The Outbreak Series Boxed Set

by Thomas Baker

  JT and Dusty kept a watchful eye on the group of incoming zombies as Tyrone and Gus helped Ashley into the van. JT was getting antsy as the dead neared. They were less than fifty feet away now.

  "Pick up the pace guys," JT urged.

  Two more fast movers exploded out of the pack. They looked like Olympic sprinters as they raced across the asphalt. Dusty took out one, then his rifle clicked. It was empty. JT fired his gun three times. All three shots missed. His gun then clickedas well.

  "I'm all out!" JT yelled, panicked.

  "Let's go!" Alan called out from behind the wheel.

  JT jumped in, scrambling up to the passenger's seat.

  Dusty got in and slammed the side door shut. The zombie rocked the van as it crashed into it.

  "Punch it, Chewie!" JT said, buckling up out of habit.

  With tires squealing, they left the hotel behind. JT fumed to himself. Yet another win for the dead.

  "Thanks again man, for saving me," Thomas huffed, struggling up the steep hill.

  Harold strolled on before him, like he was walking along a paved pathway enjoying the weather.

  Harold said nothing; so Thomas went on nervously.

  "Whew, I ain't use to this much walking. Nosir. I'm a truck driver. Or I guess I was. Whatever." Thomas had to stop talking to catch his breath again.

  "Why don't you save your energy until we get to my cabin. It's just over this rise here," Harold suggested.

  This dude is one cold cat, Thomas thought. Guy looks like a hick like me but talks like a snooty teacher.

  Thomas stopped, hitched his pants back up by his belt, and then continued on. "Man, I ain't never seen no shooting like what you did back there. I've done some shooting, don't get me wrong. I've gone anddone some deer hunting with my pal Phil before. You just picked them off like they were standing still."

  Harold stopped and put up his left hand in warning. "You need to follow my steps precisely."

  "Precisely?"

  Harold turned to look at Thomas. "Yes, precisely. Exactly where I walk, you need to walk."

  "Hey man, I might not know a bunch of fancy words, but that doesn't mean you can talk to melike I'm dumb or something."

  Harold had already turned his back and started walking again.

  "Aw shit!" Thomas exclaimed. He watched where Harold was going intensely, mimicking his meandering path through the thinning woods.

  They came out into a huge clearing. A dirt and gravel road cut through the woods to their right, leading up to the cabin.

  "Here it is," Harold said in a voice both calm and full of pride.

  "Not bad. It's a mighty nice cabin, but why did we have to go through all that rigmarole with the off roading? I mean there is a perfectly good road right here."

  "One reason my cabin is safe is that I have placed many traps in the surrounding woods. To hamper any trespassers, dead or otherwise. Bear traps, spike pits, snare ropes. I also have trip wires, attached to explosives or flash bangs. Those are my early warning systems. The road, I didn't want to take. Anybody following us would have expected me to use it."

  Thomas became worried as he noticed the gleam in Harold's eyes. He was puzzled, did this guy really think people were watching him or something?

  "Are you one of those guys like on TV? A doomsday prepper? You got yourself an underground bunker behind that cabin?"

  Harold whirled on him. Thomas backed up a step. The look on Harold's face scared him. Harold composed himself again and turned back around.

  "I don't know what that is. I don't have television. 'Always be prepared', that is what my......my father taught me. God rest his soul."

  "Hey, I didn't mean anything by it man," Thomas said, raising his hands up. "Thank God you have all this set up here. You saved my hide. I am not sure how much longer I would have made it by myself."

  Thomas continued following Harold. This guy scares me. What else am I going to do? Holy hell I hope this guy doesn't eat me in a soup with some white wine.

  That crazy outburst had really surprised him. Harold looked like any other normal dude. Not handsome but not particularlyugly either. Maybe a little rough and scruffy, like one of those guys on that show he watched, 'Swamp People'. He was fit. It didn't look like he had any flab on him. Then, there was the way he talked, like some professor guy. All precise and condescending. The way he looked and how smart he talked just didn't mesh.

  Three short steps led up onto the wide front porch, where a couple of rocking chairs sat. Through the front door they went, into an open living room. He had never been to a hunting lodge, but this house was decorated like Thomas always imagined one would be. Rough wooden furniture, a deer head hung over a brick fireplace.

  "I still have electricity so you will find cold drinks and fresh food in the refrigerator."

  "You do? That's amazing!" Thomas said. "You wouldn't happen tohave any cold beer would you? I have been dying for one since all this happened. I found some warm ones a few days ago, but that's just not the same."

  "I don't indulge in alcohol." Harold said flatly.

  "Oh."

  There was silence for a while as Harold fooled around in the kitchen then went down a hallway and back out. Thomas just looked around, being nosy without trying to look like it.

  "Is...uh, anyone else here with ya?" Thomas asked.

  "No. I've run into a few living people here and there. Some have even come back here for a day or two. Then they always decide tomove on. Looking for Safe Haven." Harold told him, in a distracted sort ofway. "They always ask if I know about it, but sadly I do not."

  "Oh yeah, I've seen those signs. Spray painted around. Didn't put too much stock in them though," Thomas said, walking around the living room.

  "Really? Why is that?" Harold sounded curious.

  "The way I figure, if there really was some safe place, it would be run by the military. They would be broadcasting it every way they could, but I haven't heard nothing the last couple of weeks."

  "I hadn't thought of that," Harold replied, in a disappointed tone.

  "Hey, no one can think of everything, right?" Thomas shrugged sheepishly.

  Harold looked at him with narrowed eyes. Thomas shivered uncontrollably. It was like he was being sized up. For what he didn't know.

  Harold relaxed his face. "You can sleep out here on the couch or on the floor. I do not care. In a few days, maybe you should move on, see if you can find Safe Haven like those before you."

  I really don't want to stay here too long either. Thomas thought. He told Harold so, but in a much nice way. Harold headed down the hallway without a reply. Thomas heard the closing of a door. Guess that's that. The couch it is.

  Instead of a few days, a few weeks passed. Thomas learned quickly that if he kept mostly out of Harold's way and did his fair share of the work, then Harold seemed to tolerate him staying.

  When they did talk, Thomas got an earful of more government cover-ups and conspiracies than he had ever heard before. Each one more wild than the last. If a conversation wasn't about shadowy men and hidden agendas, it was about history or philosophy. Any attempt to talk about sports, women, or movies, what Thomas thought of as typical guy stuff, was met with silence or a stony look. Forget about asking anything about Harold's past or his family. The one time he did, Harold got right in his face and in an angry whisper told him thathe could leaveat any time. After about a week Thomas gave up asking anything. He would just listen to Harold go on whenever they were together.

  On this particularday, Harold was going on about how maybe the airplane chemtrails the government sprays on its innocent civilians was the method of delivery for the zombie virus. They were loading up the truck for what Thomas thought of as a shopping expedition. He had gone with Harold on one of these before, and it was like going into a wild jungle. You just didn't know what to expect.

  This time they were heading back into the main town where Harold usually got all of his supplies. The first time he went with Harold, he had d
ecided to try scavenging in a new town. All they got for their troubles was an attack by like fifty zombies. If Harold hadn't been there, he would have been a zombie treat. On top of that, their troubles only got them very little salvage. He might be a little strange, okay a lot strange, but he knows how to survive.

  "Let's go." Harold said, climbing in.

  Thomas got in the truck and they took off. It was an uneventful ride. Harold didn't speak again until they entered the town proper.

  "The last time I was here, I made a sweep around town and took out the zombie pack I found. Keep your eyes open though. Who knows if another one has taken its place. Be prepared, my father always said."

  Thomas hugged his hunting rifle a little closer to him as they rode past empty homes on the way to the business district. Grass grew knee high or more in some places, now that early summer was here. Lawns that won't be mowed anytimesoon, if ever.

  They pulled into a gas station across the street from a Wal-Mart. The Wal-Mart parking lot was filled with cars, some of which were nothing more than burned out husks.

  "Hell of a fire must have gone through here," Thomas commented, getting out of the truck.

  He got silence as a reply.

  They walked through the maze of cars. They were close to the front doors when something pinged off the car to Thomas's left. He just about dropped his rifle as he ducked down.

  A male voice called out. "Drop your weapons and approach the front doors slowly."

  Thomas stayed down. He couldn't see Harold, didn't know where he went. He knew he wasn't going to make a move without Harold's say so. Then he heard the sound ofgunfire.

  When it ceased, Harold shouted to him. "Thomas, it's clear. Let's get into the store and get our supplies."

  Thomas came up and saw three bodies lying in the doorway. A man, a woman and a boy probably about thirteen.

  "What the hell. You killed them?" Thomas was shocked. "Did you even try talking to them first?"

  Harold shrugged. "They shot at me. If you would have approached me in that manner, I would have shot you too." He was nonchalant. "Now come along. Let's do what we came here to do."

  Thomas stood still, debating if he should continue with this lunatic or just leave now. He shuddered when he thought about being on his own again. Deciding to go with the devil he knew, Thomas stepped gingerly over the three bodies and into the store. He helped gathered up canned goods, some camping equipment, and a deep freezer.

  "I've wanted one of these for a while. Never had anyone to help me move it," Harold said.

  After four trips back and forth, Harold's truck was visibly weighted down.

  "That's good for today," Harold said, banging the tailgate closed.

  They traveled back to the cabin, the truck slowed by the extra weight. Thomas was glad to get out of there. All he could think about all day was that poor family that Harold killed. No, murdered. I might just have to take off in the middle of the night if I want out of here alive, Thomas was thinking when the truck screeched to a stop.

  "Stay here Thomas."

  Thomas watched as Harold walked out in front of the truck. He could see a man lying in the middle of the highway, flat on his back. Was it a zombie, or somebody else Harold was going to kill in cold blood?

  "Thomas, I could use a hand." Harold motioned for him to come over.

  When he got there, he looked down and saw it was a man, still alive. He looked like a scarecrow, his body had wasted away.

  "Help me pick him up and place him in the back," Harold said.

  They lifted the man into the truck and got him settled among the things they were bringing back to the cabin. Thomas thought the man felt very warm to the touch. He wiped his hand on his pants as he got back into the truck.

  Harold drove on in silence. Not even a comment about the man they just found.

  Thomas shook his head. He kills a family, but saves a guy lying in the road. I just can't understand him. This guy is one unpredictable son of a bitch.

  An hour or solater, the van broke down with a sputter and a clank. Alan managed to coax it off the road. Everyone took a share of the gear, except for Ashley. With her ankle, she was having trouble carrying herself. Tyrone offered to take one of her arms, but she refused. From there they walked on in the pre-dawn light. They passed a small sign saying they were on Highway 10.

  Highway 10 where exactly? Hannah thought. The only place we are is on a road to nowhere. She was feeling verydown in the dumps.

  Hannah and Ashley lagged behindthe rest of the group. When JT declared a break for breakfast, Hannah used the opportunity to look over Ashley's injury.

  "Where's a doctor when you need one," Ashley said, wincing as Hannah touched it. "A rich doctor, who is totallyhot like McDreamy. I could go for that right now."

  "It's still pretty swollen Ashley. I don't know what I cando about it."

  "I don't know either. Let's just try to get down the road and not get left behind," Ashley said, gritting her teeth.

  "I won't leave anyone behind," Dusty said. Hannah didn't notice he had come up beside her. "I wanted to check, see if there's anything I can do to help you two."

  "Well Dusty, unless you can call in a chopper or a fucking Humvee, I don't think so," Ashley said, bitterly. "Even better, how about making everything go back to the way it was."

  Dusty shook his head. "Well ma'am, I think that might be above my pay grade. Would you like me to stay back here with you? I hate to have our flank so exposed."

  Ashley gave Dusty the stare of death. "I would rather you not." Her voice was like ice twice chilled. Dusty gave a mocking salute and walked off.

  "Lame."

  "Oh come on Ashley. He can be a jerk sometimes, but he has done right by us this far. Did he really deserve the frozen treatment?" Hannah said, watching Dusty go. She thought she was in a bad mood but Ashley looked ready to tear everyone's head off.

  "I need to take it out on someone. Dusty seemed like a good choice. He shouldn't have come back here. It just made him an easy target. Hannah I am so sick of this shit. You really have no idea."

  "I don't, huh? You think I want this? Instead of classes and cheerleading practice, why don't I walk for miles every day? In the same clothes, covered in dirt and mud. On top of that, let's add horrifying zombies that want to eat me alive. Is that what you think, Ashley?"

  "Geesh, Hannah. I was just blowing off steam." Ashley's lip curled down, like she was on the verge of a breakdown.

  "You complain so much, I feel like it's all you do. Sometimes I don't understand why we are still friends." Hannah realized she'd gone too far, but could not stop herself.

  "Wow, just wow. Okay, you know what? Why don't you just walk as far ahead of me as possible? With your better than me attitude, I don't know why I am friends with you. Go up and walk hand in hand with your precious JT. Leave me behind if I am so much of a burden." Ashley said, crossing her arms over her chest as she plopped to the ground.

  Hannah stood and looked down at her. Was she really going to sit here and act like a five-year-old? Ashley's poor me act was getting on her last nerve. She thought about apologizing just to get her going again when Dusty ran back.

  "There's a town up ahead. Tyrone scouted it out. Let's all gather up and stay together." He went over to Ashley and stuck out his hand. She looked at it like a sullen child. Just when Hannah thought Ashley was going to just stare at him all day, she took his hand and let Tyrone pull her up. He put one of her arms around his shoulder to help bear the weight as they walked up the road. She shot Hannah laser beams of anger over her shoulder.

  "Great. Wonderful." Hannah said to no one in particular, before following Dusty back.

  Everyone else had stopped andgathered around, chattering about something. As she caught up to them, she could see they were standing around a sign that read 'Welcome to Greensville'. 'Home of the 2008 AAA Softball Champions'. Over that in neon orange was spray painted SAFE HAVEN.

  "I wonder if we are getting any clos
er, if there even is such a place." Hannah said.

  JT turned to her. "Only one way to find out. Let's keep walking."

  The road leading into Greensville was the clearest Hannah had seen since this nightmare started. The road didn't hold one abandoned car. No dead bodies either. She wondered did everyone just stay inside during The Outbreak? Or was there a large group of survivors here, cleaning things up and getting civilization started again? Could they find a doctor or nurse?

  They walked on, homes now appearing along on the road. The homes squatted back off the road, dark and silent, but also seemingly undisturbed. Hannah could see in the distance tall brick buildings lining both sides of the street. They were approaching the downtown business area. When they got closer, she could see the houses were in various states of falling down. Warped and charred wood, blackened paint, a fire must have swept through here, with no firemen to put it out. She heard Tyrone sing.

  "Same old song, just a drop of water in an endless sea. All we do crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see."

  The words to Tyrone's song sent shivers through Hannah's body. JT's booming voice broke her out of her quiet reflection. "Stop."

  Ahead someone had haphazardly strung barbed wire fence across the entire street, blocking the way. It sagged in spots. Behind the makeshift fencing, several barrels sat in the street and on the sidewalks. Smoke drifted up lazily from inside them. Men were walking between the buildings. They all had rifles slung over their shoulders.

  "I don't like the look of this," Hannah said. "I think we should go around."

  "I'm getting hot and sweaty. We need to stop soon," Ashley whined.

  "I think it looks like bad news," Dusty said. "I agree with Hannah, I think we should skirt around this."

  "What doesn't look like bad news to you, dusty trails?" Gus added.

  "Shit, let's go back the-" JT started.

  "Hey, hey you all stop right there," a man in a red and white checkered shirt hollered at them.

  "Too late." Hannah slid a little closer to JT.

  "Let's hope this goes down better than a seventy-year-old hooker," Gus said, squinting at the man.