The Infected Box Set, Vol. 1 [Books 1-3]

by Zuko, Joseph

“The one damn nurse I would have loved to have climb up on me.”

  “Mom-”

  “Morgan,” she cut him off.

  “Morgan, please stop it and be quiet,” Cliff tucked the dead body around the corner of the stairs. He had a clear shot for the door now.

  As Cliff stepped back up to the landing he slipped on the blood. He landed hard on his shins and chest. The flashlight crashed and fell down to the main floor. It landed facing the wall and cut the light to zero. Cliff let out a long painful groan.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” he rubbed his sore shins and rolled over to his butt. His clothes were wet and sticky from Trevor’s blood. He scooted down the steps and found the flashlight. He checked himself out. His clothes mopped up a lot of the liquid from the steps. He held the rail as he walked back up to the landing.

  This should be fun, getting her down the slick steps.

  He moved her closer to the wall so he could use the rail to help keep his footing. Cliff inched her down step by step. When the rear wheels hit the blood they wanted to slide instantly to the next step before he was ready. The chair dropped hard and fast down the last four steps. Cliff caught her one foot from the floor. The wheelchair was laid out sideways. The flashlight was propped up so it lit both of their faces.

  Morgan looked to her son and her frightened face turned to a smile, “That was like a roller coaster.”

  “You all right?” he asked as he got her upright.

  “Yep,” she chuckled.

  He rolled her close to the door and looked through the window. Morgan’s eyes had adjusted to the dark and she could see the outline of Trevor on the floor.

  “He was so gentle for a big man,” her voice choked with emotion.

  Cliff angled the light back out into the main floor hall and saw no movement. He propped the door open and pulled her wheelchair into the main hall. He had Morgan a few steps down the hall when the door to the first set of stairs creaked open. One of the creatures must have leaned against the door handle just right. Cliff froze.

  An infected body stumbled through the doorway. Many more followed. One after another they filled the hall. Their shredded bodies blocked Cliff’s only exit.

  He took the revolver out of his pocket and stepped in front of his mother. He aimed for the leader of the dead. The threat of facing so many had given Cliff another surge of adrenaline. The gun shook in his hand. The light was so dim in the hall he could barely see the sights on the gun. He was truly shooting blind. His thumbed back the hammer and fired. The shot blew apart the shoulder of the old man, but it kept coming. Cliff hammered through the last four shots. Each round he fired was a hit to the neck or torso.

  No kill shots.

  The pack of monsters moved faster now. The noise got them riled up. Cliff moved back behind Morgan and exchanged the gun for the cleaver. He knew this whole thing was a bad idea. He loved his mother but now he was going to die at this old folk’s home.

  Who was going to protect his family?

  He moved to take position in front of his mother again.

  She caught him by the arm.

  “What?” he snapped at her.

  She pointed with her free hand back over her shoulder, “Emergency exit,” she said flatly.

  Cliff turned with his flashlight and at the other end of the hall, in the dark corner with no windows was a door. “EXIT” was written on the sign above it. This was a lesson. Always know your exits before entering an infected filled building. Cliff made a mental note of that as he spun Morgan around and raced for the door.

  It opened with a click click and sunshine blasted his face. The light burned. It was the emergency side exit into the overflow parking lot of the building.

  Cliff hustled down the sidewalk back to the front of the building. As he rounded the corner his breath was taken away. He came to a complete stop. A mix of nurses and old people stood between him and the truck.

  All infected. Fifteen monsters total. They had not spotted the two living humans yet. Cliff put the bag on the ground and unzipped it. He squatted down, dug through Morgan’s clothes and pills, found the box of ammo and pulled it out. He clumsily opened the box and pushed the cylinder out from the gun. The empty shells fell to the ground. The brass rattled across the sidewalk giving away their position.

  “Clifford?” she turned in her seat to look at what her son was up to.

  Cliff looked up. The monsters heard the brass and the able-bodied nurses took off in a sprint. Click click. Behind them the emergency door opened and the dozen they left inside were on their way to lunch.

  Cliff was all thumbs as he pushed the six rounds into the cylinder. The infected were so close. The last shell was crammed into its chamber. He grabbed the cleaver from the ground next to the bag.

  As he stood up from the squat, he sighted in the front-runner. When Cliff pulled the trigger the monster’s forehead was two inches from the barrel of the gun. Its head exploded at point blank range. Cliff stepped to the side as its body continued to run for a few steps.

  Without thinking he cracked off the next five rounds and all of the infected nurses were gunned down less than a foot away from him. Cliff got so jacked up he lost count and dry fired a few times. With all of the fast ones taken out he felt a little relief. The old dead bodies were dangerous slugs shuffling around him.

  Cliff got the wheelchair rolling again. They glided down a ramp and out into the parking lot. He got up enough speed that they left the monsters by the door in the dust.

  He looped around the parking lot and was able to outrun the infected to the truck. The monsters seemed confused by the moving target. They stumbled out and away from Cliff’s vehicle. He circled around the whole lot and was able to get Morgan to the driver’s side of the truck. The infected changed direction again and headed back towards the Dodge.

  Cliff got his keys from his pocket and popped open the door. The monsters were only feet from the passenger’s side. Cliff tossed the bag onto the floorboard and the cleaver up onto the dash. He slid his arm under the back of Morgan’s knees and under her armpit. He hoisted her up out of the chair and got her onto the driver’s seat. Once he got her stable she had enough upper body strength to pull herself across the center seat and into the passenger’s.

  Bloody hands banged at the window next to Morgan. She looked out the window at her old cribbage buddy. Digits missing from its hand, tip of its nose was bitten clean off and its right cheek was torn open exposing his teeth. His old eyes had turned black. To Morgan they looked sad and lost like an old abandoned dog.

  “Oh God, Sal. What happened to you?!” Morgan reached out and touched the glass that separated them.

  Cliff folded the chair and tossed it into the back. Another set of wrinkled hands grabbed the edge of the truck bed. The mangled ex-human used the side of the truck and the tailgate to pull itself along faster. Cliff climbed in and slammed his door shut. He forced the key into the ignition. Dead hands thrashed at the sides of the vehicle. The engine fired up and Cliff threw it into reverse.

  As he backed up, three monsters were taken under the back wheels. The infected speed bumps tossed the building supplies and Morgan’s chair around. Cliff cranked on the four-wheel-drive and it launched the Dodge over the crushed bodies. Morgan’s body wobbled in the passenger’s seat. She grabbed at the door’s handle for support.

  “You need to install a set of oh-shit grips,” she looked at her son.

  “What?”

  The front tires bounced off the dead. Morgan mimed holding a set of handles on the ceiling of the truck.

  “You bolt on a set of handles. We called them oh-shit grips back in the day.”

  The infected chased after them but they fell behind as Cliff pulled out onto the street. He watched the dark building shrink in the distance. It killed him three years ago when he had to put Morgan in that home. There was not enough space to keep her in his apartment and his older brother and sister were worthless meth-heads.
Most of their energy went into ripping off the government every month with a disability claim. So they were no help with her at all.

  Cliff looked back over at her as they sped away.

  She gave him two thumbs up. It was her signature move anytime she was super jazzed about something. “That was exciting,” she yelled over the roar of the engine. It had been a long time since she had given him the double thumbs up.

  Morgan was nearly forty when she gave birth to Cliff. Doctors said it was not safe for her to carry another child at that age, especially with her party vices. But no one told Morgan what to do. She wanted to show the bastard doctors that they didn’t know dick. For the nine months she was pregnant she lived like a nun. She kicked every bad habit cold turkey for her little man. During Cliff’s childhood she stayed clean and sober. Once Cliff hit his mid-teens she fell off the wagon hard. Cliff always assumed she was making up for lost time.

  Cliff’s heart rate slowed to a normal pace. A drop of sweat rolled down his shaved head and fell from his nose. The running and lifting in the warm spring sun had worked up a good layer of sweat under his jacket. With a twist of a knob the AC blasted the two of them in the face. He dropped the zipper on his jacket to mid chest.

  “How are my four ladies?” She reached for the radio and turned on the classic rock station. Cliff was a little taken aback about how calm she was with everything.

  “They’re at home. Tina’s unloading a grocery run we made earlier today.” It felt weird for him to carry on with a normal conversation after gunning down and chopping up a group of people. Cliff was somewhat used to this with her. She was always forgetting what had happened five minutes earlier. He was jealous. Cliff wished he had the power to forget this day.

  “Why are you speeding?” she pulled her seatbelt across her lap.

  “I want to get home fast.”

  “Don’t you wanna get home safe?”

  He lifted his foot off the pedal and allowed the truck to slow down. It was perfect timing for her warning. A yellow blur caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Cliff slammed the brakes as they approached the next intersection. There wasn’t a sign or a red light that gave him a reason to come to a complete stop. He clearly had the right of way, but the school bus racing to his left didn’t give a shit.

  Cliff reached out and pressed his hand across Morgan’s chest as they stopped short.

  “Christ!” Cliff yelled out.

  All of the building supplies and Morgan’s chair crashed into the back of the cab. The tires smoked and cried out with a loud screech. The front of the Dodge was less than a foot away from impact. As the bus rocketed by, Cliff was able to make out the full-length Jesus mural. What really caught his eye was the group of people on board, armed with assault rifles. There was a mix of men, women and children on the rig. As far as Cliff could tell, all of the adults had guns.

  A Hummer followed closely behind the bus, it was part of the same convoy. A man sat in the passenger seat wearing mirrored aviator sunglasses, looking like a dictator. Something about the man gave Cliff the chills.

  Two more SUV’s followed him and they all were armed to the teeth. They looked like a band of rebels escorting the new President.

  “Bunch of assholes,” Morgan spit the words like venom.

  “Where the hell are they going?” Cliff didn’t have time to ponder. A small pack of infected was in hot pursuit after the convoy. He waited for a heartbeat to make sure the street was clear and then punched the gas.

  On the way back to the apartment they passed the two cop cars. The officers were torn apart and a few of them had joined the ranks of the dead. Red blood was splashed everywhere and stood out in stark contrast to the white paint of the cruisers.

  When Cliff slowed down to make the turn he noticed a pair of handguns and a shotgun on the ground. Twenty plus monsters roamed the street blocking him from the weapons. There was a good chance all of them were empty, but the desire to have more choices to protect his family than a cleaver and revolver was very tempting. After seeing the parade of assault rifles, Cliff suddenly had a strong need to get armed. He lay on the horn, got all of their attention and like before the infected chased after the truck.

  “Clifford?”

  “I want to grab those guns.” He drove fast enough so none of them could catch up, but slow enough that he did not lose them. Cliff made three left turns. After the last turn he was facing the cruisers. He stomped on the gas and left the infected in the dust.

  The Dodge raced toward the two cruisers. The street was clear of upright monsters. Scattered all around the intersection were dead bodies, chewed up and torn apart.

  Cliff pulled up next to the police cruisers. He yanked the emergency brake and climbed out of the truck, leaving the engine running.

  A block away the small horde of infected rounded the corner hunting for their meal. There was no time to smell the dead roses. Cliff played hopscotch as he jumped over and avoided stomping on any of the gore.

  His stomach felt like it was about to turn inside out. He had never seen anything like this before. At the retirement home it was dark and he couldn’t make out all of the details. These bodies were laid out in the warm spring sun. All of the organs that made up a human were out on display in vivid detail. He stepped over one more body and a hand reached up. It caught his leg mid step. Cliff fell to his face. He landed hard. The wind was knocked out of him. Both of his palms were covered in road rash. Something reached farther up his leg.

  “What happened?” Morgan asked as she helplessly watched her son.

  Cliff rolled over to his back and looked at what tripped him. It was a dead officer. Its dark blue uniform was ripped wide open and even darker now that it was blood soaked. The contents of its gut were spread out across the street. Both legs had been torn off and laid a yard away from its waist. The thing’s face was what stopped Cliff’s heart.

  It was impossible to tell what the man might have looked like earlier that day. Its features had been torn completely from its face. There was just enough muscle left to operate its jaw. The snapping teeth were only inches from Cliff’s calf. In the panic of the moment Cliff fired off a kick into what was left of its face. The toe of his boot made contact with the bottom of its jaw. Its head was cranked straight back.

  Cliff immediately stomped its face and this time its neck broke and the body went limp.

  “Clifford!” Morgan yelled at him from the cab. Cliff looked back down the street at the swarm of infected. They were half a block away. Cliff sat up and plucked a gun from the ground that sat next to him.

  “I got it.” He got back to his feet and scampered over to the other pistols. When he got the guns into his arms he realized they were all coated with blood. It only added to the collection of blood he had going on his clothes. He had a tough time cradling all of the handguns against his body as he reached down to pick up the shotgun. It took a bit to juggle all of the weapons and it was seconds he didn’t have to spare. He worked it so three of the guns hung from one hand and the shotgun was propped up on his shoulder. Once he got them set, he bolted back for the Dodge.

  “Move your ass!” his mother encouraged him.

  The monsters were so close to the back of the truck. As he crossed over the dead body that he kicked to death Cliff noticed the officer’s utility belt on the ground.

  It might have extra ammo.

  Cliff stuck his foot through the loop that stood in the air. On the next step he kicked his leg out and flung the belt at the side of the truck. The belt had some of the officer’s intestines wrapped around it. As the belt flew through the air it pulled along the dead body’s guts. It looked like a horrible party streamer chasing after the leather Sam Browne. It hit the side of the Dodge with a splat. Cliff hotfooted it for the truck and dropped the guns off into the bed next to Morgan’s chair.

  The leader of the infected had passed the tailgate of the Dodge. Cliff grabbed ahold of the rear quarter panel for balance and kicked out at t
he creature. His boot landed dead center of its chest and was able to send it backwards to the ground. The next few infected tripped and fell over its body.

  Cliff bent down, grabbed the belt and tossed it into the back of the truck. Some human goo flicked off of the intestines and speckled Cliff’s face. His knee jerk reaction was to vomit, but he didn’t have time to let his body takeover. The infected were right behind him.

  A hop, step and a jump and Cliff was in the cab of the truck. He pulled the door shut and an infected arm shot in, stopping the door.

  Chapter 11

  Cliff could see the exposed tendons move as it reached for him. Morgan’s screams filled the cab. She grabbed at his back as if that would help the situation. Cliff pulled with all of his might on the Dodge’s door handle. He tried to shut it, but there was no closing it on the bone of a forearm.

  The clawed hand tried to scratch at Cliff’s face and arms. A fingernail broke off as it ground down Cliff’s thick leather sleeve. Another set of fingers wrapped around the edge of the door. Dead bodies crashed into the back of the Dodge. Each hit jarred the whole vehicle. Soon they would be surrounded.

  Cliff readjusted his grip on the door as the infected pried it open. The cleaver rested on the dash to his right. If he let go of the door they would rip it wide open. He felt like such an idiot for stopping to pick up those guns. They didn’t save the officers that were trained to use them.

  How are they going to save him now?

  The black-eyed monster stared at him through the window. It didn’t give a shit about its arm. Tear it off if you want to, as long as it got a taste of their delicious flesh. Cliff’s hands were slick with sweat. His grip on the plastic door handle was about to give.

  The two monsters pulled harder at the door. One of the infected was a firefighter, dressed in his proper gear. He must have been putting out a fire when he was turned. The left side of its face was melted. The skin hung loose off his eye and jaw. It reached in closer towards Cliff’s face. He promised himself that if he got out of this mess he would never take an unnecessary risk again.