The Infected (Book 5): Battleground

by Zuko, Joseph

  “We haven’t seen any military,” said Karen as she scanned the store. Mostly snack foods. She wasn’t expecting anything to be organic, gluten free or made locally.

  “All of the first responders have been wiped out too.” Added Troy.

  “Well that’s… unsettling. They got any idea what the hell is going on? Or does the Government have their thumbs shoved up their puckered old butts?” Desiree asked as she picked at a scab on her arm.

  Troy stepped further into the store and answered, “As far as we can tell, they are wrist deep in their ‘puckered old butts’. It’s all speculation.” Troy took a cue from Desiree and fished out his own pack of smokes. “Ma’am, do you mind if I…?”

  Desiree exhaled a cloud as she said, “By all means.”

  Karen couldn’t stop herself from sounding like a robot. She chirped an answer as if Desiree asked Siri the question. “It’s a virus and we all have it. If you get bit you turn right away. If you die you also turn.” Karen heard the coldness in her voice. She cleared her throat and reset. “Where’s the office?”

  “Interesting…” Desiree mulled over the new info. Then she pointed her cigarette to the back. “Follow the loud thumps.”

  Karen heard a noise coming from the rear of the store. “If we kill it and take you with us, then we can take what we want?”

  “The store ain’t mine, honey. I only work here part-time. You can kill the thing or take it to prom. I don’t give two shits. I need to get home. My father is bedridden and his ass is due for a cleaning.” Desiree sucked down the last of the cigarette then stubbed it into the overflowing ashtray.

  Karen couldn’t hide her shock. Desiree’s sub-zero words about her father’s ass were unnerving.

  Desiree coughed out a rough laugh. “What do you want me to say, honey? You want me to sugarcoat it for ya and get all misty eyed. The man was a prick his whole life and just cuz he spurted baby gravy in my Mama’s cooze doesn’t mean I have to love the old bastard.” Her smile revealed two rows of yellowed teeth. Disgust from the others, clued her in, she had gone too far. Desiree pointed to her skull. “Sorry, once my shift is done, I shut the filter to my brain off.” Her index finger shifted from her head to her jaw and back again. “It’s a constant flow of filth. Don’t mind me.”

  Sara inched closer to Karen and Troy. “I say we kill it. I don’t want to worry about the thing getting out.”

  Karen nodded. She listened to Sara, but watched Shawna stuff two packets of gum into her jeans.

  Troy narrowed his gaze. “What do you think? Risk killing it or let the thing be?”

  “Who was he?” Karen asked Desiree.

  “The owner of this fine establishment, Dave Fontaine.”

  “What was he like?” asked Sara.

  “Cheap.” Snorted Desiree.

  Sara continued, “I mean…”

  Desiree cut her off with a wave of her boney hand. “I was messing around. He’s in his mid-fifties, stocky and about six-two. You wouldn’t want to meet him in a dark alley, honey?” She nodded at the body outside. “He bit the cheap bastard and Dave takes off for the first-aid kit in the back. I finally catch my breath after all the excitement. Then it dawns on me. Bites equal losing your goddamn mind. I waddle my fat ass back to Dave’s office and he’s spazzing on the floor.” For a few seconds Desiree mimics his movements and pretends to have a seizure. She resumed her normal posture and said, “He might have been a penny-pinching asshole, but I wasn’t about to run him through. So, I shut the door. Apparently once they go crazy, opening a simple door becomes impossible.” She rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of it all.

  “I think we need to put Dave to rest.” Karen moved for the office. She tapped Shawna on the shoulder as the woman took another pack of gum. “Bring the bat.”

  They quickened their pace as they zagged through the aisles of snacks. Karen hadn’t eaten in hours and her stomach growled after she spotted a box of Milk Duds, but the sweets would have to wait.

  The thumps grew louder and louder as Karen drew closer to the office. A shadow moved on the other side of the door. Dave shuffled side to side as he clawed at the barrier.

  Karen paused, one hand on the knob, the other raised her pistol as she whispered. “I’ll swing it open.” She nodded at Shawna who was busy jamming a stick of gum in her mouth. “She takes his head off.” Karen glanced at Troy and Sara. “If he gets past her, you two blast him, ready?”

  “Hang on,” said Shawna as she lifted the bat to inspect the two knives taped to the end. She gave it a few practice swings. She took a long relaxing breath to calm her fried nerves. Shawna angled herself to the door, bent her knees, pivoted her ankles and drove the balls of her feet into the tile floor. She lifted the bat above her shoulder and was in position for the heater.

  Shawna blew a big pink bubble, popped it and said, “I’m ready.”

  Karen twisted the knob, opened the door and released the monster.

  Dave was in good shape, all things considered. The man’s face was pale, and his eyes were black as night. His sleeve was bloody from the bite, but the rest of him was intact. Except for his fingertips. He’d scratched at the door for twenty-four hours straight. Dave was down to the bone on all ten digits. Little razor sharp, white knives, with bright red handles. He clawed at the air as he stumbled forward.

  Karen witnessed the scene unfold.

  Shawna didn’t flinch. She waited. Dave’s head swayed as his weight shifted from one uneven leg to the other. This fastball was one hell of a moving target. Shawna’s grip flexed a split second before she swung.

  Crack!

  With perfect form, she blasted Dave in the chops. The knives carved a hunk from the side of his skull and dislodged his jaw. The homerun swing spun him like a top and he crumpled to the floor. Shawna stepped next to the body. The bat arced through the air. Its attached blades crashed into the back of Dave’s head. The thick bone split. Brains gushed.

  Shawna ripped the bat from the back of Dave’s shredded scalp. As she faced the others she said, “I did three years of varsity softball.”

  Troy lit his cigarette and exhaled a dark cloud of smoke, “All right ladies, let’s get to it.”

  They exited the stockroom. Each carried a garbage bag as they fanned out. There were three aisles to choose from and Karen took the middle one. Cheap, knockoff toys hung from a post in the center of the store. The kind of crap deadbeat dads got their kids before they arrived drunk to the birthday. There was Selena, a five-dollar Barbie knockoff and luckily for Karen, two hung on the hook.

  The girls could use a distraction. Karen snagged both and tossed them in the bag. The next peg down held a dolphin shaped bubble blower. It hung across from a set of cap guns. She grabbed them all, plus a few extra cap gun refills. At the bottom of the post were race cars. The box art made it clear they were designed for little boys, but Robin wouldn’t care. To her, a toy was a toy.

  Karen emptied the rack. “Desiree, can you hand me the strongest pain relief medicine you have?”

  She huffed, “You got a headache, sweetheart?” as she reached for a bottle on the shelf behind the counter.

  “My husband is on the bus. He’s been through the ringer.” Karen grabbed a box of crackers and a few waters from the cooler. She dropped them in the bag as she passed Desiree. Karen picked the bottle of extra strength Tylenol from the counter and added it to her growing sack.

  Karen headed for the entrance. “I’m getting Leon.” She cinched the bag closed, slung it onto her shoulder like Santa and pulled her pistol. She checked every angle before opening the door. All clear.

  Outside, the fresh air smelled sweet. Heavy rain drops pinged off the canopy. The sound was soothing and hypnotic. She scurried between the gas pumps. Leon opened the bus for her and she entered without a break in her stride.

  “Mama,” Valerie cheered.

  “Mama,” Robin seconded.

  Karen did her best to lighten her tone. “Hello girls, I got you something.”


  Their jaws dropped to the floor.

  She paused for a moment at the top of the steps and faced Leon. “You’re done riding the pine.”

  He lifted his rifle and stepped for the stairs. “I won’t let you down, coach.” Leon shut the door behind him and headed for the store.

  “What is it, Mama?” Valerie asked as Karen approached. Both girls hopped to their feet and stood on the bench.

  She reached into the bag and produced two toys. “I got you these super cool Selena dolls.”

  “Whoa!” They said in unison. Tiny fingers reached for the pink boxes.

  Valerie scrunched her brow. “Why did you get them?”

  Karen popped the seal to the box. “Because you’ve been such brave girls.” She handed them the toys and the girls went to work playing make believe.

  “I’m the teacher and you’re my student and this is the school and I’m teaching you the ABCs.” Valerie instructed Robin. The girls knelt in front of the seat and used it as their school.

  Jim’s eye fluttered open. “What’s all the hubbub about?” He spotted the cheap plastic and grinned. “Did you get one for me?”

  “No Selena for you, but I got these.” Karen rattled the bottle of Tylenol and lifted the water.

  “Thank God,” Jim groaned as he sat forward.

  For a minute Karen fought the childproof lid. Her injured wrist from the previous day’s car crash, made the simple task, Mission Impossible.

  She was seconds away from using her pistol on the infuriating hunk of plastic when Jim reached with his good arm into the aisle. He gripped the lid as she held the bottle.

  He did a movie, tough guy, voice. “On three.”

  Karen counted with him, “One, two and…”

  As a team, they popped open the pills.

  “No childproof lock can stop this dynamic duo,” said Karen as she snagged the cotton from the mouth of the bottle. “It’s like the start of a bad joke.”

  “How many survivors does it take to fix a lightbulb?”

  “Exactly,” she poured three tablets onto her palm and fed them to Jim. She handed him the water. He guzzled the whole bottle. Karen helped herself to a threesome of pills and took a swig of water.

  “Thank you,” Jim said as he wiped the excess water from his chin. “How was it in there?”

  “Good, we have a new passenger we need to drop off.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, she’s… interesting. I might have to find earplugs for the girls.”

  “Oh, one of those,” said Jim as he leaned back into the seat.

  Karen pulled the box of crackers and the extra water from the bag. “For when they get hungry.” She set them next to Jim. “I’m heading back in.”

  Jim snuck his fingers into a belt loop on the front of her jeans. “Hey.” He dragged her closer. “You, okay?”

  Karen studied her husband’s features. His face was black and blue. He’d aged ten years in the last day. His eyes were half open and bloodshot. Despite all his wear and tear, the man still held a smile. His grin warmed her heart. Physically, Karen was a mess. Emotionally she was a catastrophe, but this was not a good time for a mental breakdown.

  She exhaled a long deep breath, “We are alive… and together… I don’t want to think about anything else.” Karen attempted an awkward smile, but the split in her lips caused her too much pain. “I better go. I wanna hit the road as soon as possible.” She clutched his hand and gave it a squeeze. “You want anything special?”

  “Just you, my love.” Jim gave her a wink.

  “Every inch of this old body is sore as hell. How about a Snickers?”

  “That sounds amazing.” He released his grip.

  She moved back to the front of the bus. A noise outside caused her to stop. It was the sound of an engine.

  “You hear that?” She said to Jim.

  “Yeah,” He leaned forward and waved at the girls to be quiet.

  The low rumble of a V8 approached them at high speed. Tires screeched as a vehicle pulled next to the store. Karen hid behind the metal plated door of the bus. She peeked through the glass.

  “What is it?” Jim whispered.

  Karen watched a black muscle car slide to a stop. It was an early seventies Pontiac. The painted Firebird on the hood was covered by something. Karen couldn’t make it out at first. The image became clear. The driver had chained a naked, infected woman, to the front of the ride.

  It’s still alive. Karen was dumbfounded.

  What kind of a maniac leaves one of them alive? She reached for her gun.

  Blood covered the infected woman’s bare chest. The red stain started at her snapping teeth and ran all the way to her spread-eagle legs. Its head whipped back and forth as she fought against her restraints. A heavyset, greasy haired man stepped from the vehicle. He held a double-barreled shotgun in one hand and a beer in the other. A large hunting knife hung from his belt. He closed the car door with his hip and sung a song from the Rolling Stones.

  “I can’t get no, dun nah nah. I can’t get no, dun nah nah, Satisfaction.”

  He spoke to the infected woman with a drunken slur. “Hey babe, watch the car.” He belted out a smoker’s laugh. “We need cancer sticks, beers and magnum condoms.” The man chuckled to himself, then he took a long swig from his brew. But before he finished it off, he tossed the bottle at her. Glass and beer suds exploded across her stomach. “On second thought, I’ll skip the condoms.” He belched out another laugh and stomped for the front of the store. “What do you say, fuck buddy? Can I raw dog you tonight?” He cackled like the Devil himself as he strutted away from his car.

  “I can’t get no, dun nah nah. I can’t get no, dun nah nah, Satisfaction.”

  Chapter 6

  Brother Paul moved quickly across the room. His boots sloshed leaving muddy prints with every step. A Glock swung like a pendulum at the end of his arm. He glanced at Patrick’s severed limb. It sat close to the edge of Doctor Bryant’s desk. For a second, it reminded Paul of Thing from the Addam’s Family. He kept expecting the darn hand to come alive and scurry across the floor or hold a golf ball for him to tee off on.

  What’s wrong with me? Paul questioned himself as he snapped his brain back on task. A man’s life hangs in the balance and I’m thinking about a silly TV show? Paul reckoned exhaustion and dehydration were to blame for his lapse in judgment.

  Am I even qualified to lead these people?

  How can I make smart decisions or be a commander if my judgment is so impaired? Paul reset himself. He needed to focus on the situation. Questioning his abilities wouldn’t help anyone.

  He stated his motto. Show no weakness. Nobody wants to listen to a man that is unsure of himself.

  He glanced around the room. For a second he wondered if they could read his mind. He shook off the crazy idea, but there was something unsettling about each of their expressions. He hoped it wasn’t him putting everyone on high alert. The weight of his pistol tugged at his arm.

  Oh right, I pulled that when I heard someone was bit. I should try and put them at ease? Paul slid the sidearm into the holster attached to his tactical vest. He came to a halt a few feet from the horrific scene.

  “Can someone please tell me…” Paul scanned Patrick, his teary-eyed wife, Miranda, the blood-soaked tools on the desk and finally landed on Lindsey. “…what happened?”

  Doctor Bryant cleared her throat, crossed her arms and began. “Patrick came to me with a laceration on the interior of his forearm. He claimed it was from the tooth of an infected person. The disease spreads quickly-”

  Paul cut her off. “Amputating the damaged tissue will save him?” He narrowed his gaze.

  “If it stopped the infection from reaching his brain, then yes, I believe I have.”

  “Did you succeed?” Paul asked in a condescending tone.

  Doctor Bryant’s arms fell away from her chest as she threw her words at Paul. “If he is still breathing in an hour.”

 
; Paul grunted, “And if he turns?”

  Michael stood in the center of his office. He quickly slid into a fresh shirt. His hand sanitizer bath had fully dried. The thought of using a pool of sanitizer during a baptism danced across his mind. The idea made him smirk. The tagline from his imaginary commercial went like this, ‘What better way to purify your soul of sins, than with Johnson & Johnson’s Christian Baptism Bodywash.’ The sad thing was, people would probably buy the absurd product.

  Michael’s fingers worked at the buttons. He slipped the tail of the shirt into his slacks and adjusted his belt. Scott’s gun sat on the desk behind him. He wasn’t going to touch it. Not until he was ready to leave. Fear that he would change his mind and ruin his clean shirt with a bullet to the brain kept him from lifting the weapon. He had a long hard discussion with himself and came to a solid conclusion.

  I will survive this.

  He vanquished his fear on the battlefield and made it through without a single scratch.

  God has protected me this far and if I continue to serve as his vessel, he will shield me from damnation.

  His conviction was stronger than ever and as far as he was concerned, the math checked out. Michael dug through the open drawer and chose a bright red power tie from the dresser. He wrapped it around his neck and used a shard of busted mirror on the door to get his knot perfectly dapper.

  He spoke to his reflection. “But, God won’t do it all, no sir. I must be proactive and position myself in a safer environment.”

  This meant he needed to get to Brother Paul’s office and help Scott find a new home. Michael lifted a tie tack with a silver cross on it from his desk. He pinched at the tie back and removed it from the pin. He forced the needle through the silk fabric of his tie and clipped it to his shirt. He straightened his spine, ran his fingers through his hair. “Sharp.” He told himself. Michael was back in control.