The Last Outbreak - SALVATION - Book 5 (A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller)

by Jeff Olah

  Roland began to smile as he again started to jog toward the massive crowd that had overtaken the rear lot. He held the weapon at arm’s length and scanned the crowd. The night was just about to get interesting.

  “Where are you buddy … show yourself.”

  26

  Ethan was falling.

  His body was weightless and as he drifted in and out, he tried to remember what exactly had taken place in the minutes leading up to now. There were hands around his ankles and gripped tightly to the thick material under his shoulders. He glided only a few feet above the asphalt and stared up into the wind-whipped smoke that muted the otherwise flawless night sky.

  His heart began to race and as he struggled to fill his lungs with air, another round of gunfire came from over his left shoulder. There were four rapid shots and then another three.

  Ethan flinched, quickly tucking his chin into his chest. He waited for the sound to pass and then slowly tilted his head forward, attempting to look past the arms clamped down on his ankles. No luck. Nothing but a thin trail of charcoal-colored smoke rolling up in waves behind the hurried footsteps of his friends.

  Dropping his head back and again looking up at the sky, his memory returned as a thunderbolt of adrenaline raced through his system. He tried to kick free only to have those holding his legs clamp down with double the force.

  “Let me go, I’m fine.”

  An unfamiliar voice came from above. “Easy buddy, we’re gonna get you out of here. Just stay calm.”

  The man was breathing hard and apparently hadn’t showered in some time. Though the redolent smoke hung heavy in the air, Ethan had to breathe through his mouth as the man gripped tight to his shirt and spoke in a low hurried tone.

  “Tom, get the others. We don’t have time. They’re already on us.”

  Twisting at the waist and again attempting to free himself, Ethan felt a stitch shoot through his lower back. He quickly straightened out, gripped the sides of his jeans, and through gritted teeth called for his sister. “Where’s Emma?”

  Tom’s voice came from a few feet away. He was out of breath. “She’s okay, got her hands full at the moment.”

  There were others. They were running. They were shouting. They were crying. Their voices and their labored breathing and their distressed sobs were indecipherable through the hurried footsteps that now seemed to slow.

  “OKAY!” Ben yelled out from somewhere behind Ethan. “GET THEM IN! HURRY … HURRY!”

  “I NEED HELP!” It was Emma, but it didn’t sound much like his sister. She had a harder edge to her voice. Even though she was shouting, something seemed off in the way her words echoed through the night.

  “GO AROUND!” Ben moved through Ethan’s field of vision. He was running, but now in the opposite direction. “NO, THERE ISN’T TIME!”

  Now they were stopped. Ethan was alongside the passenger door of his father’s SUV and as Shannon passed, he caught a glimpse of her tear-riddled face. She held her hand over her mouth and looked down at him as she pulled open the door.

  “LET’S PUT HIM IN.” The unknown man above let out a heavy grunt as he leaned to the right and set Ethan back against the side of the passenger seat. He continued to look back toward the yard, but stepped quickly away from the path of the door. “Buckle up.”

  Tom and another unknown man ran past the windshield as Ethan swung his legs in, pulled the seatbelt over his chest and slammed shut the door. Turning to the driver’s seat and then toward the rear cabin, his head was still swimming. Now more from his injury than the previous day’s alcohol.

  The rear hatch shot open as the confused and hysterical voices continued to push through one another, but for the moment, Ben’s was the only one he could make out. “COME ON, COME ON, COME ON … THEY’RE RIGHT—”

  “NO,” Tom shouted. “NOT THERE!”

  As his friend’s words trailed off, the door at his side was pulled open. Turning back quickly, Ethan’s head grazed the side of Mayor Gil’s left cheek.

  The older man moved much faster than his age would indicate was possible as he dipped into the cab and popped the glove box. Without acknowledging Ethan, he moved his hand furiously back and forth through the darkened glove box and cursed as he came away with nothing but an empty palm. “It’s not here son.”

  Tom called from the rear, his voice ratcheting up with each syllable, “NO, BACK DOOR, UNDER ETHAN’S SEAT.”

  Mayor Gil stepped back, slammed the door and started to turn. He looked over his shoulder and was pulled away by one of the two unfamiliar men. “No, we still need—”

  The younger man appeared confused as he looked down at the Mayor’s empty hands. He shook his head and then quickly reached for the rear door, pulling it open as he dove into the space between the rear seats. “WHERE IS IT?”

  Mayor Gil stepped around the door and gripped the edge of the frame. He stood on his toes and pointed into the cab. “Under that seat.”

  As the man started to dig through the darkened rear cabin, Ethan turned his attention to the rearview mirror and was now able to glimpse the scene playing out behind the oversized SUV.

  Emma appeared from the driver’s side and momentarily disappeared as two others ran in the opposite direction. A high-pitched scream came from somewhere near the rear of the vehicle, quieting the others as all movement seemed to come to a complete stop.

  “CARLY!”

  Twisting in his seat, Ethan checked the mirror to his right just as Mayor Gil turned and moved away. Then the man behind his seat let out an exasperated breath, slipped out of the rear cab, and chased the Mayor.

  “WAIT … NO, NO, NO, NO!”

  Ethan instinctively reached for the handle, pushed the door open, and stepped out. More shouting and then another blood-curdling scream that almost instantly died off. Ethan narrowed his eyes and attempted to track the sound.

  Twenty feet from the light-colored van that sat parked behind his father’s SUV, Carly was pulled to the ground by a group of three Feeders. Another four followed close behind.

  Only a few short strides away, Mayor Gil began to slow as he tossed aside his white Stetson and stepped in behind the growing crowd. He moved with the fluidity of a man half his age as he grabbed the first Feeder he came upon, pulling it back and to the asphalt in one motion.

  Without losing a step, the Mayor moved closer and reached for his next target. He inadvertently stepped on the calf of one of the beasts that had Carly pinned down, causing him to roll his ankle and nearly topple into the crowd.

  His head still a bit cloudy and his legs weaker than he remembered, Ethan started toward the chaos amid shouts for him to return to the SUV. He limped away from the passenger door, increasing his pace with each step, although as he squinted through the rolling waves of charcoal-colored smoke, her face came into full view.

  Although Mayor Gil continued to battle the growing horde and the unknown man attempting to pull him away, she was already gone. Her body lay beneath a trio of wildly aggressive Feeders attacking her abdomen, chest, and neck. It had happened so fast and with such brutality that when the Mayor finally noticed, he immediately dropped to his knees and stopped fighting.

  The unknown man slipped in behind the Mayor and with the others occupied, turned to Ethan. “WE GOTTA GO, I NEED HELP!”

  Still shaking off the horrific images of the woman he’d known for more years than he could recall, Ethan felt his chest tighten. He fought to breathe as his arms and legs went numb. And then his back and his neck. He was seconds from losing consciousness and the more he focused on the sensation, the quicker it took hold.

  “WE DON’T HAVE TIME MAN! WE’VE GOTTA …”

  The unknown man’s voice dropped off as an explosion of frantic cries and panicked shouts broke out from over his right shoulder.

  Ethan was still slipping, but as he looked over the crowd, and then back at his friends, he quickly realized he was the only one who might be able to help. The unknown man was now surrounded by the ho
rde, and while still attempting to get the Mayor back to his feet, he struggled to move away from those most near.

  Out of time as well as options, Ethan started forward. He covered the short distance in five quick strides, narrowly avoiding a beast that looked to be twice his bodyweight, and then slipped in behind the Mayor. “Gil, we have to go, right now.”

  The unknown man over Mayor Gil’s right shoulder released his grip and stepped away. “GO!” he said. “GET HIM TO THE VAN, I’LL BUY US A FEW SECONDS.”

  They moved quickly, but with an awkward gait, each step more labored than the one before. As they reached the van, the side door was already open and Ben and Mila helped pull the Mayor inside.

  Ethan slammed the door and turned toward the unknown man, although something at the rear of the SUV pulled his attention back.

  Tom was closing the rear hatch and waving Ethan toward him. His face was ashen and his eyes full and red. “LET’S GO!”

  One last glance toward the unknown man and Ethan noticed that he hadn’t yet fired a single round. The weapon he had carried away from the SUV now sat on the asphalt six feet away.

  Ethan turned back toward the waiting vehicles as the second man he had yet to meet shouted from the rear passenger window of the van. He was half leaning out and had his hands gripped tight to the door. “SAWYER!”

  As the crowd continued to close in on the man he assumed to be Sawyer, Ethan knew the right thing to do, but he also knew the eventual outcome of that decision. He swung his head from the two vehicles and the man now stepping out of the open passenger door to Sawyer as he dropped his shoulder and plowed into a trio of Feeders who blocked his path.

  “BRYCE …” Sawyer yelled as he knocked the group of three back onto their heels and then to the ground. “GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE!”

  Bryce sprinted away from the van, headed in a straight line toward the crowd converging on his friend. He slowed as he reached Ethan and cupped his hands over his mouth as Sawyer intentionally continued to draw the creatures toward him.

  Hesitating and then starting again, Bryce began to move to his friend when Ethan grabbed him from behind.

  “LET ME GO!”

  Ethan didn’t respond, but instead tightened his grip around the younger man’s left arm and started pulling him toward the vehicles.

  Though only able to push out one syllable at a time, Sawyer used his last few breaths to urge his friend away. “PLEASE … JUST GO … PLEASE.”

  Before Ethan could turn away, Sawyer was hit from behind and shoved face first to the ground. He was ravaged by those above and below, his tortured screams echoing like a siren from one end of the city to the other.

  Releasing his grip on Bryce, Ethan started back toward the vehicles, repeatedly looking back over his shoulder. Once he was sure the younger man was safely back inside the van, he slipped in through the passenger door of the SUV and said, “Let’s go.”

  He sat back in his seat and dropped this head. That hopeless feeling from weeks before was beginning to creep back. Ethan couldn’t control it, nor could he fight the thoughts that he’d let his friends down once again.

  Through the quiet sobs that filled the interior, he spoke under his breath and only to himself. “Carly, I’m sorry … I’m so sorry.”

  As the SUV started forward and Ethan began to sink further away from this world, the soft melodic voice of his sister drifted from the rear of the SUV.

  “One, two, three, four, five … one, two, three, four …”

  Ethan slowly lifted his chin and looked into the rearview mirror. Through the darkened interior he could just barely make out Shannon seated in the third row. To her left Emma rocked up and down matching the cadence of her voice.

  Not wanting to believe what his mind understood was happening, he turned to Tom seated behind the wheel. “What’s going on?”

  Tom narrowed his eyes and checked his mirrors before pulling out onto Sixth Street and confirming that Ben followed in the light-colored van. “It’s your mother Ethan … there’s something wrong.”

  27

  Griffin’s left side had gone numb from the bottom of his foot to the top of his shoulder. He tried to pull his legs up into his chest, but only his right would move. The pain running along the back of his neck and the blood dripping from his chin told him he was still alive, but as the Feeder sitting over him continued to snap its jaws only inches from his face, he wondered for how long.

  Still pinned to the ground with his free hand gripped tight to the collar of the Feeder above him, Griffin’s right forearm began to cramp. He flinched as the sound of gunfire drew closer, but now allowed himself to hope. His friends had somehow found him. They had survived. They were coming back. He just needed to hold on.

  He fought to lift his head, but for the third time was unsuccessful. It simply wasn’t going to happen. White noise now filled his ears and as another three shots were fired, the body of a petite female dropped onto the back of the large male still biting at the acrid air above his face.

  The added weight instantly caused his upper arm to shake. His bicep convulsed and his grip began to fail. “ETHAN … TOM … BEN.”

  No one answered.

  “I’M HERE … NEAR THE DOOR!”

  Still not a single response.

  The beast at his face again inched forward, it’s jagged and bloodied teeth now only a few inches from his right cheek. Griffin’s entire arm shook as the fabric he was clutching began to disintegrate in his hand. “HURRY, I CAN’T—”

  Another two rounds were fired, this time much closer than before. They came from above and to his left. The first tore through the thick night air, just missing his right ear and digging into the brick wall at his back.

  The second shot closely followed the first. It blew the left side of the Feeder’s head and neck off, spraying pieces of skin and bone onto Griffin’s face. He released his grip on the collar and instinctively brought his arm down over his eyes.

  “Get up.”

  Still in defensive mode, Griffin raised his arm waiting for the next wave. When it didn’t come, when they didn’t attack, when the feeling began to return to his left hip, and with it a rush of pain, he slowly lowered his arm and wiped the mess from his face.

  “Let’s go.”

  Tall, thin, and blond, the man standing over him in the dusty tan leather jacket held out his right hand. With his left, he held a pistol at arm’s length and looked over the area outside the Performing Arts Center.

  “Three seconds buddy and then I leave you here.”

  The man glanced past the four fallen Feeders to the pair of black duffles laying a few feet away, and then finally back at Griffin. He furrowed his brow, turned to the right and fired off another two shots.

  As the diminishing crowd again began to close in, the tall man in the tan jacket shook his head and stepped toward the weapons. “Your choice.”

  “No wait,” Griffin said. “I’m coming with—”

  “Then get up. Because I’m fairly certain those things aren’t going to just let us walk out of here.” And as Griffin pushed away from the ground, the man moved quickly to the twin black duffles and bent to pick them up. “What are you doing out here anyway?”

  “You’re kidding right?” Griffin leaned into the wall and stood, his body now beginning to come down off the spike of adrenaline from almost having his face torn off. He used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe what remained near his mouth and then limped away from the pile of motionless bodies near the door.

  The man in the tan leather jacket unzipped one of the bags, quickly looked inside and slung it over his shoulder. He did the same with the second bag and then noticed one of pistols Griffin had dropped only minutes before. He tossed it into the second bag and looked out toward the gates at the opposite end of the rear lot. “Your friends?”

  There was something off about the tall, thin man. It was obvious his concern lay with something other than Griffin’s well-being, but for now those suspicions would ha
ve to stay buried. With a bum ankle and nowhere else to turn, Griffin was going to have to play the game, at least for now. “Not really, but we all gotta do what we gotta do, right?”

  The well-dressed man turned and looked back at Griffin through narrowed eyes. He paused a moment and then began to walk away. “Well whoever they were, you and I need to thank them. They just pulled away half the horde when they drove out through those gates. Without them we don’t survive this.”

  Griffin nodded slowly and for show, tested his left ankle. It was still partially numb and although at the moment that was a good thing, he took a half step forward and crumbled sideways into the wall.

  “You injured?”

  Griffin raised an eyebrow. “I’m alright, just a few bumps and bruises.”

  The horde near the entrance to the football field had taken notice of the pair and now began to double back. The thin man motioned toward the east end of the building and then looked down at Griffin’s left leg. “If we’re gonna do this, we gotta go now.”

  Pushed back into the brick wall, Griffin allowed a half grin to slide across his face. He now figured he knew what this was, but thought better than to show all his cards. “Who are you?”

  The thin man looked irritated. “We really gonna do this?”

  Get it out of the way. Kill the tension now, before either man asks the wrong question. Put the unknown man at ease. “Where’d you come from?” Griffin asked. “I mean—”

  “Sorry to interrupt, but I think we have more pressing matters.”

  Griffin pushed away from the wall and started toward the man. “Yeah, I get that. But who are you?”

  The younger man shook his head, but began to walk away. “Name’s Scott Carson, anything else you need before we attempt to not die out here?”

  They walked on, Griffin struggling to keep up with the younger and more agile man. As they reached the east corner, he looked over his shoulder, leaned into the brick wall, and bent at the waist. Holding up a finger, he waited for the thin man to turn back and said, “I need a minute, my leg …”