Ray shook his head and pushed open his door. “You’re a monster.”
He struggled in his seat, attempting to climb out, but it was futile. He was pinned in place by the engine block.
“Oh, dear. It seems like you’re stuck,” Dylan said. “I’d help, but you know, I’m just a monster. Besides, I don’t think there’s much anybody could do for you now.”
Ray gaped down at his broken legs, aware of his awful injuries for the first time. “Oh, God. Help me, please. I don’t want to die.”
“You should’ve thought of that before,” Dylan said as she searched the cab for more weapons. Both his friends had been armed with handguns, plus they’d brought along a rifle. “Nice stash. Thanks.”
Afterward, she fished inside her pockets for her cigarettes and lighter. She hadn’t had one in a long time.
Dylan lit one with relish and inhaled the acrid smoke deep into her lungs. Ray kept begging for help, but she ignored him as she searched the back of the truck until she found what she was looking for. A jerry can.
Opening the nozzle, she poured gas over the truck with methodical care. Ray watched with growing fear and realization. “No! No, please.”
“Oh, yes.”
“You can’t do that. Please! I’ll do anything, I swear it,” he screamed. “Just name it, and I’ll do it.”
“The only thing I want from you is to die,” was her cold reply.
Dylan stepped back and flicked the remains of her cigarette onto the ground next to a puddle of gas. With a woosh, the fumes caught alight, and flames raced along the path she’d laid.
Ray continued pleading, but his blubbering cries soon turned into agonized screams when the fire enveloped the cab. He twisted and turned as his flesh blackened in the searing heat, his clothes, and hair a blazing inferno.
Dylan watched for a couple of seconds before turning away. The fire was as hot on the outside as she felt on the inside. A boiling pit of lava sat inside her stomach, ready to erupt at any moment. It made her feel strong, invincible, and she liked it.
***
“My God. You ate his flesh?” Ethan asked, his voice thick with horror.
Dylan’s eyes snapped open as the memories faded back into the deepest recesses of her mind, and her voice grew dull. “Not so much his flesh as his blood. My hunger for flesh was still growing at that point, and blood was enough to satisfy my cravings.”
Ethan made a choking sound. “And you burned Ray alive?”
“Yes, I did.”
“His father searched for him for days,” Ethan said, shaking his head. “When they finally found the truck, there wasn’t much left, and they could never figure out what happened.”
“Now, you know,” Dylan said.
“It nearly killed his mother,” Ethan continued. “I had to dose her with tranquilizers just to get her through the funeral, and she tried to commit suicide twice.”
“What do you want me to say?” Dylan asked as sudden anger snapped to the fore. “That I’m sorry he’s dead because I’m not. He was out to rape me, Ethan. They were going to rape me, and what do you think they’d have done with me afterward? Let me go on my merry way? So, don’t try to make me feel guilty that three assholes have left the world and made it a better place by doing so.”
“It’s not the fact that you killed them that gets me, Dylan,” Ethan replied. “It’s the fact that you enjoyed it.”
“Enjoyed it? I didn’t enjoy it. It was the virus, Ethan. I had very little control over my brain at that point. Hell, I even tried to eat Alex a few hours later.”
“That’s what you say, but how do I know that’s true?” Ethan asked. “I heard you speak. I saw your face while you were telling the story. You reveled in their destruction.”
“You weren’t there. You didn’t feel the fear and hopelessness I felt when Ray tried to push me off the road. The knowledge of what they were planning to do to me. The thought that I was going to die, and the rush of power when the tables got turned.”
Dylan looked Ethan in the eyes. “Did I enjoy it? At that moment, yes. Do I regret killing them? No, I don’t, but I do regret the way I did it. It still haunts me, and I curse the day I got bitten by a zombie in the first place. Now, I have to live with the consequences…and the memories of what I’ve done.”
Ethan stared at her for a few moments, his expression remote. When he spoke, his voice was thick with disgust. “You drank a man’s blood, Dylan. You burned another alive. What else have you done that I don’t know about? What are you?”
“Ethan, try to understand,” Dylan pleaded. She reached out one hand to him, but it hung in mid-air when he backed away.
“There’s nothing to understand. Phyllis was right. You are a monster,” Ethan said before he turned around and walked away.
Dylan watched him leave without trying to call him back. She’d known what she was doing when she told him the story about Ray. She’d known it would change the way he felt about her, forever.
It was a sacrifice she was willing to make if it allowed him to move on, she just hadn’t counted on it hurting so much. The look of loathing he’d thrown her way burned like acid, and unshed tears stung her eyelids. I’ll miss you, Ethan. More than you’ll ever know.
Chapter 13 - Amy
Amy had driven only a few minutes when she spotted a board that announced Manassas was right ahead. Muttering a silent prayer of thanks, she concentrated on keeping the car on the road. While she’d had a few lessons, she was by no means an experienced driver, and her stomach churned every step of the way.
With her hands clutching the wheel, she leaned forward and peered into the gloom ahead. While visibility was poor, she could navigate well enough by keeping her speed low and following the white lines in the middle. On the distant horizon, a gradual lightening of the sky announced the rising of the sun, and a glance at the car radio told her it was past five in the morning already.
The thought of daylight sent a blast of fear running through her veins. She was much too close to King’s hideout for comfort. Only a few miles separated Manassas from the Research Lab of George Mason University. If King decided to send a couple of vehicles after her, she’d be caught in no time. Hide. I have to find a place to hide for the day.
Moments later, she spotted another sign that welcomed her to Manassas. After checking that her doors were locked and the windows closed, she entered the silent streets of the city. Buildings loomed on either side, dark, and broody. Vehicles lined the road, abandoned by their owners, and uncollected rubbish filled the alleyways. Many of the shops had been vandalized, their windows shattered, and the contents pillaged.
A few times, she spotted movement in a window or an enclosed building but never ventured closer. While it could signal survivors, it was just as likely to be zombies. Those that didn’t flee the snow and blizzards were usually stuck inside a space and unable to get out.
The city was a desolate sight that inspired little hope, but Amy refused to give up. A growing orange glow on the horizon spurred her on, and she cruised through one block after another. Her eyes swiveled from side to side, looking for a place to hide from King’s men. Especially Red.
She considered a couple of apartment buildings and a hotel or two, but none of them appealed to her. They were too obvious. Too fancy. She wanted the kind of place that would fly under the radar and go unnoticed by passersby. Plus, it had to have space for the car. The last thing she needed was for it to be flagged, bullet holes, and all. The suburbs were a no-no, as well. The houses were too open and exposed.
After ten more minutes of aimless driving, Amy found herself in a rougher part of town. The buildings were dilapidated and run-down. Most of them needed a fresh coat of paint, and the roads required repair. The raw taint of sewage hung in the air, and she spotted several rats scurrying about the sidewalks. There were bodies too. Decomposed and rotting on the tar. Not even a thin layer of snow could freshen up the atmosphere.
While the place was uninspiri
ng, she didn’t leave the block. If she felt awful about it, others would too. Besides, it struck her as the last kind of neighborhood that King and his men would search for her.
Amy finally found what she was looking for in a small convenience store. Its front windows were still intact, and there was space for the car in the alley next to it. A second floor with small shuttered windows indicated a possible apartment as well. Well, it’s worth a look anyway.
She drove up and down the street, studying her surroundings. Her keen eyes cataloged every feature and analyzed it for possible threats, just like Alex had taught her. The buildings on either side of her target were multi-storied apartment blocks.
Many of the windows were smashed, and a couple of curtains whipped lazily in the breeze. Across the road were a couple of other shops and an office building. The shops gaped open and empty while the offices were locked tight. Further down the street, a small clinic offered free healthcare to the poor, and it was here that she encountered a bloody scene of carnage.
Looters had stormed the clinic, either looking for a cure for the Vita virus or drugs. Either way, they’d slaughtered the staff. A nurse lay slumped over the windowsill, a jagged piece of glass embedded in her middle. Another lay sprawled in the doorway, one hand resting on a bloody clipboard. Bullet holes riddled the walls, and pools of old blood covered the sidewalk.
With a shiver, Amy slowed to a stop and stared into the interior. The lightening sky allowed her to make out a few details, and she spotted several bodies inside the front lobby. There was a child; one foot was bare while the other wore a tiny sneaker. Bile rushed up her throat, and she swallowed hard to stop herself from vomiting. Oh, God. That poor kid.
As traumatic as it was, she forced herself to keep looking. She had to make sure the clinic was deserted. She couldn’t afford for lurkers or infected to prowl the street while she had nothing to defend herself with, which lead her to another point. She needed to locate a gun shop. Or a gun and ammo. While the zombies might be scarce during the winter, that didn’t mean they weren’t around.
After a few minutes, Amy turned the car around and returned to her chosen hidey-hole. As far as she could see, both the clinic and the street was empty. Other than the rats, nothing moved. The only other people around were either in hiding or dead.
She rolled to a stop in front of the small convenience store and studied the interior. It appeared to be empty. The racks were bare, and a sign on the door announced that it was closed. The owner had relocated, taking everything with him.
It explained why the place hadn’t been looted, and hope rekindled in her breast. If the owner was gone, she had nothing to worry about. Placing one hand on the door handle, she squared her shoulders. “Here goes nothing.”
Amy left the warmth of her vehicle with a regretful shiver. In socked feet, she crossed the pavement and tested the front door. It stuck in the frame at first, but a determined push cracked it open, and the door swung wide. For a tense moment, she waited, prepared to rush back to the car, but nothing happened.
She moved forward and tested the air with a sniff. It was clean with no hint of rot or decay. That was a good sign, and she slowly walked deeper into the shop. By now, the sun was well up into the sky, and she guessed it was past six already. Light streamed in through the windows allowing her to make out the interior.
The sign on the front proved correct. Whoever used to own the store had stripped it clean and made a run for it. Smart for the owner, but not so great for Amy. A thick layer of dust coated the counter and empty racks, highlighting the fact that there was nothing of use left behind.
At the back of the shop, she encountered another disappointment. The door leading to the second floor was locked tight. Both the frame and wood was sturdy, and there was no way she’d be able to break it down. There were a small storeroom and a toilet, however. Both sported thick curtains on the windows, and there was an old sofa against one wall.
Even so, the shop would provide her with shelter and a hiding spot for the day. She had water and could go without food for the time being. It would also give her the chance to plan her next move. “It’ll have to do, I guess.”
With her decision made, she settled down for the day. It only took a minute to park the car in the alleyway next to the shop. The uncollected rubbish that decorated every street now came in handy as camouflage. Once the car was suitably hidden beneath a mountain of black bags, she went back into the shop. A final look up and down the street proved it was still empty, and she quickly pushed an empty rack up against the door.
Feeling a little bit safer, she searched the counter and till for any forgotten items. All she found was a couple of paper-clips, a telephone directory, and a map. Nonetheless, she gathered it all up and retreated to the storeroom.
After dumping her treasure onto the sofa, she went to the bathroom and tested the tap. To her amazement, water flowed out. It was brown at first but soon cleared. There was even a sliver of soap and half a roll of toilet paper next to the basin.
“Holy, crap, I can’t believe it. Miracles never cease,” Amy cried aloud before clapping a hand across her mouth. Sounds traveled, and she didn’t want anything to hear her. Careful now.
With a massive grin on her face, she quickly stripped off her clothes and washed the mud from her skin. It took a lot of maneuvering in the tiny washbasin, but she managed to cleanse both herself and her hair. The cut on her forehead required extra care. Once the mud was gone, it started bleeding again. Eventually, she tore one arm off her pajama top and wrapped it around her head like a bandanna.
By that time, she was shivering with the cold once more and got dressed with haste. The thick curtains on the window provided a makeshift blanket, and she curled up on the sofa to rest. Not even the dust prevented her from heaving a sigh of relief as her aching body melted into the warm cushions. “Now, this is heaven.”
Flexing her fingers, she shoved them into her jacket pockets but frowned when one hand encountered an object. It was the police officer’s wallet, a worn leather square that smelled of polish and cologne. Curious, she opened it.
The first thing she saw was his identification, and it confirmed her earlier suspicions. Officer Stephen Greenfeather was indeed of Native American descent and in his late twenties. It also gave away his address, a house somewhere in the suburbs of Manassas.
As she flipped through the wallet, two slips of paper fell onto her lap. The first was a photo of a woman and a little girl. Both were beautiful with their long brown hair and dark eyes. This has to be his wife and daughter. I wonder if they’re still alive?
The second piece was a note written in a childish hand. It read, “I love you, Daddy,” and was covered in little hearts and kisses. Amy turned it over and gasped, surprised to find the note dated. Even worse, it was dated two days earlier. “I guess that answers my question. The wife and kid are still alive.”
Hot tears welled up in Amy’s eyes as she thought of the man’s family waiting for him to return. Their growing despair as yet another day passed without a sign from him. If they only knew.
With a sigh, Amy laid her head down on the couch. She was exhausted and in pain, both physically and emotionally. Everything that had happened since she’d been kidnapped crashed down on her like a ton of bricks. It was all too much to handle, and her tired brain shut down. Within seconds, she was fast asleep.
Chapter 15 - Amy
Hours later, Amy woke to find herself blinded by a ray of sunlight. With one hand held up to shield her face, she blinked at her surroundings. To her disappointment, it hadn’t all been a wild and silly dream. She was still in the storeroom, asleep on an ancient couch wrapped in bathroom curtains for warmth. Her brother was dead, Tara was a prisoner, and she was on the run from Red.
Amy groaned and sat upright. Her mouth was dry, and she reached for the water bottle. After a couple of eager gulps later, she refilled it at the tap and relieved her bladder. After washing her face, she peered through the win
dow.
The sun hung low on the horizon, its yellow beams turning fiery red when they touched the rooftops of the city. She’d slept throughout most of the day, and now it was time to go.
After a final quick wash, she sat down to wait for the last of the light to fade. Her eyes fell on the cop’s wallet, and she frowned. It bothered her that his wife and kid would never know what happened to him. At the same time, she had no room for error, and a side trip was precisely that. A mistake. What if his family were dead or gone? What if they were to shoot first and ask questions later? No. I can’t take the risk.
She reached for the telephone directory and paged through it. Once she found what she was looking for, she opened the map and spread it out onto the floor. With the pointy end of one of the paperclips, she marked a few places of interest: Gun shops, a couple of Walmarts, gas stations, and supermarkets. Before she left town, she needed to resupply. Most importantly, she needed a weapon.
Amy was under no illusions that Fort Detrick was just a quick drive away. While covering the seventy-odd miles would take little more than an hour, anything could happen along the way. Traveling was no longer as easy, or as simple, as in the old days. Now, a myriad of dangers awaited you along the way: Infected, robbers, traps, bad roads. Something as ordinary as a flat tire could mean the end of your life.
While she worked in the fading light, Amy’s eyes fell on the cop’s wallet once more, and she opened it. Her eyes found the address, and without meaning to, she searched for the house on the map. For several seconds, the paperclip hovered above the spot.
Should she?
Or, shouldn’t she?
With a determined shake of the head, Amy folded up the map and tucked it away without marking the house. It’s too dangerous.
After packing up her meager belongings, she made her way to the front of the shop and studied the street outside. It was deathly quiet, and she decided it was time to leave. Sliding aside the barrier and uncovering the hidden vehicle cost her a few minutes. Still, she slipped behind the wheel just as the sun winked out on the city skyline.
Rise of the Undead (Book 4): Apocalypse Z Page 9