Westport (Grays Harbor Series Book 1)

by James Bierce

  "After high school I used to work in the woods fighting forest fires in the summer. You'd be surprised the amount of rain those things can ignore when they have enough fuel."

  The sound of the wind and rain outside is suddenly joined by someone knocking softly on the front door. Curtis stands up and pulls his gun out, pointing it at the door as the handle slowly turns from side to side.

  "I thought you said they couldn't get in... What's with the gun?" Larry asks him.

  "I don't think that's one of them." he whispers as he moves quietly across the floor. He stands in front of the door, listening closely, but hearing nothing — then he carefully bends over and peers out the window next to it. It takes his eyes a moment to adjust, and even then he has a hard time seeing much of anything. Then he sees something on the ground — the dark outline of a body lying in the mud. Looking around, he spots at least two more of them — one of them still writhing around in a pool of mud, water and blood. He bends over farther to see who's standing at the door, but all he can see is a faint figure walking in the other direction.

  Curtis sneaks back to the desk, watching the windows on the back side of the room for any signs of movement. He kneels down next to Larry, who is still shivering beneath the blanket, but is now also holding a pistol in his hand.

  "Was it Amanda?"

  "I think so. Whoever it was killed the group of people that were out front."

  "Maybe she's trying to help us..."

  "No, I think she's eliminating the competition. She wants us for herself."

  With no further signs of Amanda, or anyone else for that matter, Curtis unlocks and opens the back door of the grocery store shortly after the first rays of sun appear on the harbor. Although he realizes that Ben has seen dead bodies before, he feels more comfortable avoiding the ones lying by the front entrance.

  Enjoying the dry conditions, and keeping an eye on the dark clouds resting over the ocean to the west, the four of them walk along a path that parallels the highway between the buildings and the harbor, until it finally ends on the west side of the small community, bringing them back to the long and winding stretch of road that leads to Cohasset.

  "How long do you think it will take us?" asks Beth, who can feel every part of her body aching after a night spent in the harbor, fighting the frigid currents that are constantly moving toward the Pacific with the flow of the river.

  "We should get there sometime this afternoon as long as those clouds don't get any closer." replies Curtis.

  To the west, where the harbor empties into the ocean, and to the south, where miles of forests and wetlands climb into the coastal mountain range, the scenery still looks exactly the same as it did before the sickness came. The views to the east and north, however, tell a different story. They could see Aberdeen when they first left the store, or at least what was visible through the smoke — but the neighboring city of Hoquiam was kept hidden from their sight. As they come to a bend in the road, however, and see the sun shining down on what's left of the city, every member of the group stops in the middle of the road and stands in silence, shocked at the surreal scene in front of them.

  To say the city of Hoquiam is in ruins would be an understatement — there's really nothing left of it. The streets are still more or less there, although seeing them through Larry's binoculars they can clearly tell that the heat has likely done massive damage. The same can be said of the few older stone buildings that are scattered across the newly formed wasteland. Everything else is unrecognizable, even the vast network of industrial docks at the port have vanished overnight. And while the fires have mostly burned themselves out on the west side of the Hoquiam River, they're still raging up the hill on the Aberdeen side, leaving only the buildings along the waterfront free of any damage — at least for now anyway. Larry and Beth can't help but think of the thousands of people still left in the city, and they find themselves conflicted as to whether or not they should feel sorry for the ones that don't make it out alive.

  "Its probably like this everywhere." says Beth, who then looks down at Ben, regretting that she said it in front of him.

  "If it doesn't already, it soon will." answers Curtis, who begins walking down the road again.

  Following behind the others, Beth looks back and tries to catch at least a glimpse of the hospital where she last saw her husband, but the smoke has blocked most of the hill behind the city, leaving its fate a mystery.

  About a mile east of Johns River, where Curtis is hoping the cache of food still exists at the general store, the dark bank of clouds finally moves far enough inland to block any hint of direct sunlight, leaving the landscape around them shrouded in its shadow. Along with the clouds, the first hint of drizzle begins to fall as well, the mist so fine in the air that its just barely noticeable.

  Larry looks behind them, glancing only briefly before looking forward again, trying to look as normal as possible. "Everybody act calm." he tells the others, in a voice as soothing and relaxed as he can muster. "Keep walking and don't look back."

  "What is it?" Curtis asks.

  "Our friend is behind us."

  A feeling of dread washes over Curtis, who was beginning to believe that they'd finally lost her for good. "Are you sure its her?"

  "In that dress? It has to be."

  Curtis stops and turns around, spotting Amanda walking down the middle of the road about a quarter of a mile behind them. He pulls out his gun, cocks it, then aims it at her.

  "Don't shoot, its hard telling who might hear you!" Larry yells at him under his breath.

  "I'm not going to shoot her, I just want to scare her off."

  He wants to pull the trigger, to finally end the misery that she's brought to his life — but he doesn't. Instead, he keeps his finger off of the trigger and keeps the gun aimed at her, unsure of whether or not she's seen him yet. Then, while still walking, she lifts her arm up and points her finger at him, her hand roughly in the shape of a gun.

  "Crazy bitch..." Curtis mumbles to himself as he turns around and continues walking, placing his gun back into his pocket.

  Beth gives Larry a disapproving look, a look of worry and disgust at what she can only assume is abhorrent behavior on Curtis' part — but Larry just shrugs in response. To Beth, she looks like any other young girl, but Larry came to the conclusion a couple of days ago that Amanda was no longer a child, and deserves none of the sympathy or protection you would ordinarily give one.

  For the next mile they walked in silence, each of them occasionally looking back to see what progress Amanda had made — and to their dismay, it looks as though she might be gaining on them, although its difficult to say for certain with all the bends and dips in the road.

  "That's the store just ahead." Curtis tells them, pointing at the small building only a hundred yards ahead of them. "There was quite a bit of food inside when I came by a few days ago."

  "Maybe we should just keep going." Beth says. "If we stop she's just gonna catch up. At least with some distance between us we might be able to lose her in the woods."

  Curtis turns around and sees that a curve in the road has them hidden from Amanda's sight — but only for a few minutes. "I've got a better idea..."

  The group makes their way toward the general store through the woods that run alongside the highway, and they finally catch a glimpse of Amanda right before reaching the back entrance. Once inside, Beth and Ben start gathering canned goods and medical supplies off of the shelves in the back room, while Curtis and Larry position themselves by the front window, each of them with a gun in their hands. They told Beth that they were hoping that Amanda would simply pass them by and keep walking toward Westport, while they slipped their way to the south behind her — but in reality, the plan they had in mind was much more violent.

  "As soon as we fire a shot, its hard telling what kind of attention we'll attract." Larry warns Curtis.

  "I'm more afraid of her than I am a dozen of those other things."

  Curtis leans f
orward and looks both ways down the highway, but sees absolutely no sign of the girl. "She should have gotten here by now... Don't you think?"

  "Larry!" they hear Beth yell from the back room.

  They both run into the back room, where they see Beth aiming her gun at the small window that looks out at the woods behind the store.

  "She just walked past the window..." she tells them, her voice filled with fear.

  "Did she see you?" asks Curtis.

  "She looked right at me and smiled. Her face..." she trails off.

  "What about her face?"

  "Its covered in blood."

  Curtis cocks his pistol, then cautiously looks out through the window, seeing nothing but a small set of bare footprints in the mud.

  "Beth, I need you to stay here with Ben."

  "Where're you going?"

  "Larry and I are gonna search for her outside." He opens the door quietly, letting Larry and the AR-15 out first. "Lock the door behind us."

  "What if she has a gun?"

  "She doesn't, she prefers her knife."

  As soon as they're both outside, Beth shuts and locks the door, then stands next to Ben in the far corner of the room, the decomposed bodies of the two store owners only inches from their feet.

  "I'm scared." Ben whispers.

  "Its okay to be scared sweety, I'm scared too."

  They both flinch as they hear a gunshot from somewhere outside — then two more coming from another gun. A few minutes later the sound of crunching gravel can be heard as someone approaches the back door. Beth points the gun at the door, then watches the window for any signs of movement.

  "Beth, open up — its us." she hears Larry say.

  She unlocks the door, and Larry motions them outside.

  "Did you find her?" she asks, leading Ben out the door and onto the pathway.

  "No, we couldn't find her." Larry responds.

  "What were the gunshots then?"

  "We found someone else. Come on, we should get going."

  Beth keeps walking toward the parking lot out front, not really wanting to hear anymore details about what happened. As they reach the highway and start moving west again, she spots something laying on the ground next to the store. She's almost certain that its a woman, but with their face embedded in the gravel path its difficult to tell for sure — and she's not really interested enough to ask.

  Besides looking over their shoulders, waiting for Amanda or anyone else to suddenly ambush them, the next two hours of walking is rather uneventful — that is until they reach the intersection where the highway meets the Pacific Ocean, and splits off to the north and south. To the south is the outskirts of Cohasset, and the cabin — and to the north is Westport and the rest of Cohasset. Beyond the normal carnage of abandoned cars and litter on the roadway that they've all come to expect, Curtis notices that the doors are now open on almost every vehicle on the roadway. He knows that they weren't like that when his family came by only a few days ago, which means the hordes of residents from Westport have made it at least this far from town.

  As the group turns and starts heading south, they walk right by a fresh, partial skeleton that's been picked clean lying in the middle of the highway, with a pair of brown pants crumpled next to it. Curtis is the only one that recognizes who it is, although it takes him a minute to remember his name. Peter — the old man he met briefly at the Johns River general store. Its hard to say what happened to the rest of his body — it could have been coyotes or wild dogs, or maybe even the people who no doubt attacked him. Whatever it was, part of him feels bad for the guy, and another part of him is worried that this happened so close to their cabin.

  About a half-mile down the road, the cars that have been opened and looted come to an end, and eventually the cars disappear altogether, leaving only an empty stretch of asphalt all the way back to the overgrown driveway of their home. As the four of them approach the cabin, Curtis feels a sense of relief when he sees a thin wisp of smoke coming from the chimney. That relief, however, quickly vanishes the moment he looks through the open doorway.

  "We're never going back home again, are we?" Matt asks his mom as they walk along a path in the woods behind the cabin, both of them carrying pieces of firewood for the stove.

  "I really don't think there's anything to go back to."

  He really wants to ask her about his sister, Annie, and whether or not they'll ever see her again — but he knows that the subject is too painful for his mom to discuss. "Is Carl going to live with us from now on?"

  "If he wants to I suppose. Maybe we can find him someplace close, a nearby house or something." She reaches down and picks up another piece of dried wood, part of a branch that probably came down the winter before. "We should start thinking about gathering enough wood for this winter — that way we won't have to make trips like this in the freezing rain."

  "We should put something over the windows first."

  "For insulation?"

  "No, in case the people find us."

  After their walk in the woods, a part of Sarah had almost forgotten about the people in town, and the fact that many of them are lurking right down the road from them.

  Walking down the last part of the trail, they hear what sounds like a door slamming shut, but they figure that its only Carl waking up from his nap — and then Sarah spots a woman peering into the pickup truck before moving toward the front door of the cabin. She lays the firewood onto the ground softly, then motions for Matt to do the same. Reaching into her coat pocket, she pulls out the .38 revolver and begins moving slowly toward the back of the cabin, trying to stay clear of any of the windows that might possibly give away her position. When they come to the front corner of the building, Sarah crouches down and peeks around the bend, seeing the woman standing right outside the open door. The woman is clearly upset, making quick glances inside the doorway, then looking away down the driveway.

  Sarah stands up and moves into full view, aiming her pistol directly at the woman's head. "Who are you?"

  The woman looks startled, backing up a couple of steps. "My name is Beth."

  "Carl, are you okay?" Sarah yells. She looks at the doorway, hoping to see Carl appear from the opening, but instead sees the face of her youngest son, Ben. Seconds later, Curtis and Larry both emerge from the cabin as well.

  "Sarah, drop the gun, these are friends." Curtis pleads.

  She falls to her knees, letting the gun slip out of her hands and onto the ground, then holds her arms out to Ben, grateful to see him alive and healthy.

  Larry and Beth stand back, letting the Lockwood family have their moment — but after a few minutes of hugs and tears, Larry interrupts them for something more urgent. "Curtis, the guy..."

  Curtis turns and faces Larry, and the smile on his face instantly disappears as he looks back at Sarah. "Do you know the guy inside?"

  "Yes, his name is Carl. He helped us make it back here."

  "Was he alive when you left the cabin?"

  A panicked look appears on Sarah's face as she turns toward the cabin and attempts to enter it, but Curtis grabs her and holds her back.

  "Don't go in there, you don't want to see him like that."

  She throws Curtis' hand aside and steps through the open doorway, seeing Carl sprawled out on the hardwood floor, a trail of fresh blood running across the floorboards from a gaping wound in his throat. She turns away and embraces Curtis, horrified at what might have happened while they were away.

  Larry steps forward, a look of genuine sympathy in his eyes. "Why don't you guys wait outside and visit... We can clean this up."

  Sarah forces a smile and holds out her hand to him. "I'm Sarah, and that's Matt." she says, nodding to her oldest son.

  "Nice to meet you, my name is Larry, and this is my sister, Beth."

  "And is that your daughter?" Sarah asks, pointing behind them.

  They all turn around, confused as to who she might be talking about.

  "Who?" asks Larry.

/>   "The little girl, she was standing there just a minute ago."

  The moment Jake wakes up and his eyes begin to focus on his surroundings, the room begins to spin uncontrollably. With a great deal of effort and pain, he manages to sit up from the bed he's lying in without passing out, the back of his head throbbing horribly.

  The room he's in is mostly dark, with only a hint of light penetrating the blinds covering the window beside him. There's also a strong smell of smoke in the air. He starts to reach into his pocket for his flashlight, then realizes that he's not wearing his own clothes — but a hospital gown instead. Sliding his legs carefully off of the bed, he stands up slowly and walks to the window, pushing the blinds aside to let some light into the room.

  Almost blinded by the intense sunlight coming through the window, it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the brightness — and when they finally do, he almost doesn't believe what he's looking at. From what he can tell, he's at least six floors up from the street level, looking out over most of downtown Aberdeen — or at least what used to be downtown. Virtually all of the city is gone, reduced to a series of gray and black piles of ash and brick, with only a small portion of the waterfront that still looks to be more or less intact. He can see the hollowed-out bodies of vehicles lining the melted and deformed asphalt streets, and the remains of chimneys sticking up through the rubble like trees in a forest. The only thing in this part of town that seems to be untouched is the hospital itself, apparently mostly due to a wide section of green lawn that circles most of the building.

  Focusing once again on the room behind him, he spots a mirror on the wall and decides to check himself out — and immediately sees the reason for his massive headache. The back half of his scalp has been shaved cleanly of all of its hair, and replaced with tightly wrapped bandages that look fresh and expertly applied.