Grabbing his half-empty bottle of whiskey, he stumbled out of the alleyway and started walking down the street. Halfway hoping that some infected would come and finish him off, he took no care to silence his footsteps and plodded along heavily, smashing his feet on the littered debris until a shard of broken glass pierced his foot. He swore loudly and pulled the glass out.
Hobbling along, he took another swig of whiskey and retched as it burned its way down his throat. It seemed like no amount of drinking would calm his throbbing headache, although the pain in his leg was suspiciously gone. The rain started to clear up and the sun shone through the clouds, painting the sky in a brilliant shade of purple and red.
Turning the corner, he stopped mid-step. In the distance was a mob of infected and a man stood there, firing into the thick of them. A small child was running away, heading straight for him. He watched the man fight and waved at the little boy. The man fought like he was possessed and he threw his gun to the ground, fighting the remaining infected with a knife. He fell and Isaac rooted for him to pull out of it alive. It looked like he wasn't going to make it, but he killed his attacker, only to fall under another. At this point, the boy finally caught up with Isaac.
“Come with me!” Isaac yelled, and together they ran, turning the corner and heading away from the straggling infected. Isaac felt bad for leaving the man behind, but couldn't risk letting the boy die. So they ran, heading towards the apartment building that he swore he'd never return to, stopping occasionally so that the boy could take a pull off of his inhaler. He wheezed as he went along and Isaac was sure the boy wouldn't make it, but he
surprised him and kept a fair pace.
Soon the turn towards the apartment came and they rounded the corner, heading past the school. When he saw the school, he started brooding over the fateful bite that occurred there,and felt another pang of regret. But now he had a purpose, and that was to see the child safely to Eileen and the boys, before he could go off to die again.
They climbed the ladder and stopped on the rooftop to rest. The rain left a few puddles here and there, but they didn't care. They were already wet and their lungs felt like they were ready to burst. Just as Isaac was getting ready to get back up and lead the boy in, the rooftop doorway burst open and the two brothers poured out, followed by a relieved Eileen.
“Isaac! You're safe. Where were you?” “ I needed to go for a walk. Stupid, I know, but it's a good thing I was there, because this boy needed my help.”
Eileen walked over to the boy. “Noah?” She pulled the boy close and wrapped him in her arms. “I'm so glad you're safe. Are you okay?”
Noah stared up at her and smiled. “Ms. Klein?” He nodded and she turned to face the others. “This is Noah. He was a student at my school. We got separated the day of the outbreak.”
John smiled. “Nice to meet you, Noah. I'm John, and this is my brother Paul. You of course already know Eileen and Isaac.”
Noah turned to face Isaac and grabbed his sleeve. “Thank you for saving me.” Isaac's face broke into a bright smile and his eyes twinkled merrily. “It was my pleasure. You're safe now. These people will take good care of you.”
Paul frowned. “What do you mean, 'these people'? What about you?”
“Yes, of course. I meant to say 'we'. We'll take good care of you.” Paul eyed Isaac suspiciously, but shook loose the strange feeling of doubt and concern as the others turned in to go celebrate. Together, they all played a game of cards and they let Noah win. The boy smiled and scooped up the pretzels in the pot.
“I've never played poker before. I beat ya, I beat ya, I beat ya.” He stood out of his chair, and did a little victory dance, which made the others all laugh.
After the game, John started blowing out the candles one by one, and Eileen made up the bed for Noah, taking the floor for herself. They all went to sleep and the night passed by.
Isaac awoke with a full bladder and he stood up on shaky legs. He could barely walk straight with so much pain in his head and he felt an irrational anger towards everyone and everything swell up inside him. Recognizing it as a sign of the infection, he was more determined than ever to leave. He couldn't risk the safety of the others.
Creeping towards the door, he stared at the boys one last time and whispered a quiet “goodbye”. With tears in his eyes, he turned and left.
Paul woke up to the sound of quiet footsteps and he peeked his eyes open. Through thin slits, he saw Isaac head towards the door and walk out. He waited a moment and then bolted up, shaking John awake.
“John, wake up!”
John mumbled and rolled over to go back to sleep.
“John, wake the fuck up!”
John's eyes shot open and he sat up quickly. “What's wrong?” “ Isaac left again, and I don't think he's planning on coming back. Something weird is happening.”
John nodded and stood up. “Let's follow him. We can't let him out of our sight.”
“Agreed.” The two brothers grabbed their rifles, slung them over their shoulders, and pocketed the pistols before heading up to the roof. Paul ran to the ledge and stared out. “I see him! He's turning onto Ivy Road. Let's follow and see where he goes.”
Together they descended the ladder and made off at a rapid pace, following closely, but always out of sight.
Isaac headed for the Geronimo, feeling the need for another drink, before he found a way to die. For he'd rather be dead than turn into one of them. He'd rather die, even if it was painful and he had no doubt that it would be just that. But perhaps a drink would ease the pain, or so he hoped.
He didn't feel as comfortable with dying as he did the day before. All he could think of were the boys. They had been his first real friends in years and he'd grown very fond of them. He almost thought of them like sons and he imagined that the pain he was feeling was probably much like the pain of a parent who has to leave their children.
Better to bury yourself, than have to bury one of your loved ones, he figured. So he walked along slowly, trying to figure out exactly how he was going to die. The easiest solution would be to overdose, but it wasn't foolproof and the pharmacy was a decent way off from the bar. Finally, he decided to jump off the roof of the apartment building near the bar. It was five stories high and if he went headfirst, it should be relatively painless. A messy way to go, but an effective one.
He turned the corner onto the road that led to the Geronimo, and stopped when he heard a gunshot ring out. He froze and looked down. He'd been shot in the chest. Funny, he thought, it doesn't even hurt.
Falling backwards, he smashed into the pavement and laid there as the life seeped out of him. Thank you, he whispered silently to his mysterious attacker. Thank you.
A voice cried out in the distance and he turned his head. “Isaac! No!” John and Paul stood staring at him and came running forward, guns readied. Isaac pleaded to whatever gods that may exist for them to save the boys and not to let them die defending him. His vision faded and soon he lost all feeling in his body. But he could still hear, and the last thing he heard were gunshots, and John's familiar voice crying out.
Chapter Forty
Narrow Escape
Vincent crept silently out of the cafeteria, pausing briefly to take satisfaction of the sound of Harry's pain. The bastard deserved it and Vincent was sure that their attacker would show no mercy. Good.
Once clear of the cafeteria, he took off at a run and headed straight for the entrance, stopping only to load up the jeep with the bags of food and medicine. He started the ignition and peeled out of the parking lot as fast as he could safely go, eager to put some distance between him and that damnable prison.
He soon reached the county road and began the long drive back to the cabin. It was a serene drive and the first peaceful moment he'd had in a long time. He even smiled to himself, enjoying the ride and the wind rushing through his hair. Maybe he would actually get out of this mess alive. His luck seemed to have held so far.
He was snapped
to attention as an infected man came ambling down the road at him, arms outstretched. He swerved to avoid it, but it leaped in front of the jeep and was pulled under the tires. The gruesome thumping sound made Vincent retch, but he kept driving, more cautiously than before.
It was dark by the time he reached the cabin and he carefully walked up the gravel driveway, rifle ready. The cabin door opened easily and he entered, setting down his gun on the couch. It was pitch black and he went back outside and gathered up an armful of firewood. Minutes later, the fireplace was crackling brightly.
He sat in front of the blazing fire and opened up a can of corn, eating the cold meal in silence. He was alone again and he wondered how long it would be before he met another survivor. Once he finished eating, he laid down and slept restlessly.
Christine stood before him, arms outstretched and Vincent ran for her as fast as legs would carry him. But his legs refused to budge and he was forced to watch in horror as her throat was sliced open again and again, and Harry just stood there, laughing triumphantly.
“Sorry, hero, but not this time.” Vincent raised his gun to fire, but no bullets came out. Harry calmly walked over to him. He raised his hands to fend him off, but Harry's blade sank deep into his belly and Vincent could do nothing but stand there and watch as his intestines coiled out. He scooped them up and tried to put them back in, and all he could think about was how dirty it was. That sole irrational thought stayed in his mind while Harry stood there, laughing in his face. He looked up and stared at him with burning eyes and watched in terror as Harry transformed into one of the infected, leaping at him, gnawing at his throat. He tried to scream, but no sound would come out, and Harry just kept chewing and chewing until his vocal cords were ripped loose.
Vincent bolted up, soaked in a cold sweat. Just a dream. The fire was out, just a few crackling embers remaining. He stood up and grabbed more firewood, stoking the fire back to life. Soon the room was filled with a warm glow and he leaned back to relax.
A crashing sound filled the air and he turned to see a body crawling through the window. He ran for his rifle but reached it too late, and the man grappled with him as he tried to shake it loose. Stumbling backwards, he tripped and fell to the ground, still struggling with the man on top of him. It gnashed its teeth at him and he butted it with his gun, stunning it just long enough to get back on his feet. It stood up and charged at him and he sidestepped it just in time for it to crash into the fireplace.
The infected man pulled itself out of the fire and screamed as it charged for him again. The man's shirt was aflame and Vincent dodge it again, as it piled into the couch, lighting it on fire. He aimed and fired. The man slumped over, dead.
The fire quickly spread and Vincent quickly grabbed the bags of food and ran to the jeep with them, just as the entire cabin went up in flames. Stumbling in the dark, he ran back into the burning cabin for his rifle and the bag of medicine. The air was hot and thick with smoke and he coughed as he grabbed everything and returned to the jeep.
Backing out of the driveway, he watched in disgusted horror as the fire spread to the trees. Soon the area around the cabin was ablaze. With nowhere to go, he decided to drive to the next town. Maybe his luck would be better there.
He drove on through the night, not reaching town until the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and Vincent cursed them, wishing for rain before the fire spread over the entire forest. All the senseless destruction, he just couldn't take it.
Pulling off the interstate, he stopped. Smoke filled the sky and the entire city was on fire. Surely the fire couldn't have spread quicker than he drove. It must have started here days ago and with no firemen to put it out, it just kept spreading.
He pulled back onto the interstate and kept going. He drove for what felt like an eternity before finally reaching another town. The town seemed dead and deserted, and thankfully, no fire was in sight. He drove down the streets slowly, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of survivors.
As he passed by the mall, he jumped out of his seat as an arrow pierced the windshield, narrowly missing him by inches. He looked around for signs of his assailant, but couldn't spot anything moving. His attacker could be hiding anywhere, in the massive parking lot filled with abandoned cars.
Another arrow came through the driver's side window and stuck quivering into the steering wheel. He unbuckled his seatbelt and grabbed his rifle as he darted out of the car. Ducking behind the jeep, he waited.
“Whoever you are, I mean you no harm!” He called out.
Popping his head up, he scanned the area again. He spied movement out of the corner of his eye and a gunshot came from behind him, missing him again by no more than a foot. There was more than one of them and he felt too exposed where he was. Standing up to run, he darted deep into the parking lot and stopped behind a pickup truck.
He dropped to the ground and looked around. He saw a pair of feet about a dozen yards away, slightly to his left. Lining up his rifle with them, he fired and missed. The feet took off running and he switched the rifle to fullyautomatic mode, opening fire again. One of the bullets blasted through an ankle and a body fell to the floor, clutching it's wounded leg and screaming in pain.
He stalked over to the fallen body and saw a woman holding a bow, a quiver full of arrows strapped to her back.
“Where's your friend?” She glared up at him and scowled. “Fuck you.”
He aimed the rifle at her head and repeated himself. She replied again with the same response and he shot her in the elbow. She screamed again and swore.
“Where the hell is your friend?” She grimaced and pointed towards a red car parked a hundred feet down. He nodded and quietly tread down towards the car, keeping his head low. Slowing to a silent creep, he rounded the passenger side and aimed his rifle at the man crouched there. The man raised his hands and dropped his rifle.
“Don't shoot!”
“Why the hell did you shoot at me?” “I'm sorry, I thought you were one of them.” “What, do you think I'm stupid? Nobody's dumb enough to believe that the infected can drive a car.”
The man rolled his eyes. “Not one of them, one of them. One of the gangs.”
Vincent frowned. “What gangs?” “You're not from around here, are you? After the outbreak, a couple of rival gangs took over the town. They cleared out most of the infected, but started taking the survivors captive. We thought you were one of them.”
Vincent took a moment to digest the new information. “How many of them are there?”
“Who knows? A hundred, maybe more. Please don't kill me.”
Vincent lowered his rifle. “I'm not going to kill you. Listen, it's not safe here, maybe you should come with me.” “What about my wife?”
“We'll bring her too, although I think she might not want to. Not after I shot her.”
“You shot her?”
“Sorry, I was just defending myself.”
“Will she live?” The man started to cry. “She'll live, but I won't lie, she'll be in a lot of pain and may be of no help if we run into anyone, infected or otherwise. She's taken a hit in the leg and the arm, so she won't be able to walk or fire a weapon.”
“You son of a bitch -” “Hey! You shot at me first. What was I supposed to do?”
The man slumped his shoulders in defeat. “I guess you had no choice.”
“It's up to you. Do you want to come with me, or not?”
The man nodded, swallowing hard.
“Help me carry your wife back to the jeep.” They walked in silence back to the prone woman. When Vincent came into her sight, she started yelling and swearing. “You fucking asshole, I'm going to -”
The man shushed her. “Calm down, woman. It'll be alright. We're going with him.”
“I'm not going anywhere with that bastard!”
“Unless you want us to leave you here, you're coming.” Her eyes welled up with tears. “You'd really leave me?”
“H
e's not one of them, and us survivors need to stick together. Besides, he's got a better gun than us, so we'll be protected better than if we were alone again, with just a bow and a cheap rifle.”
She nodded and the two men picked her up. She let loose a rapid string of obscenities as they lifted her and she cried out in pain. “This fucking hurts, you assholes! Be careful!”
The man winked at Vincent and grinned. “Don't worry, she's not normally such a bitch.”
“No problem. I'd be a bit cranky too, if I got shot twice.”
“I can hear you, you motherfuckers!”
“Quiet, woman, or I'll drop you here.”
She started crying again and they made for the van slowly.
“By the way, I'm Vincent.”
“I'm Steve, and this here's Sally.”
“Nice to meet you both.”
Steve laughed. “Well, the meeting wasn't so nice, but things seem to be getting better.”
Vincent laughed too. “I suppose. Sorry again about shooting you, Sally.”
“Whatever.” She groaned. When they reached the jeep, they gently set her down in the back and Vincent tossed her a bottle of painkillers from his bag. “Go easy on these, but they should help with the pain.”
Steve got into the passenger seat and pried the two arrows loose. Vincent started the ignition. They just barely got out of the parking lot when a pickup truck loaded with armed men came around the corner.
“Shit, they found us!” Vincent slammed his foot down on the accelerator and started driving away as fast as the jeep would go. The truck behind them swerved to follow and he heard whoops and shouts of laughter coming from them. He stared at them through his rear-view mirror, just before a bullet whizzed by and took it off.
Swerving around an overturned car in the road he picked up speed, but the truck slowly gained on them. Steve turned around and started firing, but none of his shots found their mark and his rifle quickly clicked empty.
The truck pulled alongside them and Vincent watched as the five men in the back all aimed their guns at them. Panicking, he slammed the jeep into the truck hard and three of the men toppled over the side. The driver swerved back and forth, trying to regain his bearings, before skidding into a semi truck. The crash was deafening and Vincent turned his head back to look. He slowed and turned around.
The Outbreak Page 18