Earth's Survivors: box set

by Wendell Sweet

  “No way are you getting all the fun,” Ronnie called. He scrambles up onto the roof of the truck and Mike followed suit. A few moments later they were traveling through the shallow salt water. Mike lowered his hand and moved it in a forward motion. A few moments later he gave the okay sign, and leaned across to the drivers window.

  “What is that? Speed wise?”

  “Ten, a little less, maybe,” Candace told him.

  “Ten it is,” Mike said. He sat up straight once more and watched the small waves as they seemed to roll toward the truck. With the tide beginning to turn he supposed that was exactly what they were doing. His eyes shifted to the island, which now seemed to take up a much larger space on the horizon. His eyes returned to the water shifting from side to side and ahead. Not long now, he thought. Not long.

  Watertown New York

  Adam and Beth

  Adam crept quietly along the tree line following Beth.

  They had nearly stopped and gone back an hour before when a huge explosion had rocked the quiet afternoon. Flames high in the sky ahead of them. They had watched as a fireball had climbed into the late afternoon sky. The flames fell off, below tree level, but they had watched greasy, black smoke continue to rise into the sky until the sun set and they could no longer see it. Even so they could smell hot metal, and the roast pork smell they had smelled far too often that meant someone had been burned alive in the explosion and fire they had seen. The odors were heavy on the air and they had wondered to each other in whispers if the explosion had come from the south side of the river, even the cave they had been heading to when things had turned bad. They were close enough now that they could see the flames once more, still burning, a quarter mile or more away from where they were, and clearly not on this side of the river.

  As the darkness settled in more fully they stopped and waited for the moon to come up. As they huddled in the darkness, backs pressed against the side of a building they could both hear noises in the night that probably meant the dead were out and looking for them. Adam thought it ironic that the things to be afraid of in the night were the dead, not the living. It was like all the horror stories that he had read as a kid had been true after all. He had just eased away from the wall to check the path they had used to find their way to this building when he caught a blur in the blackness of the trees in front of them. They were both ready, and when two dead burst from the tree line directly toward them they opened up.

  The short burst took them both out, but Adam was sure it also alerted any other dead or living close by that they were there. A few minutes later they were moving. The moon was barley up, but it was too risky to stay put. A light snow was beginning to fall, covering the ground in white.

  They reached the River road and crossed it to the steep bank of the river. Adam met Beth's eyes and held them.

  “We both go,” Beth whispered.

  Adam nodded, took a quick look around the deserted roadway and then slipped over the cliff edge following a path that lead down to the river.

  Pearl had told them that when the earthquakes had hit the base had shut down and sealed up the small underground city immediately. The air ducts, wide rock tunnels that lead into the heart of the project, the two lane wide tunnel that had been bored into the solid rock and had served as the only public entrance to the underground city, and dozens of lesser known entrances had been sealed.

  The way in was the same way she had made her way out, the series of air ducts. The ducts led away from the city towards a small mountain-peak about a mile from the city, but they also lead to the river and various other places. They only needed to find their way to it.

  Pearl had told her story: It had been in the first hours of the apocalypse that had destroyed most of the world's infrastructure, governments and military might, and there had been a serious lack of moral among the soldiers, including the ones that had rescued her from the street instead of leaving her there to die after she had been injured and then attacked. They had only been making their way back to the base to lock down, but they had jumped into the fight, rescued her and bought her back with them. They had abandoned the vehicle and made their way into the tunnels the same way she had eventually made her way out.

  She had missed all of that. She had come around, her head wound dressed, several hours later. Stretched out on a cot in what looked to be an army barracks. There were a few soldiers that filled her in on what had happened to her.

  Speaking to the council about it had bought it back and she had remembered even more of it as she had told them. They told her what was going on out in the world. She had likewise learned about V2765. Everyone in the barracks had been exposed to it. Every soldier had been equipped with small silver canisters of the stuff and encouraged to use them, both for personal inoculation and for others. It had been issued to all them, and they had used it on her. They were also familiar with what they called Rex. Another agent that counteracted the first. Few had seen it, but all believed it existed. She had asked no questions, but she had been unaware that there were questions to ask.

  She had learned there was a commander somewhere in the facility, but as the hours slipped by it became more and more uncertain whether the base was even viable any longer. No one had heard from the base commander. Several of the soldiers had deserted, leaving the base the same way they had come into it. Finding their way back to the surface and the freedom that lay beyond. They felt they had nothing to fear. After all, they were protected by the virus. No matter how tough things got they should be able to survive. She was left to wander freely around the barracks and the rest of the facility.

  In the following early days the ones that had stayed had all been convinced that the government would be back on top of the eight ball in no time, but that had not happened. Instead, they had sat silent in one of the housing units and watched as one by one the worlds top military command positions went off line.

  Washington had been taken by the military. The president was long gone. Maybe wandering the streets as one of the living dead himself, but the soldiers had taken the white house, a symbol of American freedom and held it. It had fallen in just a few days: Overrun by crazed mobs who believed the government had been responsible for the catastrophe that had occurred.

  A large base in Texas, Another in L.A. Military contacts in the Middle East: London, Berlin, Base Pearce in Australia. All dug in for the long run. All gone in the first week.

  Pearl had assumed she was free to wander around, but not free to go. No one had said much of anything to her about it. When someone had come around it was to ask if she would like to make a break for the surface. They were concerned. The commander had taken control of the base once again, and there were rumors that the base would be buttoning up. There were already orders to close off the air vents. If they were going they had to make it soon, the soldiers had said.

  She had watched a group of four leave, unsure whether she could trust them. A few hours later she had met a civilian that had been stuck below levels when the earthquakes had hit, and he had convinced her to try for the surface. She had made it to the surface on her own, before a team had been sent to close the air vents off. While she had still been marveling at her luck, she had stumbled over two of the four that had left hours earlier. They had been shot dead and left in the last tunnel that exited to the surface.

  She had found the remaining two hiding near the tunnel exit and they had begun to make their way through the city. But later into the afternoon the remaining two had been ambushed and killed by two others. The men that had done the killing had dragged her into a building and raped her. Later, as the flames leapt and danced from the fire they had built on the floor of a partially collapsed building, she had made a move to get one of their rifles.

  She had weighed her choices and decided that death was better than the life they had planned for her. She had manged to get one of the rifles before the two men had been on her. She had held on even as they had punched and kicked her. They would h
ave been better off shooting her with the guns they still wore, because once she had been able to wrestle free and aim the rifle she had killed them both. She had sunk down to the concrete next to the fire and passed out. She had come to in the morning, bruised and battered, but alive and struck out on her own.

  Pearl had told her story to the council members and they had realized that there was a counter to the V2765 compound that had raised the dead. Rex, whatever it truly was, was stored somewhere in the underground facility. It became paramount to get that compound and reverse the process.

  The path they followed would lead them to the same tunnel entrance Pearl had come through with the others. Even if it had been closed back up again it could be reopened once more, and they could use that to break into the underground facility by following the ducts back into the project. From there they would look for the compound.

  The underbrush sheltered them as they made their way down to the river bank and then carefully scouted for a metal grid that would announce the presence of an air ducting tunnel. The rock trail was slick with new snow, and the snow was falling harder even as the temperatures began to plummet.

  “There,” Beth said tightly. Adam stopped and looked where she pointed. He climbed the few feet upward as she did, paused and looked over the heavy metal grating. “We'll have to be careful to stay inside the duct,” he said at last. “Pearl said they have cameras inside the tunnel itself... You sure you want to go in?” He asked Beth.

  He worked his fingers through the holes and rocked the grating slowly, it was much too heavy for one man to handle, but Adam was no ordinary man. He pulled a long metal bar from a sheath on his back and inserted one end into the recessed lip. He leaned his weight fully into it and it came up slowly. He rocked the bar in the slot of the recess and the cover slipped sideways and then ground to a halt.

  He handed Beth the bar and then worked his fingers under the lip of the cover and pulled it upward.

  At first it refused to come more than a few inches from the opening, but he redoubled his efforts and the lid came free with a metallic screech, slipped off the cement and flipped into the darkness and the river below. The tunnel way yawned black in the falling curtain of snow: A steel ladder disappearing below the lip into absolute blackness.

  They both stood for a few seconds wondering at their luck. Adam wasn't even breathing hard. He took a few calming breaths, and then climbed down into the dark opening, lowered himself inside; he helped Beth down to the wet, rock floor. A few moments later they began their walk through the stone cut tunnel, following quietly as it angled down into the rock.

  Watertown: River road

  They came from the shadows, the smell of blood pulling them. The young man in the lead approached the bodies where they lay on the broken pavement. They had watched the bodies far into the darkness, but unlike some, they had not come back. He looked over at them now, their eyes dull marbles, mouths wide and yawning.

  They had watched as the other dead, the slow ones, had found them. They had chased them off before they could take them too far into death, to the place where they could not come back.

  He walked across the asphalt, limping slightly as he went. The bright moonlight bothered his eyes, but he wore dark glasses to protect them. He walked up to the closest corpse and toed it with one heavy work boot. The dead boy rocked stiffly.

  “Done for,” he said. His voice was distorted. Two in the small crowd behind him whined. He stepped back from the body. “Go ahead,” he said in a rasping whisper, “Go ahead.”

  The small crowd of seven fell on the bodies and began to feed on them where they lay in the road.

  Billy and Pearl

  They had come awake in the bright moonlight. Something had brought them from sleep, some uneasiness. Billy had started the truck and drove slowly back toward the city on a back road looking for a safer place to stay the night. Pearl had taken over driving while Billy poured over the map they had.

  “Not on the map...” He shrugged. “I just don't know, Pearl.”

  Pearl had stopped on the edge of a housing development. It was dark, lit only by the headlights of the truck. Cars and trucks sat neatly in driveways. The streets were empty. The pavement was cracked and heaved, sand and debris covered the streets in an undisturbed pattern.

  “Fucking spooky,” Billy said. “I've seen something like this before.”

  “Beth?”

  Billy frowned. “Someplace in Arizona... I guess my mind is too tired to think straight... There could be dead in here, Pearl. That's my concern.” He pointed out disturbed areas in the dirt. Places that looked like trails.

  “It doesn't have to be dead... Could be small animals raiding house to house... No garbage cans, dumpsters anymore... Or it could be dead.”

  “That's exactly what we were thinking, turned out to be wolves...” Billy shook his head. “No. I say we find someplace else.” He looked back along the road, nothing but the red glow of tail lights behind them.

  “I'll turn around here in the mouth and then...” Pearl fell silent as strong white light illuminated the sky above a hill not far away.

  “Someone coming,” Billy whispered urgently.

  “Shit,” Pearl muttered. She hit the gas and drove down into the project. She cut the wheel hard and pulled into the first driveway and shut the lights off. She killed the motor and they sat quietly, watching the lights grow as they approached the apex of the hill. The motor ticked quietly as it cooled off. They both leaned back into the seats, hiding themselves in the contours and the headrests.

  The vehicle made the apex and topped the hill a quarter mile away. The headlights grew closer, the sound of exhaust loud in the night. The vehicle never slowed, but swept past the housing project and continued on its way into the city.

  Pearl keyed the ignition and the truck rumbled back to life. Billy took a deep breath, released it, and then something hit the truck hard and it rocked on its springs. The smell of death hit them about the same time, and Pearl slammed her foot down on the gas, mashing the pedal into the floor boards.

  A rotting hand came through the open back window and fastened around Pearl's throat, her hands left the wheel as she was yanked backwards, and the truck spun hard to the left and accelerated, her foot still mashed down on the gas.

  Billy lifted his gun and shot the zombie in the face. It seemed slow motion at first, the face exploded as it fell away into the back of the pickup, Pearl drew a deep breath and tried to grab the wheel, but it was too late. Everything sped up to real time and the truck roared forward and slammed into the side of a house. Her foot had slammed down on the brake and the truck finally stopped several feet past the house in head high grass.

  Billy scrambled up from the floorboards. He looked over at Pearl, but she seemed dazed, her eyes unfocused, a trickle of blood running from somewhere under her hairline. Billy levered his door open and jumped to the ground. His left leg refused his weight, collapsing under him, the knee sprung, or maybe just hurt from ramming into the dashboard as they clipped the side of the house on their way into the field.

  One headlight showed head high grass directly ahead, the other was dead. An amber signal light flicked on and off on the dead side of the truck, illuminating the grass and then dying away just as quickly. Something moved behind him, he watched the tops of the grasses swaying, and quickly dragged his attention back fully to the truck and where they were right now. Why was Pearl still in the truck? He wondered. Panic gripped him as he forced himself to his feet, ignored the pain from his knee and lunged back inside the truck.

  The smell of death came to him on the air, along with the smells of gas and hot motor. The dead were close by, he had little time. Pearl was slumped over the steering wheel, the airbag a corona around her. Blood slicked what he could see of her face, and she appeared to be dead. For a split second he was sure she was dead. He slammed his door to shut it with only partial success. Pearl's door was bent inward, no way would they be going out that. The glass wa
s shattered and he wondered if that was what the blood was from. He forced his mind to slow down, stop the never ending questions. He remembered reading once that the mind did that when it was confused. Normally the mind didn't need to ask anything. It interpreted far quicker than words could. He grabbed one wrist to feel for a pulse, but gave up after a few seconds. His own heartbeat had been all he had been able to feel. It was slamming so hard in his chest that it was all he could feel. He took several deep breaths, fixed his fingers loosely on her wrist, and immediately felt a steady, slow pulse. There, but was it too slow? He forced the questions away in his head. He tapped her face lightly with one hand.

  “Jesus, Pearl. Jesus. We've got to go,” Billy said loudly. He reached down, gabbed Pearl's rifle where it had fallen to the floor and then shoved his own gun into his holster. He was surprised he had the presence of mind to actually pull the strap over the hammer and snap it in place to hold the gun in. He could feel the weight of his own rifle on his back. Pearl had said nothing. He forced himself to slow down, although he was panicked, and checked her over.

  He couldn't find the head wound, but he could see that her leg was badly injured. Blood was soaking into the fabric of her jeans. He used his own shirt, ripped quickly from his body and tied around her thigh to slow the bleeding. There was nothing more he could do here. He had to get out of the truck: Get them moving.

  He reached over and pulled her to him, she came willingly. A second later he was limping thorough the tall grass in the moonlight.

  The dead were all around them, he could hear them moving, searching, he knew he had the briefest of minutes, no more. He stopped and shifted Pearl to one shoulder, and then sped up, limping faster through the overgrown field. Behind him a soft whump sounded in the night, and he felt the heat against his back as the truck burst into flame behind him, flames shot up into the night. Billy shifted Pearl's weight more fully onto his shoulder, and lifted the gun, searching for the dead, but the flames were keeping them at bay. One thing they were still afraid of. Before he could turn fully back to the building just a few feet away now, the truck blew up behind him and he felt himself pushed by the blast up onto the concrete of the driveway, where he struggled to stay on his feet.