Dead Meat (Book 2): Dead Meat [Day 2]

by Clausen, Nick

Selina runs through the living room and out into the kitchen.

  Her dad comes running down the stairs, yelling: “Selina? Where are you? You come to me!”

  Selina doesn’t answer. She goes to the kitchen window and peers out, just as Allan comes running into view. He jumps into the police car.

  Dad comes into the kitchen behind her. “There you are! What were you thinking? Come here!” He grabs her shoulder.

  Selina pulls free with a strong tug. “Let go, Dad! I need to see what he’ll do …” She stares out at Allan who starts the engine, revs it up, twists the wheel around and races out of the courtyard, leaving a cloud of dust.

  “He … he ran away,” Selina whispers.

  “Good thing,” Dad says. “Go and lock the front door, Selina. In case he comes back. I’ll call the police again, ask them what the hell is taking them so long!”

  Selina goes to the front door, suddenly feeling very unreal, like she’s in a movie. She just stands there for a moment, staring at the knob. She sees everything unfold in her mind’s eye. Allan, driving on the highway. Allan, becoming more and more ill behind the wheel. Allan, arriving at the hospital. Allan, dying in the hall. Allan, receiving CPR from a doctor. And finally Allan, reawakening in a building full of people …

  Right now, Selina is the only one aware of this danger. She’s the only one who can prevent this scenario from becoming real.

  I have to stop him.

  She doesn’t know what else to do, so she rips open the door and runs out across the courtyard. Down by the end of the gravel road she just sees the police car as it turns left onto the highway—headed for town.

  SEVEN

  Dan’s eyes are stinging, making it hard to see the road in front of him clearly. He forgot to change his contact lenses when he was at the house to get the scooter. Now his retinas have dried up.

  Luckily, there isn’t really any traffic on the roads out here. The road slopes lazily through the open fields. On his left is a forest, and underneath the scooter’s tires, the asphalt is seething from heat. Dan is sweating.

  In his backpack are a large bottle of water and two sandwiches. He made three of them back at the house, but he already gulped down one as he walked out to the garage. It’s all he had to eat for … for how long? He’s not sure what the time is, and there’s no clock on Jennie’s scooter, but judging from the position of the sun, it’s got to be around noon. Which means it’s been more than twenty-four hours since this whole thing started.

  Dan blinks and tries to moisten his eyes. He feels like rubbing them, but he’s not comfortable with taking one hand off the handlebars, and there’s no time to make a rest stop—he already lost too much time. First by trying to talk Linda into going with him. He needed someone to drive him, but she didn’t budge, no matter what he said.

  “Listen to me, Linda …”

  “No, you listen. I’m done. You get that? I’ve lost my husband, for God’s sake!”

  “But we need to find my sister. She might be—”

  “I don’t care! I already did enough! I agreed to burn the car, didn’t I? I’m going to the police, and I’m telling them about everything that happened.”

  “No, you can’t do that! They’ll just—”

  “I don’t care! If your sister is still a … zombie, or whatever, then the police need to deal with it. That’s their job, not mine!”

  At that moment, a car had pulled over onto the rest stop where they were standing next to the rubble of the still burning car. A man had jumped out and asked them if they were okay. Linda went to him and began explaining everything.

  Dan made a quick decision and ran for it—as much as he could with his busted ankle. He was headed back towards town when a firetruck came screaming by, closely followed by a police car. Dan jumped into the ditch and hid until both had passed. Then he continued onwards.

  He still can’t really believe he made the half mile back to town, but he did. Maybe it was the thought of Jennie keeping him going. If she got out of that basement, it would be his fault, since he was the one who forgot to lock the hatch. In that stuffy basement, Dan had fought for his own life. Now he was fighting for the future of the world.

  He had limped through town as a new, hot day had broken, and the few cars on the roads this early didn’t even notice him. As he fought on, he considered his options. His parents were out of town, so they couldn’t help him. And it was also pointless to contact the police, as he was sure he couldn’t convince them about what was really going on. Besides, Linda had probably already told them the whole thing by now. They were most likely already headed out to the house where everything had started. And where Jennie might be waiting for them …

  When Dan finally reached his home, he knew he had to go out there himself. So, he took Jennie’s scooter, and he—

  A sound pulls Dan out of this train of thoughts. He looks to the side and sees a police car coming at him fast from an adjacent gravel road.

  Dan yells out and squeezes the brake hard, causing the scooter to slide sideways and almost throw him off.

  The police car veers to the side at the last second and narrowly avoids hitting him. But the driver doesn’t seem to pay any notice, because the car doesn’t slow down; it simply makes a sharp turn, the tires screaming against the hot asphalt, and then it races off in the direction towards town where Dan has just come from. Less than two hundred yards down the road, it slams on its brakes, turns sharply again, disappearing into the forest.

  Holy shit, Dan thinks, feeling his heart under his chin. Wonder if that had anything to do with …

  He doesn’t need to finish the thought, because he already knows the answer. He had a brief glimpse of the driver of the car—a young man in a police uniform—and the pale face with the wide eyes told Dan everything he needed to know about what the guy had seen.

  He looks around and notices the mailbox by the side of the gravel road from which the police car came. Number 214. The house where it all began was number 216. This is the neighbor, then. And that means Jennie probably—

  Dan sees the girl running up the gravel road. For one terrible second he takes it to be Jennie. The girl does look a little like his late sister; around same age, same height and build. The hair is a little shorter and darker, but that’s not readily apparent from this far away, and the only thing keeping Dan from twisting the gas handle and getting the heck out of Dodge is the way the girl moves. She’s way too fast and steady on her legs to be a zombie. And now she raises one arm and waves at him.

  Dan pulls off the helmet.

  The girl reaches him and slows down, panting. “Did you … did you see … where he went?”

  “That way,” Dan says, pointing in the direction without taking his eyes off of the girl. “He drove into the forest.”

  The girl places her hands on her knees, heaving for breath, sweat beading on her forehead. Dan scans her quickly for any signs of blood or wounds, but doesn’t see anything.

  “What happened?” he asks.

  “I need to borrow your scooter. I don’t have time to explain, but I need to follow that guy.”

  “Why? Who was he?”

  “I said, I don’t have time.” The girl grabs the handlebars.

  “No!” Dan objects. “You can’t have it. I need it.”

  “It’s very important!” the girl says earnestly. “You’d never believe me, but the future of the world might depend on it.”

  Dan stares at her for a moment, as something falls into place. “I believe you,” he says. “I’ve seen them.”

  The girl’s eyes grow big. “Oh, no … does that mean they already …?”

  “No, I don’t think they’ve spread very far. As far as I know, it all began in the next house down the road from here. Only one of them escaped. It was—”

  “Jennie Nygaard?” the girl interrupts.

  Hearing his sister’s names forms a lump in Dan’s throat. He nods.

  “She came to our house,” the girl says, talk
ing fast. “She killed one of the kids, and the officer shot her, then … then he got bitten, and then he ran. That’s why I need to find him. I think I can talk him into his senses before he dies and infects anyone else.”

  “So … Jennie is dead?” Dan asks hoarsely.

  “Yes. The officer is the last one, at least from what I’ve seen. That’s why you need to lend me your scooter!”

  Dan pulls his helmet back on. “Get on. I’ll drive.”

  The girl looks at him with surprise for a second. Then, she jumps on and grabs him around the waist. Dan turns the scooter around and takes off down the road.

  “Did Jennie bite anyone else?” he asks over his shoulder.

  “Yes, another officer and a small girl. She was …” She doesn’t seem to want to finish the sentence.

  “They both dead?” Dan asks.

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “Allan shot them.”

  “Is Allan the guy we’re after?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he shoot them through their heads?”

  “Yes.”

  “How about Jennie?”

  “Same.”

  Dan feels his stomach tighten up thinking about Jennie being really dead. But at the same time, strangely, he also feels a fair amount of relief.

  He slows down as they reach the place the police car turned into the forest. There’s a narrow forest road, and as they turn and head in between the trees, the air becomes slightly cooler and more pleasant. The girl tightens her grip around Dan. The feeling of her arms around him combined with the faint smell of her perfume gives Dan a brief flutter of butterflies in his stomach. Odd how his brain is even capable of registering something like that given the situation. Dan has always been shy around girls, and even though he’s almost fifteen, he still has never kissed a girl.

  “Do you know where this road leads?” she asks him.

  “No idea,” Dan replies. “I don’t live out here, I was just doing a paper route.”

  “I just moved here, so I don’t know the area either. I’m Selina, by the way.”

  “My name’s Dan.”

  The road makes a sudden left turn and reveals the police car on the side of the road, its front up against a tree. Dan’s first impression is that the driver has intentionally parked the car in a weird, crooked way—but then he notices the crunched hood of the car and the white smoke rising up from it.

  “He has crashed it,” Selina says, jumping off the scooter before it comes to a complete stop. “He might be dead.”

  Dan wants to tell her to be careful as she approaches the police car, but there seems to be no need: Selina walks over to it gingerly, ready to run at any moment. Dan keeps his hand ready on the gas.

  Selina peeks in through the open driver’s door, then shakes her head. “The airbag has blown, and it’s stained with blood, but he’s gone.”

  Dan steps off the scooter, puts it on the jack and takes off the helmet. He throws a look around but sees no one in sight.

  “Shut off the engine for a moment,” Selina says.

  Dan turns the key, and silence descends over the forest. A couple of birds are singing carefreely and a bumblebee comes buzzing by. Besides that, nothing.

  “You think he went on down the road?” Dan asks.

  “That would make the most sense, I guess,” Selina says, looking around. “I don’t know how to track people—do you? Do you happen to be a Boy Scout or something?”

  “Nah,” Dan says. “But I think it’s something about looking for broken twigs and stuff. That’s how they do it in the movies.”

  Selina runs a hand through her hair. “I just don’t get why he would drive in here in the first place. I thought he was going to the hospital.”

  “Maybe he’s not aware what he’s doing. If he lost a lot of blood, he might already be—”

  A shrill scream interrupts Dan. It lasts for some seconds and echoes throughout the forest.

  “Fuck,” Selina whispers, her eyes wide. “I don’t think that was him.”

  Dan shakes his head. “No. It sounded like a woman.”

  EIGHT

  They listen for a moment, in case there’s another scream. But there is not. The forest is once again dead silent.

  “Which way did it come from?” Dan asks.

  “This way, I think.” Selina begins running farther down the road, waving for Dan to follow her. “Leave the scooter, we can’t hear anything with the engine going.”

  Dan leaves the scooter rather reluctantly. His ankle is still throbbing, but once he starts walking, he realizes to his amazement it actually feels a little better. Perhaps it’s not sprained after all; perhaps it just got twisted.

  Still, he needs to hurry to keep up with Selina. She suddenly stops outside a driveway Dan almost didn’t notice. A small house is halfway hidden among the trees.

  “It must have been here the scream came from,” Selina says, walking towards the house without a second thought.

  Dan is for a moment struck by how determined and brave she is. In fact, she reminds him of Thomas. Had he been here, he would also have been the brave one, the one walking in front whenever there was danger.

  Is the world full of brave people? Or am I just a coward?

  Perhaps he’s simply the type to let someone else take charge, he reflects. And perhaps that’s why Thomas is dead and Dan is still alive. The brave die, and the cowardly live on.

  He shakes off the thought and hurries on to catch up with Selina.

  There’s a small gravel courtyard in front of the house. In the carport a tiny white car is parked.

  Dan is just about to say something, when the front door of the house suddenly opens and a woman steps out holding a hunting rifle. “Who are you?” she shrieks. “What are you doing here? I already called the police!” As if to prove this statement, she shows them a cell phone.

  Dan holds up his hands stupidly. “Uhm … we didn’t … eh …”

  “We don’t want to cause you any harm,” Selina says. “We’re just looking for a young man who might have been here. Did you see him?”

  The woman looks at them, assessing the situation. She’s around retirement age and wears a bandana around her head. Dan can’t see any hair, and combined with how thin the woman is, he guesses she might have recently undergone chemotherapy.

  “It’s really important we find him,” Selina goes on. “He’s wounded and he needs help.”

  The woman seems to decide to trust them, because she points the rifle into the ground and steps a little closer. She glances towards the carport and lowers her voice. “He ran into the workshop, so I locked the door behind him.”

  Dan notices a small shack adjacent to the carport. The door is still closed, and there are no windows.

  “Did he hurt you?” Dan asks, discretely scanning the woman’s bare arms for any visible scratch marks.

  She shakes her head. She’s close enough now that Dan can smell peppermint on her breath. “He just ran right past me, like he didn’t even see me. He came out of nowhere, I thought I was going to have a heart attack when I saw him, his nose was all bloody and … and he was limping.” She shakes her head in disbelief and looks at them. “Goodness, what happened to him? I thought it looked like he was wearing a police uniform, so I thought he might have been … I don’t know, attacked by some criminals … that’s why I locked the door behind him.”

  “He is a policeman,” Selina explains. “But he hasn’t been … uhm …” She glances at Dan for help.

  “He crashed his car,” Dan says. “We came by the crash site and followed him here.”

  “Yeah, and if we don’t help him, he’ll bleed to death,” Selina adds.

  “I already called an ambulance,” the woman assures them, once again holding up the cell phone absentmindedly.

  “They won’t make it all the way out here in time,” Selina says. “We need to get to him right now. Where’s the key?”

  The woman hesitates,
glancing from the shack to Selina. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea … I mean, he seemed very out of it … perhaps it’s better to leave him be until help arrives.”

  “No, we have to help him!” Selina insists. “Please give us the key. I know him. His name is Allan. I’ll never forgive myself if he doesn’t make it …”

  Dan is surprised at how convincing Selina sounds.

  The woman still looks doubtful. Her hand goes to her pocket, but then stops. “If only Paul was here … he’d know what to do …”

  A loud bang from the shack makes all three of them jump in unison. The woman raises the weapon and backs away.

  “That was him,” Selina says. “He needs help. Give me the key …” This time, it’s not a question, and she doesn’t wait for an answer; instead, she steps to the woman and plunges her hand into the pocket.

  “No, wait!” the woman says, but Selina already pulled the key out and is now headed for the shack.

  “It’s probably best if you go inside the house,” Dan tells the woman.

  She doesn’t seem to hear him, she’s still staring at Selina, who unlocks the door to the shack.

  Dan steps a little closer, whispering: “Careful, Selina. Be ready to jump aside.”

  Selina sends him a quick glance, nods, then pulls open the door. She lets out a gasp, but doesn’t move, simply stares into the shack.

  “What is it?” the woman calls out. “Is he okay in there?”

  Selina doesn’t answer.

  Dan goes to her side, peering nervously inside. He thinks he’s mentally prepared for what awaits him, but the sight still shocks him.

  Allan is no longer in the shack. Not all of him, anyway.

  Dan swallows forcibly to keep down the nausea as the sweet, warm stench of blood rolls out at him. The shack is arranged like a small workshop, a bench and some tools. Dan hardly notices, though; he’s staring down. The concrete floor is more red than gray. Allan has lost what appears to be a gallon of blood. Way more than what could have been caused by the bitemark on his ankle or the nosebleed he had gotten from the airbag. In the middle of the pool, Dan sees the explanation. The lower part of Allan’s leg is still wearing the shoe. The saw is lying next to it.