Sanctuary's Aggression: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series

by Maira Dawn

  Skye wiped a tear away as Bill finished his list. "The amount of Sick slowed for a while, but it seems to have picked back up."

  Oh, no!

  Then, his voice cracking with sorrow, he moved on to the long list of townspeople who had passed away. "Remember to stay in. Tend to your sick. And if they pass, bring 'em down to the square. We'll say a few words for them with you. We'll take care of them the best we can." The dead piled up so fast now that burials were no longer an option. It was safer and quicker to cremate those lost to the disease.

  Skye’s tears continued as Bill paused then cleared his throat before starting again, "We also got word from Fenton that police are now estimating an eighty percent death toll. So, uh, stay outta the city. We’re safer here, folks. Let you know when we've got more news."

  The word is out. Skye shook her head. But are we safer here?

  After hearing the considerable list of friends and neighbors that were no longer alive, Skye doubted it. Last night, she had stood on the sidewalk, looking for someone, anyone, but the streets were empty.

  The lights from a few lanterns had shown through some neighbor's homes, but there was no laughter or squeals of play from the children. The wind stirring the trees was the only noise she heard no matter how hard she strained her ears. She realized for the first time what a lonely sound it could be.

  Skye tightened her crossed arms as she recalled the names Bill read on the radio. Her hairdresser, to whom she'd waved as she passed her salon almost every day on her way to work. The local baker who always had tea and a bit of gossip for Skye when she picked up a loaf of fresh bread. The postmaster, unfailingly quick to give a sharp warning for any postal infraction, but even faster with a joke and a smile. Then there were her caring neighbors, but those were too hard to think of yet.

  This town wasn't like the other places Skye had lived. Here, everyone was like an extended family, and each loss seemed personal.

  It feels as if the whole world is dying.

  Skye wiped her eyes a few times and let out a deep sigh before getting back to her job at hand. She went to the kitchen and leaned over the counter to add to her growing list. A plan was forming. She would get Jesse and go to her parents in Ohio.

  It was where Skye wanted to be. Home is what she needed right now, and her mom and dad would be happy to have her and Jesse. They loved children, their care would help give Jesse normalcy and help heal him. Lord knows they've helped heal me in the past.

  It is a good five-hour drive home, but if this town is any indication, the streets will be deserted. On the other hand, maybe everyone is trying to get somewhere else. I'll need to plan out two different routes and make sure Jesse can read a map in case we need to make a quick change in direction.

  The roaming Sick didn't bother Skye too much. She had been passing them on her way into Fenton for some time now, and as long as she stayed away from them, she thought she would be fine. But those merely infected did. They were still fast and cunning. She shuddered at the thought of running into more groups of Infected that wanted to hurt her.

  Five hours. It is only five hours. I'll stock up on water and snacks. We won't leave the car. We can make it, we have to. What other choice do we have?

  Although Skye had her worries about traveling home, she couldn't stay here. It was too easy for Frankie to track her down. If he did that, she would have no hope of holding onto Jesse.

  And even though the world had become unhinged, what she was doing was still illegal. For all she knew, Tom would have to get involved, and she didn't want that to happen.

  But most of all, she wished this to last. She wanted Jesse to be safe. Somewhere no one could ever make him go back to his dad again.

  It seemed Ohio was the best place to be, the safest place for both of them. Skye doubted that the world would get back to normal fast enough for anyone to track them down that far away.

  The radio crackled again. Skye heard an almost inaudible woman's voice. She walked over to the receiver and turned it as high as it would go then recognized it as Betsy from down the street.

  Frightened and agitated, Betsy's words ran together as she spoke. "...out on Main Street, and I saw a group of them. The Sick. Or Infected. I didn't know most. They're all bunched up like some sort of gang or somethin. I can hear them kicking in the doors of the houses and going in. Lots of noise. They're breaking up stuff, destroying everything!"

  There was a pause, and some shuffling noises, Betsy's whispering became more urgent.

  "I have to go. They're getting closer. I wanted to warn everyone. They're comin up Main Street from the south. Get out of your homes. Find a safe place 'til they pass by."

  At Betsy's first whispered words, Skye had froze on weak legs. One encounter was enough. She knew the fear of having someone who craved to kill on her heels. She didn't want to feel that again.

  Before Betsy finished speaking, Skye had gone from deliberating about what to take to throwing together what they couldn't live without. Skye figured she had perhaps ten minutes to get her stuff packed and get out of the house before they would be here. She needed to move and move fast.

  Skye felt desperate. She had to get to the boy—that she knew.

  Adrenalin pumping, Skye flew through the rooms. She grabbed what she could and threw it all into the Jeep.

  I should have gotten more supplies, had the car packed and ready. I was so sure it wouldn't come to this. Now, look at me!

  As her Jeep screeched out of the driveway, she heard a neighbor's car doing the same. A movement in the yard caught her eye, and she slowed. She needed to know the dangers she faced in this diseased world.

  Her heart seized as she saw a horde about fifteen strong running for her vehicle. These differed from the ones in the city. All seemed in different phases of the disease. Some moved awkwardly, lurching along the yard. Others, in early stages, came at her as fast as any healthy man.

  They were dirty with torn clothes and grimy, tangled hair. Skye fleetingly wondered if they found shelter at night or if they roamed until they dropped by the roadside.

  The sounds they made sent a cold shiver through Skye. Some jeered, swearing to end the life of everyone in this town. But others groaned, hissed, panted or rasped. It echoed every horror film Skye had ever seen.

  A blue-tinted hand thumped against Skye's back window. She startled and clenched the steering wheel. She twisted forward in her seat and took off. But not before others reached her. As she sped by, grasping fingers smeared dirt and blood-tinged slime along the Jeep's windows.

  Too close. Way too close.

  The angry faces got smaller and smaller in Skye's rearview mirror. Her tense muscles loosened a bit. As relieved as she was to be away from the danger, she was sorry to leave. Her home, which she had willingly spent so much time restoring, had been her safe place, her sanctuary. She'd often looked forward to getting home after a stressful day at work and curling up on her comfortable couch for a quiet evening. Will life ever be the same again?

  Skye turned her focus to the road and slowed. The twists and turns not only made the trip longer but also more dangerous at high speeds. A determined little frown formed between her eyes. The only thing that could stop her now was clogged roads, and she hoped that would not be a problem.

  Hang on, Jesse. I'll be there soon.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Piece of Junk

  As Skye drove, she instructed Siri to dial Tricia's number. There was no answer, which wasn't surprising, given the unreliable service she wasn't even sure it was going through. Her voice mirrored her regret as she left a message that would cause Tom and Tricia to worry. "This is Skye. So... I'm doing something. Something you didn't want me to do. I'm sorry, I had to. I can't leave Jesse in that situation, but I'll be careful. I'll be fine, and I'll call again after."

  Now everything's done that can be done.

  Skye planned to park the car somewhere near enough to Jesse's house she could keep an eye on it. At some point, he wou
ld come outside. Then, she could talk to him, and they would just drive away.

  A good, easy plan.

  Skye watched the forested countryside fly by. She was in a somewhat flat area of the highway, as flat as West Virginia gets anyway, and she was making up time.

  Something feels wrong. It nagged at Skye, but as hard as she tried, she couldn't put her finger on it.

  Her eyes narrowed as she frowned and her mind ran through what she had brought along, her message to Tricia, the events of the last few days. Then her gaze swept the car's signal lights and came to an abrupt stop at the fuel gauge. The red indicator sat on E.

  Skye's stomach sank like a rock. She hadn't filled the tank after the last trip to Fenton. Working gas stations were hard to find between the blackouts and absent owners. It hadn't seemed safe to stop just anywhere on her way back from the city, and when she had gotten to Colton, their delivery hadn't arrived yet. Now Skye was stuck. There was no place to fuel up between here and Jesse's. Just trees and more trees.

  She banged her fist on the steering wheel. The only gas station was behind her. Right where the Sick were. Turning around wasn't an option. The only thing she could do now was to continue on with the hope she had enough gas to get there.

  She took a few deep breaths. I'll figure something out. It will be okay.

  A short time later, Skye's frustration flared as her Jeep sputtered to a sudden stop. "No! No, no, no no!" she wailed as she banged on the leather-covered steering wheel.

  She laid her head down, but her deep breaths weren't working. I'm not nearly close enough. There is at least twenty minutes of driving to go. She raised her head as she closed and opened her eyes. Okay, now what?

  In desperation, Skye scanned the surrounding area. A curve up ahead and a curve behind. No houses in between. The last driveway had been a few miles back and who knew how far up the hill the next house was. If there even was a house.

  There was one hope. Up the road, she saw an old, red truck. Unsure if it had been abandoned by a disoriented Sick owner or because of a breakdown, Skye had nothing to lose, and she studied the beat-up vehicle.

  She got out of her Jeep, and again, looked up and down the road, in vain, for a better car. She saw none. Skye sighed and headed toward the truck.

  Please, please, please start, you piece of junk!

  As she got closer to the vehicle, Skye saw the truck looked like it had been used in the recent past. It was a good sign, so she double-checked the area to see if anyone was around to claim it. There was nothing but the road, a million trees, and a field of tall grass to the left that led to more forest.

  Still, Skye felt odd about taking the vehicle, but she didn't have a choice. Opening the front, driver door, she stretched over the clean but worn seat to look for keys in the ignition. She found none, so she checked under the visor and muddy floor mat. Still none. Well, thanks to my crazy brother, I know how to hot-wire this junk heap. Who would have ever thought that would come in handy?

  Skye ran back to her Jeep to get the tools she needed. She laid herself half over the seat and half under the steering wheel as she reached under the dash to pull the required wires. After a few attempts, Skye closed her eyes and chuckled when the engine roared to life then settled into a rumbling hum.

  Good boy, she thought patting the steering wheel. The body might be a mess, but the motor sounds fine.

  Skye sat up and pulled on the truck door. Her arm strained as the stubborn door refused to respond, then slow and squeaky at first, it finally banged shut and held. She scanned the truck's indicators happy to that the needle for the fuel tank pointed almost to full.

  Skye backed the truck up to her own car and hopped out. After some internal debate, she decided she would take her stuff now. Who knew when she would get back here, and she didn't want to be stuck without supplies. Skye sprinted to the back of her Jeep and scooped up as much as she could carry, throwing it all into the bed of the truck.

  It was on her second trip back to her car, she heard an angry male voice shout from across the field, "Hey!"

  She stopped, like a deer in headlights. But she didn't look directly at the man until she heard him roar at her again.

  "Hey, you! Girl!"

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Woodsmen Variety

  Oh, crap!

  Skye stopped short and looked up. Two heavily-armed men sprinted toward her from the woods. Both carried bows, one a crossbow and the other a compound bow. Large knives hung from their belts. If she wasn't mistaken, one also had a handgun. Skye bit her lip as she ran a sweaty hand down the side of her jeans.

  She quickly scanned the area hoping someone else had come up the road, but it was only the same pavement and trees that surrounded her. She glanced back at the strangers.

  What have I done? Facing angry men with weapons is not what I want to be doing right now!

  As he got closer, the dark-haired one yelled at Skye again, "What do you think your doin? You just taking other people's stuff now? That how it is? That's my truck!"

  "No, no! I didn't see you. I'm sorry! My car ran out of gas, and it's—it's—an emergency." Skye moved backward on shaky feet until she bumped into the side of his vehicle.

  "Didn't think someone mighta been out here huntin?" Now they were closer, there was no doubt the two men were of the woodsmen variety, and their weapons made sense. She swallowed trying to add moisture to her dry mouth. Not that they still couldn't use them on me if they wanted.

  Skye held her lips together as she shook her head. Her tart thoughts would not help the situation. No, of course not! Someone hunting is not the first thing that comes to mind when I see an abandoned vehicle. Do I look like the type that would be my first thought?

  But it seemed, they had been on the hunt. The one yelling at Skye held a string of squirrels along with two rabbits off one of his powerful shoulders. Her eyes lingered. Powerful enough that a single swing would squash me like a little bug.

  “I just didn’t think--” she said, her back pushing into the vehicle as goosebumps ran up her arms. She couldn't go any further.

  Thick, dark, somewhat shaggy hair hung over the man's ears and down the back of his neck. He was taller than her by a few inches, and he used that to his advantage. He stopped close enough to her that she had to look up at him. His chest rose and fell with every ragged breath he exhaled in the small space he left her between himself and his truck.

  Skye's gaze darted from left to right, looking for a way out. But the man was on alert, and she worried that one move from her would encourage him to truly trap her. She looked down at the ground and bit her lip. Then raised her face to his. This was not a time to back down.

  He stared at her bold expression, a slight smirk on his face. It was clear he could see the nervousness behind her bravado.

  The man sneered at her. "Yeah, you didn't think—since you were tryin to up and take my truck." His sharp, blue eyes gave her a haughty once over as his breath fanned over her. "It don't look like no emergency." He waited, giving her a stare that spoke volumes. Nothing she said would be good enough.

  The man's disdainful expression was Skye’s undoing. All the anxiety and worry of the day came spilling out, "Fine! Man, fine! I'm sorry!" She threw her arms out at him and shouted even as she warned herself to stop.

  Under normal circumstances, Skye would have booked it out of there well before now, but these weren't normal circumstances. There was nowhere to go. Now how am I going to get to Jesse?

  "You gonna say anything?" Dark-hair said with a glance to the other man. He stood snickering at the front of the truck.

  "Hey, I'm just watchin the show, brother." He was about the same height and build as the man who yelled, but there the similarities ended. His light brown hair was clipped close to his head, and his brown eyes held a harder edge.

  Skye was at a loss of what to do next. She had no car, and it seemed, no help to get one. Still fuming, Skye pushed at the man in front of her, somewhat surprised he
let her. She stepped away from the men, onto the road and circled. Her mind raced, looking for any solution.

  "I don't know what," she said, "I just don't know. How far to the nearest--anything?"

  When Skye got insolent stares instead of answers, a hot flush rushed from her insides to her face. She sent them furious looks and reached into their truck bed to pull her supplies out.

  Brown-hair rushed over and moved to stop her. "Oh no! Those things are ours now, for all the trouble you caused us."

  Skye huffed. What an idiot! She couldn’t stop herself from turning on him. "Trouble? What trouble? I got your truck started, which was probably doing you a favor!" She ignored that only a moment ago she praised the vehicle’s engine. At her insult to the truck, both men instantly scowled.

  "Ours," Brown-hair repeated shortly, leaning his face toward hers.

  "Seriously? Don't start that idiotic behavior with me." Skye shouted, legs trembling as she held her ground. Oh man! Talk about throwing all my training out the window. "It's mine, it's always been mine, and it will continue to be mine."

  "Uppity for a such a little girl, ain't ya?" Brown-hair said, chuckling at her reaction.

  Skye rolled her eyes. She'd hadn't been called a little girl since she'd become an adult. "I'm not a little girl. And I'm done with this conversation. I need to leave here. Someone needs me."

  "Anything anyone needs won't matter soon. Nothin matters no more, you're just wasting time," Dark-hair said.

  "Don't say that! He's just a little boy!" Skye shook her head. "Even if that's true, whatever time he has left shouldn't be the way it's been. It should be--" she searched and failed to find the word she wanted before settling on one, "better."

  Dark-hair took a half-step toward her, his gaze taking and holding hers, his deep voice turning gravelly. "Why? How's it been?"