The Infected (Book 5): Battleground

by Zuko, Joseph

  A door burst open and a flood of people raced toward the stockpile of guns and ammo. The room filled with noise. Their panicked energy was contagious.

  She’s right. I must take a leap of faith. Michael lifted his foot. It hovered above the crimson tile. He lowered his shoe. It slipped forward as it contacted the goo, but Lindsey steadied him. He took a few more steps until he was standing in front of the rack of weapons. Then he realized his hands were already full. It was either the bible or the gun.

  Paul entered his office, closed the door behind him and raced to his desk. The bottle of scotch was calling.

  Scott filled his duffle bag and zipped it closed. “I printed a few maps of our destination and will pass them to each driver. In case we get separated. Michael and I found another church about four times the size of this one, surrounded by woods, out in the middle of nowhere. It should be safe. Well, safer.”

  Paul set his rifle on the desk and tugged at the top drawer. The half empty bottle rattled back and forth. He lifted it, popped the cork and filled his empty glass. He slammed the bottle on the desk and lifted his drink.

  “Is that a good idea,” asked Scott.

  “No.” Paul took a long pull.

  Scott stepped closer to Paul’s desk. He motioned to the bandage on his head. “Are you okay?”

  “No,” said Paul as the alcohol burned the lining of his throat. What did he have to lose? There was no way his headache could get any worse and he wasn’t going to be driving.

  I need enough to carry me through the day. He took a second swig. It was followed by a third. He drank until the glass was empty. He placed the glass next to the bottle.

  Diesel engines stirred outside Paul’s office.

  The great escape is about to begin. Dread and uncertainty filled his heart. Paul poured out the rest of the bottle. He lifted the glass once more.

  Scott inched closer. “Sir, no matter what happens, you did the best you could to keep us safe.”

  Paul huffed. “My best?” He took a long drink and questioned whether more could have been done. Perhaps, but there was no way to predict an epidemic of this nature. Another swallow of scotch and the effects were taking hold. Regret curled its way inside.

  Dallas and Blaine will never have a proper burial.

  Neither will Eric. He finished the scotch.

  I won’t have a chance to fill in Dana’s grave.

  Their spirits may never find peace. Tears threatened. Paul spun and tossed the empty glass against the wall.

  He seethed. Burned white hot. The weight of the world, crushing every ounce of life from him.

  Gunfire erupted outside.

  They’re here!

  Chapter 11

  A heap of monsters clawed at the steps of the bus. Troy hadn’t shut the door. It was only supposed to be a two second drop off, but his generous nature had gotten in the way. The minute he spent gabbing with Jim as he got the poor guy an ice-cold beer, was all the nasties needed to sneak up on them.

  The zombies shoved at each other as they moved up the steps. He’d left his trusty shotgun inside the store, next to the beer. There wasn’t time to grab another weapon. There wasn’t even time to think. His body reacted on its own. Out of self-preservation and a need to protect his nieces, he moved faster than he had in years.

  His broad shoulders knocked Leon from the aisle and the slim man fell to the floor as Troy sprinted for the front of the bus. His boot landed a hard strike to the side of the first one’s face. The zombie’s twisted body smashed into the creature at its side. They were soaking wet from the rain and the steps were slick with water. They lost traction and crashed to their chests.

  A claw swiped at Troy’s leg. A sliver of bone extended from its index finger which tore a jagged hole in his denim.

  Troy threw another kick. The toe of his boot landed on the bridge of its nose. It made a loud crunch as the cartilage pushed flat against its pale face. The zombies tumbled to the first step. Troy reached for the lever. He yanked it with all his might. The door attempted to close, but their bodies were in the way. Another claw whipped through the air, on a collision course with Troy’s calf. Before it found its mark, a blood covered spear came out of nowhere and pinned it to the floor.

  Jim stood next to Troy, beer in hand, a thumb covered the bottle’s open mouth and not a precious drop was spilled.

  The heel of Troy’s boot met the zombie’s ear. The pinned arm split in two. A spurt of black ooze gushed from the severed limb. The creatures fell to the asphalt as Troy closed the door.

  Leon regained his footing, reached for the lock and slid the bolt into position.

  Their attention turned to the store. A squad of infected crowded the front of the building. They pounded at the windows. It wouldn’t be long before one of the panes of glass would give.

  “These Z-bags are starting to stink.” Troy nudged the foul smelling severed limb with his foot and knocked it to the bottom of the stairs.

  “Z-bags?” asked Leon.

  Jim understood Troy’s humor and explained. “Like D-bags. Douche bags, but for zombies.”

  Leon nodded, “Right.”

  Troy faced the store as he growled, “Damn it! If we try and pick them off with a rifle, we could hit one of the ladies.”

  Karen backed away from the front door. “Shit! If we shoot them from here we could hit the bus.”

  “It won’t take them long to smash the window in,” said Sara as she readied her SKS.

  “We could go out the back and make a run for it.” Shawna dropped her bag of food and raised her bat.

  “Maybe, but there could be more of them in the alley.” Karen’s focus shifted around the store as she desperately tried to conjure a plan.

  Desiree tossed her cigarette to the floor and stamped it out. “My running days are long gone. I’d make it five feet and croak from a heart attack. If possible, can we find a way to get there without sprinting the hundred-yard dash?”

  A few more bodies slammed against the windows.

  Shawna moved to the center of the store, “What about the food?”

  Sara faced Karen, “What about the asshole?” She glanced at Ryder.

  Jim limped between the rows of seats and headed for the back of the bus. On his way, he dropped the spear and lifted a rifle. “Girls, you stay put, okay?”

  “Where the hell are you going, Jim?” asked Troy as he followed his brother-in-law.

  “I’m jumping out the emergency door and taking those bastards down.” Jim tried to check the mag on the rifle, but his wounded shoulder made the task nearly impossible.

  “That’s a bad idea. No offense buddy, but you look like chewed hamburger meat.” Troy easily took the rifle from Jim.

  “Thanks pal. Yeah, it’s a bad plan, but what do you want me to do? Sit here and hope Karen makes it out?” Jim reached for a different gun and kept moving. He cranked on the door’s lever, but it didn’t budge. “Fuck, it’s welded shut.”

  “Bad word.” Valerie chimed in.

  “That’s a good thing. We need to use brains, not bullets.” Troy studied the building for a better way in.

  Karen sprinted for the stockroom. “Is there access to the roof?” She called to Desiree.

  “You want to do some sightseeing, Sugar?” She coughed a hardy laugh.

  Karen found a ladder attached to the far wall of the building. “Bring the bags back here.”

  Sara rounded the corner with two bags in her arms. She dropped them at Karen’s feet. Her breathing was labored as she glanced at the hatch. “It’s locked.”

  “Open if for me.” Karen tapped at the SKS strapped to Sara’s torso.

  Sara grabbed the rifle, flipped the safety and aimed at the hatch. She fired a burst of rounds as Karen lifted the garbage bags full of supplies. She hung them on her shoulders by the drawstings.

  Shawna rounded the corner with three bags. “What’s the plan?”

  “We cross the roof, the canopy and enter through the emergency ha
tch on top of the bus.” Karen faced the ladder.

  “What about Ryder?” asked Shawna.

  “We can put him in the office,” said Sara as she swung her rifle to her back.

  Karen muttered under her breath. “It’s better than he deserves.” She prepared herself for what was coming next.

  Pain.

  The second her fingers closed around the steel bar her wrist burned in agony. Her jaw clenched tight and her body trembled. It was a fifteen-foot climb, with forty pounds of supplies swinging awkwardly at her back. Every rung was more excruciating than the last.

  Troy scratched at his beard. His hamster wheel spun full-tilt as he plotted. “Get the bus going. Maybe the sound will draw some of them.”

  Leon coasted toward the driver’s seat, found the keys and cranked the engine. The new noise managed to catch a few of the zombie’s attention, but the buffet of moving objects inside the building was far more tempting.

  Shawna and Sara raced toward Ryder. They each took a wrist and pulled. It was slow going at first. His boots seemed to stick to the floor and they caught every corner of the shelves they passed. Inch by inch they moved for the stockroom.

  Sara groaned, “What a fat sack of shit.”

  Shawna’s thoughts were on the keys in Ryder’s pocket.

  I could grab them, his gun and make a run for it. She was confident in her foot speed, but heading for Vancouver, all alone, was a different story.

  We barely made it out of town with the bus.

  What’re the odds I’d make it to the church in a regular car.

  The muscles in her thighs sizzled as they reached the doorway to the office. Dried blood covered most of the walls and floor. The smell of decay hung in the air. It was no La Quinta Inn, but way better than getting torn apart. Ryder’s boots passed the threshold and Sara dropped his limp arm. “Let’s go.” She bolted for the doorway and left Shawna.

  This was her last chance at the keys. She had to weigh her options carefully, but quickly.

  Take a chance at going it alone or stick with the group and survive another day?

  Karen’s punishing climb was at an end. She crested the top of the ladder, pushed open the hatch and was met with a face full of rain. Desiree was right behind her with a bag of smokes dangling from her shoulder. Karen paused for only a moment to drop the bags. The drawstrings were digging into her skin and she couldn’t take it any longer.

  “Here,” said Karen as she reached for Desiree’s hand. She guided her to the roof.

  The woman wheezed as she steadied herself. “I fuckin’ hate heights.”

  “Me too.” Karen lifted her bags and jogged for the edge. A chest high wall skirted the building. She peered down at the canopy that covered the gas pumps. It was a seven foot drop and from this angle the structure appeared quite rickety.

  Desiree panicked, “You think it will hold our weight?”

  “We’ll find out.” Karen tossed her bags onto the canopy. They left two good sized dents in the metal.

  “Listen,” said Jim as he scanned the area.

  Troy leaned into a seat and tried to tune in where the noise came from. “They are coming across the roof.”

  Simultaneously they turned to the emergency hatch in the ceiling.

  Sara’s head popped through the roof opening. With two heavy bags hanging from her shoulders, she struggled to climb the last few steps. The woman grunted and strained until she cleared the ladder and fell to the tar covered roof. She was starving and running on fumes, but this wasn’t the time to rest. She could stuff her face and take a nap once she was safe on the bus with Troy. As she lay there, trying to catch her breath, she realized how much she wanted to be with him. The thought of his barrel chest and thick arms wrapped around her was as comforting as Grandma’s cookies.

  I bet he’s a good cuddler.

  That’s when it hit her. Troy’s shotgun in the store.

  We shouldn’t leave it behind.

  I need to grab the gun and a few more bags before we go.

  She commanded herself to keep going. She rose to her feet and made her way to the edge of the building, next to Desiree.

  “I’m going back for more,” she said as she tossed her bags from the side of the building. They landed with a loud thud. The sound reverberated through the micro-town.

  “Be careful,” said Karen as she raised herself up onto the edge of the wall. She faced out toward the bus. Her boots dangled six feet from the metal surface.

  “Don’t leave without me,” Sara yelled as she sprinted for the ladder.

  The hatch on top of the rig flipped open and Troy’s head emerged a second later.

  His gills turned green once he spotted his sister perched on the side of the building. “Don’t you dare jump!” He yelled at her.

  Even at a young age Karen was the more adventurous of the two siblings. When it came to amusement park rides Karen liked them big and fast. Troy, on the other hand, was a cautious child and hated them. The sensation of being out of control was too much and he would rather keep both feet planted firmly on the ground.

  “Get back on the damn roof!” Troy barked at her.

  “It’s not that high,” she lied. Karen let go of the wall. She appeared to hover, mid-air, before gravity took hold, then she plummeted to the wet metal canopy. She landed as gracefully as a buttered rhino. Her shoes slipped out from under her and she crashed onto her back. She groaned, the wind completely knocked from her and unable to move.

  “Karen?” Troy climbed farther out onto the roof of the bus. “Damn it, are you hurt?”

  Karen rolled slightly to her side. Her lungs fought for air, but she made it. The damn thing held her weight.

  “Shit, honey, are you okay?” Desiree peered from the side of the building. Her face held a permanent grimace.

  Sara jumped from the ladder. “Shawna?” She cruised through the stockroom. The door to the office was shut and a few boxes were sloppily placed in front of it.

  Ryder should be safe.

  She sped into the store. “Shawna, where the hell are you?” The woman was nowhere to be seen. Ryder’s gun was also missing. It only took a moment for her to piece it together. She grunted. “Idiot.”

  The main window to the store spider webbed.

  On the floor near the far wall were two remaining bags of supplies and Troy’s shotgun.

  She lifted the weapon and placed it, barrel first, inside one of the sacks and said, “I hope these Hefty bags live up to the hype.” The stock of the gun poked through the bag’s opening as she cinched it closed, and lifted the drawstring to her shoulder.

  A skinless fist punched through the glass. Shards poured from the window frame and spread across the floor as if they were chasing after her. The heavy bags made it a challenge, but she was still quicker than most, as she darted for the stockroom. Bodies spilled through the busted window. They crashed into the aisles and knocked racks to the floor. She jumped for the third rung above her head. Sara did a pull-up as her feet searched for a lower step. A monster sprinted into the stockroom. There wasn’t time for her to clear the creature’s reach. Sara yanked a pistol from her harness and fired until the gun slide-locked.

  Shawna flinched as she lowered herself out of a bathroom window at the rear of the building. For a moment, she thought one of them was shooting at her for abandoning the group. The alley was quiet and nothing stirred. Heavy breathing filled her ears. Once her feet hit the ground she took off in a sprint. Rain drops blurred her vision. She swept a hand across her face and headed for the adjacent street.

  She clutched the keys tightly and glanced at Ryder’s shotgun in her hands. She cursed herself.

  Darn it! I forgot to check if this thing was loaded. It was a double-barreled shotgun. There would be two shots, at best, then she would be left with a mediocre club.

  I should have kept the bat with the knives taped to it. She prayed there were more shells inside Ryder’s car.

  As she maneuvered toward the street
she caught a strange noise around the corner. Something metal was getting dragged across the asphalt, but she couldn’t put her finger on what was making the noise. Shawna came to a full stop and glanced around the edge of the building. An infected woman moved in her direction. Its progress was slowed. Shawna checked again. A canvas strap hung from its arm and was pulled taut. The remains of a large animal trailed after the zombie. A dog tag chimed against the street with every yank. Judging by its size and patches of brown hair, Shawna guessed it had been a German Shepherd.

  Her heart sank. Shawna had seen horrible atrocities all day, but this one took home the prize of worst possible spectacles. Flashes of her own little puppy, Daisy, blasted to the forefront of her mind.

  Getting licked awake in the morning.

  Playing tug of war with an old sock.

  Being greeted at the door by a wagging stubby tail.

  Finding Daisy with her head stuck in a box of treats.

  Her final thought was when she dropped Daisy off at the dog sitters. She was a six-month-old Pug and the last time Shawna saw her was two days ago.

  Was she starving and alone?

  Or did she suffer the same fate as the Shepherd?

  The zombie stepped onto the sidewalk and quickened its pace once it spotted her. The canine’s stiff body got caught on the curb and the leash jerked the infected woman backwards.

  Shawna took the opportunity, turned on her jets and pummeled the infected woman’s face with the butt of her gun. The hit sent the zombie to its ass. Shawna zoomed past the creature and raced for the muscle car parked at the end of the block.

  Karen’s lungs finally filled with air as she grunted, “I’m fine,” to Troy.

  He worked his way through the hatch. “Don’t ever do that again.”

  “I won’t,” she got to her knee and reached for the bags on the canopy.

  Sara scurried for the top of the ladder. Bloody hands waved inches below her feet. If there was a basketball player in the group swarming underneath her, she would have been a goner. It took all her concentration to stay focused on what each limb was doing. The rain poured through the hatch giving each rung a nice slick coat. Her boots slipped and for five seconds she hung there until her toes found purchase. The drawstrings were like razor wire digging into her shoulders as the bags swayed from side to side. She had spent a lot of hours in the gym this last year. It was a great way to crush stress and stay trim. The treadmill was her favorite machine in the building. She would put on some good tunes and run until the balls of her feet burned. The pull-up bar, however, was the bane of her existence and doing a weighted pull-up was like having her arms torn from their sockets. Her biceps were on fire and were threatening to cramp as she climbed the last two rungs.