This Would Be Paradise (Book 2)

by N. D. Iverson

  His lips formed a hard line, but he stopped the truck. Infected were roaming all over this road. We must have intercepted them on their way to the golf range. I hit the button and my window rolled down. I leaned out so I was sitting on the edge, my gun and elbows resting on the roof. I let out a few rounds, taking out the closest ones. Having a flat surface to prop the gun on helped with my aim and controlled the recoil.

  One of the infected I shot flew back so hard, its feet lifted off the ground. This gun definitely had some power. Roy had rolled down his own window too and was shooting at the ones on his side. His aim wasn’t horrible, but he was wasting half the bullets he fired. Once everything was still and quiet around us, I crawled back into the cabin.

  “Shit. Tim’s gone,” Roy muttered.

  “Whatever, we’ll catch up.” I motioned for him to go.

  Dead infected lined the street from Tim’s drive-by shooting, so we followed the fallen. We took a right, seeing that Karla had stopped the truck and Tim was shooting every shambling body he could spot. The majority of the infected were grouped together, as if travelling in a pack. Roy pulled up a few meters away and jumped out to help. I propped myself out the window and on the roof again, liking the stability of the position.

  My finger tired from continuously pulling the trigger, but the AR-15 was easier to control than the M4 by a wide berth. I stopped counting the downed infected after ten. This gun was killer, in all sense of the word, and I’d become infinitely more dangerous with it. It was kind of intoxicating.

  My ears rang with the echoes of automatic gunfire long after we’d stopped shooting. Tim looked back at us.

  “All right, let’s head back,” he yelled across the distance.

  I stuffed myself back into the cabin. The barrel was hot to the touch, so I set the rifle down—muzzle first of course, even though I knew I’d used all thirty rounds. We drove the rest of the way in silence until we were parked back in the lot behind the apartment.

  “That was some good shooting,” Roy said.

  “Thanks,” I said, shrugging it off.

  “Were you ever a team captain or anything?” Roy asked out of the blue.

  I knocked my head back. “Ah, no?”

  He’d thrown me for a loop with his random question.

  “You just seem good at taking the lead, that’s all.”

  He exited the vehicle without another word, leaving me to think about what he’d said. I’d never seen myself as a leader, especially with John taking the forefront of our rag-tag group.

  When I got back inside the building, I handed the cooled rifle back to Tim and he returned it to the guarded storage room.

  “After we get something to eat, Karla and I will go back to road patrol to make sure there aren’t any more hordes in the distance,” Tim said. “Bernice, I need you to take roof duty, and José, you need to keep a keen eye on the street for packs of sick ones.”

  José nodded. “Will do.”

  Bernice was in her forties, and she was very good with the sniper rifle. She grabbed the weapon from the lockup and headed up the stairs.

  Everyone broke apart like football players from a team huddle. Tim stopped long enough to pull me aside.

  “You did pretty good out there. Can I trust you to keep an eye out while I’m gone?”

  “What about Roy?”

  Tim’s jaw shifted. “Roy’s a nice guy, but he’s not really made for leadership.”

  “And I am?” I asked, a shade shocked.

  “You’re getting there.” He walked away, leaving me with my mouth hanging open.

  When he came back, I’d have to tell him to stop making me do stuff without asking first; it was annoying. The chains of responsibility weighed on me, and I wouldn’t feel right about leaving today while the others were gone. I balled my hand into a fist, wanting to punch a wall. I always wondered why people did that; frustration was the answer. Tim had no right; I should leave to spite him. But the anxious faces of the others stopped me and my shoulders slumped.

  “What took so long?” Chloe demanded as she walked up to me, arms crossed.

  I turned to her, reining in my anger. “Fieldtrip.”

  “Are we gonna stay again?” she asked.

  “Looks like it. You okay with that?”

  “If we have to. I kinda like it here. But we have to find Ethan though.”

  I placed my hand on her head and decided to change the subject. “So did Mac say what was for supper?”

  “Dunno. Me and Amanda were playin’ cat’s cradle. I’m not very good at it.”

  “Well keep at it. I’m going to find Mac.”

  I was glad—and kind of relieved—that Chloe had someone to keep her entertained besides me. I hadn’t been very good company in the last while.

  I set off down the hall, searching for Mac. I needed someone to vent to and Roy probably wouldn’t appreciate what Tim had said. Plus, I liked Mac; he was easy to get along with. I found him in the apartment they used as the kitchen.

  I sniffed the air. “Smells good.”

  The aroma was a welcome reprieve from the burning stench from earlier.

  “It’s meatloaf surprise.” He waved at the oven like a magician’s assistant.

  “Where’d you get the meat from?” I asked suspiciously.

  A grin spread across his face. “That’s the surprise!”

  He better be joking.

  My thoughts must have shown on my face, because he laughed. “I’m just kidding. It’s not really meatloaf. It’s more like a casserole. Karla found a deer wandering around two days ago.”

  “Deer? In a casserole?” I couldn’t hide my skepticism.

  “Just you wait.” He winked. “So what brings you to my kitchen?”

  I sat down on the stool by the breakfast bar facing Mac.

  “Tim volunteered me to watch the apartment building.”

  Mac looked serious for a second. “Never really liked him. Quiet military guys scare me. They should be loud and banging their fists on their chest.”

  He mimed being a gorilla and I chuckled.

  “He is sneaky,” I admitted.

  “Ah, you see it too. He kind of has a roundabout way of making you feel like it’s your duty to stay here.”

  “Exactly. He said Roy wasn’t really made to be a leader.”

  I picked up a bottle with masking tape around it. The label read, “Secret Ingredient.” I shook it and it sounded like sand rattling around.

  “I made my own spice concoction,” Mac said proudly. “I was a chef before this all happened. You can take the fancy kitchen from the chef but not the chef from the kitchen.” He took the bottle from me as if afraid I’d drop it. “And Roy’s been through a lot. I don’t blame him for not being the best leader.”

  My ears perked up at that. Maybe Mac could finally tell me the story.

  “Is it because of what happened to his wife and daughter?” I asked.

  Mac’s mouth fell open. “He told you about them?”

  “No, but it wasn’t hard to put together. Tell me.”

  Mac sighed. “I’m a terrible gossip. He told you about the attack, right?”

  I nodded, remembering Roy’s tale from when we first arrived here.

  “Well, his youngest daughter was shot dead during the attack. We had to watch him carry her outside and bury her. He wouldn’t let anyone help. He dug her grave in the empty lot beside this building. He visits her every morning.” Pain laced Mac’s words.

  I could only imagine how hard that would have been for him. Poor Roy. His poor little girl.

  “And his wife?” I probed.

  “She was taken.” Mac’s words hung in the air.

  “By the gang?”

  “Yeah. They took her and one other guy that night.” Mac looked around the apartment as if checking for eavesdroppers. “I think they took her for a reason.”

  Dread settled in my stomach. Mac had said the gang hadn’t only taken women, but it was still suspicious. A shi
ver trickled down my spine like melting ice as I was reminded of when I’d gotten locked up in the police station. The only woman, separated from the others.

  I leaned in as much as I could without falling off of the stool. “What do you mean?”

  “The guy they took had been bitten numerous times by sick ones. He was immune as you could get. Roy’s wife, Irene, once told me she survived an attack.”

  I almost fell off the stool. There were others like me? My hand itched to move to my side where the infected had scratched me, but I forced it to remain still. Now I’d have to hide the scratches for a different reason. What would the kidnappers want with immune people? They were just thugs; they couldn’t do anything about the infection. The ice in my spine returned.

  “What do you think they need them for?” I asked, keeping my voice steady.

  “Who knows? It’s just a theory, anyway, to make sense of a senseless situation.”

  “Did anyone look for them afterward?”

  “Roy threw himself into it, but eventually put that on hold because he still has one daughter to keep it together for. Tim also canvassed around, but he didn’t find any leads.”

  “How’s dinner coming along?”

  We jumped at the sudden intrusion. It was Elaine, who narrowed her eyes at us. She walked over and held out her hand.

  “Roy asked me to bring this to you.” In her hand was a tensor bandage for my elbow.

  I took it from her. “Thank you.”

  Elaine looked pointedly at my arm. “Let me see your elbow first.”

  I maneuvered so she could examine it. She gripped my wrist and forearm firmly and bent the sore joint. At least it wasn’t swollen. I winced when she fully extended it.

  “You may have a cracked bone, but I can’t tell for sure without an x-ray. Make sure you wear this brace and don’t hyperextend it. I have some anti-inflammatories in my office to help with the pain and stiffness. Come and grab some later.”

  “Thanks again,” I said as I slipped on the tight bandage.

  The pressure already seemed to help with the pain.

  “You’re welcome and don’t forget,” she said. “It looks like we could use you at a hundred percent.”

  Whatever she meant by that. It looked like Tim wasn’t the only one trying to recruit me.

  “Supper should be ready in twenty minutes,” Mac stated, not to be left out.

  “Good. people are getting hungry.” Elaine turned on her heels and walked out.

  Mac rolled his eyes at me, and I grinned. I liked this guy.

  Dinner had actually taken closer to forty minutes for Mac to finish. He had to add just the right amount of seasonings at just the right time. I told him no one really cared about how much dill he used, they would inhale his food either way, and he looked as if I’d slapped him with his own spatula.

  True to his word, the casserole was delicious, and I was a true believer. After supper, Chloe and I played charades against Roy and Amanda. We all face palmed when Roy failed at mimicking a baby. He just rolled on the ground and Amanda had no idea what the hell he was doing. We eventually gained an audience as people laughed at the things we were doing and added new ideas to the hat. It was kind of fun.

  Our audience chimed in with guesses at what Roy was doing. Currently, he was trying to mime Harry Potter to Amanda and was pointing to his forehead and then jerking his hand forward like he was using a fly swatter. Amanda sat there with a confused look on her face while people yelled in the background.

  “Headache? Tylenol?”

  “Teacher?”

  “Psychic?”

  At least the last one was closer.

  The timer buzzed and he threw his hands in the air. “Harry Potter!”

  Amanda shook her head. “Dad, that was terrible.”

  Chloe giggled from her spot on the couch beside me and even I had to laugh. He was terrible at this.

  “All right, I’m done.” Roy huffed and plopped down on one of the chairs.

  At this point, everyone had returned, except for Tim. Karla clutched her walkie-talkie while she sat in the corner. Bernice had left her post on the roof. It was too dark out for her eyes to see, even with a lantern. José had joined us as well, but his eyes always drifted back to the front hallway. Mac had formed his own team with one of the older ladies and taken center stage. He was miming a pirate, but the lady didn’t get it.

  I wondered why Tim hadn’t returned. All Karla had said was that he’d told her to get some rest and that he’d radio her if he needed her. But despite her half-closed eyelids, she hadn’t called it a night. I had a feeling Tim and Karla were together, even though when they were beside each other, they never hinted at any romantic attachment. Tim was always anywhere but here, except in brief moments. Not the most involved leader.

  Roy got up from his spot. “Okay guys, time to turn in.”

  His announcement was met with a chorus of boos from the audience, but everyone dispersed, migrating to their rooms. I looked at the clock: just past nine p.m. Today had been tiring; I was wiped and secretly grateful for the early bedtime. I ushered Chloe upstairs after she said her goodnights to Amanda and Roy. In less than twenty minutes, the apartment building went from lively to quieter than a church mass.

  I was about ready to fall asleep when the faintest light crossed over the semi-boarded-up window in my room. I walked over and looked out. On the ground, directly below my third-floor window, was Tim and two guys I didn’t recognize. They were all holding flashlights, the bright LED kind. They were angrily discussing something, and one of the men handed Tim a large, overstuffed bag. Once he took it, Tim pointed straight to my window.

  Chapter 8

  I ducked to the side, hoping they hadn’t seen me. My heart raced like it wanted out of my chest. I peeked back out when the flashlight beam no longer shone in the window. The two men had weapons on their belts, which I’d failed to notice at first glance. They broke apart and the strangers headed for the front door.

  I swallowed. This was bad news. But what the hell do I do?

  I quietly shut the bedroom door where Chloe was sleeping and decided to find Roy, fear flooding my system. I reached the apartment door as a gunshot blasted downstairs and someone screamed. I threw the front door open and found others sticking their heads out in the hallway.

  “Get back in your rooms and lock the door!” I commanded.

  One by one, the doors closed and the heads disappeared. Heavy footfalls came up the stairs and one of the strangers hit the landing fast. His stare whipped down the hallway, his eyes locking with mine. Panicking, I slammed the door shut and flipped the deadbolt. I backed up a few feet when the door handle twisted. The door vibrated with a loud bang as he rammed against it.

  “What is that?” Chloe asked, her eyes wide.

  “Get back in your room and hide!” I pointed and she scurried back inside her bedroom.

  I retreated farther as the banging intensified. With one last hit, the door flew open, landing flat on the scuffed floor. The hinges and locks had been forced out of the wall, the aged wood unable to withstand the barrage. The intruder fell with the door but was already getting up. He looked up at me, no expression on his face, just determination. Without a word, he started towards me. I turned and ran to the sofa bed, the intruder on my heels.

  I needed something to use as a weapon and my gun was stashed away in my backpack. Fucking think of something!

  I spotted the knitting paraphernalia in the bag on the floor and dashed over the sofa bed. I grabbed one of the metallic needles sticking out, then rolled to the other side of the bed, but realized I’d trapped myself. The man stood on the other side of the pullout couch, mirroring my movements as I moved from side to side like a cornered animal. He knew that I knew I had nowhere to go. He placed a boot on the bed and climbed up. I tried to run around the end of the bed, but he lunged for me.

  We hit the wall and fell to the floor, him half landing on top of me. My whole side exploded in pain fro
m the impact, and I yelled out. He grunted as if in pain, which confused me, since I was the one who’d taken the brunt of the tackle. I struggled with everything I had but eventually registered that he was slowly slipping off me. He lifted his head, his face pale, and then he looked down. I followed his gaze. The knitting needle was sticking out of his chest.

  Hot blood poured from the wound and trickled down my arm. He wheezed, and with a final shove, I got him off me. He rolled onto his back, the needle protruding from his chest. I shuffled back from him just in case. His hands were shaking pointlessly beside the knitting needle; he must have been in shock. His breathing was labored and he spewed blood with each exhale. I probably hit a lung.

  He’d run headlong into the sharp end of the weapon, taking himself out. That could have been me had I been holding the needle the other way.

  I could be the one dying right now. My veins froze with liquid nitrogen at the thought.

  My attention flew to the busted door when it groaned from added weight. The other stranger was standing on it. He took in the scene with a passive face, his eyes landing on his fallen comrade and my retreating form. Now what do I do?

  “Bailey, are you okay?” The bedroom door inched open and my heart leaped into my throat.

  The man watched Chloe appear in the bedroom doorway, and I screamed as loud as I could, getting to my feet, “RUN!”

  The man sprinted toward the bedroom as the door slammed shut. In my fear-addled state, I managed to rip the needle from the chest of the man on the floor. He groaned and blood gushed from the wound, the needle no longer clogging the hole. I ran for the other man; my only concern was to stop him from getting to Chloe.

  I tackled him with all the force I could create, swiping at his face with the bloody needle. He was far stronger than I was and shoved me back, flinging me to the small kitchen floor. I slid back until my head connected with a hard corner. Dots of light and blackness coated my vision.

  He stepped toward me, then must have thought differently, because he went back to the bedroom door. I tried to call out but my voice wasn’t working. My consciousness wavered, darkness cascading over my eyes. The last thing I heard was a scream before I drowned in blackness.