Apocalypse Journeys (Book 1): Jacob's Odyssey

by Melrose, Russ

  I knew the infected might have heard the sound, but I wasn't concerned. They would hear me when I went downstairs anyway. I wanted them to hear me.

  They left the trap door uncovered. They would only replace it if the infected broke into the house. If everything unfolded as planned, they would be coming down in thirty minutes or so. Placing them in the attic was a safety precaution.

  I checked my watch. Five-fifteen. If things went well, they could be at the facility before six.

  I moved the chair into the nearest bedroom. If the Swimmer came into the house, I didn't want him making the connection between the chair and the trap door. And I knew Raj was long enough and strong enough to let himself down from the attic when the time came, then he could retrieve the chair.

  I went into the boy's bedroom where I'd left the Glock and the extra magazine. I didn't know whether I'd need the extra rounds or not, but the idea of having a full magazine in the Glock made me rest easier. I headed downstairs. I went as fast as I could and made no effort to be quiet. My thigh muscles didn't like the stairs, but they weren't nearly as tight as yesterday. I'd be able to move quickly if I had to.

  I made sure the kitchen's back door was locked. I could hear one of them pawing at the back door and rasping in a low, gravelly voice.

  After I'd checked the door, I headed for the living room. Except for the Glock, I would travel light. I had my lock pick set in the front pocket of my shorts and wore my watch. That was it other than the t-shirts. I had on three long sleeve t-shirts I'd found in the master bedroom upstairs. The t-shirts were light enough that they wouldn't inhibit my movements. Wearing the t-shirts was precautionary in case one of the infected took a swipe at me. I didn't want to get infected from a scratch and I thought the three layers would be sufficient to protect me.

  Three of them were in the front yard, lumbering steadily toward the picture window. They must have heard me and were coming to investigate. I stepped in front of the window in clear view and ejected the used magazine and set it down on the arm of the couch.

  I raised the Glock to eye level and put the full magazine into the magwell and shoved it up till it snapped into place. The sharp, metallic click got their attention. Their moans became animated and they moved with a rejuvenated liveliness.

  When they were less than ten feet away and had a clear view of me, I fit the Glock snugly into my waist band in the back. As they approached, I ducked down in front of the couch and out of sight. I wanted them to focus on the picture window. I lay prone on my stomach and crawled to the front door. By the time I got to the door, they'd already begun raucously pounding on the picture window, grunting and moaning hysterically. They'd likely draw the infected from the backyard—from everywhere else too.

  I stood up and got myself ready. I would unlock the door, open it, lock it again, close it and run out in two seconds or less. I took a moment to rub my thigh muscles to loosen them up. My shins felt okay.

  Once outside, the next thirty seconds would be critical—for me and the plan. I knew they'd follow me. I needed to get at least two houses up toward Jupiter before I'd have to get into a backyard. If I could get two houses up, that would draw them away from the house we were in.

  I took a breath and opened the door. A middle-aged infected woman, fleshy in her arms and upper torso, stood just off the one-step cement landing. She was headed toward the picture window. The moment I opened the door, she moved toward me with fanatical urgency. I panicked and fumbled around trying to lock the door. By the time I had the turn-lock in the vertical position, she was on the landing reaching for me. I grabbed the door jamb with both hands, bent down low and side-kicked her as hard as I could in the stomach. She stumbled back and fell off the landing, her arms still reaching for me as she fell. I slammed the door shut behind me and began to run.

  I ran at an angle toward the front of the yard next door. I needed to get into an open area. The biggest advantages I had were my quickness and the spacious East Bench lawns. The soreness in my thighs didn't affect my running. I ran at half speed so I could change directions quickly if needed.

  I found the best pathway was where I was equidistant from the infected on the street and those near the homes. In the next two yards, I'd have to get by fifteen to twenty infected. I needed to draw them out away from the houses. When they got close, I'd find a lane to cut back through and get to a fence.

  They were coming at me from every direction, but I was already nearing the second lawn. A tall, bony infected man coming from the street was about to cut me off and I didn't have a clear lane to cut back toward the houses yet.

  He was all arms and legs. He wore a filthy polo shirt and shorts, soiled with dried blood and grime. I was bursting with adrenaline and filled with a crazed determination. I ran hard right at him. And right before I got to him, I leaned down as if I were going to tackle him, but at the last moment I raised my forearms in front of me like a battering ram and slammed him hard in the chest. He toppled backwards, arms and legs flailing.

  I tried to run past him but one of his long arms caught my leg and I stumbled onto the lawn, my knees scraping the grass. I scrambled to get up. The gun had been jostled and I had to reach back to secure it. They were closing from every direction and I didn't have time to find a cut-back lane. Three of them from the front yard were just a few yards away, a small boy, no more than seven years old, in the middle of them. I headed straight for him, screaming wildly at the top of my lungs. I ran into the boy at an angle, hitting him on his right side and he spun around and fell. The collision had me off balance and a young infected woman grabbed me by the arm. I wrenched my arm free and ran like hell for the side fence.

  A couple seconds later I was scrambling over the fence. I waited a few moments in the side yard, then headed to the back edge of the house and peeked around the corner. The last of the infected in the yard were heading for the gate.

  As soon as they were gone, I ran to the back fence. I stepped onto the fence's lower brace and pulled myself up. Four infected stumbled wildly across the lawn, and several more were filing through the backyard gate. They went crazy when they saw me.

  Their excited moans would draw the infected right back into the yard I was in. I raced to the opposite corner of the backyard to get a view of the open gate. A half-dozen infected lumbered wildly up the driveway.

  The infected from the neighboring yard converged near the corner where they'd last seen me. They slammed their fists and heads into the fence boards.

  A golf-sized stone lay on the ground next to the fence. I picked it up and threw it as hard as I could against the fence where they were congregated. The stone struck the fence sharply with a thudding sound. Their moans spiked and they attacked the fence even more aggressively. I counted to five, then pulled myself up and over the fence. They were in the far corner fanatically assaulting the fence. I kept my eye on them and ran through the yard to the side fence between the houses and climbed over.

  This time I just ran. I was out in the street before they noticed me. There were only a few scattered infected in the street. I had a clear path to the side yard between the first and second house down from Jupiter—exactly where I needed to be.

  A large group on Jupiter was heading south in the direction of South Fortuna Way. One of them spotted me and then they adjusted their route like a herd of buffalo and came after me, a couple runners amongst them.

  I ran through the front yard of the second house and reached the side fence a few seconds later. I kept my head on a swivel to make sure the runners wouldn't catch me. At the fence, I lifted myself up, checked the side yard and slipped over the fence.

  I moved quietly to the back wall of the house and peered around the corner. There were two of them. One was lying down; the trunk of his body had disappeared down a basement window well. His spindly legs were sticking up in the air. The other stood by the gate, craning his head as he looked out toward the sudden commotion I'd left in my wake.

  I sprinted to the cor
ner where the four backyards met. The infected man near the gate noticed me. He grumbled excitedly and began his inevitable pursuit. I raised myself to the top of the fence and checked the adjoining backyards. The yard in front of me was empty. The other yards had a few infected in them, but they didn't seem to notice me. I clambered over the fence.

  I raced across the backyard. At the corner fence, I stepped onto the support beam and raised myself up. In the yard in front of me, an infected female stood by the home's back door. She leaned her head against the door's window, arms dangling at her sides, mesmerized by something she saw in the house.

  In the catty-corner yard, two infected milled about near the back wall of the home. A male and a female. They saw me and began to amble excitedly toward me. I climbed into the backyard with the infected woman at the back door.

  She seemed oblivious to my presence. I kept an eye on her as I walked across the yard. She stood listlessly at the back door as if she were in a catatonic state.

  Ahead of me, I could hear several more infected in the adjacent yards. A sporadic tapping sound too.

  The backyard fence was vinyl and had no support beam. I'd have to pull myself up to get a look. I checked on the woman again. She hadn't moved an inch. I slipped my hands up to the top of the corner post, one on each side, and placed my right foot two feet up the post. I lifted myself up and used my foot to give myself a boost. I held myself suspended just above the fence for no more than a second before easing myself back down. They hadn't seen me. Two were in the catty-corner yard to my left and four in the yard ahead of me. A female in the catty-corner yard was slapping tediously at a basement window with her hand. Though he hadn't seen me, a male was heading toward the side fence close to my position.

  The four infected in the yard ahead of me were in the middle of the yard, walking toward the back fence, likely drawn to the sound of the woman slapping at the window. No way I could get past them.

  I stood facing the corner post, going over my options, though I really only had one—the catty-corner yard. I couldn't decide the best way to get around the infected man walking towards the fence. From the line he was taking, I guessed he would be maybe ten feet from the corner when he reached the fence. If he were ten feet away, I could climb the fence and drop down and run to the other side of the yard. But if he was still out in the yard, he might be able to cut me off.

  I listened closely to see if could hear him, but I couldn't. I chewed at my lip, antsy to get going. I decided to wait ten seconds. Then I'd climb over and run like hell.

  Despite the cool early morning air, my hands were sweaty. I wiped them against the front of my long-sleeve t-shirt to get them dry. Then I wiped them against my shorts.

  I'd finished counting to ten but just stood there, stalling. I took a nervous breath and reached for the top of the fence. As I lifted myself up, I felt fingertips trail down my back as I rose upward. I jerked myself up to get away from the hand and a dark chill spirited up my spine. I was so startled I nearly fell over into the next yard. I grabbed the top of the adjoining fence to keep myself from falling. The four infected in the yard spotted me.

  I looked back and the infected woman was gawking at me, her head craned inquisitively to the side. She had a severe wound to the head just behind her left temple where a chunk of her skull was missing. A wedge of flesh was gone from the left side of her jaw as if she'd smiled too broadly and her jaw skin had ripped apart. I could see her teeth and gums all the way back in her mouth. Her teeth were stained a dark tar color and her gums were shriveled. And like the others, her facial skin was sucked in tight against her bones and finely wrinkled. She never made a peep. She stood passively with her mouth open, looking at me with dull eyes.

  And then I became aware of the rising tenor of the moans. They were agitated, almost hysterical. The infected from the adjoining yards were closing fast. I had to move. But she suddenly reached up for me again and I instinctively shied away from her. I nearly tipped over. I dove as hard as I could to my left to the catty-corner yard to keep from falling, but I overcompensated. I hit the top of the fence heavily with my left upper arm and shoulder. A jabbing pain ripped through my arm. My body flipped backwards and I fell hard on my back, the impact punching the wind right out of me.

  I couldn't catch my breath and my insides felt as if they'd been squeezed in a vise. I doubled up and rolled onto my side. I knew if I made any effort to move, it would only get worse. I tried to gasp for even a milliliter of air but couldn't draw a whiff. I cradled my abdominal area with both arms as if that would help. I had to get up and get moving, get the hell out of there, but I couldn't move and was beginning to panic.

  I looked up. He was fifteen feet away, stumbling determinedly toward me through the tall grass, his excited, lisping moans rankling the morning air. He was a middle-aged male with high cheekbones and intense jaundiced eyes.

  I only had a few more seconds. I clenched my teeth and reached behind me for the gun, but it wasn't there. I felt in the grass around me but couldn't find it. I rolled onto my back as he approached. I tried to breathe but my lungs were locked up tight. When he was almost on me, I kicked wildly at him but my gut spasmed and tightened again. He fell downward and I braced for the impact. He came at me from an angle and fell onto his knees next to me. His hands grabbed at my chest and he snaked his head in to get at my throat. I threw my hands into his chest to ward him off and clutched handfuls of his collar and balled my fists around them. I used my grip to control him as best I could. I was frightened but irrevocably determined. He had wild feral eyes and his mouth and jaw shivered with excitement. A liquidy rasping sound echoed through his throat and a string of drool escaped from the side of his mouth and dribbled onto my t-shirt.

  I shrunk away from him and almost gagged from the smell of sour urine and dried feces. The odor coming from him was thick and wickedly pungent.

  Even though he obscured my view, I could see the infected female halfway across the lawn, tottering toward us. I had to get him off me before she arrived. Then I heard another sound and wondered if more infected were coming through the gate.

  He moved his hands to my biceps and tried to pry my arms away from him. He was much stronger than he looked and frenzied in his efforts to get to me. I kept a fanatical grip on his shirt collar with my fists and refused to let go. He was no more than ten inches from my face and he kept trying to slither past me.

  Suddenly, I realized I was breathing again.

  The infected female stumbled along at a leisurely pace as if she were tipsy. She was fifteen feet away now. She was tall and willowy and looked frail. No way I'd be able to fight off the two of them lying on the ground. One of them would end up biting me. I had to get up.

  The male craned his head trying to find an opening, a frustrated grumbling vibrating from his chest and throat. I held him off. Next time he came at me, I'd use his momentum to roll him over and flip him into the wood fence. I'd have to bring him in close and then roll with him and forcefully push him away and disentangle myself. Then I'd find the gun. The Glock had to be nearby.

  The female was getting close; I could hear her guttural rasping. Just as the male began to lean into me again, I heard her make an abbreviated hiccup sound and then go silent. I turned and caught a glimpse of her stepping drunkenly sideways as if she'd lost her balance. She fell hard on her knees and collapsed to the ground and didn't move.

  I felt disoriented and confused. I heard feet tramping steadily through the grass, coming toward us. The infected male blocked my view. He was still frenzied in his efforts to get to me, but I held him at bay. Then a silver blur whipped through the air and struck the infected male in the side of the head. His eyes rolled back into his head and his face froze. He stopped moaning and went limp and I hurriedly pushed him away from me.

  Standing above me was an old man gripping a trembling golf iron in his palsied hands. He had stooped shoulders and had to be well into his seventies. He had white hair combed back on the sides and wa
s bald on top except for a few wild wisps of white. He had ruddy alcoholic cheeks and was smiling oddly.

  "Been wanting to do that," he said. "Hadn't used this four iron in a long time."

  I didn't think we should be talking, but the old man had just saved my life.

  "Thank you," I said quietly.

  I had my breath back and felt sufficiently recovered. I gathered myself and managed to get to my feet. I looked at the infected male to make sure he was dead. He was still as could be, same as the tall female. I knew I had to get moving and needed to get the old man back into his house.

  "Looks like you stole a bit of my fence there," he said good-naturedly, nodding in the direction of my left arm.

  Three two-inch long wood slivers stuck out from my upper arm like carefully placed acupuncture needles. I glanced at the top of the fence where I'd struck it with my arm and shoulder. Several long slivers of wood were peeled back from the wood board.

  I hadn't noticed the slivers while struggling with the infected man. But now I could feel them—a sharp stinging pain, and there was a dull aching in my shoulder. I pulled the slivers out, then removed my top layer t-shirt, making sure not to touch the drool the infected man had left. After I peeled it off, I dropped the t-shirt on the dead male.

  The gun was on the ground in the corner. It had been behind my head the whole time.

  The old man saw me looking at the gun. He glared suspiciously at me as if I were a thief and raised the four iron over his shoulder in a striking position.

  "What the hell you doing out here?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

  "Just helping some friends," I told him. "It's all right. You should get back into your house. More infected will be coming soon." I nodded in the direction of the fence. The four infected from the next yard over were bashing the fence boards and moaning wildly.

  He watched me warily as I picked up the Glock. I thought he might take a whack at me, but he just stood there watching me. I placed the gun in its spot in the back waist band of my shorts.