Grayland

by James Bierce

  Larry grabs the handheld radio from his bag and holds it so that they can both hear it. It’s a man’s voice, clear as day, as if they were in the next room.

  Then another voice comes on, a man that sounds much older. “Sorry, Aberdeen, this might be our last transmission for a while. The entire town is burning — we’ve been overrun.”

  “Copy that, Shelton. Are you safe?”

  “Nobody is, Aberdeen.”

  “I hear you. May God be with you…”

  “I have to switch off, they’re right outside. Over and out, and thanks.”

  The radio goes silent, leaving Larry and Beth staring at each other in the dim light of Christine’s flashlight.

  “I left the radio on, just in case you contacted me,” Larry says. “I forgot all about it.”

  “Do you think they’re the ones at the hospital?”

  Larry holds the radio to his mouth and presses the button, then pauses as he tries to figure out what to say. “Aberdeen, do you copy?” He waits several seconds for a reply, then tries it again. “Aberdeen, if you can hear me, please respond.”

  “Who is this?”

  “My name is Larry, I just arrived in the city. Are you at the hospital? I can see a…”

  “Contact me again at noon tomorrow.” the radio voice says abruptly, cutting him off.

  Christine walks up front, looking once again at the light still flickering in the distance. The rest of the neighborhood is mostly obscured by darkness, except for a few shops directly across the parking lot from the pharmacy. As she looks around for movement, which has become both a tiring and necessary habit these days, she spots something shimmering in front of one of the small buildings across from them. The longer she watches it, the more she’s convinced that it’s moving toward her — and as her eyes adjust to the lack of light and color outside, she suddenly realizes what it is. “Larry, come here, quick…”

  Stumbling across the floor, feeling somewhat sick to his stomach from exhaustion, Larry stands next to her and looks in the direction that she’s pointing. “What is it?.”

  “She’s right in front of us, halfway across the parking lot.”

  He stares into the darkness even closer, finally seeing something moving very slowly through the fog, her head barely visible over the top of the mist. “Is that…?”

  “Yeah, I think it is.”

  He pulls a pair of binoculars out of his pocket and scans the parking lot again, barely catching a glimpse her before she ducks down and disappears into the low-lying fog.

  “You know, the entire time I was with her, I never even asked her what her last name is,” Larry says, checking that the lock on the front door is secure.

  “Williams — her name is Amanda Williams.”

  CHAPTER 31

  COHASSETT BEACH: DAY 11

  Stepping out into the crisp morning air, Sarah breathes in deeply to cleanse her lungs of the mildew and rot that was trapped inside of the house. As much as she enjoyed the security and safety of its walls, she also knew that it was probably only a matter of time before one of them ended up sick from exposure to the filth. Once they made the decision that they were leaving, those same walls that once seemed so safe and comforting, started to feel more and more like a prison instead. At the first sign of daylight they began packing whatever provisions they could carry, all of them stuffed into dusty suitcases that they found in the garage. They had absolutely no idea where they were headed, but they were determined to find something better than this. They were homeless for the first time in their lives, and yet surrounded by an endless supply of vacant houses and condominiums — none of which were now safe from the local residents.

  The four of them make their way down the highway, each carrying bags or suitcases, and passing by the oldest houses on the outskirts of Westport — houses that have been damaged over the last few nights by an unruly group of the infected.

  “Wanna walk on the beach instead?” Curtis asks, stopping at a road that leads to a public access to the ocean.

  “I think I’ve had my fill of dunes for a while,” Sarah responds.

  “We won’t walk on the dunes, we’ll stick close to the shore where it’s easier to walk.”

  She looks at both of the boys, and can tell by their faces that she’s already been outvoted. “Fine, but just for a while.”

  The access road is covered with potholes, which are still full of water from the night before, but otherwise it’s quiet and empty until they reach a small parking area at the very end. A newer gold-colored Honda sedan is sitting by itself in the middle of the lot, facing a short sand dune that’s positioned between the car and the beach. On top of the dune, Curtis can see something lying on the ground.

  “Follow me, but don’t get too close,” he says, leaving his suitcase on the pavement as he heads up the path with a golf club that he found along the road. He motions for the others to stay put as he approaches the top, seeing what’s left of a person spread out on the ground. Sitting on the sand next to the body is a piece of paper that’s sealed inside of a mason jar, and a .38 revolver that still looks to be in decent condition — despite being exposed to the elements.

  Walking up behind him, Sarah kneels down and looks closely at the skeletal remains, then she picks up the jar and reads enough of the handwritten note through the side to confirm her suspicions.

  “What does it say, Mom?” Ben asks.

  “It’s not for us, sweety, it’s private.” Laying the jar back down in the same place, she sees Curtis pick up the gun and open the chamber. “Does it have anything in it?”

  “It’s full, except for the one round.”

  “Four shots, then?”

  “Yeah, we’d better make them count.”

  They walk back down the path, where Curtis grabs his suitcase again before heading down to the beach. As they cross the last of the dunes and view the ocean for the first time in quite a while, they all stop in their tracks when they discover the immense collection of ship-wrecked boxes and debris that’s been washed up on the shore.

  “Can we look in some of them?” Matt asks.

  “A few, but be careful, we don’t know what kind of a ship it was,” Sarah answers.

  Watching the two boys run down to the high-water mark where most of the packages have ended up, he looks up and down the beach in search of any people, but thankfully, he sees nothing. “You know, we haven’t seen a single person all day.”

  “I know, it’s almost creepy. I’m just afraid we’re gonna run into Jake somewhere out here.”

  “We can’t live our lives worrying about where he might be.”

  “If we have to worry about something, it might as well be him.” She sees the kids about fifty feet ahead of them, taking computers and cell phones out of the boxes, then tossing them to the side. “It’s peaceful out here, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, it is. I forgot how much it takes your mind off of everything.” He turns around and sees Matt and Ben running back, both of them empty-handed. “You didn’t find any hidden treasures?”

  “It’s just a bunch of electronics,” Matt explains. “It’s all wet anyway.”

  “Well, I’m sure there’s still more ships out there that haven’t sunk. Maybe one of them will have a bunch of footballs or something.”

  Hearing something down toward the water, Matt grabs his dad’s jacket and forces him to stop. “Dad, there’s somebody down there.”

  With everyone staring at the mountain of broken shipping containers and boxes, Curtis takes his gun out and carefully inches his way down to the debris field. “Is anyone there?”

  A woman, who’s nothing more than skin and bones, jumps out from behind one of the containers, then starts running quickly along the surf.

  “Wow, she’s really fast!” Ben exclaims.

  “Yeah, too fast,” Curtis says.

  “Could you tell if she was sick?” Sarah asks him, still watching the woman as she runs north.

  “Yeah, she was defini
tely sick. She had those purple marks all over her face.”

  “If they keep getting faster like that, they’re gonna be that much harder to get away from.”

  “Or kill…”

  Moving further down the beach, they come across a few smaller boats and a life raft that have washed up sometime recently, but there’s no signs of any footprints surrounding them. What they don’t see, partly buried just ahead of them, is a mass grave with only a few appendages visible through the sand. Instead, Curtis stops and points at a house that’s sitting just beyond the dunes.

  “That’s quite a house, isn’t it?”

  “It looks like a castle.” Matt answers.

  Curtis can see where he gets that. It has a normal metal roof, just like most of the other houses in the area, but the rest of it looks like blocks of stone or concrete, and it has a tall concrete wall surrounding the property, with only a small wrought iron gate visible, leading down to the beach. He turns to Sarah, who’s looking up at the sun, conscious of the time and how vulnerable they could all be after sundown. “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s worth checking out — but let’s be careful,” she replies.

  Getting closer to the house, they can hear the subtle sounds of the wind chimes on the wrap-around porch, and the creaking of the iron gate as it sways back and forth in the wind current. Up close, the house doesn’t look nearly as big as it did on the beach, but it’s still in better shape than anything they’ve seen today. Inside the wall, the yard is full of flower beds and fruit trees, and in one corner there’s a woodshed that looks like it’s almost filled to capacity.

  “This place looks too good to be true,” Sarah says, as she walks up onto the porch and peeks through a window.

  “Yeah, but good would be a nice change of pace.” With his gun still in his hand, Curtis quietly turns the handle on the front door and opens it, surprised at how clean and fresh the air is inside. “Anybody home?” he yells, but he gets no response. As Sarah looks the kitchen and living room over, he quickly checks the bedrooms and bathrooms out, making sure the house is entirely empty.

  “Nobody is home?” she asks.

  “Nope, just us. Is there any food?”

  “Not much, it looks like they evacuated everything. What’s that door over there?” she asks, pointing a narrow door in the living room.

  “I think it’s a basement, I can feel a cold draft coming through it.”

  “Maybe we should check it out…”

  “The door is locked, from this side. We can probably find a key somewhere around here.”

  “Are we gonna stay the night?” Matt asks.

  Curtis looks around, seeing a wood stove in the corner of the living room, and a water cooler sitting in the kitchen that’s still half full. “I think so, at least for tonight.”

  “Should we close the gate outside?”

  He looks out the kitchen window and sees the open gate swinging slightly in the wind, and a chain and lock hooked to it. “Okay, but only to the gate and back. Make sure we can see you, and don’t lock it until we find a key.”

  Sarah wraps her arm around Curtis’ back, then looks out at the ocean view. She can picture herself standing here, watching a sunset on a warm summer evening, while the others scour the beach for clams for supper. She notices that two of the fruit trees already have buds on them, and with a little pruning and thinning, the yard could be perfect. “I have to admit, I’m getting a little excited about this place.”

  “Yeah, me too. It has just about everything we need — except maybe some more food and guns.”

  “Are we near a town?”

  “Yeah, maybe a little too close for my liking.”

  “Which town is this?”

  “Grayland.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I’d like to thank everyone for supporting this series — those of you who know me personally (and now question my sanity), and those of you who have sent so many kind words of encouragement in reviews and emails. The first book, Westport, was started a few years before publication, and was delayed by both procrastination and a fight with cancer — the latter of which proved to be a cure for the former. Now that I’m healthy again (at least physically), I’m looking forward to writing more novels in the years to come.

  I’ve been asked on numerous occasions how many books will ultimately be in the series, and to be honest, I really have no idea. I’m currently working on the third book, titled ‘Aberdeen’, which will be out in early 2019, followed by a stand-alone book named ‘The Regency’, which tells the story of the hotel that was featured in ‘Westport’.

  You can find updates on my website, jamesbierce.com, along with information on where you can find my books for sale.

  Again, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy the next story…

  Sincerely,

  James Bierce