Invasion of the Dead (Book 3): Escape

by Baillie, Owen

  Dylan said, “We’re trying to get into that building.”

  The man shook his head. “You can’t. I’ve been trying for a week. Those men have taken it over, and they kill anyone who tries to get in.”

  Gallagher crept up behind the tip truck and peered along the street through the scope of the rifle.

  Callan hooked fingers into the chain link fence. “Have you tried talking to them?” The man raised his t-shirt and revealed a bandage over his right shoulder. “They shot you?”

  He nodded, smiling. “They’ve taken many shots at me. I’ve found a way in, but I’m afraid if I go in there alone, I’ll get caught, and die. There was another man who lives nearby that I was working with, but I haven’t seen him lately.”

  Dylan wasn’t sure he liked the man, but he couldn’t put his finger on why.

  “Why do you want to get inside?” Kristy asked.

  For a long moment, Dylan thought he wasn’t going to answer. “To find some medicine.” The smile faltered for the first time. “My wife is sick.”

  “The virus?” Kristy asked. The man nodded. “What happened? Was she bitten?”

  “I don’t know. She came down with a head cold. She was acting peculiar—kept saying we were going to get killed, very paranoid, and angry all the time. It was most unlike her.”

  Dylan looked away. Sounded familiar. He wondered whether Kristy would put two and two together. He glanced up to check she was looking at him. She was, and his face filled with heat.

  “We need to get into that building,” Kristy said. “Can you help us?”

  Callan said, “We might be able to help her. If we can get inside and find what we need.”

  The man’s eyes widened. “Really? I can get you in.” He pointed back along the road. “There’s a small cut in the fence in the next property. You crawl through there, and then do the same again into this facility. They’ve been there for years.”

  “But how do we get inside the building?”

  “I’ll show you. Do you have weapons?”

  “Yes,” Callan said. “Enough to put up a fight. What’s your name?”

  “Ahmed.”

  Callan asked, “Who’s going with Ahmed?”

  “Me,” Dylan said. Kristy shot him an icy glare. He frowned back at her, and she turned away.

  “I’ll go, too,” Gallagher said.

  “Klaus,” Callan said. “Nobody else knows what they’re looking for.” Callan put a hand over his eyes to shield the sunlight, and waved Klaus from the camper.

  “We need to distract them,” Ahmed said. “Whoever is coming into the facility will need to follow me. The rest will need to drive the van further up to the gate as if you’re trying to get in. They will engage you. Tell them you’re looking for help. Medicine. They won’t hurt you but will tell you to leave. That will take their focus away.”

  “Are you sure?” Kristy asked.

  “I’ve seen it done before several times.”

  Klaus stepped gingerly from the van and shuffled across the curb to the fence. He wasn’t moving well, Dylan thought. Something wasn’t right with the scientist. Blue Boy followed. Dylan wondered whether the dog would growl at the man, but he sat patiently on his haunches beside Callan, who explained the plan, guiding them away from Ahmed. “What do you think, Klaus? We’re placing a lot of trust in this man.”

  “Yes, we are, but I don’t see we have a choice. Without him, our chances of getting in are minimal.”

  Dylan shielded his eyes from the sun. “Couldn’t we approach the gate and ask them to let us inside?”

  “He told us to do that, so I guess we’ll find out if it works or not.”

  “How much serum is left?” Dylan asked.

  “Not much. We need to get in that building.”

  “But if we’re careful with the ser—”

  “No!” Klaus said. Dylan stepped back. “There won’t be enough. There isn’t enough now.” He massaged his temples. “We need to get in that facility or those of us infected won’t be going much further.”

  “I think that makes it pretty clear,” Callan said.

  In the end, after a little more gentle persuasion, they all agreed that Gallagher and Dylan would accompany Klaus and Ahmed.

  “We need to move,” Ahmed said. “Drive up to the gate and ask to be let in. After they reject you, keep driving along this road and take the left turn. The street runs along the fence line of the facility. We’ll meet you there.”

  “How long do you think it will take?” Callan asked.

  Klaus scratched his head. “I have no idea. Could be thirty minutes. Could be four hours.”

  It felt like déjà vu to Dylan, as so much of their lives had lately. He didn’t want a grand goodbye with Kristy. It was as though the sentimental part of him had been supressed by the virus. But she probably didn’t understand why he had requested to go into the facility. He didn’t want to hang around this place too long. He would keep them moving and hurry their progress towards the city. He had a fleeting thought of telling Kristy all of this, but decided dropping that on her and running off wouldn’t be fair. He would do it immediately upon his return.

  Her eyes were glassy as he they hugged. “Be careful,” she said.

  “You too.” He kissed her softly on the mouth, lingering a moment. He knew he should say more; tell her how much he still loved her, but instead, he turned away and considered what lay ahead.

  Inside the perimeter, Ahmed walked parallel to them as they followed the footpath away from the campervan. Dylan turned back once. Callan stood at the door, squatting beside Blue Boy, a hand around his neck. Kristy had disappeared inside the van. They passed another fence and came to an overgrown block where snarling weeds and blackberries covered the fence line. Ahmed could go no further. Another chain-link fence ran at right angles from the road. “There’s a cut in the wire up a little way. Go through it, and then walk diagonally to this fence.”

  They found the inconspicuous opening in the weeds and wriggled through it, Klaus catching his shirt on the sharp wire ends. Dylan couldn’t shake the feeling that they were walking into danger, and as they crossed the heavy undergrowth, he posed the question to the others. Klaus couldn’t keep pace though. Dylan slowed, waiting for the scientist. Sweat ran down his face with the exertion under the hot sun.

  “What choice do we have?” Klaus asked, still agitated.

  They reached Ahmed and he pulled the flap back to allow them easier pass, then led the three of them through a tangle of brush, ducking behind an old shed. Was this crazy? Who was this guy and why did they trust him so quickly? Through the fence, they watched as the campervan and Toyota drove off towards the gate.

  “We wait here a moment,” Ahmed said, peering around the corner of the shed. Dylan stood behind.

  Fifty yards away, near the entrance, several men patrolled with machine guns. If Ahmed had wanted, he could call out to the men and they would probably be shot. Suddenly Dylan didn’t want to be there, regardless of whether he was getting serum or not. He considered returning to the street and waiting for the campervan. He stepped out from behind the shed. A hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back.

  “What are you doing?” Ahmed’s brows angled down sharply.

  “I—”

  “They’ll kill you if they find you in here.”

  A noise sounded from the gatehouse. Another vehicle had pulled up in front of the gates. The men patrolling the grounds hurried towards the entrance, leaving them unobserved.

  “Now,” Ahmed said. They ran.

  TWENTY

  As they pulled away from the curb, a black BMW turned into the entrance of the facility from the other direction. The men standing outside the gates flocked to it, guns drawn.

  “Keep going,” Callan said, standing beside Evelyn. “Drive slowly. And be ready to speed off.”

  Evelyn feathered the accelerator, watching with a cautious eye. Her stomach fluttered, but not in the way she would have liked. Men and
guns were not her favorite thing of late. They were driving into a potential situation, and the group had split. They all mattered to her now. Each of them had contributed to her and Jake’s survival in some way. “How close?”

  “Just pull into the turning lane, but don’t drive up to the entrance.”

  She glanced back to make sure Jake was seated, and saw Greg standing behind Callan with a rifle. She guided the camper left into the turning lane and pulled up. Ahead, the black sedan was parked at right angles in front of the gatehouse. Six men, some wearing bandanas, others ponytails, stood around it, holding machine guns and pistols. Two were close to the sedan, talking to the occupants. Despite the strong feeling, Evelyn resisted driving away. “I don’t like this.”

  Greg stepped closer to the front window. “Yeah, me neither.”

  “Hold on,” Callan said. “Let’s see what happens. Based on what Ahmed said, they should turn the BMW away.”

  One of the gunmen noticed them and started towards the campervan. He said something to the others, and laughed. The driver of the black sedan became vocal. The door opened and a man climbed out of the passenger side. A ponytailed gunman barked a command at him. The man kept coming. Ponytail raised his pistol and shot the passenger. Blood exploded from the back of his head and he crumpled to the ground.

  “Go. Go!” Callan screamed.

  Evelyn released the brakes and chirped rubber as they leapt away from the curb, pulling back out onto Camp Road. As they passed the gatehouse, gunfire chattered, clunking into the van. Sarah screamed. Evelyn screamed. The men dropped.

  “GET DOWN, JAKE!”

  Evelyn couldn’t get down. She wanted to; she felt her limbs and body pulling at her to drop, but she held tight to the wheel. The thud of bullets and the sound of ripping metal echoed through the inside. She should have been protecting her son. She risked a glance back; Julie had both Jake and Sarah lying down on the seats, her ample body covering them. A feeling of deep gratitude washed over Evelyn.

  She slowed the camper as they approached the first left turn, crunching the curb with the rear wheel. Instinct told her to keep going, to drive straight on, but Dylan and the others were inside, and the man had said to meet them down the side—

  “There’s a man chasing us,” Kristy called out. She stood at the back window.

  Evelyn took the first street, running parallel with the boundary of the CSL site. Trees lined the road, providing shade from the incessant sun. “Goodie or baddie?” Evelyn asked.

  “I don’t know. I think it was one of the men from the sedan.”

  “Where do I go?” Evelyn asked.

  Callan dropped into the front seat. “Keep going for a bit.”

  “Are you okay, Jake?” she called out.

  “Yes, Mom.” Julie still had both the kids under one arm.

  On their left, heavy foliage filled the inside perimeter of the facility grounds, towering above the barbed wire fence. On the right, the snarling gardens of abandoned houses peered at them. They reached a bend in the road, away from the CSL grounds and deeper into the suburban folds. Evelyn didn’t think they wanted to go that way, and Callan confirmed her thinking.

  “Pull up here,” Callan said. “At the corner.”

  Evelyn climbed the gutter and parked on the grassy curbside behind a red sedan with weeds growing around flat tires, a relic of the street’s former inhabitants. Armed with rifles, Callan and Greg moved towards the back of the van, checking the view from each window. In the distance, gunfire popped and cracked.

  Kristy stood at the side window. “I don’t think it’s safe to wait here.”

  Callan rubbed his temples. “Let me think.” He started pacing.

  Evelyn had never witnessed him so stressed. Usually, his calm demeanor prevailed. She supposed this was different though. He couldn’t influence the outcome. He had to wait, dependant on the others.

  “He’s coming,” Kristy said. “The man who was chasing us.”

  Callan opened the side door and stepped out, followed by Greg and Kristy. Evelyn left the driver’s seat and went to Jake, who hugged her tightly around the waist. He was okay. That was her number one concern. Through the back window, Evelyn saw man approach the van. Greg and Callan were walking towards him with their rifles pointed, Kristy trailing just behind.

  In a loud screech, the black car that had been parked at the gate rounded the corner and drove directly at them. The others halted. The man kept running, screaming words Evelyn couldn’t understand. She fought the urge to start the engine, drive them away, and return later for Dylan and the others. Her instinct burned like a bad tummy ache. Whilst zombies were their main enemy, people were just as dangerous. Greed and brutality seemed to have infused the psyche of those who remained. It reinforced the luck she and Jake had in finding this group. She pulled Jake closer.

  The man had almost reached them. Callan put up a hand, signaling for him to stop. Greg held his aim tight, looking down the line of the gun. Beyond, the car slowed, pulling into the curb.

  The man reached Callan and slumped over, hands on knees. His big stomach drooped, and his wrinkled face was flushed with exertion. He stood up and brushed his thinning blonde hair askew. They began an exchange that Evelyn couldn’t hear. The black sedan stopped, and two men leapt out—one tall in a t-shirt and jeans, the other shorter, in similar attire, brandishing a gun. Evelyn had a fleeting moment of panic when she thought the gunman might start trouble, but he put a hand on the running man’s shoulder as if to check his condition.

  Shouts sounded from the other side of the fence. Gunfire exploded. Bullets clunked into metal. And then everybody was running.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Dylan and the others reached the closest building in a fifty-yard run by following Ahmed in a squat line. They fell against the wall and peered out at the grounds, expecting gunmen to be on their tails. Klaus stood bent over, hands on his knees, coughing and spluttering as though he had just run the fastest mile of his life.

  Gallagher put a hand on his shoulder. “Klaus, what’s the matter?”

  The scientist shrugged off the hand. “Nothing. I’m just not used to it.” He stood tall, adjusting his glasses. “Let’s go.”

  Ahmed signaled for them to follow and they rounded a corner into a rectangular cove with three sides. A number of large, aluminium shafts covered by grates exited the building horizontally. Dylan searched for a door, or some other opening, but the walls were vertical, towering above them two or three stories high into the cloudless blue sky. “Tell me we’re not going into them,” he said.

  Ahmed looked apologetic. “There used to be a door on the western side they sometimes left open, but it’s locked today. I already checked earlier, on the way past.” He took hold of a grate attached to the front of one shaft and yanked it off.

  “You’ve done this before?” Dylan asked.

  “I’ve crawled around in them for a little way, but that’s all.”

  Dylan didn’t like confined spaces himself, and thought about whether he absolutely had to be here. Perhaps he could wait outside for the others to return. He imagined being stuck out there for hours. He was there to keep them on schedule.

  “You don’t know where the shafts lead?”

  “Everywhere. It’s a maze. There’s an entry point into most rooms though. I’ve looked down into a few. I was too scared to try anything else. But I did see one of the gunmen poking around.”

  Gallagher approached the shaft, holding the pistol. Klaus still wasn’t armed, refusing to hold a weapon. Dylan slotted the handgun into his waistband and double-checked the extra cartridges in his pockets. Ahmed moved aside, holding the grate. “Are you coming with us?” Dylan asked.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’ll meet your friends on the other side. I’ll keep them concealed until you return. Just follow the perimeter of this building south,” he pointed, “and I’ll be waiting at the fence.”

  Dylan studied Ahmed, wondering
what it was about the Middle Eastern man he didn’t like. Was it his appearance? No. He’d had friends over the years from all different backgrounds. Ahmed was too convenient. He was too helpful, too keen to get them inside the facility. It was almost as if he’d been waiting for them. Dylan wondered if he even had a wife. Ahmed returned his gaze.

  “I’ve dealt with that sort of scrutiny all my life. You don’t trust me. I understand. But you still have a choice. Find your own way into the facility. See how far you get.”

  “If you’re lying and we survive this, I’ll kill you myself.”

  Ahmed‘s hard expression softened. “There won’t be any need for that, I promise.”

  After they had piled into the air-conditioning shaft, Ahmed resecured the grate, filling the space with shadow. “Good luck.”

  They worked their way forward at slow pace. None of them had any idea where they were going, but Klaus had a sixth sense for directions. But he appeared to be sicker, coughing regularly into his arm to stifle the sound. Dylan was certain somebody would hear them. The darkness between rooms made them move faster, but light from the ceiling openings guided them, and they were able to study the contents of each area from high above.

  The first time Klaus suggested they might try and drop down, Gallagher had removed the ceiling grate before he realized there was a gunman in the room. Dylan couldn’t see, but he watched Gallagher’s head disappear into a hole in the shaft floor. Moments later, he shot back up. Somehow, he managed to refit the grate without alerting the man. They waited another ten minutes for him to leave before moving on.

  Three rooms and a lot of crawling later, they gave it another shot. This time they made it down onto a desk before a man entered. He looked strikingly similar to Klaus—average height, white lab coat, glasses—although he was mostly bald. He stumbled back against the wall, dropping his clipboard when Gallagher levelled a gun at him.