Invasion of the Dead (Book 5): Resolve

by Baillie, Owen

  A few steps along, she stopped to get her balance. Beside her, Dan’s foot slid on the iron. “You all right?” she asked.

  He nodded. Kumiko held out her hand anyway, and Dan took it. They crept low as they got closer to the edge of the roof. At ground level, the infected milled about like a country fair gathering.

  “We’ll wait,” Dan said. “There’ll be a chance sooner or later.”

  But Kumiko couldn’t help wonder if it was a trap set by the infected woman. Anything that could climb a tree and tear a roof open to get inside at them was smart enough to plan such a thing. She didn’t like waiting. Some deep gut instinct told her that this time, their luck was about to run out.

  4

  “Lock the door,” Mac shouted, stepping in front of Tyler and Ashleigh with the machete in hand. Think, he told himself, scouting the room for options.

  Smitty twisted the gold-coloured lock on the door as it flexed with the force of the infected crashing against the other side. Jim simultaneously slid a chair across the carpet and jammed it underneath the door handle. They were safe for the moment, having been forced down the hallway to the end of the building and into a classroom. But they didn’t know about Dan and Kumiko.

  “I’m not giving up on this place,” Jim said. His face was red, his forehead creased with determination.

  “Surrounded,” Smitty said, face pressed against one of the side windows. “Fuckers are everywhere.”

  Mac guided the kids to one of the corners and out of sight of the infected loitering near the windows. Hands slapped against the wooden door in the hallway. They’d gotten in through the roof first, the only place they hadn’t been observing during their watch. Mac and the others had secured the doors and most of the exposed windows before sleep the previous night, noting how few of the infected were close to the building. Smitty had taken watch, patrolling the rooms with a view to the fence line, but it was a lot of perimeter for one man to cover. They locked some of the office doors and even barricaded the east passageway. Mac had come awake at the sound of banging from the roof, and then he’d hard shattering glass, but it had been too late. They had followed the action plan Smitty and he had discussed the previous night and now had to get clear of the building.

  Ashleigh’s bottom lip quivered. Sitting beside his sister, Tyler circled his arm and pulled her close. Mac knelt before them. “It’s all right, sweetheart. We’re gonna be okay.” She nodded, attempting to be brave. Mac reached out and stroked her hair, then touched a thumb and forefinger to Tyler’s chin.

  He stood and reassessed the situation. He wasn’t sure how long they’d last in the classroom; though, at this point, leaving it would probably put them in more danger. With the infected wandering outside the windows, fully aware of their existence, Mac wished for a fully loaded M4, or even the shotgun, but the shells were back in his car, parked on the side of Yan Yean Road. If they made a run for it without ammo, the risk was high one of them might get hurt. He saw no other option than to wait until it cleared, or at least the number of infected reduced, and then make a run for it. He didn’t like the idea, but he didn’t see another choice.

  Smitty fossicked through a collection of sporting equipment stacked in the corner. After a moment, he stepped back, holding a golf club, twisting the metal head in his hand. He would soon need it, Mac thought as he approached one of the windows that peered out onto the football oval. It was vastly different to what he’d seen the night before. On their final walk of the perimeter, there had been pockets of the sick, but now, they were swimming in much larger numbers. Still, Mac’s trained eye for lines and angles spoke to him, and he could spot several zigzag pathways through the infected to the entrance. The space between the gates was clear, and Mac only hoped the road beyond, where his car was parked, resembled the same.

  Mac had another problem in Shelli. He turned away from the window and found the older woman sitting in the corner on one of the small plastic kids’ chairs, hands wrapped around her knees. She was rocking back and forth, crooning gently. Her eyes were glassy, and she wore a distant expression, drowning in a tightening hell of grief. She only just lost her husband, Mac thought, and sadness jabbed him in the gut. He had been close to Ken—closer than he’d been to his own father in the last five years, and the pain of losing the older man would live with Mac for a long time.

  He started for Shelli, and then Jim rushed into the space in front of him, a stern expression spread across his tanned face. “I’m not leaving.”

  Smitty moved in beside him, eyebrows raised. Jim was obsessed with making the school a refuge for survivors. Mac understood that, but in his expert opinion, the opportunity for such had passed.

  “It’s no longer a feasible location, Jim. They’ve overrun the grounds. We don’t have the firepower to handle it. The best—”

  “You go,” Jim said, hands up, palms facing out. “I’m fine with that. I don’t need anybody.”

  Mac sighed. “The choice is no longer ours, Jim. It’s not even yours because we can’t fix this place. It’s beyond repair.” Mac waved a hand around. “You stay here, you’ll die; it’s that simple.” But Jim wouldn’t look. He only shook his head and turned away for the corner.

  “What about the other two?” Mac asked. “Do we know if they’re okay?”

  Smitty shook his head. With their interaction the previous night, both had seemed genuinely grateful for the help. They talked about their experiences and both had suffered loss. Mac felt growing concern, but there wasn’t much he could do for them now.

  While Mac couldn’t force Jim to come with them, he couldn’t leave Shelli behind. He dropped down beside her on the carpeted floor and placed a hand on her back.

  “Shell?” It took her a moment, but she finally turned to face him. “Shell, we have to leave this place.” Her eyes widened. “Not yet, but at some point, we’re going to make a run for it. To my car.”

  Her face folded into one of complete disbelief. “I can’t do that, Mac.”

  “I’ll help you.”

  Pain spread across her features. “Why would you want to go out there?” The last word was spoken with horror.

  “We can’t survive in here. They’ll get into this classroom eventually.” She mumbled something under her breath, and he tried to assure her. “We can get away.

  “Mac… I don’t think I can do it.”

  Mac took her hand in his and gave it a light squeeze. “Yes, you can.” She shook her head. “The kids need you, Shell.” She glanced over at them. “I need you.” Her sad eyes found Mac again. “I need you to help me find Jessica.”

  “But Ken… I don’t want to leave him behind.”

  Dutch’s and Ken’s bodies were locked in one of the offices. Mac had wanted to bury them, but with the infected roaming the grounds, it was impossible.

  “What would Ken want, Shell?”

  She dropped her head in thought and began sobbing again. Mac rubbed her back. After a few moments though, she looked up at Mac, fresh tears streaming down her puffy, pale cheeks, and said, “All right.”

  Mac smiled. “You’re a tough old bird, Shell.”

  Now they just had to pick their moment.

  5

  January 11, 2014

  8:06 am

  Latrobe, Tasmania

  Daylight seeped through the pinholes in the old petrol tank. Juliet shifted her aching body, pulling herself back against the wall for the thousandth time. There was no way of getting comfortable in this place. No way of resting one’s mind or body. The others were feeling the same, twisting and turning most of the night. Some had slept, their snoring echoing off the rusty metal walls. Meg had woken up with a start; Lory too. Juliet thought Lory might have been crying at one point. Jessica had gone to her and now Juliet saw the both of them lying beside one another in a crumpled heap.

  Juliet had only slept for a short, uneasy period. After Devo had returned them to the tank, she had expected one of their captors to appear at the door, threatening s
ome harm or another. But the silence outside remained. She wondered about the fallout of the confrontation she and Jessica had witnessed. Based on not seeing anyone, she felt it safe to assume Red Bandana—their only ally at present—had not been overthrown as leader. Otherwise, they probably would have been dragged back to the building and assaulted all night long.

  She had to get up and move. Having long ago given up on meaningful sleep, Juliet rolled onto her side, the clunk of her knee on the metal floor sounding like thunder. She winced, then stood, joints popping, muscles begging for relief as she provided movement for the first time in six or more hours. Yawning, she stepped carefully to the edge of the tank, but the smallest undertaking brought unwanted noise. The others would stir in a moment.

  Through the tiny holes in the wall, Juliet felt the first threads of the day’s heat. Bright sunshine spread across the junkyard, glaring against the pale, dusty road. Old cars and earthmoving machinery littered the scene, long grass growing between their broken limbs. There was no sign of the men holding them captive. Based on the sun’s upbeat position, Juliet guessed it was around nine o’clock. She thought back to the days before—working at the hospital as it had spiralled downward, the infected overrunning the place, the army blowing it up. It seemed like a lifetime ago when, in reality, it had only been five or six days.

  The warmth on her face felt pleasant, but if they were held in the tank all day, they would roast. She had to find a way to get them out. The plan to let the infected into the junkyard through the fence was a long shot, but all they had.

  The sounds of the others stirring came from behind, and Juliet turned to meet them.

  “It’s a wonder I can even walk,” Meg said, hobbling towards Juliet, hand pressed against her lower back. She was a pessimistic woman, and there had been fleeting moments when Juliet had regretted bringing Meg along. Such thoughts disgusted her.

  Jessica climbed to her feet, leant forward, and reached her palms to the ground, stretching the backs of her legs. It was obvious to Juliet the woman was active, her limbs and torso firm and well proportioned. When she straightened up, Jessica’s downcast mouth and narrowed eyes gave away a hint of pain.

  “You okay?”

  She rubbed her forehead. “I have a bad headache and my bladder may explode, but mostly, I miss my husband and kids.”

  Juliet put a hand on her shoulder and rubbed. “Hang in there. I really feel like Red Bandana’s going to let us go today.” Jessica wore a blank, disbelieving expression. “Besides, they’ll have to at least let us out soon to pee.”

  “We’ll see.”

  The truth was Juliet had no idea what Red Bandana was thinking. He may well have done a 180° flip and decided to re-align with Ponytail—assuming Ponytail was still alive. That was the most concerning part of their current circumstances—what was he thinking? He’d shot and killed innocent, unarmed people. What did that say for his level of sanity?

  She went to Lory, who was still sitting against the wall of the tank with her knees drawn up to her chest. Although the shadows hid the finer details, Juliet suspected Lory’s large eyes were brimming with tears. She could only imagine what the girl had been through at the hands of those monsters. It was a reminder that Red Bandana should not be trusted.

  “How are you feeling, sweetie?” The girl nodded, twisting her nose as if to stop herself crying. “We’re going to get out of this, I promise.” Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Juliet. “Just stay with us a bit longer. I’m working on a plan.” She stroked her hair, and Lory lowered her head. Juliet patted her shoulder and stood.

  These women would not last longer in this situation with the uncertainty of, not only their immediate future, but their lives in general, at risk. Juliet felt such despair for them; Lory with her parents and brother; Jessica, her husband and kids. Even Meg, whoever she was missing. Such hopelessness filled their existence now and for the foreseeable future. At least when they were out roaming about on their own, they had some control over their destiny. They could drive north or south, away from the chaos. In here, they were prisoners at the mercy of their captors with no timeline for conclusion and only the faintest glimmer of hope.

  Shortly after, voices drifted in through the holes, halting a robust discussion between Meg and Jessica concerning their futures, Meg refusing to show any optimism for their plight. Juliet caught her breath when the door creaked open and Ponytail’s grinning, bruised face appeared in the rectangle of light. The women shrank back from the door when he entered, smiling in a way Juliet could only describe as sleazy.

  “We need to pee,” Juliet said, stepping forward. “We haven’t been out of here for more than twelve hours.”

  Devo snuck in behind Ponytail. “Nobody’s going anywhere.”

  Ponytail stopped in the centre of the tank, the true nature of his visit presenting itself. His sleazy smile liquefied into an expression of anger—mouth twisted, jaw clenched tight. He lifted a thick finger and pointed it first at Jessica, then at Juliet. “You might have gotten clear last night, ladies, but that was a lucky break.”

  “Piss off,” Jessica said. “Does your master know you’re here?” Ponytail’s eyes grew wide. Devo licked his lips and made a tsk-tsk sound. But Jessica didn’t seem able to turn off her mouth. “How was the session last night after everybody else went to bed? Does he put a collar around your neck and—”

  Ponytail was too quick for Jessica. The back of his hand struck her across the cheek, making the sharp sound of skin on skin. Jessica turned away and cupped her face in silence. Juliet felt admiration for her.

  “That’s enough,” Juliet said in a quiet voice. She placed her body between Ponytail and Jessica, taking the other woman by the shoulders and moving her backwards, out of Ponytail’s reach. Then she turned back to the men. “Now, we need to use the bathroom. All of us. And we need some food and water.”

  “Food and water,” Ponytail said, eyebrows raised, head nodding as he turned to Devo. “You hear that, Dev? Food and water. The bathroom. What about we just leave you lot to use the rec room? Have a beer, play some pool, you know.”

  “We’re okay,” Meg said, her voice trembling. “Just fine. We don’t need—”

  “No,” Juliet said. “We all need the bathroom, and it’s going to get very hot in here soon. If you don’t give us any water, you’re not going to have any prisoners left. Don’t you understand that? Whatever reason you’re keeping us, you still need to keep us alive.”

  Ponytail stared back. After a long moment, he pulled an eight-inch knife from the back of his jeans and held it alongside his right thigh, almost out of view. “Go for it,” he said, standing aside the door. Devo cackled. “Be my guest.”

  Juliet watched those dark, maniacal eyes. She realised after a moment she was holding her breath. Then Jessica started towards the door. The knife twitched. Juliet stepped in front of Jessica and used her right arm to bar Jessica’s way.

  “No.” Jessica stopped. Juliet never took her eyes from Ponytail. He was probably bluffing, but what did he have to lose? Maybe he wanted a confrontation with Red Bandana and killing one of them was the way to force it.

  “I’m not afraid,” Jessica said. The woman was getting tougher by the day. Maybe it was desperation.

  “I know. But think of your kids. Accidents happen.”

  “They sure do,” Ponytail said, turning for the door. He stepped out into the light, using his hand to shield the brightness, the long blade still clenched in his fist. Devo followed and began to close the heavy metal door. Ponytail turned back to them, and as the gap closed with a corroded squeal, said, “Don’t go anywhere, ladies. We’ll be back later to check on you.”

  The door clanked shut, the bolt scraping into place and securing their existence in the musty tank for who knew how much longer.

  Nobody moved for several moments. Then Jessica leapt at the door. “Asshole,” she screamed, banging against the wall and causing it to reverberate like a rolling drumbeat. “Such a pri
ck.” She growled in frustration then turned to Juliet. “You should have let me leave.”

  “And have him stab you in the back?”

  “Would he have done that? I don’t think Red Bandana would let him.”

  “Self-defence. You tried to escape. I wouldn’t put anything past him.” Jessica began to pace, and Juliet added, “Listen, I’m as frustrated as you, but we have to be sensible about this. We have to pick our moment. That wasn’t it.”

  “When? These guys are all crazy, Red Bandana included. I think they’re just toying with us. A lot of people have died so far, what’s a few more on the list?”

  “I don’t know. I’m hoping sense will prevail, and they’ll realise keeping us locked up gives them no value.”

  Jessica leant back against the door. “I’m hoping the same thing.” Her red, exasperated face was difficult to watch, when all along, even when she’d been sick, her sense of composure had helped Juliet maintain her own. She pushed forward, fists clenched at her side. “We’ve got to test these people, stand up to the bullies, otherwise they’ll keep treating us the same.” She glanced around at the others, seeking agreement.

  Juliet said, “I think this is more than bullying. It’s crazy. They’ve killed people, Jess. Just ask Lory. She lost her brother and friend. Who knows how many more have died at their hands? If they’d gotten hold of Skoota, he’d be dead too. Who knows if Sam is still alive?”

  Running her hands through her blonde hair, Jessica said, “I just want to see Mac and the kids. I’ll do anything for that, even if it means taking a risk or two.”

  “And I promise you, when a moment presents itself, we’ll be ready.”

  6

  January 11, 2014

  3:07 pm

  Latrobe, Tasmania

  By late afternoon, the heat had turned the administration wing of the school building into a slow cooker. With no air conditioning system or open windows to create a breeze, the air was thick and stifling. Outside, clouds had rolled across the sky, leading to even muggier conditions, and although they had stuck cardboard of all shapes and sizes over the windows, the discomfort was in the humid air more so than the sun’s rays.