Invasion of the Dead (Book 5): Resolve

by Baillie, Owen

  Darren manoeuvred the minibus between windowless vehicles, glass cracking and popping under the tires. It would have been easy for him to drive the van away, just keep on driving along the road to temporary freedom—hell, Shane would have done it—but Darren wasn’t like that.

  With the tires squealing, he did a wide U-turn and took them around behind the build-up of vehicles towards the building. He hopped up onto the curb, thinking he could get between one of the damaged cars and the place where the girl was hiding, but it wasn’t going to work. From the roadway, they hadn’t seen the trashed motorcycle lying in a pile, behind which, several infected sat crouched over a body. Beyond, more infected filed onwards. Darren steered the bus over the curb and into the gutter, trying to gain a parallel line against the curb. Something moved one of the cars. Tammy jerked her head in that direction, trying to get a look, but it was all swaying bodies and twisted metal.

  “You’re gonna get us killed!” Shane screamed.

  Snarling, Darren pushed and pulled the gears, jerking the minibus hard right as bodies crunched off the window. He jammed the vehicle up against a pile of cars, metal squealing as the sides scraped. But the infected cleared and they were closer than they’d been—not quite where Tammy wanted to be, but as close as she thought they might get. Only an aqua blue sedan sat between them and the doorway.

  The girl was gone though. Tammy stumbled towards the closest window and slapped her palm against it, looking out at the side of the building and the empty space. Where? She blinked and examined the foot-deep area around the door, the shelter where the young girl had been hiding from the chaos. She glanced at Darren, still in the driver’s seat, his expression stiff with concern. He peered Tammy’s way, lips pressed into a grim line.

  “What now?” he asked.

  “Get us the fuck out of here,” Shane said.

  “Shut up!” Tammy shouted. “Just shut it, won’t you?”

  Shane recoiled. The infected were at the street side of the bus again, slapping their rancid hands against the windows. For now, they were stuck on the opposite side to the door. Tammy did a little spin, looking at all angles for options. Following a quick count in her head, she made the decision and started towards the door. “Open it.”

  Darren’s face dissolved. “What? I’m not—”

  “Open it.” She reached the stairwell and wrapped her shaking hand around the rail. “Please.”

  “Are you sure?”

  The people on the minibus had gone silent. Only the sounds of the infected slithering against the outside were heard. Tammy thought of Missy, her daughter, and it reinforced her decision. It would put her under peril. She might die. But that little girl had nobody. “What if she’s out there? What if they tear her apart and we could have done something about it?”

  Darren slowly reached out and took the door lever. He held his hand there for a long moment, looking back up at Tammy. “Be quick.” He yanked the lever and the doors split apart.

  The smell of death blew in like seaweed at the beach, but Tammy didn’t hesitate. She climbed down the two steps and through the doorway. The heat wasn’t as oppressive as inside the vehicle. Behind her, on the other side of the bus, Tammy caught sound of the slobbery voices of the dead. She hurried around the beaten-up vehicle parked up on the sidewalk then she was standing amongst fallen trashcans, piles of rubbish, and one or two half-eaten infected that had been abandoned for fresher bodies.

  “Hello?” she called out in the most welcoming voice she could muster.

  With her heart hammering, Tammy’s feet took her forward, further away from the safety of the minibus, a voice in her mind telling Tammy to get the hell back inside. But she stepped around several overturned rubbish bins and piles of junk cluttering the concrete and came face-to-face with the doorway where the girl had been.

  It was, as she had suspected in her heart of hearts, still empty.

  A shrill whistle sounded. Tammy turned to find Darren at the door of the minibus calling her back with a concerned look on his face. He glanced to the right and she followed his gaze. The infected were coming around the front of the bus. Tammy knew if she was a passenger on the bus, she’d be screaming at herself to get back on board, but she had to know.

  Tammy grasped the cool steel handle, a contrast to the hot, humid air. Would she go through if it were open? She tugged down on the lever and it froze in place, unwilling to budge. She cursed. She would be abandoning the girl by leaving now. There was no choice. Life and death was sometimes a matter of luck. Wherever the girl had gone, it was not to be.

  She stepped away from the door and peered around. Ahead, Darren waited in the doorway, but there was still a sea of death between her and it. The infected closed in from all sides.

  Tammy ran, taking a different path, knocking into a bin with a clatter and sending it rolling over the pavement. She danced around another and leapt over an eviscerated body. A gap existed between two cars, and she went for it, conscious the things were closing on her. At the last moment, something grabbed for her, and a rough, wet hand swiped her forearm. She left the thing behind and slipped alongside the trunk, cracking her knee on the fender.

  “Hurry!” Darren shouted. He stood in the doorway with one hand stretched out for her.

  Several infected had noticed him and headed for the minibus door. But Tammy had problems herself. She shoved them aside finding strength she wasn’t aware she possessed, spurred on by the idea of her death leaving them potentially in Shane’s hands. She reached out, still a few yards short, thinking she might actually make it, when something struck her from the side. The world turned diagonally. She struck the sidewalk and cried out.

  Get up. Now. They struck her legs and torso. Hands pulled her hair. She tried to roll over but a little girl, eerily similar to the one she had left the bus to find, crawled over her back. Tammy used her elbows and shrugged the lightweight off. Another crawled onto her hip. Something touched the tips of her fingers and closed around them. She tried to pull away, but it held firm and closed around her entire hand. This one was strong.

  “Come on.”

  Darren stood above Tammy. The thing on top of her slid off as Charlie kicked it clear with the heel of his huge boot. She gripped Darren’s hand with all her strength. Hands groped for her legs and feet, locking on so she was being pulled in both directions. Charlie went to work on the infected and then she was clear, and they both helped her up.

  “Inside,” Darren said, guiding her along.

  More infected closed in, their faces shrivelled and hands gnarled, their spotted skin the colour of an old potato. They wanted all three of them and would stop at nothing for a chance to feed on fresh meat.

  Charlie had a long screwdriver and despatched two of the closest by driving the weapon into an eye. As they fell, he shoved them into the others, giving the trio a moment to reach the minibus.

  They ushered Tammy on first, then Charlie, and finally, Darren, who was already screaming for them to pull the lever before he was through the door. Tammy fell forward, struck her arm on the metal pole and ended up in the closest seat. Darren landed in the driver’s seat and turned the engine on.

  Bloodied hands and fists beat against the windows from all directions, smearing the glass. A tall, shaven-headed thing with deep-set eyes beat its head against the glass. Each time it struck, the window vibrated, and someone cried out. Tammy thought if it kept going the glass might crack.

  It wasn’t just the tall one though. The infected were everywhere, clawing at the van, trying to get at the people inside from every angle. They climbed up the sides, and the van shook as though a hurricane was blowing. More people screamed.

  The minibus finally began to crawl away. Tammy thought about the girl again and looked back a final time at the doorway. It was empty. The only place she could have gone was behind the door. Even if they saw her now, it was useless. There were too many of them out there.

  Darren ploughed through the sick and dead that wandere
d in front of the vehicle, clunking and banging as they rolled underneath the chassis. He guided the minibus away from the hot spot, out of the alleyway, and onto the street. Tammy peered through the back window and saw half a dozen wandering after them, ripped clothes hanging loose on their skinny frames.

  Only then did she lay back and let out a long sigh of relief. It was hard to believe they were safe, for now. Thirty minutes earlier they had been huddled beside a building with no form of transport and only a loose plan. But they had lost two people, and she hadn’t been able to find the girl. That hurt.

  Darren glanced back and gave her a gentle smile along with a thumbs up. Tammy liked him. He was reliable. And he had come to her aid when she needed it.

  “Where to now?” came the question from the back of the minibus.

  This was a question to which Tammy considered multiple answers. There was Mole Creek, the Central Highlands Defence Facility, or Port Arthur. She also knew of several places further south that were good possibilities.

  “I heard the army has quarantined an area at Mole Creek,” Darren said.

  Tammy gave a single nod of her head. “That’s one option. There’s a couple more even further south—”

  “North.” Shane stood and moved down the aisleway towards the front. “Best bet from here. Go south, and we’ll all get killed.”

  “Just like trying to get the girl?” Charlie asked.

  Shane ignored the man’s question. “North is Mole Creek. Three and a half hours. That’s a strong option.”

  “Then let’s go,” a woman’s shrill voice called out.

  Tammy turned to them. “It’s not the only option though. Something is happening at Port Arthur. I heard about it—”

  “Port Arthur? That’s the ass end of the world. More than four hours’ drive. We get caught down at Port Arthur and there’s nowhere else to go.”

  “Maybe the infected haven’t reached Port Arthur,” a young woman said. Wide-eyed, Shane gave her a disbelieving expression. “Anyway,” she continued, “I vote Port Arthur.”

  Tammy agreed. “The virus landed in Devonport, and it had the longest amount of time to do damage there. Mole Creek isn’t far from Devonport.”

  “What about the Central Highlands? You mentioned that place before,” Charlie said. “It’s up high. Maybe the infected haven’t gotten there yet.”

  “It’s a defence facility. I’m not sure they’d let us in.”

  “I still think Mole Creek is the best option,” Shane said, sitting with his arms folded.

  Tammy came forward. “Did you hear what I just said, Shane? Devonport is a disaster area. Mole Creek is only an hour south. I know the military has set up a base there, but do we know it’s safe?”

  Shane looked around. “We vote then.”

  “We’re not voting.” She scrambled. “Consider Port Arthur. The locale is ideal for isolation. Eaglehawk Neck is narrow. With the right equipment, we could barricade the isthmus and protect the entire lower part of the island. I’ve seen the contingencies for bushfire management plans, and it would work. You need to trust me on this one.” Shane’s expression was impassive. “You can get off the bus at any time, Shane.”

  “And what if Port Arthur is infected?”

  Tammy smiled. “Well, once the Eaglehawk Neck is blocked, we clean it up.” For the first time since she’d known him, Shane had no response.

  Darren drove on. He’d been heading in a general easterly direction and was able to make the adjustment towards the south without an issue. Tammy joined him in the front passenger seat and watched the long yellow paddocks and loose wire fences pass. Cows still ate grass and the odd mob of kangaroos lazed in the singular shade of a gum tree. Silence filled the hot spaces. Tammy did not miss Shane and a couple of others sitting in a cluster at the back of the minibus.

  “Fuel is getting low. Not desperate yet, but we need to keep an eye out for a fuel station.”

  “You see the others at the back of the bus?”

  “Yep. Let ’em go.”

  Tammy chuckled. “I won’t stop them. They don’t like the idea of going to Port Arthur. I get that. Do you think they’ll try and take the minibus?”

  “Not with Charlie and me here.”

  Soon after, they rolled into another town and found a fuel station right beside a Campbell’s Hardware Store. Darren pulled the minibus up to a spare bowser. There were two other vehicles at the pumps and a number of people, including several kids, inside the store. The automatic glass doors had been pried open.

  Darren pulled the main lever and both doors opened. Shane led the others out in a spill.

  “We’ll see what happens now,” Tammy said.

  21

  January 11, 2014

  6:05 pm

  Latrobe, Tasmania

  Leroy’s heart still raced as he drove through the streets, avoiding an array of vehicles parked at various angles across the road. He tightened his stiff fingers around the steering wheel to stop his hands shaking. Shit, it had been close. Closer than he had imagined it would get. Too fucking close. He was thankful he still had his life and his supplies. Thanks, Bill. Shame flushed him when he thought about lying on the ground and giving up. What was with that? He didn’t know. He’d never given up so easily on anything before. Don’t do it again, dickhead.

  He turned off Main Street and into Furlong Avenue, where, almost immediately, he was forced to swerve the Rav4 suddenly to avoid a crash in the middle of the road. The main body of the accident consisted of two vehicles that had struck head on. A spider web of cracked glass had a male driver’s head resting against it in the closest four-wheel-drive, an old army-green Toyota Landcruiser, with its front end punched in. Glass fragments lay all over the road, a mix of metal and plastic from the Landcruiser. As Leroy passed it, he saw the other vehicle was a silver Nissan, also an SUV, which didn’t appear to have much damage at all. Leroy scanned it, looking for passengers. A man lay against the side door. Leroy slowed the car, scrutinising the scene and the man. It occurred to him as he braked to a stop, that the silver Nissan had no damage at all. The windows were intact, the body was flawless, and there were no broken pieces of plastic or other glass fragments as was the case with the Landcruiser, as though—

  Oh, fuck.

  He started to take off but ahead, two more vehicles drove forward from their parking spots on the side of the road. Leroy hadn’t noticed the drivers inside them. They had looked like two more of the many cars parked off to the side of the road, and he was too busy looking at the crash.

  From behind the silver Nissan, a man appeared holding a rifle. He rushed towards Leroy with the gun pointing directly at him. The man waved the rifle’s muzzle, indicating Leroy should step out. Leroy gave a humourless laugh at his lack of luck, again. He considered putting the car into reverse and accelerating backwards, but the man was well positioned to fire a round off, which, with Leroy’s recent luck, would most likely find its target and kill him, or worse, leave him disfigured for life.

  Leroy reluctantly pushed the door open and slowly exited the car, holding both hands up. Simultaneously, two more men rushed out of hiding from opposite sides with their weapons trained on him.

  “Leroy Waters?” One of the men chuckled. “Jesus. I thought you would have been holed up in some mansion somewhere.” The man poked him in the arm with the barrel of the gun. Leroy said nothing.

  One of the other men hurried past Leroy towards the Rav4. His supplies were under threat. “I found that stuff fair and square, you’re not touching—”

  The butt of a rifle smashed the side of his mouth. Leroy fell to his knees with a bolt of pain in his face. He started to remind himself of his bad luck, but then cut the thinking short. Tasting blood, Leroy recalled the situation not ten minutes ago and how he had given up. Not again.

  He rose to his feet, rubbing his cheek and gritted his teeth. Part of him wanted to fight back. But he knew that could only end badly. He gave the man who had struck him a dark look
. From the other direction, another rifle butt struck his face, this time in the right cheek. Leroy groaned as he fell to the road and landed on his side. His anger doubled. He struck out at the man with his foot and kicked him in the calf. The other men chuckled.

  The man Leroy struck stepped forward and launched a boot into Leroy’s gut. It hit him before Leroy could block it, and the wind rushed from his lungs. He curled up into the foetal position and clamped his hands over his head, trying to protect himself as the other men proceeded to kick him in the back, head, and torso. He tried to call out, but when a steel-capped boot struck him in the side of the head, Leroy blacked out.

  #

  When Leroy woke, the men were gone, his Rav4 was nowhere to be seen and neither were the supplies. He sat up, feeling giddy, and put his head between his knees. Blood had dried on his lip, and the side of his head throbbed. His kidneys and ass hurt, and his ribs breathed fire. But none of it compared to the pain of losing his vehicle and all the supplies. Leroy had worked hard for those supplies. He dragged himself to the edge of the road and sat on the gutter, legs folded before him, and thought of how he had come to be in this position. An hour or two ago, he’d been doing well; he had his car fully loaded with food and was heading back to the safety of his house. Carelessness had allowed him to be not only beaten, but stripped of his stockpile of necessities and without a vehicle. The provisions at the house would last a day or two at best.

  As anger rose up in him at the thought of what those assholes had done to him, Leroy wondered if his decision to turn down Bill’s offer was correct.

  Leroy stood up and kicked out at a bag of rubbish lying in the gutter. The plastic bag concealed a chunk of concrete, and pain cut through his foot. He swore and limped around for a moment, getting a glimpse of what Bill had gone through. This might have just been his lowest point in all his life. No friends, no supplies, and now, no car. Where had he gone wrong? Maybe not teaming up with Bill had been a bad move. He wondered whether decisions he’d made in the past had caused the people around him to leave. Maybe even his wife. Maybe—but it was all too much for Leroy. His brain wasn’t made for so much self-reflection. He buried the thoughts and returned to his current predicament.