“What about the Army?”
Carolyn opened her mouth, but a vehicle’s horn cut her off. Down the street, from the intersection of Davit and Keelson, came a black pickup truck. A man rode in the back, wearing the same kind of gear as a SWAT team member and holding a megaphone. “Everyone, come out of your houses and proceed down Marlin Drive to the tennis court at the intersection of Marlin and Redwood Shores Parkway. Go now. It’s critical to your safety.”
“Is he with the police?” Amanda wondered as the truck rumbled around the corner. The man repeated his message. “Maybe he’s with the Army. They said they’d be back.” Let the government come and make everything all right. Let someone come and make everything all right.
“I’m not sure.”
Already, neighbors had begun emerging from their houses. They looked questioningly at one another. Some declared they weren’t going, while others responded that if it was critical to their safety, they didn’t have a choice.
“We at least have to go,” Amanda decided.
“I can go alone. You stay with your girls—”
“They’ll be fine here. I said I’d help keep the neighborhood safe.” Amanda leaned back to call into the house, but both of her children waited a few feet behind her.
“What was that?” Taylor asked.
Denver ducked under her mom’s arm to look out at the road and neighbors. “Are we going? I don’t think the Nelsons are.”
Amanda hadn’t told her daughters about Jennifer, other than that she didn’t feel well. “Jeremy’s probably looking after Jen. Girls, I’m going to see what these people want. If I don’t come back in a half an hour, gather up the emergency kit that we made. Go over to the Singhs and stay with them.” Then what? What could the Singhs do? What could anyone do in this situation?
They could move forward. One step at a time.
Amanda parked her Genesis behind Carolyn’s SUV. Ahead lay the tennis courts. Several pickup trucks ranged about, blocking the parkway to prevent anyone from traveling down it and off the peninsula that formed Redwood Shores.
Something felt off. No Army trucks or Soldiers in camouflage appeared. Numerous Redwood Shores residents did, though.
A gray Ford F-250 rolled into the center of the parking lot, engine rumbling. Then it fell silent. A mountain of a man stepped out. Bald save for a fuzz of hair on his bullet-shaped skull, he had the look of a soldier who had seen more than his fair share of atrocities. And he’d come out the tougher for it, eating concertina wire for breakfast. He probably used Napalm for aftershave. He glared about at the people as he climbed into the bed of his truck, where he picked up a megaphone.
“People of Redwood Shores, the world has changed. If you want to survive, you will do as you are instructed.” He spoke like a drill sergeant, yet showed zero emotion. That cool, impassive expression made Amanda edge closer to Carolyn. “We will protect you from looters and the affected—those oil-drooling monsters. In exchange, we ask for a third of your supplies in the form of food and water. Bring them here by eleven o’clock this morning.”
“You’re stealing our supplies?” a man yelled. The speaker pushed to the head of the crowd. Eduardo.
Amanda groaned. “Shut up,” she breathed.
The hulk glowered down at the gnat. “We will protect you.”
“This is ridiculous,” Eduardo retorted. “We’re not going to submit to this. You can’t just march in here and steal everything! We’ll starve.” With the last sentence, he threw his arms out as he looked about at his comrades—the same ones who usually agreed with him during community meetings.
People began murmuring.
“Get out of here!” someone cried.
“We’ll call the police!” screeched another.
“If you do not comply with our conditions,” the protection-racket bastard went on as if explaining a contract’s terms, “we will take your supplies anyway.”
Carolyn stepped forward. “I am the head of the homeowners’ association here. We won’t stand for people taking our property.”
The bald man held up his fist. The doors of the surrounding trucks opened. His cronies stepped out, all wearing similar body armor. They carried black assault rifles.
“Our demands aren’t excessive when you consider the alternative,” he declared.
The residents exchanged glances, but most said nothing. The shock of the demand on top of the continuing disaster rendered most of them incapable of making rational decisions.
“I want to speak with your leader,” Carolyn decided, standing tall.
“The hell we do!” Eduardo bawled, face red. “Get out of here! We haven’t had any looters before you showed up, and we haven’t had any trouble with the affected. The Army will come and put you in your place—”
“It looks like you need some education,” the brute growled. “I don’t think you understand your situation.” He motioned to a few of his flunkies. “Give me seven. Take the young ones and the pretty ones. We can sell them.”
“What?” Carolyn stared at him, appalled. “You can’t do this.”
“Are you going to bargain with us?” He folded his arms.
She sighed. “All right, we’ll give you the supplies you asked for. We’ll give you even more if you let us have our people back.” She did an admirable job hiding her emotions.
“I’ll need the Chief’s approval on that. But I’ll cut you a deal. If you give us half of your supplies, we’ll think about giving the collateral back.”
“Think about it?” Eduardo raged. “You can’t—”
A pistol seemed to teleport into the lieutenant’s hand. It pointed at Eduardo. “Unless you want to be one of them, shut up. You have no one to blame but yourselves.”
He snapped his fingers. His men advanced.
People yelled and pushed. They ran for their cars, but the men with guns moved faster: a few positioned themselves in front of the vehicles. Warning shots cracked.
Like hyenas tearing into a herd of confused zebra, several of the raiders surged into the crowd. They grabbed four women and three men. Before anyone could make a move, the kidnappers had dragged their prisoners to a white moving van. More of the bastards swung in to guard them, guns raised.
The thugs at the neighbors’ vehicles retreated to their own trucks. With the way clear, the Redwood Shores people bolted for the escape route. Those associated with the victims cried and pleaded, but they didn’t dare approach the gunman. They had little time to react beyond that, because the van pulled away.
“Eleven o’clock,” the lead monster called. “Don’t be late.” He vaulted over the edge of his truck onto the ground, then hopped into the driver’s seat.
Amanda stood frozen as the invaders roared away. “What . . .”
Carolyn made a choking sound. She passed her hand over her eyes.
Amanda returned to her senses with a start. “Carolyn—”
“We do what they say. For now.” The older woman pulled herself erect, mustering the last shreds of her dignity. “We have to protect our people.”
Amanda gripped the Genesis’s steering wheel, knuckles white. She pulled into her home’s driveway.
As she went in the house, she called, “Taylor? Denver?” No answer.
Heart thundering in her ears, she swung around the counter to check the notepad where they left messages to each other. Taylor had scribbled, Went to watch the news at Chas’s house.
That bought some time. She looked about the kitchen. A flat of water bottles sat on the counter. Several pots held bleach-purified water. The refrigerator had already yielded up its contents. As for canned goods, who had any of those around—unless collecting for a food drive, of course. The Army had given them some packaged food, but not much.
“How much is enough? How will they know if it’s half?” Frustration constricted her heart. Years ago, she might have broken down and cried. But life had taught its lessons well. It had taught her she couldn’t rely on others, especially if th
at other was her husband. And she didn’t need to rely on anyone, either.
She took a deep breath, then began collecting what she could spare.
Eleven o’clock came more quickly than Amanda could have imagined. She stood with Carolyn in front of the pile of food and water. They waited near the tennis court as instructed. A score of neighbors—mainly those with kidnapped loved ones—waited at a distance.
The white moving van and a few pickup trucks trundled up Redwood Shores Parkway to meet them in the parking lot.
“We’ll get through this,” Carolyn reassured Amanda, but it sounded as if she tried to reassure herself more.
Amanda could only nod.
The grey Ford F-250 came last and took its central place in the lot. The raiders’ spokesman emerged. His toadies also stepped from their vehicles, keeping their guns ready.
The hulking brute strode forward. “Let’s see it.” He circled the pile, then kicked through into the center. “Not bad.”
Amanda held her breath. Please let them just take this and go!
“Not good either, though.” He turned to them.
Amanda’s heart sank to somewhere around her ankles. Dread overshadowed her like a thunderstorm.
“Red Chief, our leader, has given me permission to give you back three of your people.”
Carolyn stiffened. “But that means four—”
“I can subtract. The four are our collateral.” He glared about at the citizens. “We want to form a long-term relationship with you. Things aren’t going to clean up quickly, and you’ll need our protection. We’ll be back in a few days for another payment. By the way, I don’t care how you get the supplies. Just make sure they’re here when Red Chief wants them.”
Amanda stared. She should protest or argue or—or do something. But what could a neighborhood of affluent Silicon Valley residents do against these monsters?
“All right,” the leader called to his men at the moving truck. “Give me three.”
The Redwood Shores neighbors watched, stunned, as the men brought out three captives. The families to whom the victims belonged gasped, or let out sighs of relief. The families of those who remained in the bastards’ chains broke down sobbing. A few looked ready to argue, but the machine guns of the men and the relief of their neighbors shocked them into silence.
By the time the people had recovered, the raiders were on the way out. The gray Ford F-250 acted as rear guard.
“Now what?” Amanda murmured.
“Now we have a community meeting,” Carolyn managed.
While the neighborhood would have held the meeting in the local elementary school like usual, the people who held the keys had failed to return to Redwood Shores. So the residents gathered in Carolyn’s yard. Even those who normally had no interest in the community suddenly found it relevant to their interests. Onlookers filled the street and surrounding yards.
The Denver and Taylor remained at home, safe for the moment. Amanda stood with Jacinda, a librarian who’d lived in Redwood Shores for ages. Of medium height and build, she wore glasses and kept her long, dark hair pulled back. Her kind but firm expression fit her profession.
“Amanda,” Jacinda whispered, leaning in, “don’t worry; we’ll make it through.” She patted Amanda on the back. “I bet I can take on at least a few of them.” The forced smile should have added humor, but it fell short.
“You’re studying Muay Thai, so I wouldn’t doubt it,” Amanda responded, not nearly as reassuring as Jacinda deserved.
“Thank you for coming.” Carolyn projected her voice like a theater actor. “You all know what has happened. I cannot in good conscience allow these people to run roughshod over us. This is my suggestion: we make roadblocks at the entrances to the neighborhood. The Belmont Channel protects us on the north, and the wall along Redwood Shores Parkway protects us on the southeast.” The wall enclosed the neighborhood, just as a wall enclosed every backyard. Typical for a California suburb. “In the southwest, Davit’s intersection with Marlin is the most vulnerable ingress.”
Amanda cleared her throat. “We are also going to make caltrops—spikes that deflate tires. We’ll have volunteers keep guard. We’ll know when the looters are coming.” But what could they do against the guns?
Beside her, Jacinda nodded. “We’re not helpless.”
“Well, well,” Eduardo sneered, elbowing to the front of the group. “Look who’s finally agreeing with me. Maybe we should have stood up to them at the start—”
“How?” Amanda snapped. “You saw how easy it was for them to grab us when we were standing there like sheep.”
“What about the people they kidnapped?” one of the victims’ family members demanded, her eyes puffy.
Amanda paused, but Carolyn picked up: “We will do what we can to get them back. But right now, we have to think about the larger group.”
“There’s no dealing with those sons of bitches!” Eduardo cried for the crowd to hear. “Let’s get ready to fight them if it comes to it.”
His sympathizers cheered, but the other neighbors looked nervous.
“With what?” Jacinda demanded.
“What’s that?” someone at the far edge of the gathering asked, fear in his voice.
All eyes turned in the direction the young man pointed. A group of ten individuals appeared at the intersection of Davit and the side street the residents occupied. The intruders moved with a predatory, inhuman hunch in their shoulders and bend in their knees. The newcomers glared at the people.
Then the front rank charged toward the residents. With each step, the invaders’ torsos fell forward until they landed on outstretched arms. Their legs shot forward to push them ahead in a lope. The affected! The monsters the news said to stay away from. The infected people like Jennifer Nelson, who had attacked her own husband.
Shouts of Run! rang. People scrambled to get into their vehicles. Amanda, Carolyn, and Jacinda began yelling for neighbors to help one another and avoid contact with the affected.
With their first charge largely foiled, the infected attackers slowed. Their heads swiveled from side to side in search of targets.
Panic froze some people in place. One young man stood on the sidewalk some distance away, paralyzed with fear. Hugging himself, he stared at the predators.
Then they turned to stare at him.
“Move!” Amanda yelled. “Run!” She took her own advice, but sprinted toward the victim—and by extension the enemies.
But Jacinda moved faster. She barreled up to the man. Grabbing him by the arm, she tried to drag him toward the nearest vehicle, but terror had made his brain go offline. He gaped and shook his head at the incoming horde.
The affected fanned out, blocking the escape route and cutting off Amanda’s way to rescue. She halted.
The infected invaders fell on their victims. Or tried to. Jacinda’s side kick slammed into the first attacker’s chest. As the man stumbled back, a hissing, orange-eyed woman lunged. Jacinda pivoted to catch her with a knee, then drop an elbow into the back of the neck.
A third enemy charged in, only to have Jacinda’s elbow crash into his jaw. Black, oily drool flew from the affected’s mouth. It splattered Jacinda and the young man. Jacinda bared her teeth as she wiped it from her face with her baggy purple sweater. The young man, though, clutched his arm where the drool touched, and began screaming.
The two grounded attackers struggled up as the others closed in around Jacinda and her charge. One of the affected dropped to all fours, dry heaving like a dog. Then the infected man let loose a stream of black projectile vomit. The second it hit the young man, all the maddened assailants threw themselves on their victims.
The young man went down screaming, but Jacinda went down fighting: punching, kicking, kneeing, elbowing. The affected in the lead sank their jaws into the easy target’s neck. He cried and thrashed, but this only encouraged them to a feeding frenzy.
They dragged Jacinda down by sheer mass. Her roar of defiance ended in
a gurgle.
Amanda’s body wouldn’t move. Her mind wouldn’t think. “Cannibals?” her mouth blurted.
“Amanda, get out of there!” Carolyn called.
Legs moving on their own, Amanda fled to her car.
Shaking, Amanda pulled into the driveway of Chas’s mother’s house. Images of Jacinda and the man falling under the cannibalistic attackers looped through Amanda’s mind. She remained in the vehicle, breathing hard.
A moment later, Denver and Taylor emerged. They climbed into the car.
“What’s the matter?” Taylor asked.
“I . . . I have to tell you girls something.” Then it all poured out: the looters, the demands, the kidnappings, the monsters.
The girls listened, solemn.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.” Amanda took a breath. “I was in denial. But this seems to be the world we live in, at least for a little while.” She forced a smile that fell short of reassuring.
Denver shook her neon-striped hair out of her eyes. “It’s all right, Mom. We’ll get through it.” She wore an expression of determination.
“You can count on us,” Taylor agreed, for once on the same side as her sister. “We’ll do everything we can to help us and the neighbors.”
“Thank you, girls.” Amanda’s voice broke with the last word.
Due to the affected, most of the neighborhood stayed indoors.
The idea of owning a firearm had never occurred to most people here, including Amanda. Now she would love to have a gun in her hands, even if she didn’t know how to use it.
Instead, she collected makeshift weapons: Denver had a BB gun, which she claimed would make a healthy person think twice. Taylor found a dandelion weeder; it resembled a spear with a forked point. And Amanda settled on a baseball bat.
The rest of that day and part of the next morning passed uneventfully. For the most part, the infected people left this section of Redwood Shores in peace. Did the raiding kidnappers actually keep the affected at bay? Did having safety mean handing over lives and goods to criminals?
Undead Worlds 2: A Post-Apocalyptic Zombie Anthology Page 17