years of death from the infection and at the hands of people like Stokes, it was hard to worry about someone he didn’t even know.

  “Don’t you ever wonder what happened to your family? I do all the time. I’ve given up on the idea of finding them even though they could be right over there, but no one’s alive that I knew back then.”

  Sarah Beth gestured in the general direction of Charleston. They couldn’t see it from their location on James Island, but they both knew where it was. If you lived in Charleston long enough, you always knew which way to turn to face the peninsula.

  “Well, they aren’t your problem now. You aren’t thinking of doing something stupid, are you?”

  When she thought about it for a minute, Sarah Beth knew the honest answer to the question. She had learned on the first day of the infection that she didn’t have the luxury to care about other people anymore. If she wanted to stay alive, she could only care about herself. Whoever those kids were, they were on their own.

  “No, I’m not going to do anything stupid. There’s nothing I could do even if I wanted to. Do you think Stokes is going to let them go?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  Gervais asked her the question so quickly that Sarah Beth realized she should have thought about that before bringing them back to camp. There was still Randal, though. If she had let them go, Randal would have fallen all over himself getting the report to Stokes, and if she hadn’t knocked them out, Randal would probably have killed one of them just taking them into captivity. Either way, Stokes wanted information about Fort Sumter and the Yorktown, and he was going to get it.

  Gervais didn’t really expect her to answer. They both knew Stokes wouldn’t let them go even if they didn’t have any information he could use.

  There was activity behind them, as Randal and a few others came outside.

  “What’s happening?” asked Gervais.