The Infected (Book 3): Nightfall

by Joseph Zuko

  Robin finished and Karen got ready again for bed. On the walk back to the mattress Karen heard a noise coming from somewhere in the house. A thump, and it was beating like a drum. She was so exhausted that she contemplated leaving it alone and not investigating the cause of the sound.

  It could be Troy. Maybe he needs help. She thought.

  She laid Robin down on the bed next to her sister, picked up her gun and quietly headed out of the bedroom. The thumping got louder as she weaved down the hall into the kitchen. The interior lights were all out, but there was light leaking in through the boarded up sliding glass door. This walk reminded Karen of all the horror movies she used to watch in her teens and into her twenties. The strong female lead walked into the darkness and toward the scary noise instead of leaving it alone and calling the cops. She just needed the musical stinger and a stupid cat to jump out at her and the scene would be complete. The exterior light was on in the backyard. She knew it was off when she went to bed.

  Who would turn it on? It’s like leaving an open sign on for any infected in the area!

  Karen turned on the dining room light. She was startled to see Troy sitting on the floor with his shoulders to the wall, banging the back of his skull against the sheetrock. Tears flooded the big teddy bear’s face and he was choking down gulps of air.

  “Troy! Stop that!” Karen barked. The sudden flash of light and yelling voice snapped him out of his trance. His red, glassy eyes flicked up at Karen.

  His head came to a stop and it rested against the wall, “Mama’s dead.” Saying the words brought all of his emotion to a focal point and he fell apart in front of his sister.

  “I know,” she said as she rushed to his side. Her sadness resurfaced. She took a seat next to him on the floor and they draped their arms around each other. Their tears poured like Niagara Falls. Minutes rolled by before either of them could come close to forming words.

  “I woke up on the couch and…and couldn’t remember how I got here. I… I went to go for a smoke and found the door all boarded up. I turned on the light and there…there she was…dead. It’s all my fault!” Troy spit the sentence onto Karen’s shoulder. “I shouldn’t have left her alone. I should have stayed here and protected her.” Troy punched at the floor.

  Karen struggled to regain her ability to speak. She pulled her head off of Troy’s shoulder. “If you had stayed here, then the girls and I would be dead. You know Mama wouldn’t stand for that. That woman would take a bullet for us. She’d jump in front of a train to save either of us and you know it.” Karen was not sure who she was trying to convince. Troy, herself, the real answer was both.

  “What are we going to do without her?” Troy asked.

  “Whatever it takes.” Karen ran her hand over her nose and wiped it clean.

  “We gotta get her buried. I don’t want those bastards to take a single bite out of her.” Troy pushed the tears off his cheeks.

  “In the morning. We should wait until it’s light out.”

  “We gotta do it right now, damn it! I can’t sleep until it’s done!”

  Karen studied her brother’s face. She could see that there was no changing his mind on this. “Let’s get the shovels,” Karen pushed herself up off the floor and helped Troy to his feet.

  They entered the garage. Troy was confused by the new Subaru that was filling up the garage.

  “Where did you guys get that?” Troy asked as he grabbed a shovel.

  “Down the street at the neighbors.” Karen picked up a lantern that hung from the wall.

  “Good thinking. We should fill it with supplies in case we need to make a quick exit.” Troy picked up a second shovel and slung both of them up onto his shoulder.

  Karen felt she didn’t need to go into any more details about what happened when they got the car. The garage had its own exterior door that led to the backyard. They stepped through it and out onto the concrete pad where their Mother laid dead. It was chilly out and a cold wind blew in from the west. Karen could smell the smoke from all the fires that were still burning in the surrounding areas. They tip toed out into the backyard. Troy checked the gate and made sure it was shut. He peeked through a gap in the fence. Karen joined him and they both checked to make sure the street was clear. It was so quiet out. Only the sound of the wind blowing in the trees could be heard. The second they started digging into the earth they were going to make a lot of noise. If there were any infected in the area they would be on the two of them in an instant.

  The street lamps glowed brightly. They could see the Charger and the mound of dead bodies that laid all around it. The scene was grizzly. The twisted body parts and coagulated blood filled the street. The big body of the infected bruiser that stopped the police cruiser cold was poking out from under the backend of the cruiser. A gust of wind hit Karen in the face and there was another odor mixed in with the smell of smoke. It was the dead bodies. A horrible realization popped into Karen’s head.

  We’ll have to burn the bodies.

  How bad would it reek after a couple of warm spring days? Karen thought to herself.

  The smell of rotting flesh would be unbearable. There was another chore she had to put on the list.

  A lot of the houses still had their interior lights on. There was no one to turn them off. It meant that those houses could be looted without the worry that someone might get hurt. Karen made a mental note of all the houses with their lights on. They would need to gather as many supplies as they could. They waited and watched the street for a few minutes just to be sure.

  Troy whispered, “Do you see anything?”

  “It looks clear to me.” Karen stepped away from the fence.

  They could get to work.

  “Where should we dig?” Karen held the lantern up and surveyed the backyard. She tried to keep her gaze off of the two dead bodies at her feet. “Where would it be safe? We don’t want to hit a power line.”

  “We should put her next to the flower bed,” Troy said as he headed in its direction.

  Karen followed him and set the lantern down on the ground next to the proposed grave.

  “Alright let’s get this over with,” Troy said as he drove the shovel’s head deep into the soft dirt.

  CHAPTER 16

  Jim and Karen’s wedding video, their wedding photos, photos of the children, computers, a massive DVD collection and every other memento that Jim cherished were now barbequed. There was no home for him and his family to go back to.

  What more could this day throw at me? Jim thought as he gripped the steering wheel tightly.

  Jim had worked in sales for a decade and he was always astonished when people freaked out and lost their cool over simple mistakes or problems.

  This dishwasher you sold me doesn’t fit and now I want a free one for the inconvenience!

  The refrigerator you sold me has a scratch and now I want a new one and money off and I want it here before five o’clock today or else I’ll call my lawyer!

  Jim always wondered what these people would do if something really bad happened to them. What if they lost a leg or a family member was murdered violently in front of them? How absolutely nuts would they go then? Because Jim had to deal with people like that on a weekly basis he had developed a strong attitude of “it could always be worse” to help keep things in perspective and not lose his cool when a shit storm exploded into the fan.

  Your rental car got broken into and you have to pay for a new window out of pocket.

  At least you can walk with your own two legs.

  Lost your house because you couldn’t make the payments.

  At least you are not blind.

  Your home burned down and you’re forced to make a run for it in the middle of the night with flesh eating monsters around every corner.

  Well, at least you are upright and breathing and not one of these zombie assholes. There was no time to waste throwing a fit about how screwed up everything was. It would only get him and his crew killed. Devon let out a how
l as they crossed a speed bump.

  “Sorry,” Jim said as he aimed to miss the next one.

  “He’s fine.” Sara spoke on Devon’s behalf. She had liberated a medical kit out of Jim’s backpack and was trying to wrap another layer around his leg to stop the bleeding. “Get us somewhere safe.” She cinched the wrap down on his wound and tied off the knot.

  Jim glanced at the rearview mirror. Cliff’s van was right behind him. Speed in this circumstance was not their ally. It was better safe than sorry. The PT Cruiser’s engine was weak sauce and it was weighed down by the four bodies and hundreds of pound of weaponry in the back. They traveled the backstreets of Vancouver at a leisurely twenty-five miles per hour. They wouldn’t set any land speed records, but Jim hoped they would get there in one piece. He left the high-beams on and the headlights cut through the night like a knife. Jim wanted to get home to his family more than anything, but he didn’t want to make this run in the middle of the night. He couldn’t see the monsters until they stepped out onto the street and they all made a beeline for his car’s front grill. Jim weaved between their outstretched arms and he feathered the gas pedal to zip by the fast ones. Clusters of recently turned humans choked the intersections. There was an army of monsters and they were growing by the minute.

  Frank quickly reloaded his Berettas and rolled down his window. Shooting at moving targets while traveling at this speed was new for him. His accuracy went, well, out the window, but he did pulverize any beast that climbed up onto the hood and tried to smash their way through the windshield.

  Ahead of Jim’s convoy a dump truck laid across the street and blocked their route. He turned north and zipped across an empty parking lot. He started to head back east when an infected woman raced out in front of them. Jim didn’t have time to swerve and miss her. The passenger side tires were about to travel directly over her. The car’s headlights caught a reflection off of a giant Bowie knife that jutted five inches out of her stomach. Someone had stuck her in the back and skewered her like a kebab with the ridiculously long blade. Her light frame crunched against the fiberglass bumper and she was sucked under the front wheel. Her bones snapped under the weight and the front of the car jumped a little into the air.

  “Did you see that?” Frank asked in a panic.

  “What?” Jim blurted out as he dodged another zombie.

  “She had a knife stuck in her!”

  “So?”

  It didn’t take long for Jim to hear and feel what Frank was worried about. The front tires felt sluggish and the car began to pull to the right.

  “Damn it! We have a flat!” Jim backed off the gas.

  “What are we going to do?” Sara let go of Devon’s leg and began to reload her shotgun.

  “Keep rolling!” Frank urged. “Who gives a shit if you wreck the wheel?”

  As the tire fully deflated Jim slowed to under twenty.

  “If we grind it to the rims we’ll have no traction. I have to slow down or I’m gonna burn up the tire.” Jim let up even more on the gas and now the convoy was only going ten miles an hour.

  Cliff tapped the brakes and slowed to match Jim’s speed.

  “Mama, where are we going?” Eve rubbed a tear from her cheek.

  “We’re going to a safe place.” Tina did not sound very convincing. “What’s going on?” she asked Cliff as she fished a handful of shells from her pocket to reload the .38 special.

  “I don’t know maybe he sees something we can’t.” Cliff thumbed beads of sweat from his forehead. The anxiety of the whole situation was crushing down on the couple. They felt like they were truly driving out into the unknown. No safety net. No guarantees. No way of knowing if this was the right move. It seemed like the only choice. Safety in numbers. If Jim and his people made it out of Portland alive then maybe he could get this group across Vancouver.

  “Maybe he’s lost?” Morgan patted at her son’s shoulder.

  “Maybe, he said it was his mother-in-law’s house. He’s gotta know how to get there.”

  They were heading down a clear and infected free section of street. Cliff put his foot into the gas and pulled alongside Jim.

  He powered down his window. “What’s going on?!” Cliff called out over the grinding tire.

  “We got a flat!” Frank hollered.

  Cliff mouthed fuck and then asked, “How much farther?”

  “Three miles, at least!” Jim pulled the steering wheel to the left to compensate.

  Three miles on a flat? Cliff was sure they wouldn’t make it. He remembered ten years ago when Tina tried to drive home on a flat. She was young and didn’t think it was going to be a big deal. She also had no desire to figure out how to change out the spare. She didn’t make it two miles. A passing car, honked and pointed at her. The passenger yelled the word “FIRE” at her. She pulled to the side of the road, got out and when she looked at the tire it was flickering and definitely on fire. They almost lost the whole car because of that burning tire. An idea came to Cliff.

  “Follow me!” Cliff stepped on it and pulled ahead of Jim.

  “Where you headed?” Tina loaded the last shell into the gun.

  “Rich’s garage.” Cliff turned south. Cliff had spent a full summer after high school graduation working at a local garage. Rich was the owner and the main mechanic for almost forty years. One summer of changing oil and busting his knuckles under hot cars was enough for Cliff, but he had remained friends with Rich and still went to him for oil changes and car repairs. The guy was in his late sixties and had been talking about retirement for the last five years, but had not hung up his wrenches yet. Cliff just hoped the spare key was still in its normal place.

  A few minutes later Cliff had led the convoy into the parking lot. A giant red sign above the building read:

  Rich’s Garage.

  The building had four metal bay doors connected to the main office. Rich’s business had suffered from some theft over the years and he had mounted steel bars on every window. The place was not completely impossible to break into, but it would be very difficult. Rich had been a creature of habit so Cliff crossed all of his fingers and toes that the key to get in would be where he last saw it.

  A bakers dozen of infected zombies creeped out of the shadows. Cliff parked the van and Jim pulled in next to him. Their headlights reflected off the metal doors and lit up the garage’s parking lot. Cliff quickly hopped out of the van with his saw blade in hand, “Stay with the girls.” Tina nodded at him.

  Jim climbed out of his car with his spear. Frank finished reloading another round of magazines for his Berettas and he clicked the last one into the butt of the gun as he popped open his door. Sara cocked the shotgun and joined them outside of the PT Cruiser. Sara and Frank opened fire on the scrambling pack of monsters. Cliff and Jim chopped and stabbed at the beasts.

  Cliff’s saw cleaved chunks out of the infected as they approached. It was a ripper and a shredder. On one strike it got stuck for a second. Thank God he had put the lanyard at the end of the handle. The blade came to a stop five inches into the skull of an infected teen. As the body dropped, the paracord pulled tight around Cliff’s wrist and he was able to get another grip on its handle before the dead body took it away from him.

  Jim’s spear was more surgical and precise. After a day of stabbing fools in the face Jim could hit the exact target he aimed for.

  Left eye! Check.

  Right eye! Nailed it.

  Dead center of the nose! No problem.

  Shave and a haircut before he delivers the kill strike? Maybe, if he had to do this for another year he might have that kind of skill. He was not sure what Cliff’s plan was, but he prayed it was more than just killing zombies in front of this garage.

  A big mama of a zombie lumbered toward Sara. It wore a ratty blood soaked t-shirt that claimed she was “With Stupid” and an arrow below indicating who stupid was. The arrow pointed to a bean pole of an infected man and judging by the look on its face, he was stupid. Deep down Sara wi
shed she wasn’t so tired. If she could have gotten her full eight hours of beauty sleep, she could have come up with a clever line to say at their expense, but at this early hour all she could fabricate was, “Stupid is as stupid dies!” and then she cut the two of them down with a double blast of twelve gauge pellets. After she said the line she looked around to make sure no one heard her. The late hour had made her feel a little loopy. She hoped that’s what caused the lapse in judgement.

  Between shots, Frank had heard Sara’s one liner. He thought it was funny, but he was too tired. He had always been an early riser but this was crazy. Especially after the day they had. He took out six of the closest freaks and then watched everyone’s backs as they dispatched the rest of the zombies. They were all clustered a little close for comfort and Frank didn’t want to shoot one of them by accident.

  Jim finished off the last creep. He extracted the spear’s blade from its skull and turned to Cliff, “How do we get in?”

  Cliff was already jogging over to a small tree that was growing in a brown ceramic pot next to one of the bay doors. He tipped it over on its side and searched for the spare key. Cliff had called Rich late one night after the garage was closed. Cliff’s alternator had gone bad and he needed to replace it and the battery that night, but didn’t have the tools to do it himself. After five minutes of begging Rich finally told him where the spare key was so he could let himself in and fix his truck. The old man had sworn Cliff to secrecy and that he would take the keys location to the grave. Cliff’s fingers searched and searched, but there was no key.

  Maybe Rich hid it under the other tree around the corner of the building? Cliff thought as he leveled the pot back out. He was just about to go search under the next tree when the office door opened.

  A husky voice whispered across the lot, “Cliff, is that you?”

  Cliff recognized the man, it was Rich. “It’s me,” said Cliff. “Hey, we got a flat tire can you let us in?”