This Would Be Paradise (Book 2)

by N. D. Iverson

  “How about we break into the house and use their bathroom?” I suggested, pointing to the shack-like house. I was sure they wouldn’t mind. It wasn’t like the property value could fall any lower.

  “How?” Roy asked. “Not like we have time to pick a lock.”

  “Break the window. We don’t need the place intact. We just need to get in and out.”

  “Okay, but first, you and I will have to take out the closest sick ones.”

  I had Chloe hand me the duffle bag Mac had given us.

  “Looks like you’ll be using your favorite,” I said and passed Roy the M4.

  The intimidating weapon was out of place in the small car. I let out a small giggle at the ridiculousness of the situation—me, handing out giant guns like I was sharing Twizzlers.

  Roy raised an eyebrow.

  “Don’t mind her. She does that sometimes,” Chloe chimed in from the backseat.

  Brat.

  I looked back at the girls. “You stay put until we say it’s clear, got it?”

  They nodded. I took a deep breath and got out of the car with my axe and old friend, the Beretta.

  Chapter 17

  I broke the ice with the first shot, aiming for the infected two houses away. It flew onto its side and stayed down. Once I’d thinned out the incoming infected, I switched to my axe to conserve bullets. To make it easier, I swiped the axe around the legs of the infected and tripped them, sending them flying to the ground on their back. Then all it took was one hefty whack to their skulls, and they stopped moving. We soon took out all of the closest infected, though I’d mostly done all the work. Roy said he didn’t want to waste the bullets with his crappy aim.

  We crept up to the porch and peered through the front window. I couldn’t see any movement behind the sheer curtains, so Roy used the butt of his M4 to smash the glass. Before we went inside, he used his gun to clear the jagged shards from the window frame.

  An infected in a tattered, yellow cardigan stumbled from between the two houses. Roy hastily pointed his automatic rifle toward the infected not bothering to take the time to properly aim. Bullet holes soon adorned the paneling of the house we were breaking into. On the bright side, he at least hit the zombie version of Mr. Rogers. It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood!

  I lifted a leg over the windowsill and dropped inside the house. The smell of rot hit my nose, and I cringed, not the least bit enthused about what we would find.

  “Ugh,” Roy groaned and lifted the neck of his shirt over his nose.

  We started to search the house. The whole place couldn’t have been more than nine hundred square feet. We walked through the small living room and kitchen area to get to the stairs that led up to the next level. Two bedrooms occupied the second floor, with a bathroom between them—all clear of infected. On my way back to the front of the house, I spotted a door in the kitchen, which I assumed led to a basement, so I went over to investigate.

  The smell got stronger the closer I got to the paint-chipped door. Why was it always the basement? I could see a tuff of fur sticking out from under the door and decided against opening the door this time. I rattled the handle to make sure it was locked. Grabbing a chair from the dining table, I wedged it under the handle to be on the safe side. Last thing we needed was a rabid dog chasing after us.

  “Something down there?” Roy asked, appearing right behind me. He moved like he weighed nothing at all.

  “Something dead, but this should be fine for now.”

  We headed back outside into the fresh air. More infected had gathered. I could just picture them as a bunch of nosy neighbors drawn outside by some kind of domestic drama playing out on the front lawn.

  Roy rushed to the car.

  “You take Chloe inside while I take out these ones,” I shouted at him.

  He gathered Chloe from the car, grabbing her hand, and ran back to the house. As he placed her through the broken window, I heard her say, “Eww, what’s that smell?”

  It was weird, but I’d almost missed my Beretta like it was a person; I much preferred the heavier, but well-balanced weapon. The infected I was aiming at a few yards away turned just as I pulled the trigger, messing up my aim and the bullet ripped off its upper lip. The infected turned back to me, its face now set in a permanent scowl.

  My next shot hit home, and it dropped to the ground next to the rest of its face. I spun in a circle, seeing that even more sick ones had come out from their hiding places like a swarm of wasps out of their nest.

  I shot until the slide of the gun popped back, but I’d hardly made a dent in the new wave of infected. Why were there so many of them? Was it because we were technically in New Orleans?

  “Shit!”

  Roy lifted Chloe out of the window, their bathroom break over. We all met back at the car, and I shoved Chloe in. I grabbed the AR-15 from the bag, but the crowd was still too big.

  “We need to get moving. I hope you didn’t have to use the bathroom too, because it’s too late,” Roy said.

  “We’ll never get through them with just the car. They’ll bog us down,” I said.

  “Time to use these then.” Roy lifted his rifle.

  Leaving the driver’s door open, I used the roof of the Mazda to steady the AR-15; I was still too green to use the M4. Together, we shot as many as we could, but the incoming infected were relentless.

  “I’m out!” Roy yelled first. No surprise there, since he never let go of the trigger.

  I finished off my magazine and got back into the driver’s seat. Roy joined me inside the car, taking the empty rifle from me. I hit the gas. The remaining bodies drew closer, and I had to slow to maneuver around them. More and more were pouring onto the street, clogging our escape route.

  “Hold on,” I said and gently eased the car over the curb.

  The yards and driveways must have been sloped, because the infected were somehow herded toward the road. The front lawns were less populated. Taking advantage of this, I sped up. The back tires spat up chunks of grass and dirt, leaving the destruction behind us.

  “Look out!” Roy yelled.

  I yanked the steering wheel, narrowly avoiding a family of plastic deer lawn ornaments. Not that I was concerned about hitting fake Bambi, but they could have damaged the car. The Mazda bounced up and down as my over-steering landed us back on the crowded road. A wall of bodies hit the front end, but I pushed on. The infected body of an old woman flopped over the hood and slowly rolled off. At least it was a skinny grandma.

  I ran over a limb or two—judging by the crunching sound—and then the car gave a single jerk forward and stopped. I hit the gas and the wheels spun, but the car must have bottomed out on a stack of infected. The Mazda had practically no clearance; even the curb I’d tackled had almost been too high. I looked at Roy, unsure how to get us going again, especially since we were in the middle of an infestation.

  “Everybody start rocking,” Roy said.

  Even with the four of us rocking forward and backward, we hardly made the car move. I tried to swallow, but panic tightened my throat.

  So many bodies surrounded us that the inside of the car went dark. Banging hands scraped at the windows and doors. I had no idea how much pressure a side window could take before it shattered, but I was sure we were about to find out.

  The sound of loud gunfire seeped into the vehicle. We all stared at each other, confused. Shot by shot, light started to infuse the cabin of the car, like holes being poked into a blind, as the infected dropped outside.

  “What the hell…?” Roy trailed off.

  Once enough bodies had hit the ground, I finally saw who our savior was—saviors, actually. All with their own automatic guns. Were they the mercenaries? Judging from his worried expression, Roy was probably thinking the same thing.

  “We need to refill these magazines!” I said.

  We fumbled for the ammo, our shaking hands making it hard to put the bullets in properly.

  “Shit, shit, shit, shit,” Roy
muttered as he dropped a handful of bullets onto the car floor.

  “They’re comin’ over here!” Chloe screamed.

  Two men were heading toward us. The rest were picking off the wandering infected. I couldn’t even open the door because there were so many bodies piled up outside like they were protesting something, and the vehicle was suspended in limbo. We were trapped.

  Chapter 18

  As the two men drew closer, my mind went blank. I had no idea what to do. I hit the gas again, but the car stayed in place. One guy shouldered his weapon and put his hands up in a “we mean you no harm” gesture. Roy and I exchanged a look.

  “You think he’s one of the mercenaries?”

  My mouth was dry, making it hard to answer. “I don’t know. It’s not like they have a uniform.”

  The two I’d dealt with back at the apartment hadn’t dressed or looked similar. The guy got close enough to drag away a couple bodies from the driver side door, hauling them by their legs. I jammed a full magazine into the Berretta as the man approached my window.

  He reached for the door handle, and I pointed the gun at him. He held his hands up then motioned for me to come out.

  “I got your back,” Roy said, his M4 in his lap.

  I wanted to tell him that his words were less than comforting, but I decided against it. Instead of opening the door, I rolled down the window, with the gun still pointed at the man.

  “Dere, dere, dawlin’,” the man said in a heavy Cajun accent. “We ain’t here ta harm.”

  I couldn’t tell whether I believed him. Hell, I couldn’t tell if I’d heard him right. I was having a hard time understanding his accent. He must’ve been in his thirties, and he looked like he was permanently tanned under his tank top, which showcased his slim, but muscled physique. Brown stubble outlined his face and he had the widest grin I’d ever seen.

  “Now put down ta gun, you.” He set his own arms down. His shouldered rifle was jostled, reminding me that he could still shoot us in a matter of seconds.

  “I think I’ll keep it here for now,” I replied. “Who are you?”

  The man took a deep breath. “We’re from da Hargrove place. A scoutin’ group lookin’ for other survivors and supplies.”

  I tensed. If they thought they could rob us, they had another thing coming.

  “Prove it,” I demanded.

  His eyes narrowed. “Not sure how ta do dat without takin’ ya back. How about ya follow us?”

  He could be leading us into a trap.

  “I have a better idea. How about you follow us,” I countered.

  We had the map from Ethan leading us to Hargrove. If these guys were legit, then everything would be okay when we arrived. If they weren’t, then we’d have backup. The man’s eyebrows shot up, and his grin widened.

  “If dat what it takes, cher. We just around da corner.” He jerked his head toward the end of the street.

  “After you then.”

  The grin never left his face as he nodded and headed toward his ride. The others followed him, sparing us a couple glances.

  “Oh my God.” Roy let out a huge breath.

  I rolled up the window, my fingers trembling. I stuck hands in my lap, my fingers resting on the Beretta until the adrenaline left my system. The others didn’t need to see me shaking.

  “They didn’t do anythin’. That’s good, right?” Chloe asked.

  “All I know is that once we get the car unstuck, we don’t get out again until we hit Hargrove,” I said. “Come on, Roy. Let’s get this over with.”

  We got out and cleared the pile of bodies from underneath the car. I pulled on a leg and it came off, the hipbone jutting out of the socket. I grimaced and flung the appendage away from me. I got back inside the car while Roy stayed outside and pushed. Once the car cleared the biggest hump, we were finally able to move again. I steered around the mass of bodies, stopping just long enough for Roy to get in. I didn’t want to risk stopping and getting stuck again. These guys must have been well stocked with bullets to have taken out this many infected.

  We rounded the street corner, the other men waiting in their old Suburban ready to follow. Once we passed them, they pulled out from the side of the road, keeping a few car lengths behind us. Chloe and Amanda peered out the back window and waved at them. The Cajun man waved back.

  “Sit down, you two,” Roy commanded.

  “How far do you think we are?” I looked at the rearview mirror. I was getting cold feet. Maybe leading them to Hargrove wasn’t such a good idea.

  After scanning the map, Roy answered, “I’m no expert, but I’d say maybe an hour?”

  After another turn, we found the main road we needed, and then all we had to worry about was dodging infected. I kept hoping the guys behind us would accidentally hit one and wreck their truck so they couldn’t follow us.

  They hadn’t tried anything. They kept up the pace and maintained the same distance behind us the entire time.

  “I think we’re here.” Roy’s words brought me out of my thoughts. It turned out Roy’s timeframe of an hour was pretty accurate.

  I slowed as we turned onto a long paved driveway and approached a giant gate. The entire neighborhood was surrounded with tall brick walls that had to be over twelve feet high with added barbed wire on top. We passed a worn wooden sign that read, Hargrove Retirement Community. This was a senior’s village after all, but I doubted the barbed wire had been there before the outbreak. I could see the peaks of houses beyond the brick fence and the tops of leafy trees.

  “Smart. Those brick walls look sturdy,” Roy muttered.

  The metal gate at the front was solid, except for a thin slot cut into the middle. I stopped the car and a pair of eyes peered out at us.

  The truck stopped behind us, and the Cajun man yelled from his window, “Bruce, open da damn gate, you!”

  The groaning of metal on metal answered the Cajun man’s call. Flecks of rust rained down from the hinges like autumn leaves from a tree. The large door swung inward, leaving an opening big enough for vehicles to pass through. I didn’t realize how long I’d been staring at the open gate until Roy cleared his throat.

  “We going in?”

  I shook myself out of my trance and drove through slowly. We passed by two men holding the gate and some others just standing around. A woman with brown hair and an eyebrow piercing stood in my way, holding her hand up, indicating she wanted me to stop. Once I did, I looked around.

  Hargrove appeared about the size of a large, round cul-de-sac. All of the houses were single-level condos with a one-car parking pad out front. Every building looked similar, except for the obvious variations in colors to make the place look less generic. People were on the street, bustling around. It looked like a commune. The minute anyone offered us Kool-Aid, I’d hightail it out of here.

  “It seems like a real community,” Roy commented.

  The guard closed the creaking gate behind us. On the inside of the brick walls, small watchtowers had been erected on either side of the gate with ladders leading up to the platforms. At least they had a decent lookout. As far as I could tell, only the guards who had opened the gate carried weapons.

  “Well, shall we?” I said as I turned off the engine and got out, the others following.

  “Welcome to Hargrove!” the woman with the eyebrow piercing said, acting like Hargrove’s version of a Walmart greeter. She flashed us a warm smile. “Wyatt will be here soon to give you an official welcome. I just need—”

  Chloe squealed and then screamed a few decibels more than necessary, “Ethan!”

  Ethan was coming out of a house a few yards from us, along with a couple other people. He stalled in his purposeful strides, a look of utter bewilderment plastered across his face, but then he snapped out of it and threw down the armful of linens he was carrying. Chloe and Ethan ran to each other, and he scooped up her small form. Chloe’s legs flailed behind her as she hugged him with all her might, still squealing.

  I stoo
d frozen beside Roy, and for the briefest moment, I felt like an outsider.

  “Oh my God! Bailey!” a familiar voice yelled.

  I whipped my head to the side to see Zoe sprinting at me full speed. I barely had time to brace myself before she collided with me. We started jumping up and down as we hugged excitedly like a couple of teen girls meeting at school after summer break. “Zoe, you’re alive!” I yelled.

  I couldn’t stop smiling. Relief was a bucket of ice water dumped over me, soaking me down to my bones. I’d found my best friend again and gotten Chloe back to her brother. All the trials of the past two weeks had been leading to this, and to see it come to fruition was almost indescribable. Even against the odds, I’d gotten us here.

  We separated, her still grinning like an idiot. I was sure my smile matched hers.

  “Not just me. Everyone else made it too!”

  That meant John and Darren were around here somewhere. I couldn’t wait to see them—even Darren. I finally noticed all the other strange faces gathered around us. Some were smiling at our reunion, while others looked apprehensive.

  The Cajun man came up beside me, his grin in place. “Told ya I meant no harm.”

  Chapter 19

  Once they finished twirling, Ethan carried Chloe over to us. He put her down and practically tackled me.

  I hugged him back with a laugh. “Careful with the ribs, eh?”

  The faint scent of soap clung to him, making me self-conscious. I hoped I didn’t smell from spending the day trapped in that small car with three other people.

  With his lips to my ear, he whispered to me, “Thank you so much, Bailey. I can never repay you for keepin’ her safe.”

  He placed his hands on my face and kissed me square on the mouth. I wasn’t expecting him to do that, as we hadn’t even talked about our previous make-out session from a month ago. People cheered and whistled nearby.

  “Eww.” Chloe scrunched her face up, but I could tell she was suppressing a smile.