“Tyrone,” Darius whispers, “you don’t need to do this. You almost died out there last time. Don’t do it.”
“We’ve all almost died out there. Does it really matter anymore?” Tyrone eyes his best friend with a look of pity, almost like he’s ashamed to be sharing a seat with him. “If there’s a man in there who thinks he can get us to safety, we need to at least try.”
We make our way to the front of the bus. I don’t know why we think Mr. Buckley has an answer that will guarantee us safe passage. We’ve been doing just fine. I don’t doubt Marty’s ability to get us to Shasta Lake. The only thing I doubt is my ability to fight our way there. I guess I’m hoping Buckley will have some sort of secret weapon or access to a plane that can fly us out of this mess.
I stop at Caylee’s seat and take her hand as she gets up. “Are you okay with this?”
“I’ll run for as long as I can to give you the time you need, but this is a mistake Noah. We shouldn’t be here. We shouldn’t be getting him. And we shouldn’t be going to that evacuation center. But for you, I’ll do it.”
“We owe it to ourselves to try. Caylee, I promise, we get to that evacuation center and don’t like the looks of it, don’t feel safe, whatever, we leave. We’ll figure something else out. But for the chance that everything can go back to normal, we have to try.”
“I know,” she whispers sweetly. “You promise, we don’t like the looks of it, we leave?”
“I promise.”
“Okay,” she nods, “let’s do this.”
Weapons in hand, we exit the bus. I know this is stupid but what choice do we have? Neil’s in control of the gun. All the axes, hatchets, baseball bats and shovels in the world mean nothing against a bullet. And he’s lost his marbles just enough to do it with little to no provocation. Caylee’s right, in my heart I know it. We’re not going to board the buses at the evacuation center, but for that small chance that this can all work out, we have to try.
Neil and Caylee make their way toward the herd of corpses that surround the building. This is idiotic, we’re risking people’s lives in order to rescue Joseph Buckley.
It’s time. They’re beginning to notice the intruders. I can tell by the way they tilt their heads up and sniff the air. They can smell humans approaching. Caylee casts a worried glance over her shoulder and I can’t shake the feeling that that’ll be the last time we ever lay eyes on one another.
The mob that’s getting dangerously close to banging the doors down turn to see Neil and Caylee approaching. Their hands stop smacking the glass in unison, going from a slow tap to eventually nothing at all. The second they realize they aren’t imagining it, the pack of persistent zombies break into a sprint.
Neil is first to move. He makes a run for it, wildly zigzagging up and down sidewalks and through abstract sculptures. A small fraction of the herd go for him but it’s barely enough to make a dent. He ran too soon.
Caylee freezes. The majority of them spot the easy, unmoving target. They race towards her, foaming at the mouth, jaws ready to dig in. No, don’t tell me she’s turned this into a suicide mission. Did she know all along? Did she ever plan on running?
The one closest to her reaches out his arms and prepares to pounce mid-stride. She jumps to the side at the last possible second, sending him crashing into a stone bench face first. His body crumples, snapping his head back, nearly tearing it clear off his body. She hops over the decorative bench that’s probably seen its fair share of lunch break affairs. The next two in line trip over it, too focused on their target. The extra time she spent standing there drew the majority of them away from the doorway, leaving us only four or five to contend with.
We storm the building. Despite the toll this past day has taken on my body, running still feels natural. I pull ahead of Tyrone and Felecia with ease. An overweight man in a suit that barely stretches over his stomach hears me coming and makes his way over. He jogs towards me, probably moving faster than he ever did in his living years. Hatchet clutched tightly in my left hand, I swing it at his face on my way by. It slashes through half his skull, sending him spinning from the force and collapsing in a heap. I was aiming for his jaw but missed by a couple inches, catching him right around the eye.
The remaining three that didn’t take the bait, all older men whose bodies are probably too frail to run at a reasonable speed, finally see me coming. They leave their spots against the bloodstained glass and try to figure out how they’re going to catch me. I look back long enough to see Tyrone chop the rest of the large man’s head off with his shovel in one fell swoop. Felecia runs out around and begins stalking my suitors from behind.
I stop running and wait for them to come to me. She swings her axe with both hands like a lumberjack at the one closest to her. He didn’t even know she was there until it was too late. The dull blade smashes into his neck, snapping it clear in half. The force of the blow sends his body flying one way, his head the other. A flap of skin keeps them attached, but barely. She brings the axe down across his neck again, sending his bald head rolling towards the infinity pool.
“Noah,” she calls out, “go inside. We got these two.”
I nod and make a run for it once again, circling out around, losing the two in pursuit of me. By the looks of it, we arrived just in time, the glass is beginning to crack. A few lines have formed right around eye level, where these bastards have been banging incessantly, trying to get in.
I can barely see inside, the layer of blood that coats the windows is too thick. I could wipe it away but decide not to risk it. Bending down is probably safer. The trickles of blood are more sporadic at foot level, offering me a look inside. Someone’s coming to the door. It must be Buckley. I can see legs. And another set behind them. Two more. What the fuck? I thought we were just picking him up. He’s not alone? Well that would have been nice to know, Neil. Thanks for the heads up. Unless, are we too late? Did they already get inside? Shit, those aren’t human legs coming towards the door, are they?
I step back and prepare for battle. This’ll kill my wrist but it’s either that or let them kill me.
The door swings open.
“Dad?”
CHAPTER 10
“What are you doing here?” My dad is about the last person I expected to open the door.
“I’m here on business. Noah, what the hell is going on out there? It can’t be as bad as they’re making it sound on the radio. This must be some kind of conspiracy, something they’ve unleashed from that damn research facility.”
“I wish that were the case Dad, but I don’t think it is. It’s spreading, and spreading fast. Come on, we gotta get you guys outta there, now.”
“Do you know for certain it’s spreading, or is that what you’ve heard, on the radio? They’ve probably got us quarantined, locking down the borders.” He wasn’t always like this. Too many years spent defending the Buckleys of the world have turned him into this radical conspiracy theorist out to find a truth that wouldn’t satisfy his insatiable hunger if he did find the answers he was looking for. He used to just be Dad.
“Look, we don’t have time for this. Quarantined or not, we’re barely holding these things off, now come on, we gotta get to the bus!”
He motions toward the stairwell. Joseph Buckley himself, along with two other men I don’t recognize cautiously inch their way forward. No, wait, I do recognize one of them, he used to go hunting with us. Sanders. Something Sanders. Todd? Nice enough guy, he told my dad to go easy on me one time after I missed a moose. I think he’s one of the accountants.
“Noah Britton,” Mr. Buckley growls, resting his hand on my shoulder. It makes my skin crawl. “When Neil said you were with him, I couldn’t believe it. Didn’t think you had it in ya kid, but boy am I glad to see you.” The blood stains on their clothes means none of them have made it this far without seeing and doing the unthinkable. “Alright guys, let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
I ignore his backhanded compliment and lead them outsid
e. He didn’t think I had it in me? He probably didn’t think I had it in me to beat his record on the track either, or to run circles around his cream of the crop son. He knows what I’m capable of but it’s not something he’ll ever admit because he’d rather try to tear me down with his words. I know how he works.
Felecia and Tyrone have taken out the last two, clearing a safe passage back to the bus. I just hope Caylee’s still on the move. And Neil too, I guess. Okay, yeah, honestly I don’t care if he’s become breakfast. His dad would probably find a way to blame it on me. And would my dad step in and come to my defense? Not a chance in hell. He’d sit there quiet as a church mouse while Buckley doled out whatever punishment he felt just.
“Caylee! Neil! We got ’em,” I yell as the four suits board the bus. “Time to go! Hurry!”
It won’t be long before they swarm us. Those two are fast enough that they should be able to get back here well ahead of the pack but if something goes wrong, or already did, there isn’t a damn thing we can do.
Caylee rounds the corner, leaping over the chains that surround the small gardens with such grace, you’d never guess a mob of meat eating monsters was close behind. The knee high barrier trips up the first line of sprinters, not smart enough to realize there’s a string of chain in their path.
Neil comes running down the street, an entire pack behind him. He’s losing them, but he’s not clever enough to find ways to trip them up like Caylee. By the time she reaches the bus, she’ll be alone. Neil will have a small army a short distance behind him, giving Marty a narrow window of opportunity to get us out of here without the bus being overtaken. It’s not something we discussed ahead of time. There really was no plan so it’s not like he’s blatantly disobeying an order, he just doesn’t have whatever it is Caylee does. It’s the same thing Felecia has. You don’t need to tell them what to do, they already know. They’re the ones you want on your side. And I’m lucky enough to have them both on mine.
Caylee hops onto the bus with ease as Marty begins inching forward, nervously checking his mirrors every second or two, tapping the steering wheel like he’s drumming along to death metal. I give Caylee a side hug on the steps while waiting for Neil to join us. I’d tell Marty to leave him but I went behind Mr. Buckley intentionally, he’s got a gun or two holstered on his hip, and I think a spare on his ankle. The blood splattered across his suit tells me he knows guns are useless against these things, which means he doesn’t have them to protect himself against mankind’s mortal foe, he has them to turn on mankind. They’re intended for us, just in case we get out of line or threaten his self-appointed position of power.
I just hope Buckley’s plan involves going to the evacuation center and not setting up his own compound where he can be the supreme leader and we’re all his loyal subjects. He’s a power hungry maniac but under these circumstances, even he can’t be that much of a lunatic. He’ll become a dictator and call himself king the first opportunity he gets, but ruling over a busload of high school kids wouldn’t be enough to stroke his ego. No, he’ll wait and claim his kingdom when there’s something more substantial to claim.
He expects disobedience from us. We expect a dictatorship out of him. And because we expect it, we’re going to see it in every single decision made, whether it’s there or not. Our distrust in one another is what’s going to bring us down. This is stupid, we should be fighting zombies, not each other.
The second Neil’s feet hit the bottom step, Marty guns it. The bus sounds like it’s going to explode but he knows what his baby can handle. Neil’s definitely not as fast as he thought he was, I can see it written all over his face when he realizes how close they were. Their hands are slapping the back of the bus as we peel off, leaving them in a cloud of black smoke that’s probably killing the environment, not that it matters much anymore. Air pollution is the least of our current concerns.
It’s almost heartwarming to see them hugging, father and son. The way my dad once hugged me. Even now, I don’t think he can bring himself to do it. A pat on the shoulder is as close as it gets. He was in town for business and didn’t bother to let me know. We could have had a meal together or played mini golf or just sat down to shoot the shit for a minute or two but this is what he thinks of me. Wouldn’t want to be embarrassed in front of his work buddies.
“Hey Marty,” I say, letting them have their moment which for some reason does not appear to include Scott, “before we do anything else, we gotta go downtown.”
“Downtown, as in Main Street? Man, you know that place is gonna be dead people central.”
“My friends are there waiting for me, at the pharmacy.”
“That’s the freakin’ heart of downtown, near the fountain!” he yells, not impressed. “What the hell are they doing there?”
“That’s where I told them to go.”
“Why in god’s name would you do that? It’s gonna be crawling with these bastards. You couldn’t have told them to meet you at the dairy farm on the hill?”
“I could have, but then we wouldn’t be across the street from the medieval shop, where there are weapons that might actually be useful.”
“Son of a bitch, you’re right. I don’t have to like it but you are right. God dammit. We’re gonna need those swords. Freakin’ A, to Main Street it is.”
“Dad, are you hearing this?” Neil whines. “They wanna go downtown. You can forget it, we’re going to the evacuation center. We don’t need weapons, or more people on the bus who are only gonna slow us down. Get us to Shasta Lake, now. Don’t make me remind you who’s in charge here.”
“Two days Neil,” I shout. “Do I really need to remind you again? They won’t be set up for two more days, which means we’ve got two days of riding around in this big yellow target ahead of us and I’m not doing it without some decent weapons and a few more people to help keep us safe.”
“He just wants to overthrow us,” Neil declares quickly with defiance. “That’s why he wants his friends and weapons. He wants control of the bus. Dad, make them go to the evacuation center before Noah’s bright ideas kill even more people.”
“Noah’s right, son.” Did Mr. Buckley just side with me? Over his own kid? “There is no evacuation center. We’d be fools to go there now, sitting ducks, just waiting for these things to descend upon us. We need to arm ourselves and guns are close to useless. You might be onto something Britton, swords may just work. Some of us raid the medieval shop while the others hit the pharmacy. One problem though, those swords are meant for display, they’re not gonna be sharp enough to cut through a cucumber. We’ll be stuck with a bunch of useless hunks of metal.”
“Not if we can get our hands on some sharpening stones. Harry’s Hardware, where I work, couple stores down, we even have different types. Everything we need is right there. I don’t want to overthrow the bus Neil,” I say, shifting my gaze from one Buckley to the other, “I just want to get us to that evacuation center, and in order to do so, we’re gonna need weapons.”
“Dad, don’t let–”
“Shut up Neil,” Mr. Buckley snaps. “I don’t like it any more than you do but the Britton kid’s right. Guns aren’t working. And if the people who are supposed to be coming to rescue us haven’t realized that yet, then I’m afraid no one’s coming to rescue us. Which means, we’d be on our own.”
“Oh that’s just great,” Marty grumbles loud enough to be heard by everyone, “me and the pretty little Spanish lady say the exact same thing and everyone throws a hissy fit but some tool in a suit says it and no one’s got a problem. Fucking lovely.”
“What do you mean on our own?” Neil asks, completely ignoring Marty despite the fact that he heard him loud and clear.
I know the answer to that but I don’t want to say it out loud. I don’t want it to be true. I’m not ready to give up on the life we’ve always known. Not yet.
Maybe my dad is right and this has already been contained. All we need to do is get to the wall and prove we haven’t been i
nfected, then they’ll let us out and we’ll be able to go about our everyday lives with the rest of the world. Even if he’s wrong and it’s not contained, the American government won’t let itself crumble. They’ll build safe places with walls to keep these things out and we, the survivors, will be the ones inside those walls keeping this country alive. There’s no ifs about it because if that’s not the outcome, we’ll be stuck building a Buckley compound where we can all be privileged enough to live under his rule and spend the rest of our pathetic lives creating statues in his honor to adorn the streets of the fenced in village we’ll be lucky enough to call home.
CHAPTER 11
I can’t lie, it hurts that he didn’t sit with me. It’s not like I expected him to but he just followed his cohorts in their classy business attire towards the back. He can see that me and Caylee are a couple, it’s as clear as day, yet do you think he bothered to introduce himself? He didn’t even say a word to Tyrone and Darius, they’ve slept over before, he’s brought us to the movies and the carnival, he knows them but pretends he doesn’t. Fucking follower.
At least Buckley Senior didn’t feel the need to separate me and Felecia from the rest of the group in our own little bus prisons. But maybe he should have.
“Noah,” she whispers, “I don’t like this. Something about these guys doesn’t feel right. We shouldn’t be here.”
“I know but, what do we do? This is our best shot at getting to that evacuation center.”
“I don’t know.” She shakes her head, a worried look in her eyes. “I don’t think they plan on going to the evacuation center.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Tyrone asks coldly, turning around in his seat. “Where else would they be going?”
“I’m not sure,” she stutters. “I’m just, something feels off.”
“You mean something other than your clothes for once?” Darius mutters under his breath, not bothering to look up from his shoes where he’s been staring since this whole thing started.
Blood Type Infected (Book 2): Fallen To The Flame Page 6