by Deb Rotuno
“How’s that possible?” I asked.
“Think of where you are,” she urged, pointing toward the window. “This is one of the biggest vacation capitals on the planet. People from everywhere come here—beaches, Disney World, whatever. It’s here. A few lab techs got through, not to mention however many they infected along the way. You were sent to contain, but really, you were sent to destroy them. That didn’t happen. They infected your company before you two were even removed from the rubble of the explosion—which, by the way, was a result of a truck slamming into the building due to the tornado. Those techs were bitten or scratched, something that starts a chain of events that is unstoppable. Flu-like symptoms—fever, chills, nausea. That’s the slow side. It takes hardly any time killing, only to reanimate within minutes of the heart stopping.”
My dad stood up. “However, if they bite you? Feed on you? You also…change. There’s something in their bite…a venom or bacteria that starts the process. Minutes…seconds, boys. That’s all it takes. Do the math, factor in time, distance, and speed. Add in the numbers of human beings in Florida alone.”
“Can they be fucking killed?” I asked, my lip twitching in hatred and disgust.
“Oh yeah,” Dad stated, walking back to the double doors.
Joel helped me to my feet, and we followed in silence. My father unsheathed a military length knife, barely flinching at the gnashing of teeth and surly growls on the other side of the glass. With a swift, precise aim, Dad slipped the knife blade between the doors right between the eyes of the closest of those nasty bastards. It ceased all movement instantly, dropping to the floor, which only allowed more to shift closer to the doors.
“That’s the motor functions—walking, blinking, breathing, reaching,” Mom explained, tapping the screen and then a file folder in front of her.
Dad raised his knife again and the struggling, snapping teeth, and shaking all came to a standstill when the blade went through the forehead and into the brain of a guy in a white lab coat.
“The brain. That’s the key,” I stated, looking at them as they nodded. “A sudden injury to the brain or sever the brain stem…That’s how you do it.”
They nodded again.
“How fast will this travel?”
Dad sighed but answered, “It’s already everywhere, son. The last news report was that even the president had caught it and that Vice President Hawkins took over. This base, most of the surrounding town is destroyed. Jack…boys, listen to me. They’ve already shut down air travel. Some places are under martial law. There are power outages everywhere, not to mention phones—both landlines and cell—aren’t functioning. If your mother’s math is correct, then most of the world will be destroyed within…a…a week or two.”
“There’s no more military,” Mom added. “Not here, anyway.”
I closed my eyes, and Sara came into my head in such a crystal-clear picture that I almost smiled. My son was next, and my only thought was the promise I’d made…to stay safe, to come home. My temper skyrocketed, making my head pound and my hands squeeze into tight fists. My family—my wife and son—would not meet this fucking fate. And now I knew why I’d sent her to the cabin. I’d overheard the words virus, breach, and global terror. I rounded on my parents.
“So…what?” I sneered, tapping the window behind me. “We’re just gonna lie the fuck down and let these…these…things win?” My nostrils flared, but I didn’t wait for an answer. “Oh, hell no! We’re getting the hell out of here. I’m not letting this shit stop me from getting home, from getting to Sara, Freddie, and Derek! Our home, Dad! Your grandchild, your nephew—you know, the one you raised like a son? Imagine Sandy…like this!”
My mother’s tears streamed down her face, but she shook her head.
“I promised Sara,” I told them, placing a hand on my chest. “I swore to her that I would find her…that something screwy was going down. I must’ve seen or heard enough that sent me calling her to tell her to get away from people. I won’t let her down. I won’t let some freaks of nature stop me from getting to my family.”
“Think about what you’re saying, Jack,” Joel stated, gripping my shoulder. “We can’t just…catch a flight home. We’re clear across the motherfucking country.”
“And?” I asked, looking at him like he was crazy. “That’s different than what we do…how? Joel, we dodged terrorists overseas, and they could fucking think!” I snapped, tapping the middle of my forehead.
Joel grinned, shrugging a large shoulder. “True that.”
“You can’t leave in the condition you’re in,” my dad stated with a finality, pointing between us. “First, you need to be healed—well…you need to be strong and healthy. Second, the wound will draw them to you like flies to shit.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Just from observation, I can see that blood, heartbeats draw them in. At night, they’re much more active, almost animalistic. Their sight and hearing are enhanced, and they don’t tire. Loud noises get their attention. When they set their sights on a…food source, as you saw, then they can move a bit faster. However, the rain makes all that worse; it magnifies their senses.”
Nodding, I glared down at the floor, at my traitorous leg that would hold me back. “We’re going home. I promised her, Dad.” I whispered the last sentence but met his gaze. “I’ve never broken a promise to her…or Freddie. I don’t intend to start now, even if the world is ending.”
“Not until you heal,” he argued.
I let out a breath, gripping my hair. “Are there any other survivors on this base? Have you seen anyone?”
“Not in this section,” my mother answered.
Turning to Joel, I said, “We’ve got an entire military base at our disposal. That means rations, fuel, weapons, ammo, supplies.” I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Okay, so what’choo thinkin’?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest as best he could with that cast.
“I’m thinking…we raid the fuck out of this place before we hit the road. We’ll take our time, clear section by section in order to get what we need.” I turned to my parents. “We stock up, plan, ration, and I can get us out of here,” I vowed.
“Nah, bro, we can,” Joel added, gripping my shoulder. “But they’re right. We need to be ready to hit the ground runnin’. Which means…no casts and no open wounds,” he said, pointing to my leg, which had spots of blood on the scrub pants.
“You ripped your stitches open,” my mom sighed. “I’ll clean you up.”
“Wait,” I begged, looking to my dad. “Are you with me on this? I gotta know.”
Dad smiled sadly and nodded, placing a hand on my shoulder. “C’mon, let’s clean you up, and we’ll start planning. I’ll tell you what I’ve scoped out already.”
“Hey, Jack…You know, driving across the country is one thing, but if everywhere looks like this, then it’ll take us forty forevers to get back home,” Joel advised, tapping the window overlooking the base.
Joel wouldn’t say what he was really thinking, that home, Sandy, Sara, Freddie, all of them could be gone by the time we got there. But I knew my girl. She’d have done as I’d asked, even if the Devil himself had tried to stop her, and I also knew who and what surrounded her: Derek, who was a deadly hunter and born to live off the land; and her father, a firefighter who’d rather die than let anything happen to his family. Her dad had taught her how to handle weapons, how to hunt, and my Sara would lose her mind if something tried to touch Freddie. That thought made me nod his way.
“We’re going home,” I vowed, but I couldn’t think beyond that. I couldn’t allow the “what ifs” to get to me, because the mere idea of losing my wife, my son…it was too much.
“Okay,” Joel agreed, leading us back out into the hallway. “Then tomorrow, we’ll start clearing out this floor and then the rest of the building. We’ll work our way down and out into other buildings. We’ll make a list of what we need, along with an inventory of what we have…or can see out the damn windows. When
we leave this place? I wanna be armed to the teeth, Chambers.”
Grinning because I knew him so well, I simply nodded. “Exactly.”
Chapter 3
JACK
Dexter Air Force Base, Florida
6 Weeks after Hurricane Beatrice
THE SHUFFLES, GROWLS, AND SNAPPING of teeth on the other side of the doorway made me sigh wearily. Glancing back at Joel, I nodded, then kicked open the door to the stairwell. The stench of rotting flesh hit my nose, but I was slowly growing used to it, which was slightly disturbing, considering I’d only been clearing out one section at a time of the medical facility my parents had locked us in for two weeks.
I was tired of the MREs they’d hoarded. I was tired of headaches from the hit on my head and tired of the pain in my leg, though the latter was getting better. And I was damn sure tired of being holed up like rats in a cage.
Joel and I had slowly cleared the med unit and labs, all but the top floor and roof. It was the roof we needed most. We needed to get up top and survey our surroundings. There were commissaries and hangars, not to mention housing units, we needed to raid for supplies. We also needed to obtain transportation, fuel, and a way to get the fuck off this base.
Using the Sigs my parents had salvaged, Joel and I took out six rather nasty fuckers on the way up the last set of stairs. They were once soldiers, lab techs, and maybe even a civilian or two. It was hard to tell, when they were as torn up and decomposed as they were, but I’d been trying my damnedest to stop seeing them as people. The first time Joel and I had cleared a section—the same section my parents had shown us that first day—we’d both been pissed off, angry, and disgusted by the end of it all.
Reaching the roof door, I looked back at Joel. “Ready?”
He snorted and fidgeted with his temp cast—something I knew he was about five seconds from chucking away, even though my mother threatened him with every grumble. “We have to get up there, whether I’m ready or not. So just…go.”
I threw open the door, catching one of the infected by surprise, though it recovered quickly, lunging our way. Joel’s gun popped off two rounds, and it fell to the tar rooftop. There were two more up there, and we disposed of them quickly before I made my way to the southern side of the roof.
Reaching into my backpack, I pulled out binoculars and swept our surroundings. Dexter AFB was a fucking mess. Located along the beach, the whole base was long and spread out almost in a grid-like formation. The damage from Beatrice and the damn virus was everywhere. Slow, shuffling swarms of the infected roamed free in the streets, in and out of buildings, and up and down the beach.
There were no planes or choppers. Anything that could have flown prior to the hurricane would’ve been evacuated to another, safer base. However, my eyes locked on to a parking lot just outside a hangar.
“Bingo,” I sang, handing the binoculars to Joel. “Hangar fourteen,” I told him. “Hummers, trucks, tanks.”
“Tank would be helpful.”
“No shit.” I huffed a laugh. “But it wouldn’t last us long. We need those fucking Hummers. They’ll be easier to drive, to fuel up, and they’ll handle any kind of terrain.”
“Mmm, true,” he agreed, scanning the area again, only to hand the binoculars back. “I’m ready to get the hell out of here, but are you sure about…?”
“Don’t ask me that again,” I snapped, shoving the binoculars into the bag and shouldering it. “Yes, I’m fucking sure. I’m sure I promised Sara and Freddie I’d come home. Yes, I’m sure I’d walk through hell to get to them. And yeah, I’m pretty fucking sure hell ain’t got nothin’ on what’s out there.”
Joel studied me but nodded. “You’d better fucking hope Derek is with them.”
“He swore he’d watch over them.” My brow furrowed, and I shook my head slowly as I glanced down at the ground to watch a few…things—fuck, they were zombies, like out of an idiotic movie, but saying the word sounded ridiculous—wander slowly around the front door of our building. “Though, when I asked him, I was more worried about car trouble or Sara working too late at Shelly’s while I was gone, or…or…Freddie getting hurt at the playground. Not…this shit.”
“You know, your cousin is kinda badass, so…” Joel’s voice trailed off, and he took a deep breath as he ripped open his cast, scratched like hell, only to strap it back on. “I’ll be glad when I can take this thing off permanently. How’s your leg?”
“Better,” I said, yanking up my scrub pants. The stitches were out, and the muscle was slowly strengthening, though I didn’t give it much choice. There was shit that needed to be done.
“Rich and Dottie are stalling us,” he stated wisely, nodding when I did. “They keep drawing my blood. Yours too, I noticed.”
I snorted but showed him the gauze and tape from my mother’s last draw. “While the generators are still working, she wants to find a cure.”
“Oh Lord…” Joel groaned, shaking his head, but he grinned. “Only your mom, man.”
“My dad says there’s not one, but he’s been studying the file the science bastards had on the virus,” I explained. “She has maybe ten more days to two weeks before I think we’re safe to pull out of here. With your arm and my leg, we’re a liability, not to mention I want to be fully stocked when we go.”
“You realize that once we leave here, once supplies run out on the road, we’ll be fucked.” He pointed north. “Look that way. Look at the beach hotels and the stores and shit. Jack, this virus is everywhere. And all that’s on the TV and radio are warnings. Martial law, emergency evacuations, and some bitch on the news on repeat. It’s everywhere. You know what that means? It means this virus has spread to every nook and cranny. It means there are survivors willing to kill anything that moves. It means those whackos who planned for the zombie apocalypse were right and they’re living the country-boy-can-survive dream. This will be dangerous and stupid, and we’ll run into more trouble along the way.”
“We can’t stay here,” I argued. “You know that much too. There isn’t enough food, and eventually we’ll either run out of ammo or those bastards at the front door will smell us. Hell, we may only have a few days left on the generators.”
Joel took a deep breath and let it out. “No, dude, I get that. And you’re right. If anything, heading home is the better plan, simply because the mountains of Oregon will be easier to hunker down in.”
I nodded, rubbing my face. I wanted a shower and a shave, not giving a shit that the water was cold. I was tired and my head was achy, not to mention I was covered in foul-smelling blood from where I’d had to get way too up close and personal with a guy who popped out of a fucking supply closet. Luckily I’d had a knife in my hand. His head went one way while his twisted hands had stayed gripping my shirt until he finally fell to the floor.
“Okay,” Joel finally said in acquiescence. He nodded one time when I looked his way. Pointing toward the hangars, he said, “I think two Hummers. We’ll snag those first, along with however many cans of gas we can salvage. Once we’re mobile, we can start tracking down food, supplies, more medical shit, and…fucking hell, clothes. These scrubs aren’t cuttin’ it.”
“Yeah, definitely.” I turned to start back toward the roof door. “We’ll head out first thing in the morning. Once the sun’s up. We’ll bring Dad with us in order to load up quicker.”
Joel snorted. “Guess we’re officially retired from the United States Army, huh?”
Grinning, I shot him a glance over my shoulder. “Not exactly how I planned it,” I mumbled, opening the roof door. “This was supposed to be my last leg, you know? Sara was all excited…” My voice trailed off at the mention of her name, and I broke out into a cold sweat. “Jesus, Joel. What do I do if she’s…”
Joel’s heavy hand landed on my shoulder, turning me to face him. His face was fierce where it usually carried a hint of humor. “Don’t. You want to get home. We’ll get there, but if you panic now, then it’ll be all for nothin’. You have to tre
at this like you did when we were overseas, man. Each step, each inch we move forward, will be to get back to her. And back then, you’d just found her. Remember?”
Smiling at the memory, I nodded. “Best fight I’ve ever gotten into,” I said with a laugh.
“Oh, but think, Jacky!” He beamed dramatically, batting his eyes. “Maybe Matthews is one of those walking nightmares, and even better, maybe Shortcake shot his ass! Oh, to have YouTube back again.”
My head fell back with my laugh as we took the stairs to our floor. I couldn’t help it. I wasn’t sure there was a soul in Sandy who actually liked Brody Matthews, except for Brody himself. Maybe some of the women he still messed with, but not any of my family or friends and for sure not me. Sara’s dad, Hank, had stayed friends with Brody’s dad, Leo, after the Sandy Fire Department had pulled him out of a car accident years ago. The wreck had taken Leo’s wife and the use of his legs. The old man was pretty decent, but his son had walked a fine line with me for a very, very long time.
We made it back downstairs without running into any more infected. We briefed my parents on what the plan was, and I made my way into the staff lounge to shower and change clothes. As night started to settle around us, my heart started to hurt. When I was moving, planning, clearing out those monsters, I was fine, but it was when I was alone or quiet that I thought of my Sara, my son.
Joel’s joke about Matthews was funny, but I honestly owed that cheating bastard my life. It was how I’d met Sara. I couldn’t help but smile as I stepped under the weak spray of the shower.
Sandy, Oregon
10 Years Prior
“C’mon, Jack,” Derek said as he parked the car at one of the few bars in my small-ass hometown. “We’ll grab a beer before we head back to the house. Text Joel to meet us here.”
“Yeah, okay,” I agreed, just happy to see my cousin, who had come to live with us when I was a kid.