by Olah, Jeff
“Really, is that what you see? I guess—”
Already heading down the beach, Jack yelled back. “Mason, let’s go.”
Mason stood, although continuing to address the wounded man. “Today is you’re lucky day,” he said. “If my friend weren’t here… well let’s just say you’d find out just how bad you are at reading people.”
He turned to walk away as the man lying in the sand began to shout. Mason didn’t acknowledge his ranting; he simply followed Jack’s footsteps back in the direction he had come minutes earlier.
The sun fought to make its way into the Eastern skyline as Jack slowed and waited for Mason to join him. The sand still damp from the cool night air, it clung in layers to his size nine work boots. Jack stomped his feet against the concrete fire pit, kicking free what he could and sat as Mason approached.
“A bit of luck for once,” Jack said as he removed the magazines from the rifles they took and held them out for Mason to see.
“Whatta ya mean? Those two scumbags had the same weapon as you?”
“No, not exactly,” Jack said. “Although the ammo is the same and I was one round shy of being empty. I can’t believe for once we get a break. It’s about time”
Jack used the ammo to reload his weapon and then nodded to Mason. “Where are they?”
Looking into the distance, Mason said. “Savannah and Lockwood?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sure they’re almost home by now. I asked Savannah to give me a few minutes and then to get Lockwood out of here. If we hurry, we may be able to catch them. The others are going to be pretty surprised to see us show up on foot.”
“Maybe,” Jack said. “Maybe not. I’m sure Megan told the others she lost contact with us. And we should have been back at least an hour ago. They probably even went out looking for us.”
Stopping just short of the water, Mason looked back and motioned toward the homes. “They probably took the side streets from here. If we do the same we should be able to catch them before they get back home.”
“You don’t think they kept going along the beach?”
Pointing south, Mason said. “There aren’t any footprints in the sand and we’d probably be able to see them walking along the shore from here. I’m sure when they heard the gunfire, Savannah took him out through the front. It’d be quicker too.”
Jack started toward the homes and stopped. “Wait, does Savannah even have a weapon?”
The thought of her taking Lockwood out into the streets without any protection hit him like a freight train. “I don’t think she does… Jack, we need to go.”
He moved quickly through the sand, Jack continuing to look north as their aggressors limped back toward the bridge. They reached the pathway between two multi-million dollar beach homes and Mason rattled the fence post.
Nothing.
He pulled the gate back and slammed it into the post, the force enough to loosen one of the rusted lag bolts and split the hinge. The overgrown foliage between the two homes began to move and with it, three severely deteriorated Feeders. They were momentarily hidden from view as they clawed their way toward the gate. Climbing over one another, each severed at the waist, they dragged what was left of their damaged torsos, hissing and growling as they advanced toward the gate.
Grinning at Mason, Jack said, “I’ll handle it.” He kicked through the gate, sending wooden shards into the pathway. He quickly leaned his rifle against the block wall and retrieved three of the larger pieces, now more closely resembling spears. Jack stood over the group with his wooden spikes and waited for them to move apart.
Driving the wooden stakes one by one through their skulls, he pinned them to the hard packed ground and watched as they instantly went limp. “Okay, let’s go.”
Mason shook his head. “That never gets old for you, does it?”
“What, demolishing those beasts? Never…”
176
The area much calmer than she’d expected and not running across a single Feeder since walking out the front door of the house, she began to grow nervous. The streets were quiet as steam rose off the asphalt and curled into the air. The sun now pressing at their backs, Savannah and Lockwood slowly moved away from the house and along the desolate streets toward the entrance to the gated community.
Less than five minutes walking time to the gates and she’d hoped Mason would have caught up. They should have already realized that there were no tracks leading away from the home and moving out farther along the beach. They should have noticed and come looking, at least that’s what a rational person would have done. Although the longer they were away from home, the less logical they all seemed to react.
He began to limp less and move more quickly as they walked through the maze of streets, hoping they were heading in the right direction. Lockwood needed less time to rest and even began to keep pace with Savannah. “My leg is feeling a bit better, we can keep going.”
“Keep going… I don’t really even know if we’re heading in the right direction, or if we’re just making a big loop. This is your old neighborhood. Does it feel like we’re going the right way?”
He stopped in front of a massive two story home and leaned into a post that jutted out of the sidewalk. The mailbox that formerly sat where his hand was now lay rusted in the overgrown front lawn, speaking to the city’s downfall. “To be honest, I don’t really know. The communities in this area were usually built the same way, although this one is a bit different. I believe we should just keep taking the streets that head south and west. I’m sure we’ll find the gates soon.”
“Okay,” Savannah said. “And if we don’t find the gates? You know, we probably don’t want to be out here alone for too long.”
“You’re right.”
“What about heading straight through some of the backyards?”
“I’m not sure it would save time,” Lockwood said. “And climbing over all those block walls won’t do much to help my leg.”
“Alright, so do you want to wait to see if the boys catch up or do we just keep walking?”
“I’m okay to walk for now, so let’s just keep going. They’ll catch us sooner or later.”
Taking the lead, Savannah moved to the wall at the edge of the lot and looked down the adjoining street. She motioned for him to follow and they hugged the wall as they made their way toward the next street.
Approaching the next corner, Savannah looked ahead and almost laughed as she noticed the downed street sign. “Desperation Lane, who would willingly move here? This can’t be real; no one would pay millions of dollars to live on this street.”
Lockwood looked from left to right, taking in the beachside homes. “Back before all this happened, people would have done just about anything to live near the ocean.”
The appeal didn’t escape her. Less than a few minutes walking distance to the ocean and year-round temperatures in the seventies, the area was at one time priceless. No doubt home to the wealthiest the country had to offer, even the burned out vehicles left sitting silent in the driveways were formerly works of art. Today though, the street named Desperation seemed more appropriate.
“I guess,” Savannah said. “We need to move. This next block is a long one. Let’s stay on the other side of the street near the homes. I don’t want any surprises.”
Crossing to the opposite side, something in the distance caught her eye. Savannah made note of it before moving quickly to the first driveway and crouching behind the decomposing SUV.
She nodded at Lockwood and he gave her the thumbs up. They moved to the front yard, staying as low as possible while rushing across the damp grass. Savannah slid to a stop in the next driveway and pushed aside two rolling trash cans that blocked her view of the rest of the neighborhood.
The stench coming from behind was overwhelming as Lockwood pushed in past the cans. He rested his hand on her shoulder and said, “Don’t look back, I promise you—”
He was a second too late; Savannah had
already turned and was in the process of asking the question. “What the hell is that nasty smell?”
The last garbage can pushed into the garage door had lost its lid. The contents showing themselves, as both Savannah and Lockwood took a step in the other direction. “I think we found the smell, but what is it I’m looking at. Those don’t look like they came from Feeders and they’re way too clean.”
She was right he thought, the severed limps stacked in the trash can were too clean. From the surgical cuts to the lack of bite marks, he knew these body parts weren’t from the infected. Nor were they tossed into the can haphazardly. They were disposed of in a more deliberate manner.
Looking back toward the upstairs window, a shadowed figure moved away and out of sight. Lockwood motioned toward the street. “Savannah, we need to get out of here. Get to the end of the block and don’t wait for me.”
“What are you talking about?” Savannah asked. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”
He pushed her between the two cars lining the driveway and into the street, whispering into her ear as they moved. “There are people here and they’re most likely responsible for what’s in those cans.”
She didn’t respond, although the color draining from her face told him she understood. Moving quickly along the center of the street, Savannah held tight to his arm and even though his limp returned she didn’t give him an inch.
“I’m not going to be able to keep up. My leg is cramping. I have to stop for a—”
She pulled him in closer and didn’t turn to face him. She didn’t speak and instead, increased her speed. With every step the pair grew more disjointed in their cadence and as the seconds rolled by she was losing him.
Thirty yards and he felt as though he was being dragged. His feet skipped off the pavement in a half attempt at simply moving forward. Lockwood yanked free. “Savannah let me run on my own.”
The sound was faint although distinct. A door being slammed shut at the home they’d just run from. No one in their line of sight, although the footfalls were unmistakable, they were coming.
Lockwood’s attention to the rear, anticipating what was to come, he reached out for her arm. She began pulling him in her direction as he struggled to hold his ground. “Savannah we have to find somewhere to hide.”
She reached out and pulled him by the shoulders, finally breaking her silence. “Look,” she said. “Over there, we’ve got much bigger problems.”
177
The outside stairwell led to the roof and from his vantage, the path was clear. After three taps on the railing, Mason nodded and Jack started up the groaning wooden staircase. He stayed close and covered the rear, checking the windows of the home next door as they moved toward the rooftop balcony. With less than ten steps to the top of the three story beach house, Mason withdrew his weapon.
Tapping him on the shoulder, Mason asked Jack to stop. “Stay low and out of sight, we should be able get a better idea of where we are from up here.”
“Yeah,” Jack said. “And where she went with Lockwood.”
The gate swung into the roof and both men made quick work of checking the balcony for any unseen threats. The polished concrete floors were still slick with morning dew as Mason moved to the Southwest corner and looked out over the expansive shoreline as the early morning fog began to roll in, blocking his view.
Anything beyond a few hundred yards was a blur. Mason leaned over the railing and peered out into the distance. Their small beachside community should have been less than a mile away, although through the mist, he wasn’t sure.
Back along the Western roofline, he noticed more than a few dozen Feeders moving away from the beach. They all appeared to be absorbed with something at the interior of the community and came together with another group out of the South. As he approached Jack, their target came clear.
“Savannah!”
“Wait,” Jack said as he laid his right eye into the rifle’s scope. “We’ve got company.”
Following Jack’s field of vision, Mason watched as the three strangers ran out of the driveway and into the street. They moved quickly toward Savannah and Lockwood as the crowd of Feeders came in from the South.
“They don’t come within ten feet of Savannah or Lockwood,” Mason said. “No excuses.”
“Wait, I need you here—”
Ignoring Jack’s request to stay put, Mason turned and sprinted in the opposite direction. Exploding through the gate, he descended the stairs with the placement of each step more reckless than the one before. Leaping from the fourth step and finding his way into the path between the two homes, the first Feeder rounded the corner.
Sliding his gun into his waistband, he accelerated along the dirt path, and closed the gap to ten feet. Lowering his shoulder as Feeders number two and three also came into view, he prepared himself for impact. They were skeletons wrapped in a thin layer of flesh and together, would outweigh him by more than double, although he’d already made his decision.
With three feet to impact, he noticed a space to the right and launched himself into the three beasts. As he made contact with the first body, the jarring blow vibrated from his left shoulder and into his lower back. He bit his tongue and the taste of blood heightened his aggression. Pushing away and twisting into the wall at his back, Mason fell to the ground.
The first and second Feeders also now flat on their backs; Mason reached for the window ledge and pulled himself up. The remaining beast moved in more quickly than his two fallen friends and as it lunged for Mason’s throat, it slammed headfirst into the stucco wall. Mason leaned back and kicked the Feeder to the ground, not bothering to see where it landed before turning and running.
As he made his way out into the street, Mason pictured the route he needed to take. Although he’d only glanced at the scene from the rooftop, the image was still burned into his mind. Twenty seconds was what he calculated he’d need to get to them, and at the moment he was unsure how much time he had expended.
Across the street and through the first yard, Mason knew his first concern should always be with getting Lockwood to safety, although his thoughts and actions rested elsewhere. He wanted to get to her; he needed to get to her. Lockwood was going to save the world, so why was he being pulled toward her?
Savannah didn’t usually need his help, and liked to make him aware of that fact at every turn. Although with each aggressive stride forward, he wanted to show that he could. He’d protected most everyone in the group at one point or another, although today he felt the need to prove something. To her and more importantly, to himself.
From a dead sprint, Mason lunged between two shrubs and over a three-foot retaining wall. In landing, he avoided a collision with a forgotten lawnmower and sidestepped the remains of what he figured to be the former gardener. Ten additional steps and he moved out of the corner lot and out onto the second street.
Rounding a furniture delivery truck left in the middle of the street, Mason collided with a stray Feeder. The impact forced him off balance and to the left. Although stumbling forward, he didn’t miss a step in the process.
Mason again accelerated as the street opened up. Sprinting in a straight line through the growing maze of Feeders, he made his way to within twenty yards of his destination. Turning the last corner, he heard the first shot ring out and as the horde thinned, he saw the body go limp, crashing to the asphalt.
Slowing, as the second explosion rang out, he saw three individuals gathered together at the far end of the cul-de-sac. Two very near one another and a lone figure, only feet away. Mason continued forward, weaving his way through the growing horde as the picture of what he was up against became clear.
Sitting along the sidewalk between two lifeless bodies, Lockwood stared back at Mason. His head pitched backward and his hands braced against the curb, the pain was evident. He bit into his lip as a man with greying hair and beard pressed the eight inch stainless steel blade into his neck.
As Mason exited the crow
d, he walked with quiet confidence, each footfall deliberate and authoritative. He locked eyes with the older gentleman and didn’t look away. With the growing horde only moments away, Mason marched to a spot ten yards from his adversary and stopped.
Giving the man the opportunity to speak first, Mason waited a full ten seconds, turned to the crowd of Feeders and then back to the man. “Not a whole lotta time to negotiate bud, drop the knife and walk away.”
No response, although the man began to shake.
Turning to Savannah, who stood five feet to the right of Lockwood, Mason said, “You alright?”
She nodded, although he knew she wasn’t. The smattering of blood and shards of flesh along her right side were new. Obviously from one of the two individuals lying at her feet, the damage brought about by Jack’s rifle, dusted Savannah from head to waist. A single tear ran down her cheek as she turned and looked into the man’s eyes that held Lockwood by the throat.
Mason motioned for her to back away as he turned his attention back to the older gentleman. “We aren’t here to hurt you. Let my friend go and we’ll—”
The man didn’t speak, although his jerking movement, combined with the gunshot that originated less than fifty yards behind, made it seem as though he understood. As the first Feeder hit the ground less than ten feet away, the man dropped the knife and backed into the grass.
As a second shot tore through the crowd, Mason readied his weapon.
178
The reinforced Plexiglas window wouldn’t budge. After standing on the stool and beating it with a hammer for the last twenty minutes, he understood the situation. The room, which was built so that no one without the security code would enter, began to close in on him. With the power off and the door stuck in the locked position, this room would act as his prison.