Affliction Z (Book 3): Descended in Blood

by Ryan, L. T.

  Sean fought his instincts and resisted the urge to rush forward. Instead, he dropped back, grabbed his M4 and slid it off his shoulder, pulled it around to the front. He dropped to his knee and listened.

  The tops of trees bent and leaves rustled against each other as the wind blew through. He noted that the breeze had picked up in the time since he’d left the clinic. A thunderstorm approaching, he figured.

  Whether the gusts drowned out other sounds, Sean didn’t know. But he heard nothing else.

  He scanned the clearing, sweeping left to right, then back again. A slower second pass allowed him time to linger and look deeper into the woods. No shapes or figures stood out amid the bushes and tall trees.

  Rising, the world spun and Sean leaned into the building with his shoulder to combat the lightheaded feeling. His heart pounded against his chest. It grew increasingly difficult to draw in a breath.

  No panic. Not now. Get it together, man. You’re no good to anyone otherwise.

  He knew better than to fight the feelings. That was the difference between those that allowed panic to cripple them, and those who conquered despite it. He pulled in as deep a breath as he could, expanding his clenched abdomen. Then, against instinct, he welcomed the sensations and gave himself permission to feel them for another fifteen seconds. And as he did so, the panic passed.

  Renewed, Sean rounded the corner and approached the open door, which hadn’t budged despite the heavy winds.

  “Emma,” he said in voice a few decibels above a whisper.

  No response.

  He called out again, this time louder.

  Still no response.

  He cursed under his breath and pushed forward, stopping behind the heavy door and scanning the clearing again. He counted down from three, then burst around the door and stepped into the building.

  “Emma? Addie?” His voice echoed throughout the chamber, but none of the women responded.

  The structure had showers on one side and bathroom stalls on the other. A wall divided the two down the middle. On either side of the wall were six or seven sinks. Sean veered to the right and checked each stall. All were empty. He continued around the divider. In the first shower stall, he found Barbara, lying on the floor, her head elevated on a branch. Blood pooled on the floor around her torso.

  “Barbara,” Sean said. He waited a few moments before repeating her name. “Where are the girls?”

  She said nothing and gave no indication that she had heard him. Her pale skin and lips didn’t twitch. Eyelids didn’t flutter.

  Had she passed? He could see the others being disturbed by the event, and leaving because of it.

  He strapped the M4 on his shoulder and slung it behind his back. The floor was dry and dirty. Mold and mildew blackened the grout between the tiles, and climbed the wall. A breeding ground for infection.

  Kneeling next to Barbara, Sean placed two fingers on her neck. The light pumps to indicate a heartbeat were non-existent. After a few seconds, he adjusted his hand. Still nothing.

  “Dammit, Barbara.”

  He’d given up hope. But as he slid his fingers off her neck, he felt a weak pounding. She was still alive. Barely.

  “Barbara, can you hear me?”

  She drew in a sharp breath as though he’d roused her from a deep sleep. Her left eyelid cracked open. For a moment.

  “Where are the girls? Where’s Emma?”

  Scenarios raced through Sean’s mind. Someone had come along and found them. They assumed Barbara was dead and left her behind. The others they took. For what purpose? To protect? To enslave? Bait for the afflicted?

  “Think, Sean,” he said, rising. The sudden movement left him lightheaded for a couple seconds.

  He left the stall and walked past the other showers. He prayed he didn’t find the women in there now.

  Relief and panic battled when he reached the entrance. The others were not in there, face down in a pool of their own blood. But where were they? Where had Emma gone? Had Addison convinced Emma and Jenny to leave and head west? That made no sense. On foot, the journey would take days. Weeks, maybe. And it wasn't like Sean had been gone for days, leaving them out of hope for his return. It'd only been a few hours.

  The wind chilled his sweat coated his body as he stepped into the clearing. The sensation refreshed him, if only for a moment before stinging the wounds on his arms, shoulders and back.

  The clearing was void of any other structures. He saw six concrete pads for parking campers and a couple tent sites. Beyond that, the darkened forest.

  "Where'd you go, Em?"

  The shadowy woods offered no clues. Sean walked the perimeter but picked up no trails. Without an idea of which direction Emma and the others had gone, the only safe move was stay put. They must've left for a reason, and if so they'd be back. Plus, Barbara needed immediate medical attention. And Sean welcomed that distraction.

  He hurried across the clearing to the concrete building. The wind kicked up dust and dirt and other debris. It pelted his sweaty skin, sticking and creating a thin film of grime. He reached the structure and stopped at the door.

  He’d heard something. Faint, and not the wind. Sean tilted his head, closed his eyes, and listened. Again, the sound broke through the white noise.

  A dog barking.

  Sean turned in the direction he thought it came from. Several seconds passed with nothing but silence. Then the dog called out again. Sean adjusted his stance as he honed in on the source.

  His heart felt as though it skipped a beat. His stomach loosened then knotted. His hands clenched around the M4.

  Three shadows appeared amid tree trunks. An animal snaked through the shadows, a few feet ahead of the people.

  Sean extended the rifle but aimed it upward. He didn't want to accidentally shoot whoever approached.

  Marley was the first to emerge from the woods. His ears perked as he sniffed at the air. Then he spotted Sean and darted across the clearing.

  Jenny, Addison, and Emma stepped out together. Each armed with an M4. Relief swept across their faces when they spotted Sean. Emma handed her rifle to Addison, then sprinted across the clearing into her father's open arms.

  “Where the hell did you guys go?” Sean said, squeezing Emma hard against his chest. When she pulled away, dirt covered half her face. He wiped her cheeks with his thumbs, mixing tears and grime into a salty paste.

  “Heard something out there,” Addison said. “The dog was acting sketchy, so I opened the door to take a peek. Turns out, Marley’s more fluff that fat, and a cracked door was all he needed to escape. None of us wanted to leave Barbara. But Jenny refused to let me go alone, and there was no way I was letting Emma stay behind. So we all went to find him.” She paused, then added, “Barbara’s in pretty bad shape. Have you seen her?”

  Sean nodded, trying to keep from expressing the inevitable.

  Addison continued. “Did you find anything?”

  He pulled the messenger bag strap over the top of his head and held it out. “Not a lot, but enough for now.” He paused for a moment. “Did you see anything out there, or find the source of the noise?”

  Addison shook her head. “Quiet out there. But, you know, it felt like someone watched us the whole time.”

  “Yeah, I know the feeling.” Sean stepped through the doorway. “Guess it’s best you two watch the door while Emma helps me with Barb. Once I get her patched up, we’ll leave this place.”

  “Hurry,” Addison said. “Like I said, feels like someone…something is out there. And it’s close.”

  Chapter 19

  “He’s close.” Phil wiped a bead of sweat off the LCD screen. The dot that indicated the position of Ryder’s GPS unit hadn’t moved in fifteen minutes. “In the woods, but looks like we might be able to get close before having to huff it on foot.”

  Barton nodded as he shifted the truck into gear. They’d been stopped for close to half an hour, outside Chapel Hill. Waiting for Ryder to move. Watching the afflicted.<
br />
  Phil glanced around. “Only concern is they’ll hear us coming from a mile away. Not like anything out there makes a sound these days. What once would have sounded like normal traffic now is a dead giveaway.”

  “So we park these and walk. How far away is it?”

  Phil calculated the distance. “At least three miles. Too far to risk walking. We might get halfway there and then he takes off. We’d fall behind. We gave him enough fuel that there’s no way he’s out already. And I doubt he wasted much because it’s obvious he knew the area from my camp down to Danville. He stuck to those old logging roads most of the way.”

  “How do you know that?” Barton regarded Phil as though he thought Phil was in cahoots with Ryder.

  “Ralph was able to tell when he pulled up their location. Showed the route they took. Besides the point, though. What I’m getting at is maybe Sean has knowledge of the trails and old roads that wind through these forests, too. A guy like that, with special forces training and advanced warning of the virus, I wouldn’t put it past him to have had multiple escape routes planned.”

  “So you’re saying we walk from here, we might get caught with our dicks in our zippers.”

  “Eloquently put.”

  “I’m a redneck,” Barton said. “I only know one kind of eloquence.”

  The men shared a smile. It happened so infrequently now that Phil took note.

  “Okay,” Barton said. “Let’s drive as far as we can, then take the rest on foot.”

  During the drive, they devised a plan to limit opportunities for Ryder to escape. The four men inside Barton’s truck would walk the path. The others would split into four groups of two and stalk the woods. They should all hit the location of the GPS at the same time.

  They convened with the others and explained their roles. They split off, four to the right of the old dirt road. Four to the left. The rest stayed behind.

  Phil, Barton, Ralph and Justin walked shoulder to shoulder down the path. Flattened grass indicated a vehicle had passed through recently. Twenty or so feet on either side of them were two teams, providing cover. Should someone approach from the front or behind, they’d have no way of knowing there were four additional rifles trained on them. Every ten steps or so, Phil glanced down to verify the location of the other GPS hadn’t changed.

  They’d reached the half-way point. Phil estimated another ten minutes at their current pace.

  Not a bird or an insect made a sound. The wind blew mercilessly through the trees. Leaves cascaded and swirled on a sideways path to the ground.

  Storm coming. Everything took shelter.

  The clouds made it obvious. But Phil had encountered a similar situation after leaving his camp, when they’d stopped near the woods and moments later a pack of afflicted had made their presence known.

  Ice ran across his skin as unseen eyes stared him down.

  “Tighten up, boys,” Phil said as much to himself as to the men around him. “Something’s out there.”

  “Where?” Barton said.

  “Somewhere. Just be on your toes.”

  “Christ, Phil.” Barton cleared his throat and spit to the side. “Scared the tar out of me. Thought you’d seen something.”

  “It’s not what I’ve seen. It’s what I’m not hearing.”

  They pushed forward. Gusts rolled through like crashing waves. The grass along the edge of the path swayed. A tree branch fell nearby. The thunderous sound drove a few crows from their resting places. Their squawks sounded like screams through a bullhorn. A little tension eased from Phil’s shoulders knowing that the birds hung around. Although he had no proof that they normally left when there were afflicted nearby. Only a hunch. And a smart one at that. Kept him in line and his head on a swivel.

  The doubled over grass led the way as the old dirt road curved to the right. Trees obscured their view. The men slowed to a shuffle. Ralph and Justin fell behind Phil and Barton. Stepping out from the cover of brush and trees, Phil raised his rifle.

  The square concrete structure before him looked as though it had been painted multiple times over the years. Along the building’s chipped facade, Phil spotted yellow, tan, red, and green.

  The other men fell in line. All clutched their rifles and scanned the building and surrounding area.

  Phil glanced at the GPS. “This is the spot. The ATV must be on the other side of the building. Ralph, you come with me. You two take the other side.”

  Phil pointed at the woods on either side and gestured for the men hidden in the shadows to keep moving.

  The men split into two groups and went to opposite corners at the rear of the structure, with Phil and Ralph taking the left side.

  “Stay right behind me, Ralph. When we reach the edge, I’m going to one knee. You come up behind me and we’ll move together with you covering ahead. Handle your assignment and we’ll be okay. Got it?”

  Ralph nodded and said nothing.

  They continued forward. Phil kept his right elbow in contact with the concrete building. Age had weathered the surface to sandpaper. It grated against his skin.

  He stopped a few feet shy of the corner. The deserted clearing ahead of them led to a few old spots for campers, and beyond that, the woods. Straight across he spotted another path wide enough it might be a road like the one they walked in on.

  “On three, Ralph,” he whispered. “One, two, three.”

  Phil stepped forward, then dropped to a knee. He felt Ralph’s leg against his back. Saw the man’s rifle protrude above his head, sweeping across the clearing. Phil extended his weapon. Using the wall for leverage, he swung around and saw Barton at the other end of the building.

  No one stood between them.

  Phil rose and met Barton and Justin at the entrance. Ralph grunted as he pulled the dented door open. Mildew-laden air rushed out. The light filtering into the room through translucent windows gave it a piss-yellow glow. A wall with sinks on both sides split the space in half.

  “Us right,” Phil said. “You left.”

  He and Ralph made their way into the room. A bank of bathroom stalls lined the outer wall. The doors stood in varying stages of open to closed. They cleared each one, verifying no one hid within, then stopped in the rear, staring at the backs of Barton and Justin.

  Phil cleared his throat.

  Barton looked back. “Take a look.”

  Phil stepped between the men and looked down at the puddle of blood on the floor. Torn scraps of paper and pieces of tin or steel thread rested on the short tiled ledge that separated the stall from the rest of the walkway.

  Phil knelt down and placed his index and middle fingers into the pool. “Fresh. Hasn’t coagulated yet.”

  “There’s more,” Barton said. “Leads out past the other showers.”

  Phil turned his head to the left and saw the crimson line spanning the length of the room. “Or in. Ryder has medical training. I think he found this place and patched himself, or someone else, up.”

  “Well, where is the son of a bitch now?”

  Phil gripped the GPS and brought the screen to life. Shaking his head, he said, “That’s what I don’t get. He should be right here. At least the ATV should. We’re right on top of it, but I didn’t see anything out there.”

  “Me either,” Barton said.

  “Come on,” Phil said. “Let’s go check the surrounding woods.”

  When they stepped outside, Phil adjusted the zoom on the GPS. The screen flashed black for a second, then zoomed in.

  “Shit,” he said.

  “What is it?” Barton said.

  Phil handed the GPS to Ralph. “The hell is going on?”

  Ralph grabbed the unit and stared at it. Finally, he shrugged and said, “I give. What?”

  “It’s gone.”

  “What’s gone?”

  “The mark for the other unit.”

  “Where was it?”

  “Here.” Phil spread his arms and turned.

  Ralph pressed the rocker
button. “Maybe we’re covering it up since you zoomed in so close. Let me just take it back out.”

  Phil studied the shadows in the woods while waiting for Ralph to finish. Four of their men hovered at the edge of the clearing.

  “Dammit,” Ralph said.

  Phil moved in closer to get a look at the display.

  “They’re miles away.” Ralph turned and pointed to the southeast. “That way.”

  “That trail over there.” Phil gestured toward the opening on the opposite side of the camp. “Where’s that go?”

  “Doesn’t show up,” Ralph said. “I don’t think it matters. They’ve already made it to a road and are skirting alongside it.”

  “How did this happen?” Phil slammed his foot into the soft earth.

  “Hell if I know. Maybe we were only downloading partial data or something.”

  Phil squeezed his rifle with both hands. Unleashing his fury on Ralph wouldn’t solve anything. It wasn’t the man’s fault this had happened. He looked up at the dark clouds and took a deep breath, allowing the oxygen to work its way through and clear his head.

  “Barton,” Phil said. “How much gas do we have?”

  “Enough to go a ways further before we need to turn back.”

  “A ways?”

  “Hundred miles, I guess.”

  “Ok, then. Everyone to the trucks.” He turned to his old friend. “You had better find a way to reach them by the time we get back to the road.”

  Ralph spit on the ground between him and Phil. “Or what?”

  Phil shifted the rifle so that the muzzle pointed at Ralph’s midsection. “Don’t make me answer that question.”

  Chapter 20

  The surf pounded the shore, crashing like thunder. Turk had paddled out on the surfboard to a spot where the waves rolled underneath. It was still rough, and he knew why.

  He regarded the dark swirling clouds with a mix of curiosity and dread. When the news played extended coverage of hurricanes impacting coastal areas, he’d often wondered how folks a couple hundred years ago had dealt with the storms. They had no advanced knowledge, unless there were markers present in nature that people today didn’t take notice of.