Bee watched Louise’s profile, remembering the horror of the night before. The echo of flames danced across Louise’s face, turning it shades of red and orange. Barbara closed her eyes and when she opened them Louise’s countenance was normal again.
Bee couldn’t help but picture that night of terror.
They’d been staying at Louise’s family’s estate high up in the mountains, past the wealthy town of Charity Pines. Louise’s father owned a ski resort that had been prosperous before all of the madness broke out, but now it was gone. Everything had burned.
Bee shook her head, resisting the images that clamored for her attention. It was a failing battle and she saw it all again like it was happening now. The men had come in the middle of the night, armed with flaming torches. They’d set the building alight. Oh, the fire had been so hot on her skin and the smoke billowed into the sky.
When she and Louise had arrived Louise’s father was in the middle of turning men away from his estate. He refused to help anyone but his own blood and that surely did not include loyal men and their families that had been under his employ for many years. Louise’s father was in his late seventies but had always been a powerful man. It didn’t hurt that he had a large collection of shotguns and hunting rifles. He refused the other men without conscience. Louise thought the problems were over but Bee had a bad feeling. She’d kept their van packed and ready to leave at a moment’s notice and it was a good thing she had. When days later the men came back, hungry and enraged by the injustice of their employer, Bee was ready.
She was awoken late at night by someone screaming. Bee bolted up in bed, hands clutching the down comforter to her chest. The room was dim but she could make out the outlines of the large mirror on the wall and the photograph of Louise’s father shaking hands with President Fitzgerald. A bit of light streamed from beneath the door and it had a distinctly orange hue. Someone screamed again and her first thought was that the afflicted had gotten inside but one whiff of the air told her otherwise.
Bee jumped out of bed, quickly donning jeans over silk thermal pants — pale pink with poodles running across them, they’d been a gift from her late husband. She slipped into her shoes.
“Louise,” she whispered forcefully, shaking her friend’s shoulder.
They shared a room on the ground floor — at Bee’s insistence — and she reached across the bed to shake her friend once more.
“We’ve got to get up, hon. I smell smoke.”
“Wha?” Louise murmured, blinking. She’d always been slow to wake up but there was no time for that now.
Bee shook her again more roughly. “Now, Louise!” she spat.
The smell of smoke was getting stronger.
“We’ve got to move right now.”
Louise snapped her eyes open and sat up in bed. Her face still looked groggy but at least she was moving.
“I smell smoke!” Louise exclaimed.
Bee rolled her eyes, prodding her friend in the back with her finger.
“I know, get moving!”
Louise got out of bed and stumbled to her suitcase. She pulled out thermal pants and jeans. Her fingers trembled.
Confident that her friend was actually awake, Bee zipped up her fur lined boots and felt the doorknob. It was hot and she could see the fine curling of smoke stealing in from beneath the door.
“Shit!” she spat.
The room had an outer door that led to a fenced-in patio. Bee rushed to that door and the knob was cool in her hand.
“Thank God,” she sighed, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
Turning, she gestured for Louise to hurry. Her friend was glancing worriedly from Bee to the inner door. Louise walked toward it and reached out.
“It’s hot,” Bee said.
Louise touched the knob with her fingertip. “Ouch,” she said, sucking on the injured digit. Louise turned to Bee, expression bereft. “What about Dad?” she asked, eyes moist with unshed tears. Louise had always been easy to upset and difficult to calm down.
Bee did her best to sound relaxed when she spoke, to hide the tension that sang through her limbs. “I’m sure he’s fine, dear,” she said soothingly. Bee beckoned with her hand. “Come this way. We’ll likely find him outside.”
Louise nodded and pushed her hair from her face. “Okay. Just let me grab my coat.” She walked with maddening slowness to the closet and extracted a hideous purple jacket. It was goose lined and rain resistant. Bee couldn’t understand why her friend liked such a monstrosity.
Bee watched the tendrils of smoke curl beneath the door. It was almost hypnotizing how they twisted and looped. Suddenly Louise grabbed her arm and Bee had to muffle a shriek.
“Are you ready?” Louise asked in a dreamy sort of voice.
Bee frowned and, not for the first time, wondered how her friend was going to survive in the outside world. Louise hadn’t exactly been thriving before this terrible outbreak where the dead walked and the living ran screaming.
“Yes,” Bee responded. She grabbed an aluminum bat from above her pillow, holding it comfortably. She smacked it into the palm of her hand. “Let’s go,” Bee said, anxious to get out of the room. She tied a dark scarf over her hair for warmth and covered her head with the hood of her coat. She, like Louise, had a down coat that was wonderfully waterproof, but it was a nice sensible navy blue, not such an obscene violet. Bee enjoyed a splash of color in her hair but her coats were dark. This was likely the fault of her mother who wore outlandish clothing, hot pink dresses and sizzling yellow pants, that had always embarrassed Bee.
She opened the outer door and they dashed out, keeping to the line of the building. The night was dark and they ran unseen beneath a canopy of oak trees that had stood sentinel over the resort for a hundred years.
“Oh my God!” Louise gasped, leaning into the trunk of the nearest tree. “Look, Bee!” She raised a shaking hand.
Bee turned to look at the resort and covered her mouth to stifle a groan. The entire roof was in flames. With a great whoosh of air the fire crackled and shot twenty feet into the sky.
“Oh, God,” Louise moaned, sliding down the truck and sticking her legs out straight in front of her. “My home.” She reached her hand out then let it fall. Her expression told how devastated she was.
A low moaning sounded behind them and Bee snapped to attention. Bat in her hand, she turned and saw one of the afflicted standing on the other side of the tennis court. He was a large man, dressed in an old pair of blue jeans and a button up shirt. One of the sleeves was partially torn and flapped in the hot breeze. The right side of his face was covered in blood. He growled.
“Louise,” Bee spat, yanking her friend to a standing position. “We need to leave right now.” She gripped the hood of Louise’s ugly coat in her fist.
“But my home,” Louise spoke. Her eyes were only for the growing conflagration.
“One of them sees us,” Bee whispered hotly in Louise’s ear. “We have to go!”
Louise let Bee pull her away, staring the entire time at the fire.
The afflicted growled loudly and bolted across the tennis court. His feet tangled in the net and he went down. Bee breathed a sigh of relief and ran, tugging Louise along. They went wide around the house, keeping as close to the trees as they could. Bee knew they’d have little chance unless they reached her van. It had a full tank of gas and was stocked with food and water. The keys were zipped into the front pocket of her jacket. She could feel their reassuring weight bouncing as they ran.
Louise was tiring quickly. Bee could hear her ragged breathing and she was supporting more and more of her friend’s weight. Bee had played softball all of her life and that included a lot of running. Even in the senior league — they called it the Golden Hitters — most of the players still ran. She wasn’t winded yet but an old injury in her right knee was beginning to clamor.
They stopped at the northern edge of the resort. The fire hadn’t reached this part of the b
uilding yet but Bee could feel the heat on her back, making her brow bead with sweat. The van was parked in the open carport just around the corner.
“Wait here and get your breath back, Louise,” she instructed, leaning her out-of-breath friend against the stucco wall. The tan paint looked red in the light of the fire. “I’ll get the van.”
Louise nodded, coughing and gasping. She had no breath with which to answer.
“Stay here,” Bee reiterated.
Bee dashed around the corner, keeping low along the wall. There was a loud crash from above and she glanced up, expecting to see falling beams burned and charred. There was nothing but a star filled sky that shadows of flames colored with their dangerous brilliance, and a growing mass of smoke.
She reached the corner of the building and peeked around it, touching the stucco lightly. Bee noticed absently that the material was warm beneath her fingers. The fire would spread this way and they needed to be far away when it did. What she saw made her gasp. A noise that was lost to the snarling of an afflicted and the sudden shouts of men.
There was a group of three men, all with dark skin and dark hair. They were well-built and handsome and looked like brothers. Bee recognized them immediately as the men Louise’s father had turned away. One held a flaming torch and Bee knew now why the resort burned.
“Damn stubborn bull-headed man,” she whispered vehemently. “And I’m the stupid one for being too afraid to stand up to him.” She saw, in her mind eye, Louise’s father standing on the expansive front porch, gesturing into the air. He’d told the men to leave in no uncertain terms and Bee had stood inside, cowering and saying nothing.
It’s too late now, Bee darling, her late husband’s voice whispered through her mind, ever present and pragmatic. Save yourself and Louise. She cannot fend for herself, Frank spoke.
Those words galvanized Bee. She would get Louise to safety and herself as well if she could manage it.
She had retreated to the safer side of the wall and peeked around again. The scene changed. The afflicted stood before the men, growling and snapping. His guttural noises could be heard over the crackling of the inferno. He lunged at the men and the torchbearer swung the flames toward the afflicted’s face. Bee gasped with recognition. She should have made the connection sooner.
“Oh, Louise,” she moaned quietly.
Bee wiped her sweating palm on her jeans and gripped the bat tightly.
Don’t stand and fight, Frank’s voice murmured again. This is not the time. Run! Get the van!
A shriek brought her attention back to the men. The afflicted, for she could not bear to think of him as Louise’s father, had gotten one of the men. Riding his body to the ground, he tore out his throat in a spray of blood, cutting off the man’s screams. The others rushed the unnatural thing, trying vainly to pull him off though it was far too late to save the man.
“Daddy!” Louise screamed.
Bee turned and saw her friend, pale and terrified. Louise took a step toward the scene and Bee stopped her with an arm around her shoulders.
“Come on, Louise,” she spoke urgently. “That’s not you father anymore. He’s been stricken with the virus. He’s afflicted. We have to go.”
Louise didn’t answer. Choking back sobs, she let Bee drag her away. They made it to the van without incident. Once they reached it, Bee got Louise inside and started the engine with a roar. She didn’t know where they should go, didn’t care. They just had to get away. She drove down out of the mountains, heading south to where the snow abated and the rain fell in sheets from the clouds.
That was when Louise’s dissociative periods began. She would sit vacant and unresponsive for hours. Bee knew they had to find somewhere safe where more people could look after Louise. There was security in numbers. That had become Bee’s goal.
“Why are we stopped?” Louise asked, drawing Bee from her reverie.
Bee laughed weakly and patted her friend’s knee. “Glad to have you back, honey,” she spoke.
The day was dawning, bringing with it a diffuse sort of light. Bee could hear the first hesitant sound of birdsong in the trees. She leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes, breathing deeply.
“Where are we?” Louise asked.
Bee heard the rustle of her jacket against the seatbelt as she moved, likely looking out of the window.
“We are near Pacific Heights,” Bee answered, without opening her eyes.
“Is that near the ocean?” Louise asked, sounding lost and unsure.
“Not quite, dear,” Bee answered. She wondered just what the devil she was expected to do now. Trying not to think past the crisis in front of her, Bee gripped the steering wheel and sighed.
“Do you think daddy made it out?” Louise asked, guileless and innocent.
“Yes, I’m sure he did,” Bee answered.
It wasn’t the first time Louise had asked that question and it likely wouldn’t be the last. She’d tried at first to explain to her friend what had really happened, feeling that she deserved the truth. That had backfired badly. Louise had screamed raggedly, dissolving into inconsolable tears. Only one of her flitting catatonic states had brought her peace and when she woke she hadn’t recalled anything. Bee was carefully vague with her answers after that.
“Okay,” Louise murmured. “That’s good then.” She rolled up a spare sweater and placed it against the passenger window. “I think I’ll sleep for a bit,” she said, smiling absently at Bee. “I’m sure things will look better in the morning.” He eyes sparkled momentarily with her former self then it was gone. She closed her eyes and rested her head, snoring almost instantly.
“Well, shit,” Bee said, feeling very alone. The sky was starting to lighten and that was good. Maybe she could find them somewhere to rest. Perhaps there would be other people to take them in. Bee could only hope.
She started the engine and checked the gas gauge. They had well over half a tank and that was good enough for now. She had three extra gas cans full of the now precious liquid and that was even better. They wouldn’t have to worry about more for a while.
Bee put the van in drive and pulled back onto the road. The gravel crunched beneath the tires and the van splashed through puddles, sheeting the sides with water and washing off any dust it had gathered sitting at the resort. The road wound down the mountain, curving gently. Trees lined one side, just visible in the growing light. On the west side of the road there was a precipitous drop. Bee was very careful to hug the yellow line in the middle. She didn’t want to imagine what would happen if she strayed a little too far.
Accelerating carefully, Bee continued down the road, hoping soon to find somewhere for them to rest.
“What about there, Bee?” Louise asked. She’d woken a few hours later and the sparkle had returned. Alert and cognizant, Louise had pulled out a map and began lining out different routes for them. She was pointing to Junction 73 than ran down the mountain and all the way to the sea. There was a small town named Ocean Side.
“I suppose we could try it,” Bee answered. “We have to stop somewhere and smaller towns will likely be a better choice.”
Bee drove carefully around a sharp curve. It was mid-afternoon and, for a wonder, the rain had stopped. The sun had peeked out from beneath the clouds, brightening the day. Birds sang in the trees, alighting from branch to dew-dropped branch. Bee was glad to see the sun and feel its warmth through the rain dotted windshield.
“Or we could drive here,” Louise said, pointing to a different town on the map. “I’ve been here before though it’s been a few years.”
Bee glanced down at the map but Louise’s finger blocked the name of the town. “What’s it called?” Bee asked, keeping her eyes on the road. The sun was reflecting from her windshield and it was hard to see.
“Hallows Point,” Louise responded. “It was a nice town from what I recall.” She was staring at the map and her hair fell in her face. Louise swept it aside. Her slender fingers tucked the graying strands
behind her ear.
Bee and Louise had known each other for twenty years and Bee was surprised sometimes when she looked at her friend to see just how old she’d become. Not that I’m getting any younger, Bee thought. She would be fifty-six at the end of the year and wasn’t much looking forward to it. It seemed like she gained a new ache each year, right knee, left ankle, right shin, left shoulder; the list was growing. Bee sighed and ran her hand through her hair.
Louise stowed the map in the side door pocket and yawned widely. “What do you think, Bee?” she asked, looking out of the window. The trees flew by in a mass of brown and green.
Bee sighed. She turned around another bend in the road. “I don’t . . .“ she began then had to slam on the brakes. “What the hell?” she exclaimed. The van came to a screeching halt.
A man stood in the middle of the road. He was older than the women. Bee thought him to be in his late sixties at least. The man was tall and lean, wearing jeans and a red plaid flannel shirt. He tapped the brim of his weathered baseball cap and nodded to the women. A friendly looking golden retriever stood by his side, panting in the warming air.
“What do you think, Louise?” Bee asked. She waited a beat then glanced at her friend. “Oh, Louise,” Bee sighed. “Not now, dear.”
Louise sat unmoving, face downcast and hands folded demurely in her lap. Bee moved her friend’s hair and sighed again. Louise’s eyes were vacant, lost to wherever she went inside her head.
Bee peered back at the man and his dog. He tipped his hat again and waved at her companionably. His face was in the shadow of his brim and Bee could only see the man’s chin and lips. His mouth curved into a friendly smile.
“Nothing for it, I suppose,” Bee said. She waved back and grabbed her bat just in case. She exited the van and stood just out of reach.
“Hello,” Bee said, smiling with false sincerity.
The man took off his cap. “Hi there, ma’am,” he spoke, holding his hand out. “My name is Rodney and this here is Scout.” He gestured to the golden.
Undead Series (Book 1): Blight of the Dead Page 11