by D. J. Molles
From around the other side of the house, drawn by the commotion, two more infected appeared. They ran to where Slim was standing and started pacing around, looking up at the roof like they knew someone was up there. Neither of the newcomers had a weapon in hand, but both seemed agile and so-far uninhibited by the plague’s effect on motor skills.
Lee waited, breathing hard now. No others came out of the house or from around the back. There were only three left. Lee wondered where the others had gone. Then he wondered why these ones were still here. Were they really that persistent? How long did it take for them to lose interest in something? And did they ever get exhausted, or would they continue trying to get to their victims for hours on end?
Lee quietly pulled on his go-to-hell pack. Then he shouldered his rifle and stood behind the brush with one knee on the ground, peering through the leaves at the scene before him. The rake was broken, and now all three infected were making strange noises and staring up at the roof. One was still pacing back and forth, but the other two stood in place, hands clenched by their sides as though ready to fight. On the roof, the woman held the girl in her arms, and both stared fearfully below the edge of the roof, where unseen threats waited to tear them apart.
“Headshots this time...” Lee slowed his breathing, in through the nose, out through the mouth, then stepped out of his hide.
He moved forward, wanting to cover as much distance as possible to make his headshots more accurate. He figured that a shot to the head would almost always put someone down, no matter how persistent they were, and if all three bum-rushed him, he would need them to drop fast.
He walked at a steady pace, heel-toe, rifle to his shoulder, red-dot trained on the pacer. He seemed most likely to notice Lee’s approach, since the other two had their back to Lee and were still staring up at the roof.
He closed to about 150 yards, and they still had not noticed him.
He pictured himself tripping and falling as he traversed the uneven ground, the three infected descending on him as he attempted to right himself. He looked down at the ground to inspect his footing. When he looked back up, the pacer was sprinting at him.
“Shit—” was all Lee could get out of his mouth. He planted one foot behind him as the infected closed the distance with surprising speed. All in that same second he told himself to be still, be calm, and take a good shot, then he thought about the infected girl, sitting in the field, mourning her infant’s death and wondered if he should give warning before shooting this unarmed infected, the same warning he would give any other person.
Hesitation.
He put the red-dot on the infected’s head—closing about 100 yards—and breathed out slowly. The 3x magnifier gave the infected the appearance of being much closer, and Lee’s instincts screamed to take the shot, but he waited. Another breath in...getting closer...breath out...
Lee pulled the trigger once, watched the shot clip the infected’s shoulder and spin him, fired again and saw the neat hole punched right above his left ear. The figure dropped.
Lee lowered the scope to see the big picture, which was two other infected, hauling ass towards him and screeching wildly. Lee chose the faster one without the damaged leg and fired quick. The headshot was perfection and the body dropped. Lee pivoted to the third infected, so close now that his snarling face and skin-and-bones torso filled up Lee’s scope. Three shots brought him to the ground, but he didn’t want to die and kept crawling on all fours until Lee finished him with a round to the top of the head. Slim died about 20 feet from Lee.
It wasn’t until after Slim stopped moving that he heard the screaming.
Lee looked up and saw both survivors standing at the edge of the roof, the woman holding her daughter as she reached out, tears in her eyes and her face clenched in grief and anger. She was screaming at Lee, but he couldn’t tell what she was saying, all of her words were contorted with emotion. Lee looked at the mother and saw the look in her eyes, and then he looked down at the body 20 feet from him, and heard the little girl cry out for daddy.
It wasn’t daddy any more, but a ten year old doesn’t know this.
“Fuck.” Lee felt that pressing coldness in the pit of his stomach like he had just massively screwed something up. But what was he supposed to have done? Let the man tear into him because he was afraid to make a 10-year-old cry? Lee shook his head and moved towards the house.
When he was close enough to talk, the little girl had turned away from him and buried her face in her mother. He opened his mouth to tell them his customary script, but the words caught in his mouth. He felt ashamed, though he knew there was nothing that could have been done differently. Even so, he didn’t want to introduce himself as the conquering hero of the United States Army one minute after gunning down this girl’s father.
He went with a simple, “I’m sorry, there’s nothing I could do to save him. I’m here to help you. How did you get up there?”
The woman blinked away tears, obviously upset but also rational enough to understand that her husband was rendered insane by the plague and would have killed any of them had Lee not put him down. She pointed to the backside of the roof.
“There’s a ladder on the ground in the backyard.” Her voice was hoarse and cracked. Lee could not see any supplies on the roof and assumed they were both parched dry from lack of water.
He jogged around the house, taking the corners slowly and panning to see what threats lay beyond. When he saw the backyard was clear he walked, searching the overgrown grass and weeds for a ladder.
He found a painter’s ladder lying in the knee-high grass, angled away from the house and Lee reasonably inferred that it had been propped against the house, then kicked off to prevent their attackers from following.
Lee picked the ladder up with one hand and heaved it back into place, leaning against the roof. The woman and her daughter appeared over the crest of the roof and worked their way carefully down the incline to the ladder.
The woman pointed to the ladder. “Abby, go down first.”
The little girl shook her head violently, her brown curls flying. “I don’t wanna go down with him!”
Lee felt stung. “It’s okay, sweetie. I promise I won’t hurt you.”
Abby wasn’t having it and screamed in an ear-splitting shriek, “You killed my daddy!”
“Abby,” the woman’s voice was shaking, but stern. “You will not talk to him like that.”
The little girl was still sobbing, but didn’t say anything else. The woman turned and made her way down the ladder. She moved slowly and a bit clumsily. Lee was concerned about the level of dehydration. When she finally reached the bottom she held out her arms and motioned for the girl to come down. Finally the girl swung her tiny legs out and began climbing down, her mother hovering underneath her, arms outstretched, waiting to catch her if she fell.
When both of them were on the ground, Lee placed a hand gently on the woman’s shoulder and pointed towards the brick wall of the house. The angle of the sun cast this side of the house in shade, which was what both of them needed. He noticed that despite the heat, the woman wasn’t sweating, which only meant that her body didn’t have the fluids to spare.
“Come over here...” Lee held her by the arm as she walked slowly into the shade. “Cool down for a minute. I have water.”
The mention of water made both of the survivor’s eyes go wide. The woman nodded as she sat down against the brick wall. “Please. We haven’t had water in days.”
Lee unhooked his rifle and leaned it against the wall, still close by. Then he took off his pack and set it on the ground. From the main portion he withdrew four bottles of water, setting two on the ground and handing one to each of the females.
“They’re not cold,” Lee advised. “Drink it slow at first or you might vomit.”
While the two survivors undid the caps on their bottles of water and sipped at them, obviously using significant self-restraint to keep from gulping them down, Lee scanned the peri
meter of the property, but saw no threats. Satisfied, he closed the main portion of his pack, and opened a smaller section where he kept stash of medical supplies. From inside he pulled out two packs of electrolyte tablets and two ice packs.
He handed the packs of electrolyte tablets to the mother. “When you get done with the bottle of water, put both tablets in the next bottle and shake it up. They’ll help rehydrate you.” As he said this he crushed the ice packs, breaking the chemical bags inside and turning the contents to a frozen slush.
With an ice pack in hand, he approached Abby cautiously, as you would a dog you were unsure of. The little girl looked at him with fearful brown eyes, but didn’t react, so he put on a disarming smile and held out the ice pack. “This is gonna help you feel better, okay?”
Happy to be drinking water, though still obviously distraught, the girl nodded and allowed him to place the ice pack against her head. After a second she pulled away.
“It’s cold.”
“Honey,” the mother said, sounding tired and out-of-it. “It’s gonna cool you down so the heat’s not so bad. Just let him do it.”
Abby relaxed and Lee put the ice pack back on her head, then worked it down to the base of her neck and held it there. After a few moments, he took her hand and put it where his was. “Hold that there, okay? Even if it starts to feel uncomfortable.”
Then he turned and put the ice pack on the mother’s head. Her eyes were closed and tears were coming out, gathering grime as they ran down her face. Lee spoke soothingly, “It’s gonna be alright. I’m gonna get you guys some place safe.”
The woman opened her eyes, now red-rimmed with tears. Her voice was a soft whisper. “Thank you.”
Lee nodded in response. “What’s your name?”
“Angela...” She thought for a moment, like she couldn’t remember. “...Houston.”
“Angela, I’m Lee Harden.” He still decided not to introduce his rank and purpose.
Later, he thought. Now’s not the time.
While Lee held the ice pack to the base of her neck, Angela finished the first bottle of water and opened the second, dropping in the contents of one of the packs of electrolytes —two tablets. They immediately began to dissolve and turn the water an orangey yellow. She began to shake the bottle, though her movements were sluggish.
“How long were you on the roof?”
“I think...three days?”
“Have you had any water at all?”
“We brought up a gallon. That was all we could grab on our way out. They were already breaking through the front windows.”
“Was it just you three?”
She nodded.
Lee looked at both of them. “You guys did really well. You’re both going to be very dehydrated, but hopefully the few bottles and electrolytes will get you out of the danger zone until I can get you back to my safe house.”
“You have a safe house?” Angela said it with some awe, as though she could not fathom the concept of a secure location.
“It’s several miles from here.”
“Did you walk?”
“No, I drove my truck—” No sooner had the words left Lee’s mouth than he heard the distant slam of a car door. A very distinct sound in the quiet of nature. He immediately froze and looked around. Angela and Abby sat unmoving, staring at him while his eyes scanned.
He grabbed up his M4 and stood. Angela’s hand shot out, the quickest she’d moved yet, and held his arm. “Please...don’t go.”
Lee looked down at her, pitying her. “I’m not going far. And I’ll be right back.”
She released his arm and he stepped to the corner of the house, then peered around. He could see the land laid out in front of him and his truck on the road. No...not his truck. Someone else’s, parked facing the opposite direction. A dark blue Dodge Ram. Lee leaned out a little farther, gaining angle and seeing the rest of the scene.
His pickup truck was boxed in by the Ram in front, and an olive drab Humvee to the rear. Outside of the vehicles, two figures were inspecting his truck, while three others approached the house from the road. A remnant of the US Military? More likely just pirated US Military equipment. Lee brought his rifle up, using his scope to look at the three men approaching. Two of them wore ACU’s, but lacked any identifying marks and neither was wearing Kevlar, which made them look like civilians that had raided an army-navy store. The third wore an old woodland camouflage jacket and jeans. All three carried M4s. They walked with the rifles across their chests, not addressed towards the house. Lackadaisical.
If they were military, they were most likely a non-active unit, or reservists. They were not equipped and they did not act like an active military unit. Whether their intentions were good or bad, Lee didn’t know, and now was not the time to find out. He racked his brain for any readily available plan to snatch back his truck, but none of them were possible with the two survivors to look after.
Lee lowered the scope and estimated the distance.
The three approaching men were about 400 yards out, and walking at a slow but steady pace. That gave Lee and his two survivors only a few short minutes to get the hell out of the area.
He pulled himself back around the corner. Angela and Abby were staring up at him with wide, expectant eyes. “We gotta move.”
“What...?” Angela stood and Abby followed suit.
Lee grabbed her by the shoulder and gave her a gentle push away from the house. “Head for the woods. There are people coming. I don’t know if they are friendly, and we’re not finding out.”
“They could be here to help.” Angela argued over her shoulder, stumbling along with Lee. “They could be friendly.”
“There’s five of them and they’re all armed.” Lee said, lowering his voice, despite the urgency spurring his feet. “If they don’t have our best interests in mind, we’re fucked... excuse me.”
Angela craned her neck behind her, trying to catch a glimpse of the newcomers. Lee kept a hand on her shoulder and a hand on Abby’s, and kept steering them towards the woods. “Come on,” he said. “I know you guys are tired, but we gotta pick up the pace.”
“What about your truck?” Abby whined loudly. “How are we gonna get back to your safe place?”
“Ssh!” Lee hissed, looking behind him as though he expected a barrage of shots in response. “Speak quietly! They have my truck now. We have to walk.”
They hit the wood line and Lee dropped to one knee, tugging on their shoulders and gesturing for them to do likewise. Angela and Abby crowded in close and traded concerned looks, back and forth from their house to Lee.
His speech was a rapid whisper. “You guys keep going straight through the woods until you can’t see the house anymore. I’m going to bring up the rear. When you can’t see the house anymore, lay down and hide. I’ll find you.”
“How will you find us if we’re hiding?” Abby asked.
“Because I’m good at that kind of thing.” Lee looked sternly at both of them. “You both need to start trusting me. If you want to stay alive until I can get you to safety, you will do exactly as I tell you. Don’t question me, and don’t try to out-think me. Now go.”
Angela understood, although Abby was still attempting to grasp the concept. Her mother grabbed her hand and silently headed deeper into the woods without looking back. They moved quickly and loudly, each footfall like an earthquake to Lee. He just hoped the incoming personnel didn’t notice.
Lee waited for a moment, then swiveled and duck-walked over a few feet to a large tree and peered around it, his rifle raised. He worked himself around until he got a good angle on the house through the brush, and looked through his scope. Nothing yet. With some quick mental calculations, he decided he had some time to get a little more distance.
He stood and quietly sidestepped his way further into the woods and away from the house, keeping as much concealing brush and trees between him and the corners of the house. He kept looking where he as stepping, then back at the house.
About 20 yards behind him, the woods sloped down. If he could make it to that slope...
Too late.
The three men cleared the corner of the house. One of them moved like a professional—the bald-headed one that wore ACU’s—his rifle was shouldered at low- ready and his body pivoted like a tank turret. Everywhere his eyes went, his rifle went, and he cleared the corner quickly and smoothly, gaining an angle on the back of the house. Then he motioned his two comrades forward.
The other one wearing ACU’s had longer-than-regulation dark hair. The kind of long, slicked back hair you see on the front of a bottle of Rogaine. He still held his rifle like an amateur—butt-stock under his armpit, muzzle pointed at the sky—and he walked without urgency. The third one wearing the woodland top and the jeans, still held his weapon ported, the barrel cradled in his left arm.
One possibly military, the other two...not so much.
Without Angela and Abby to weigh him down, he could probably take these three goons out, and have a good chance at using the house as a defensible location to take out the rest of the squad. But without knowing their intentions, he did not want to be the first to open fire. He wasn’t willing to take the gamble on whether they were good or bad guys, but the possibility still remained that they could be partially made up of US Army personnel on a benevolent mission.
Lee had slowly moved his way to another large tree and sunk down onto one knee, surveying the scene with only his left eye, peering out from behind the thick trunk.
Bald ACU moved towards the back door of the house, scanning the yard as he did. Rogaine ACU and Woodland followed after him. Bald ACU waited at the back door until Rogaine tapped him on the shoulder, and then all three filed into the house.
That was Lee’s queue to leave.
He pushed off the tree and made a dash for the down-slope, then took the hill head on and flew down at literal break-neck speed, maximizing the opportunity of having all three unidentified persons distracted by clearing the house. He continued his sprint until he felt he’d lost enough altitude that they would not be able to see him over the hillcrest. He stopped and turned, looking back, and could not see the house.