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

by Zuko, Joseph

  “Sheetrock. Shoot it.” She called back to him. Something about her wrist being so messed up had calmed her. Instead of being scrambled and unfocused she was channeling her thoughts. It somehow helped her think clearly.

  Troy sized up the wall that surrounded the door. Three feet of blank wall on either side. He chose the left.

  “Fuck it,” Troy said as he licked his lips and opened fire.

  BOOM, knee high.

  BOOM, waist high.

  BOOM, chest high.

  The girls flinched with every shot. All three of them. The noise got the monsters outside excited as they rounded the corner and found the front door. They crashed into the glass door, but couldn’t figure out how to pull it open.

  White dust exploded out of the new hole Troy had created. An exposed two-by-four sat at the edge of his new passage way. Chunks of sheetrock fell to the industrial grade carpet. He used his boot to kick out the few bits that still clung to the wall.

  “I’m heading through!” Troy ducked down and pushed his big body through the small hole. The dust caused him to cough like crazy as he crawled through. He kept his gun ready in case someone or something jumped out at him.

  Once he breached the other side he quickly reloaded the spent three shells. Troy’s eyes panned around the room. This room had half a dozen desks scattered throughout. Paperwork everywhere. Someone left in a hurry. Framed photos of young families sat on most of the desks. He listened for the faintest sound.

  It was empty.

  No one was there. A doorway sat at the far wall. “HOLDING CELL” painted in gold letters across the top of the door. Troy jogged over to the door and pulled at the handle. Locked, but from this distance he could hear the faint sounds of someone yelling on the other side. The walls around the door were painted white concrete blocks. It would take too many rounds to get through it. The voice continued to yell. It sounded like the person was calling for help.

  A keycard panel sat to the right of the steel-door. An LED light blinked red. What was the chance that one of the officers left their card on their desk? Slim. None. Most likely they were long gone.

  Suddenly the red led light went black and a green light flashed. The locking mechanism clicked and the door was opened from the inside. Troy aimed at the new moving target. A man in his sixties stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the burly, shotgun lugging, man in his office.

  Both men froze with fear.

  Unsure what the next move should be. Troy noticed his dark blue uniform had shinny spots speckled all over. Wet blood. It was the badge on the man’s left that caused Troy to drop the barrel of his gun down. The nametag claimed he was Sergeant Poole.

  “Sir, my sister needs medical help!”

  “Get the fuck out of here,” the old officer said as he propped the door open and stepped past Troy. He made a beeline for a vending machine on the far wall.

  “Sir, she has a seriously injured wrist and we have two young children with us. We need help!”

  Poole pulled his Glock and fired a round into the corner of the glass that separated him from his snacks. It made a ton of noise as the glass fell. Poole picked up a garbage can from under a desk belonging to an officer named Peterson. He yanked out the plastic bag and tossed it to the ground.

  “Sir.” Troy took a step closer to Poole.

  “I told you to get out!” Poole worked left to right and pulled out the food from their spiraled racks.

  “We need your help!”

  Poole continued to efficiently empty the food into the wastebasket.

  “Troy!” Karen called from the makeshift doorway.

  “I’m okay. There’s a cop here,” Troy said as he stepped closer to Poole.

  “It’s Sergeant and I’m not here.”

  A male voice from the holding cell called out, “Someone, let me out of here!”

  Troy whipped around, “Who’s that?”

  Poole had the top two rows cleared out.

  “I’m coming through.” Karen helped guide Valerie through the hole in the wall.

  “I told you people to leave!” Poole slammed a pack of beef jerky into the garbage can.

  Valerie stepped through the dusty hole and let out a horrible cough. She waited on the other side for her baby sister to come through next.

  “Robin, it’s dusty.” Valerie reached out to steady the toddler.

  “Dusty?” Robin coughed a little to copy her sister. Karen was right behind the little ones. She screamed out in pain as she ducked through the hole.

  “Can someone please let me out?! I don’t want to die here!” The mystery man’s voice begged.

  Valerie raced to Troy’s side and went to hold his free hand right away. Robin wanted up into her Mama’s arms, but Karen would not pick her up, “Not now baby.” Robin accepted it and was easily distracted by their new environment.

  Poole ignored everyone in the room. He finished filling his can, grabbed another one from under the next desk, tore out the bag and started filling it with the last three rows of food.

  Karen walked as fast as her rubbery legs could carry her.

  “Officer, my wrist! I need…help. Please!” Karen raised her arm up to the man. Like a child wanting a parent to kiss it better.

  Poole never turned to look. His only mission was clearing the vending machine.

  “Hey! I’m a human! Please let me out!” The man’s voice called to them.

  The mystery finally got to Troy and he marched out of the office and into the holding area with Valerie in tow. At the end of the hall was a left turn that led to the cells.

  A man in his forties dressed in a messy gray suit stood on the other side of the bars. He was tall, slender and sported jet-black hair. His arms were fed through the metal barrier. He reached out for Troy the second he rounded the corner. Not like he was trying to attack Troy. More like a hug.

  Troy kept his distance from the man’s reach and tucked Valerie behind his legs. He was the only prisoner in the small jail. The holding room consisted of four cells total. The bars and the walls all painted in beige.

  The man’s voice sweetened, “Hey. Hello. Can you get me out of here?”

  Troy noticed a set of extension cords that ran along the wall next to him. They powered up a medium sized lunchroom refrigerator, small microwave and a thirty-two inch TV. All of the electronics were crammed into the cell across from the man in the gray suit. An antenna was Duct tapped up high on the wall and hooked to the back of the TV. Its volume turned down but it had the local news playing.

  It looked like a news crew was being chased by a group of infected. The camera was all over the place and would flip from pointing at the infected to back at the news anchor that led the escape. The infected were closing in on the fleeing humans.

  Poole stepped around Troy with a garbage can in each arm. He entered the furnished cell and set the pilfered food down next to the fridge. Karen was right behind Poole and she joined Troy as they stepped deeper into the holding area.

  They could see now how much Poole had collected for his new room. He had extra guns and ammo stacked up on the bed. A computer tucked in a corner. The local news was pulled up on the screen. Photos scrolled at a rapid pace, they were of the nightmare taking place across the northwest. A folding table leaned up against the toilet. A pile of new toilet paper rolls sat in the tiny sink. A water cooler was placed at the foot of the bed. A small walkway was all that was left of the floor. Every other inch of floor space was taken up by something to help Poole stick it out.

  “What are you doing?” Karen pressed.

  Poole took a moment and looked over everything he had in his room.

  “Sir?” Troy raised his voice.

  Poole stepped to the door, grabbed the bar and pulled it closed with a hard metal slam.

  Karen and Troy shared a look of confusion.

  “Sergeant Poole, what are you doing? People need your help!” Troy’s face turned flush with anger. Poole began to set up the folding table next to
the bed.

  “He’s a coward.” The prisoner leaned his body up against the bars. The siblings looked back at the man in the gray suit. His eyes softened with a look of sadness. It was clear that he wanted his new audience to pity him. The five o’clock shadow on his face told them he had been there the night.

  Karen turned back to Poole, “Can you please help us?”

  Poole snapped the last leg of the table tight and set it into place. Every inch of the cell was now taken up.

  “Sir!” Troy spit the words at the man. Poole dropped a deck of cards on the table. His hand hit the flimsy furniture so hard it almost collapsed.

  The man in the gray suit spoke in a descending musical scale, “Here he goes.”

  “Mama’s hand needs medicine.” Valerie tried to save the day by explaining the situation better.

  Poole closed his eyes and turned his back to them, “I asked you to leave.” He said it so coldly that it made the hair on the back of everyone’s neck stand up.

  “Coward.” Gray suit sounded like a brat.

  Karen burned Gray suit with her eyes. She gave him a “You are not helping!” look.

  Poole sat down on the state approved mattress and began to shuffle the deck.

  “Is there anyone you could call to help us?” Karen tried her best to calm the rage building in her.

  Poole shuffled the deck again, “Who would I call? You think I have a helicopter waiting for me on speed dial? If I did you think I would still be here?”

  “But you’re supposed to-” Troy was cut off.

  “I’m supposed to uphold the law! I’m not a babysitter.”

  “You swore to protect and serve?” Karen needed to sit down again but there were no chairs in the room.

  “I swore to protect mankind from mankind. Not from…whatever this is.” Poole laid out the cards for a game of solitaire.

  “What is going on out there? Officer Poole has been tight lipped with the details since my wrongful imprisonment. I’m Leon by the way,” he said as he reached his hand through the bars and waited for anyone to shake it. No one did. “I’ll catch you later on that,” Leon said as he pulled his hand back through the bars.

  “There is an infection spreading quickly through bites. It’s chaos out there.” Troy let go of Valerie’s hand and pulled at Poole’s cell door to see if he was truly locking himself in. He had. The door did not budge.

  “So you’re just going to sit there and do nothing?” Karen stepped closer to the bars.

  Poole carefully laid out his cards to begin his game.

  “Families are dying! You need to do something!” Troy kicked at the bars.

  Poole sat on the bed with a straight back. Karen got a strong military vibe off Poole. He struck her as the type that got up early every day, even if it was his day off and his bed would be perfectly made before ever stepping a foot outside.

  “Please.” Karen’s desperation filled the room.

  “I had front desk duty this morning. We had thirty officers calling in for backup by eleven. In half an hour there was no one left to send. I was supposed to retire this year. Me and my boat, fishing every day until I die. That was the plan. I have no interest in getting torn apart to save a couple of people.”

  “We have kids here!’ Karen implored.

  “I’m not stepping outside this cell until the Army has cleared the area.”

  “What are we supposed to do?” Troy grunted at the old man.

  “Not my problem.” Poole laid out card after card until his game was set and ready to play. He never once looked up at his guests.

  Time seemed to drag for Karen. Seconds felt like minutes.

  She was about to fall over, “Could you please look at my wrist?”

  Poole turned over a king of diamonds. He took a deep breath and chewed at his bottom lip.

  “Come on Sergeant Poole. Help the lady out.” Leon let go of his bars and moved to his bed to lie down.

  Poole flipped over a queen of clubs and placed it on the king, “There is a locker room to the right of the office. It has medical supplies. There should be a field guide on injuries. Help yourself.”

  Valerie let out a cough.

  “Give the kid a lozenge. I have a bag in the center drawer of my desk. I don’t want her driving me nuts with that cough,” grunted Poole.

  Troy led Karen back to the office and helped her down into a chair.

  “You girls be good while Uncle Troy looks for something to help your Mama’s hand.” Troy kept the girls occupied with their own rolling chairs. The children took turns spinning each other as Karen closed her eyes and tried to drift away.

  Using what little energy she had left, she transported herself through time and space to a 2007 Las Vegas trip she took with Jim. It was two years before Valerie was born and it was the last time the couple had gone on a real vacation. Jim had saved money for a year and they spent the whole week at the brand new Wynn Hotel and Casino. They never left the property for the whole four days they were there. They spent their days by the topless pool, soaking up the hot summer sun with a cold drink in their hand. At night they ate at the best restaurants the hotel had to offer. Then they did a little gambling, a little drinking and a lot of love making. It was the best pre-children week of their lives. The memory helped her float out of her contemporary body and into a place where there was no more pain. No death. No infection. No injured wrist. Only the warm feelings of the sun and the love she shared with her soul mate that week so long ago.

  The dream was interrupted by Troy as he crashed through the locker door. Slung over his shoulder was a red duffle bag with a white cross on it.

  “I got it.” Troy rushed to her side. She could hear him talking but she was no longer able to respond. The little ones looked over his shoulder as he unzipped the bag and dug through the contents.

  “Is that the medicine?” Valerie inquired as she touched her uncle’s shoulder and leaned in to get a better look.

  “Mama, medicine,” Robin said as she pointed. It was time for her hourly update.

  Karen nodded her head and muttered, “Mm-hm.”

  It was enough to confirm the update for Robin. The toddler dropped to her knees and helped her uncle take out some of the packed supplies. Troy found a textbook style medical guide at the bottom of the bag and some generic aspirin. He pulled a dirty coffee cup off of one of the desks, ran back to the locker room, cleaned the cup, filled it with cold water and ran it back out to Karen.

  “Here’s some aspirin and water.” Troy handed over the pills.

  She popped them into her mouth and took the cup of water with her good hand and drained it. Troy opened to the table of contents and found the section on dislocations. He carried it over to the desk next to Karen. He read and studied the photos.

  In his late teens Troy had become the man of the house when his parents separated and he stayed with his mother. Fixing appliances, yard work, routine car maintenance and carpentry all became his responsibility and he faced it head on. He took great pride and comfort in repairing broken items. It made him feel complete when he was in charge of the organization and upkeep of the home. He never visited a shrink or took a psychology class in college, but it didn’t take a genius to recognize that a child of divorce loved a sense of control. Even if his power to control only extended to the perfect organization of the garage, it still felt great for Troy to know everything had its place and he was in charge. This was the main reason he excelled at his job. He was a shipping and receiving clerk at a major electronics company in Vancouver. Products and paperwork had to be precise. You misplace a box and there went ten thousand dollars of equipment.

  Troy read and reread the section on dislocation for half an hour. He held up the example photos next to Karen’s wrist. He calculated an eighty percent chance it was dislocated and not broken. He poured over the chapter on how to set and properly wrap a wound like this. Once his brain ached with knowledge, he put the book down, rubbed his eyes and walked over to his
sister. Karen had put herself into a light trance. She was no longer able to carry on a conversation or parent her children. Her eyes opened only when Troy took her by the forearm to look over the now purple colored wrist.

  “Okay, I think I got this,” Troy said as he put on a brave face but his sister could see the truth. This was not something in either of their wheelhouses. She was just getting used to the kids skinned knees and bumped noggins. This was another level of injured she had never experienced. She didn’t have a lot of choices. It was not like she could run across town and ask for another doctor’s opinion.

  Karen muttered, “Do it,” and turned her head away from the carnage. Troy got a good grip on her forearm and then around her fist. He didn’t give her a warning. He just pulled.

  POP!

  Karen’s screams filled the building.

  “Mama, you okay?” Was the last thing Karen heard before she passed out.

  Chapter 17

  Penny stared out the front window of her home. It had been thirty minutes since Troy had dropped her off. He left to get Karen, the girls and god-willing, Jim would be home too. It was silent in her house. The only sound was of her nervous breathing. Outside the house was a different story. Screams and sirens filled the neighborhood. Someone on this block was being murdered. It was difficult to tell where the cries were coming from. Maybe three houses down. Maybe two. This nightmare was moving closer.

  She had forgotten her phone at work. She didn’t really forget it. Troy grabbed her and forced her out the front door. He didn’t wait for her to gather her things. Years ago she’d had the landline turned off. It was a waste of money. No one ever called her except for telemarketers.

  No cell. No landline. She was on an island. All alone. No way to know if anyone was ever coming. Penny limped over to the front door to double check that it was locked. Her ankle was acting up again.

  Maybe it was going to rain?

  She reached out and pulled at the door. The sore ligament in her shoulder ached. She hurt it eight years ago. It wasn’t a car accident or a bad fall that injured her. She was putting a box of cereal away and lifted it up onto her refrigerator. Then her shoulder popped and that was it. She needed surgery to get it back to one hundred percent.