by Ariel Bonin
ROAD OF STARS
ROAD
OF
STARS
~
ARIEL BONIN
Copyright © 2016 Ariel Bonin
Turn & Walk Publishing
Cover Design by Amy Anderson
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978-1537450988
ISBN-10: 1537450980
For my mom—thank you for sharing
your creativity with me
Prologue
The approaching footsteps were too calculated. The string of empty tin cans surrounding Lindsey Scott's camp should have tipped her off if there was a turner nearby. There was no staggering or tripping for the threat that presented itself outside of her tent, though. When the zipper began to move one tick at a time, she knew for sure it was no turner. Glancing around the one-person space, suffused in a soft hue of morning light, she slid her hand under her makeshift pillow—a rolled-up sweater.
Just as her fingers touched the cold steel of her Glock, someone grabbed Lindsey's feet and yanked her out of the tent in one fell swoop. The sudden movement startled her and she was unable to grasp her gun in time. She reached out for it—for anything—but only got fistfuls of her ratty blanket, followed by wet grass. She kicked her leg upward, twisting around to thrash in the hands of her attacker. She imagined she looked like a gator, pulled onto land by her tail. It would have been really great if she had razor-sharp teeth too.
Lindsey got a glimpse of her assailant and was surprised to see a woman's round face. She was probably in her 40s and outweighed Lindsey by at least thirty pounds. She wasn't overweight by any means, just taller—make that half a head taller. Her clothes were worn down to rags, completely stripped of their color, now lackluster grays and browns.
"Stop. Stop it," the woman hissed through black teeth.
Lindsey reached for the knife on her hip. She managed to unsheathe it and took a swing at the stranger's ankle. The woman jumped back and pulled out a small six shooter. Training it on Lindsey, she shook her head. The brown strands hung heavy with grease, barely moving.
"Stupid idea bringing a knife to a gun fight, huh? Hand it over."
Lindsey weighed her options. The woman had a point. If she tried anything she'd be met with a bullet between the eyes, but if she gave up her weapon, she'd be truly defenseless.
Deciding that she really didn't have a choice in the matter, she stabbed the blade into the thick grass.
"Good girl."
Lindsey watched the woman step forward and yank it out. After wiping the dirt on her pant leg, she secured it through her belt and looked past Lindsey toward the tent.
"Whatcha got?"
The blonde glanced over her shoulder, then back again, wetting her chapped lips.
"Hello? You mute or somethin'?"
Lindsey cleared her throat and let out a weak cough. It had been a while since she'd talked to someone. Her last group, a family of four, had abandoned her while she slept. That was two months ago—or what she guessed was two months. She'd lost count within a few weeks after the outbreak. Either way, it'd been a long damn time since she had seen another living person. Moments like this, though, made her completely okay with that.
"I don't have much. I haven't eaten for three days. There isn't much around these parts—"
"Yeah, no shit. We're all starving. You can save the sob story." The stranger held her gun in place, unmoved. "Stay right there on your knees and if you so much as breathe the wrong way, I'll blow you away. At least you wouldn't be hungry anymore…" she mumbled as she began to circle around to the tent.
Lindsey sighed in frustration and observed the other woman. They maintained eye contact as she fully opened the zippered door and crouched into the low space. She lifted Lindsey's backpack from the corner and plopped it back down, raking her hand through its contents. Lindsey knew what she was seeing: a half-empty water bottle, iodine tablets, two rags, antibiotic ointment, matches, a can opener and a flashlight. Everything was valuable—and she wasn't going to just give it away.
That feeling was confirmed when she saw the woman pick up her sweater. A smile grew as the stranger turned back to her with the Glock in hand.
"Nice piece. This'll do me just fine."
"Please," Lindsey whispered, "don't take it. You already have a gun and my knife. How am I supposed to protect myself?"
The woman finished stuffing Lindsey's blanket into the bag and slung it over one shoulder. She then tucked the newfound handgun into her waistband. "You seem like a pretty resourceful lady. You'll figure it out," she said, following it with a chuckle, as if she'd made a joke. She very well knew that her actions were a death sentence.
Lindsey swallowed the malicious words she wanted to spew as the woman walked along the outside of the small tent, dragging her knife through the thin material. When it collapsed onto itself in a tangled mess, she tightened her hold on the backpack and turned toward Lindsey, who had somehow managed to remain in place.
"Try anything, try to follow me…and you're dead. I'm sorry it has to be this way." She shrugged and kept the gun on Lindsey as she backed away. "It's every woman for herself and you drew the short straw."
The moment she disappeared into the dense foliage, Lindsey scurried across the slick ground and jammed her hand under the tent. Pulling it back out, she clutched her spare handgun. A quick check confirmed she still had two rounds left.
Leaving the shredded tent behind—it was useless now—she skulked into the forest. She kept her footfalls light, avoiding twigs and opting for the spongy earth of moss and pine needles. She spotted the woman darting between the trees and picked up her own pace. She tried to stay to one side and low to the ground, as the stranger kept looking back in suspicion.
A male turner stumbled out from behind a tree, one that happened to be directly in front of Lindsey, and she struggled to hold in a startled gasp. The dead fellow clawed at her flannel shirt and she took a few steps back. His cloudy eyes bulged and his lip-less mouth bared a set of teeth resembling a wide smile, as if he could barely contain his excitement over finding a feast in the middle of the woods. She swung her arm back and around, using the momentum to connect the butt of her gun with his exposed skull in a sickening crunch. She repeated that motion until the bone gave out and one final blow left him in a motionless heap. Dark blood and brain matter clung to her shaking hand. After taking two shallow, semi-calming breaths, she used a pile of leaves to wipe away the traces of her violent kill.
She stayed back as the forest opened up into a small meadow, the long strands of grass swaying in the chilly breeze. Spotting the woman's fleeing form, Lindsey lifted the spare gun, aimed and fired. The bullet struck her in her right shoulder blade. As she wheeled around with her own gun, Lindsey released the last round. It landed dead center in the woman's neck. Dark blood shot out as she flew backward, disappearing beneath the tall grass. Lindsey took the long way around; just in the case the woman expected her to approach head on and wanted to return the favor. Her hands shook as the adrenaline began to ebb, her head woozy. Once she finished this, she would resume her search for food—a mission that never ended.
Up ahead she could see a hole in the grass and slowed her steps.
Immediately, she knew there would be no retaliation.
The woman's blood gathered in a small pool at the base of her leathery neck, pulsing onto the ground below. It left a coppery tang in the air, alerting any turner in the immediate vicinity of the location of the loud shots.
As the stranger groped blindly for her discarded Glock, Lindsey picked it up two feet away from her hand and holstered it. Her hand slowed and clutched the grass with weak fingers. Her breaths left the wound as a gurgled hiss and Lindsey couldn't look away from the train wreck.
However, she was forced to when five walking corpses lurched toward the scene. She considered showing the woman some mercy, but thought better of it. She was low on ammo—it really couldn't be spared. Besides, would the other woman have shown her the same compassion? Probably not.
Yanking her pack off the dying woman's back, she dodged a turner in gore-stained overalls and watched him settle his jaws onto the stranger's face with overzealous vigor.
"It is every woman for herself…so suck on that straw," Lindsey muttered as she walked away. But even in her vengeful state, she found it hard to block out the atrocious sound of ripping flesh.
Chapter 1
PRESENT DAY
The journey to New Canaan started out far better than Andrew Flynn imagined it would. For starters, they came across zero roadblocks. The back roads were mostly clear of debris, so no detours were necessary—yet. Occasionally they would have to swerve around a random turner or two, sometimes a car—deserted when their owners fled from the dead, or became one themselves—but that was easy.
In the afternoon, their luck ran out, but not in a way they had expected. Since Jacob was only nine months old, he slept for most of the trip. Waking up just after lunch, he was not happy about being cooped up in his car seat. He fussed and whined, finally breaking into a screaming fit. Thirteen-year-old Zoey tried to entertain her little brother, but he'd had enough.
Andrew rubbed his temple as a headache loomed. He recognized the sign for a grocery store coming up on their left and honked once to notify the group of vehicles following him, while putting on his blinker. The convoy turned into the wide parking lot filled with abandoned cars. They parked in a line at the front of the store and got out.
As Andrew pulled Jacob from the backseat, Nadie rushed up.
"He did this a lot after we left the school. Would you like me to take him?" the woman offered, her arms outstretched.
Andrew passed her the infant. "Thank you. I just need a few minutes." He rounded the car and found Lindsey taking a couple of ibuprofen from the bottle they kept in the glove compartment. She held it out to him and he chuckled at their like-mindedness.
The others circled around with their weapons drawn. They were in what Andrew considered a medium-level area in terms of population; not rural or urban, but a town. Turners could be seen drifting between the houses across the street and were slowly making their way over. They had TurnerCorp to thank for the hordes of people—more beast than man—who wandered the earth on the desire for a hot meal. Those meals came in the form of humans or animals—basically anything with a beating heart. It was terrifying, to say the least.
Nicholas inspected the rows of automobiles stretched out before them and then the dark storefront. "Me, Andrew, Darius, Robert and Tyler will start siphoning some gas from these cars. Charlie, you take a group inside to scavenge for food and supplies. Everyone else can wait by our vehicles. Got it?" he instructed with a stern expression.
Andrew wasn't prepared for the other man's orders, but they didn't surprise him. Nicholas was law enforcement—he was used to being in charge.
After they all agreed, Charlie approached Andrew. As Nicholas was walking away, the rancher said, "Guess he thinks that officer outranks captain, huh?"
Andrew snickered. "Hey, you heard the man—put together your team and get to work."
"Is Zoey ridin' the bench or can she play for me?" Charlie asked as he loaded a magazine into his suppressed rifle.
"I'm gonna take her with me. She needs to learn how to do this," Andrew answered. Turning to his daughter now, he called out, "Come on, Zoey! You're with me."
_____
Lindsey watched as Charlie and Andrew parted ways. Charlie stopped in front of her and the other women, his stance insinuating impatience. "Looks like you're gonna be my dream team. Let's get this done."
"I don't know what 'dream' you're talking about, but it certainly ain't mine," Ana retorted.
Everyone grinned. Lindsey withdrew her gun, checked her ammunition and waited for Charlie's instructions.
"I'll stay here with Nadie and Jacob, just in case," Kat said from next to the sedan.
Charlie nodded and moved to stand in front of the store with Lindsey, Caren and Ana. He knocked on the large window a few times, his fist banging loudly against the glass.
"What are you doin'?" Caren asked, Robert's machete in her grasp.
The man said nothing at first, then, "Just wait."
They peered through the window, but it was difficult to see past the glare. Suddenly, a pair of turners slammed into the pane, making the women jump. Charlie was unfazed, simply throwing over his shoulder, "Come on."
Using a crowbar, Lindsey and Caren pried open the once-automatic doors. Charlie fired a round into the head of the first turner, allowing Ana to step past him and dispatch the second. They dragged the bodies to the side and entered the store. The familiar smell of rancid food hung in the air and Lindsey found it hard to stomach. She longed to cover her nose, but needed one hand for her crowbar and the other for her flashlight.
They scanned each dark aisle, sweeping the store from right to left. The sound of Ana's arrow striking a dense, rotten skull infiltrated the silence within the store. Lindsey walked up an aisle in the middle of the building and noticed that the shelves were mostly empty. She hoped to find some formula for Jacob, as they were running low, but the odds didn't look to be in their favor.
Lindsey reached the end of the aisle and continued left, but stumbled when a gangly arm shot out and grabbed her ankle. The female turner, dressed in bloody khakis and a green apron, had been sitting between one of the shelves and a display of moldy desserts. She pulled Lindsey to the floor, her jaws straining to reach the woman's boot. Lindsey kicked at the turner, but couldn't get loose. In a moment of desperation, she ripped out her gun and fired.
_____
Outside, Andrew heard the pop of Lindsey's gun. He knew it was hers, because no one else in that group carried a Glock. For him the specific sound was easy to identify. And while one shot wasn't alarming, he also knew she wouldn't fire unless she ended up in a bind. Dread swirled in his gut, but he had a job to do and trusted that Charlie could back her up. Besides, he couldn't check on her every time he got worried, because he was always worried.
Zoey stood next to him. His anxiety obvious, she questioned, "Was that Lindsey?"
Andrew nodded once. "I'm sure they've got it under control." He dismissed any further discussion by redirecting his attention to the rusty Subaru nearby. By means of a gas can and clear tubing, Andrew showed Zoey how to draw gasoline out of a vehicle. He was impressed when she got the hang of it within a few tries.
He was in the middle of showing Zoey how to use a screwdriver to get past an anti-siphon barrier on a newer-model SUV when Nicholas strode up next to them.
"Your group should be conserving ammo. Just because you hit it big at that factory doesn't mean we have ammo to waste."
Andrew wanted to groan out loud, but kept it to himself. He stood from his kneeling position and faced the burly man. "It was one round. I think we can spare it. My group will only fire a gun as a last resort—I'm sure she had a reason to use it."
"Well, because of it, we're going to have to cut this siesta short." Nicholas gestured to the end of the parking lot, which was now scattered with the shambling dead, and they were closing in at a reasonable speed. He produced a hammer and hollered, "Darius! Need some help over here..."
Darius stopped what he was doing and armed himself with his trusty ax. Together, the two men began slaying each corpse they came across. Father and daughter exchanged an uneasy look and regarded the vehicle they'd been working on.
"Let's wrap this up," Andrew said.
_____
Back inside, Lindsey remained on the dirty floor as she caught her breath. The turner lay across her legs, dark blood oozing onto her boots from the entry wound. Lindsey scrunched up her face and kicked away the dead body.
Caren rushed around the corn
er.
"Lindsey! Are you all right?" She reached down and clasped the woman's hand to help her to her feet.
"Yeah…just a close call," Lindsey said as Charlie and Ana emerged from the next aisle. "I'm sorry I fired my gun. I guess I panicked a little bit." She glimpsed the weapon in her hand. With a frustrated grunt, she holstered it.
Charlie sighed. "Stick to your crowbar or knife if you can. One shot ain't a big deal. Sometimes your back is up against a wall and you gotta do it. Just in case though, let's hurry this up."
He and Ana took off toward one end of the store, so Lindsey stuck by Caren and covered the opposite end. They reached a section that once bore fresh produce, but now showcased completely unrecognizable items. Lindsey shone her flashlight over the scene, revealing clusters of bug-infested fruit and vegetables. Her stomach flipped and she heard Caren gag.
"Oh, God," the woman said in a thick voice. Doubling over, she hurled onto the tiled floor.
Lindsey clamped a hand over her own mouth, fighting the urge to start a chain reaction. She'd never been good with vomit, but Caren was obviously going through something. Lindsey needed to keep it together and help the other woman.
Rubbing a hand over Caren's back, she asked, "Are you okay?"
"I think so." Caren wiped her mouth and snatched a bottle of water from her basket. "The smell was bad enough, but to add the—" She stopped, looking like she was going to throw up again.
Lindsey watched Caren inhale slowly and then exhale in a similar fashion. Although they stood in darkness, it was as if a light dawned over Lindsey. Everything made sense now: Caren's exhaustion, the sudden nausea, her aversion to certain smells, her water glass at dinner…
It was all perfectly clear to Lindsey—because she'd been there before.
"You're pregnant." Various emotions assaulted her, from happiness to fear to jealousy.