The Early Days Trilogy: The Necrose Series Books 1-3

by Tim Moon

  He reached down and tried to unjam Chadwick’s foot. It moved a little but was pinned by the glove compartment being bent down into the footwell. Ben stood up and tried to shove the beam. It was hot as hell, but Anuhea was suddenly next to him and they both heaved on the heavy beam. They both ignored the pain to save their friends.

  Giving it all his strength and with Anuhea pulling they moved the beam about six inches onto the hood of the car. Just enough for the result they wanted. Chadwick slipped out onto the floor.

  “I’m free,” he shouted as he backed away. “Christ, that hurts.”

  “The infected are coming. Hurry,” Nancy said from the driveway.

  As if to drive home the point, the roar echoed down the street. It sounded like a dinosaur from Jurassic Park.

  “Watch for shooters,” Ben shouted before diving back inside the car to free Charlotte. He wouldn’t leave her.

  Maybe the airbag knocked her out, he thought.

  First, he unbuckled her seatbelt and shoved away the airbag. He cursed at a beam just like the one that pinned Chadwick. It crushed the edge of the car and busted out Charlotte’s window. The frame bent like a straw. The car roof canted down, nearly touching the top of her head.

  Heat and the steady roar of flames filled the garage. His breath and heart beat grew frantic. The rest of the roof could collapse at any moment.

  Touching two fingers to the side of Charlotte’s neck, Ben felt for a pulse. Nothing.

  “No, no, no,” Ben snarled. That couldn’t be right. He was just too nervous. Too amped up by adrenaline. Maybe the hot beam had deadened his sense of touch. Yeah, that’s it. He tried again on the other side of her throat, which felt sticky with blood. Still nothing.

  Ben grabbed under her arm as best as he could to pull. Something in her neck moved. She had a strange bulge pushing through the side of her neck near the headrest. How had he missed that? The skin was pulled tight like something was trying to push its way through. Ben gasped and drew his hand back like she was a hot stove. He leaned in close and felt around the other side.

  The roof and door frame of the car had bent under the weight of the collapsed roof. His fingers probed around until he felt a large piece of splintered wood, as thick as two fingers, which had punctured her neck. The bulge in her skin was the tip of the massive splinter which had not gone all the way through. It had gone far enough though. Too far.

  An invisible hand clenched his chest and Ben cried out in disbelief. He hadn’t felt her pulse because there was nothing to feel. She was gone.

  Anuhea leaned in, shaking Ben, but he ignored her. Dizziness rocked him in the seat. He leaned back, wishing he could banish the sight of her wound.

  Slowly, he realized someone was yelling. The air was smoky and hot. So hot. It stung his eyes.

  Ben saw Anuhea staring at him.

  “Help me,” he gasped.

  “What’s wrong?” Anuhea shouted.

  “She’s gone,” Ben said.

  “Pull her out,” she snapped, slapping his face to pull him from his stupor.

  Over the next few minutes, they freed Charlotte from the splinter. A foggy haze overcame Ben. Numbness blunted everything. He didn’t even feel the heat as Anuhea helped him carry Charlotte’s body away from the inferno.

  Suddenly, he was coughing acrid smoke. When that passed, he desperately gulped fresh air. Chadwick stood beside the car, firing his rifle at something moving between the houses across the street. Ben didn’t know or care what it was. Muffled voices around him sounded panicked.

  Ben climbed into the car, feeling woozy as though he were drunk. Smoke drifted across the road. His eyes still burned. He had no choice though, he had to drive.

  “Go!” Anuhea shouted at him, nudging his shoulder.

  So, he drove.

  92

  Great Falls, VA

  Vanessa awoke to a shrill scream. The sound came from outside, but it was close. Her breath billowed in plumes of condensation as she sat upright and reached out with chilled fingers for her shotgun. Her cold joints protested the sudden movement. As she stood, her achy knee popped loudest of all, a reminder of good old days playing basketball.

  Peering between window blinds, Vanessa searched for the source of the noise. As if on cue, a sharp crack and the muzzle flash of a gun snapped her attention to an intersection just down the street. It was dark and cloudy, but enough moonlight filtered through for Vanessa to watch thick, lazy snowflakes falling.

  Several dark shapes were visible below, moving in the street. The small group left an obvious trail in the snow. A dark mass of infected trudged after them.

  Don’t come over here, she thought, blinking rapidly to rid her vision of the muzzle flash. It flickered in her eye every time she blinked.

  The group ran across the street, away from her building. Several fast zombies broke through the crowd of infected and gave chase. Breath caught in Vanessa’s throat. One of the runners slipped and fell, but quickly scrambled back up and gave chase. Another piercing howl cut through the silent night.

  One of the group members stopped and began firing at the sprinters, while the other two continued to flee into the night. The gunman’s last stand ended a few seconds later when the three sprinters converged on them. Deep, angry shouts of pain split the night air and Vanessa’s heart. Just one more innocent person killed by Black Tide’s virus.

  The mass of infected slowly closed in behind the runners. She would be blocked inside until they left. She clenched her jaw and tried to fight back the tears welling in her eyes.

  Vanessa turned away from the dark scene a moment later and returned to her spot on the couch. Her heart continued to race. She was safe but there was no way she would get back to sleep. Sighing in frustration, she decided to go upstairs and continue searching for a useful clue. Anything that might help her find out who was responsible for ordering the spread of the virus, or whether they had a vaccine.

  Vanessa began the climb to the fifth floor, with a bag of chips from the vending machine in her hand. When she arrived on the landing, her thighs were burning, and she was breathing heavily. She wiped away the sheen of sweat from her forehead and went around to the windows, closing any blinds that remained open. Then she clicked on her flashlight and began to search.

  Much to her surprise, she found Steve’s desk. It would have been easy to overlook. Each cubicle looked almost identical to the next. What caught her eye was a photo of Steve and a young woman, a girlfriend or fiancé perhaps. They stood in front of the castle at Disney World in Orlando, looking happy and carefree.

  Had the woman survived the infection? Was she out there somewhere hoping to hear from Steve?

  A pang of sadness tugged at Vanessa’s heart. She felt so alone.

  Vanessa crumpled into the chair at Steve’s desk and wept. She mourned for her parents who lived overseas, for her students and friends at work, for making a stupid mistake that got Steve killed, and for not being able to help April. She even cried for people she didn’t know. Even if the infected were all killed or died off on their own, life would never go back to the way it was.

  Vanessa lifted her head from the desktop and dabbed her eyes with the cuff of her jacket. She had no idea how long she’d been crying. It took her a few minutes to regain control and refocus her attention. She picked up the picture frame and took out the photo of Steve and the mystery woman. It would be a reminder of her purpose. Steve had risked everything by reaching out to Eyes of Truth. She needed the same strength now. She folded the photo and slipped it into a pocket in her jacket.

  Getting back to work, Vanessa opened the first desk drawer. It revealed hanging file folders. She pulled a handful out and quickly leafed through them. For the most part they seemed like wasteful paperwork. Some printed pay stubs, old memos, and correspondence from other labs and researchers. It appeared to be useless. Information about the virus or any other sensitive documents would likely be on the computers.

  Or maybe…

&
nbsp; Vanessa’s head popped up and surveyed the room like a submarine periscope. When she spotted the manager’s office she stood with excitement building in her chest. She tried to temper it, but a smile spread across her lips. During her time working for Eyes of Truth, she had learned that even government agencies such as the CIA often kept hard copies of highly sensitive material.

  If it worked for the CIA, a government contractor like Black Tide would surely have printed something about Necrose-7A. Wouldn’t they have given their employees procedures for avoiding infection? Vanessa chewed the inside of her cheek as she opened the office door.

  The office had belonged to a Dr. Angelina Bautista. Vanessa sat at her desk and saw a family photo. Dr. Bautista was a short woman with good looks and beautiful jet-black hair. She looked normal; responsible even. How had she been lured into supporting a company like Black Tide?

  The air in the room still carried the faint scent of flowers. Colorful pictures hung on the walls. Dr. Bautista enjoyed a bright and cheerful work environment. Vanessa wondered where the good doctor was now.

  She sneered at her dark thoughts about what had likely transpired until she noticed a tiny fridge underneath a shelf behind the desk. Her eyes widened, and she opened it hoping for something glorious. Inside were several cans of Coke and bottled tea.

  Not bad, she thought.

  Vanessa soon found what she was looking for in one of the bottom cupboards. It was a metallic, gray safe. Her stomach sank. It looked impossible to break into. The safe had a silver knob on the front for entering a combination. Thankfully, it didn’t appear to have any electronic features but the number of combinations to open the safe would take a lifetime to figure out.

  Her one hope was that like most people, Dr. Bautista might have written the code down somewhere. These office types always had it written down; security protocols be damned. She wouldn’t be surprised to find the doctor’s employee login and email password nearby. Vanessa had often exploited this common failure to gather information for Eyes of Truth.

  She began to root through the woman’s desk looking for a piece of paper with the combination. The top drawer yielded nothing more interesting than a pack of gum. She unwrapped a minty stick, folded it and popped it into her mouth. It helped to clear away some of the bad breath she had from not brushing her teeth before falling asleep that night. It took a while, but she finally found the code on a worn and faded sticky note underneath the desk calendar.

  Approaching the safe with the combination in hand was like approaching a mound of presents on Christmas morning. The knob spun easily. Vanessa’s breath caught in her throat again when the lock clicked, and she could turn the handle. She licked her lips nervously and pulled it open.

  Inside the safe were three brown envelopes bulging with paperwork. They were marked as financial, research and top secret. Vanessa dove into the top-secret envelope first.

  Much to her surprise, she found financial reports, research proposals, progress reports, and test results for various programs. When she finally came to the Necrose files, Vanessa gasped in surprise and relief. It didn’t take long to realize that some of these documents had not been in the data Steve provided to Eyes of Truth. That in and of itself wasn’t a surprise. The content was.

  Vanessa sat in the worn leather chair and leaned back. She even propped her feet on the desk. The information itself was virtually useless now, since there was no functioning government that she knew about and no one to report it to. The original data dump had caught on with the media and garnered a lot of attention before the news stations stopped broadcasting, the local newspapers had lost their employees to the virus, and the electricity had cut out. With no electricity and thus no internet, she couldn’t post it online. At best she could hold on to it in the hope of someday passing on the knowledge for the sake of human history. If anyone survived.

  Falling back on the promise she’d made to herself before, Vanessa focused on what she could do to make sure Black Tide went down for the count. All she could think of was that she needed to visit their headquarters in Colorado. A daunting task given the circumstances. Her palms grew damp with sweat.

  The prospect of potentially facing the company leadership enticed Vanessa.

  93

  Ben woke up in an unfamiliar bed. He bolted upright and stared around the empty room, breathing heavily. Puffs of air were visible in the dull light of the break of dawn.

  Fuck, it’s cold, he thought.

  Swinging his feet out from under the covers, Ben sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his eyes. His head throbbed, and his throat was scratchy. He slipped on his shoes and began to lace them up. Tilting his head to the side, he wondered when he’d taken his shoes off to begin with.

  The last thing he remembered clearly was freeing Charlotte’s body from the car inside the burning garage. After that, it was all a blur. Nothing about the room he was in came to mind.

  At the thought of Charlotte, Ben’s eyes stung. It seemed he’d run out of tears though. Hollowness lingered in his gut, but not from hunger. He stood up slowly and stretched. Feeling chilled, he picked up his jacket from the floor and pulled a blanket off the bed to wrap around his shoulders.

  Ben stepped out of the room and emerged at the end of a hallway, eager to find the bathroom and take a leak. He slipped quietly down the hall to an open door on his left. The blanket was quickly balled up and set on the counter while his cold hands fumbled with his jeans.

  The toilet still had water, a luxury these days. Ben didn’t flush though in case someone had more serious business to attend to. He was able to wet his hands in the sink. After soaping up, he turned it back on to rinse the suds and even had enough pressure to splash a few handfuls icy water on his face.

  A rough day lay ahead of him. All of them. They had lost their home, their refuge, and their friend. It felt like a bad rerun of Kona’s airport when things had started to look promising before going to shit. Flames, death and destruction had brought it all crumbling down there too.

  In a way, Ben knew they had fared well against the attack. The traps gave them a small amount of warning and their car wall kept the infected out until the end. In fact, given that Mark was something of a spy they were lucky he hadn’t killed anyone in their sleep. What had he hoped to gain by taking Oliver?

  Nick’s words came back to him. It had been about revenge. Oliver was a way to lure them out and it had almost worked.

  They might have escaped nearly unscathed if only Ben had moved faster in the garage. Or if his friends had been able to move the vehicles out earlier. He had watched the garage door while they loaded up. Why hadn’t he just gotten into the car?

  The enemy had been smart though. Flanking the house, and keeping constant pressure on those inside to pin them down. Ben’s frown deepened the more he thought about it. Guilt tore at his heart.

  The house was quiet. He couldn’t tell what time it was, but it was early. He slowly opened the door and was grateful it didn’t creak. Spotting a staircase, he padded downstairs.

  In the living room, he saw Chadwick sitting on the couch, staring out at the street. He cradled an AR-15 in his arms and sat with a blanket across his legs. Chadwick heard Ben approaching and stood up, looking startled. When he realized who it was, he relaxed. Chadwick’s gaze met Ben’s with sad eyes.

  Ben just gave him a quick nod and turned away. His raw nerves couldn’t handle a conversation yet. He walked around to inspect the house and to try to get his bearings. Much to his dismay, the last part of the previous night eluded his memory.

  The house was neat and surprisingly clean as if the owners had gone over it before leaving for the apocalypse. His shoes squeaked softly on the tiled floor of the kitchen, which didn’t smell so nice. A moldy loaf of bread sat on top of the microwave on the corner of the counter. The window sill above the sink featured a lemon whose top half had succumbed to mold and had collapsed in on itself. The homeowners had a bird feeder outside the window where a sparrow lo
oked up from its meal, cocked its head at Ben and flew away.

  With only a sliver of interest, Ben continued his search. His stomach growled so he checked the pantry. The family had stocked up on canned and packaged goods, all of which they could use. He found and opened a jar of peanut butter, scooping out a bite with his fingers. His mood didn’t improve when he realized it was crunchy peanut butter, but he didn’t care enough to stop eating it.

  At the far end of the kitchen, near the back door was a small laundry room. Again, he noticed just how clean and orderly this family had kept their house. The room had a door on the other side that probably led to the garage, so he opened it to see.

  The sight of the two vehicles made him freeze in place. Their getaway car sat next to the truck they’d been using to haul building material from the home improvement store. The last time he’d seen it, the truck had been parked in the neighbor’s garage.

  When he registered the reek of death that permeated the air in the garage, he gagged and covered his face with a handful of the blanket. Ben didn’t want to open the garage door in case any survivors of the attack were hunting for them, but he went to open the windows at the back of the garage. He turned around and saw the car’s front end, dented and marred by the dark zombie blood that was streaked all over. Blood splatter covered the windshield and side windows too.

  Ben took a tentative step towards the truck to inspect the bed. Inside, wrapped in a blanket, lay a body.

  Charlotte.

  Ben felt the air leave his lungs as though he’d been punched. Sinking to the cold concrete floor, he sat over his jar of peanut butter and let his emotions take over. It wasn’t pretty.

  Nothing would have felt better at that moment than to run outside and brain some zombies. Or hunt down the few remaining survivors of the attack. Those guys hadn’t even bothered to find out why Ben had killed their friends. It probably never occurred to them that their side was in the wrong. Ben had no real choice. Those men at the pharmacy had to die. Ben felt a smug satisfaction that their leader had died too. Nick had chosen to bring the fight and he’d lost big time. It did little to soothe Ben’s pain, but it was something.