The Infected (Book 4): Death Sentence

by Zuko, Joseph

  He crested the top of the stairs. The carpet was soaked in coagulated crimson. A long hallway connected five closed doors, but it was clear where the noise had come from. The bloody handprints and red snail trail converged on one of the doors and dang it if it wasn’t the one Dallas was hoping to use. It was the southernmost corner of the house and would have the best vantage point to see the shooter. Something slammed into the door. Dallas’ heart leapt.

  Charlie made the last step and crowded in behind Dallas as he whispered, “What should we do?”

  Dallas matched Charlie’s tone, “Regular humans don’t crash into doors. Odds are it’s an infected family member that someone couldn’t take down. They locked it up and ran.” He pointed at the bloody footprints leading away from the mess.

  “Let’s shoot it through the door.” Charlie skirted the edge of the hall avoiding the massive red stain.

  “Wait,” said Dallas as he reached for Charlie’s arm. “If the sniper sees the muzzle flash or if we bust out a window we’d give away our position.”

  “Then what do we do?” The stress was getting to Charlie. His rifle rattled in his palms. Which surprised Dallas. With Charlie’s history he was sure he would have been used to this kind of action. Dallas’ memory flashed to the day before when the church picked up a group of people for questioning. He and Blaine were in charge of releasing them and when they gave the group back their weapons, two of the guys were armed with only a knife taped to the end of a hiking stick. They had claimed to make it out of Portland with nothing more than the primitive spear.

  Dallas put his handgun into its holster. Attached to his belt was a knife sheath. He unsnapped the binding and extracted the blade. He held the thing like he knew what he was doing, but he was no knife expert. If the noise was coming from a chunk of wood that needed some whittling, Dallas would be in good shape. Other than that he wasn’t sure what the heck to do. Charlie slung his rifle strap onto his shoulder and pulled a knife from his pocket. He locked it into place, held the blade so it pointed out the bottom of his clenched fist and he used the palm of his free hand to cover the butt of the handle. Dallas saw how he was holding the weapon and copied him.

  As they closed in on the door they could hear a clicking sound from the bedroom.

  It’s the infected, chomping its diseased teeth. Dallas could feel the muscles in his back tighten. It felt like a smoldering rock was sitting in the small of his spine. Almost like his back had to take a red hot crap.

  The dark hallway, blood and sound effects reminded Dallas of a haunted house. He hated going to those things. Halloween was fun, but his ex-wife would drag him to these full contact, extreme haunted houses where the people in bad makeup would hide in the shadows and grab you as they screamed bloody murder in your ears. It took every ounce of his strength not to punch the howling person in the face.

  The sound of nails dragging from the top of the door to shoulder height joined the clicking teeth. Dallas stood three-feet from the bedroom. Sweat stung both eyes as his body trembled. He took a deep breath and exhaled until his lungs were empty.

  Dallas barely made a sound when he whispered, “Ready?”

  Charlie nodded.

  The bottom of Dallas’ boot struck an inch from the doorknob. It rocketed out of the frame, crashed into the thing on the other side, which sent the body flying and the door flung wide open. What the warriors spotted next made the both of them puke.

  Dallas spit out a mouthful of bile as he shouted, “Oh my God!”

  Chapter 15

  Seventy rifles fired into the approaching horde. Gun smoke bloomed and laid a layer of fog downrange. The stench of the dead rolled across the field and mixed with the sour smoke. Paul’s stomach wanted to boot out the booze, but he held fast and kept himself from vomiting.

  I can’t show weakness. Not now!

  The stack of bodies at the edge of the property stood three-feet tall and was growing by the second. It helped slow the beasts, but the army of the dead continued to pour from the treeline.

  Brother Paul loaded a new magazine into his rifle. Only two full mags remained in his vest. He would need to make an ammo run soon. A group of reinforcements climbed the ladder and joined him at the top of the command bus. One of them had a canvas tote bag hanging from his shoulder. He got settled on the roof, opened the bag and revealed a mountain of loaded magazines.

  Thank heaven!

  More than ever Paul wished he hadn’t sent any teams away from the church. They needed every trigger finger here.

  Paul knew this fight was a matter of numbers. The church had collected four-hundred thousand rounds of ammunition. More than enough to squash a horde this size, but could they fire enough accurate shots to keep the beasts at bay. If this line of defense was overrun and even a small pack of infected got into the church they would rip the children to shreds.

  Between shots, Paul counted all of his people standing on the frontline. There were at least twenty adults unaccounted for.

  They better find some courage quickly or it will mean the end for us all.

  Dana could hear the confusion through the thick double doors that separated her from the pure chaos in the main auditorium. She raced along the hallway and entered the massive room. Terrified parents clutched their crying children and the group appeared to be frozen with fear. A megaphone hung on the wall next to her. Dana snatched it from its hook and hit the alarm. An ear-piercing shriek sailed through the room. In a matter of seconds everyone quieted to a low murmur.

  Dana held the bullhorn to her mouth as she shouted. Her voice echoed throughout the cavernous room, “You heard the alarm. If you can lift a rifle, go now!”

  Fear had crippled them. She could see, heck she could feel it, the room was soaked with anxiety. Her lips curled, veins popped, as she howled into the megaphone. “Let go of your children, pick up a rifle and move! Or we’re all dead!”

  Dana headed for the hallway that led to the armory, “Follow me, now!” She passed a group of five tweens, guessed at which one was the oldest and spoke without the bullhorn. “You are in charge of the children!” The thirteen-year-old nodded at Dana. The young girl’s face went flush as a lightning bolt of adrenaline spiked through her. Being responsible for fifty-three, homesick and terrified children was a daunting task, even for the bravest of adults.

  Dana sprinted, not looking back to see how many were following her. No matter what, she had a mission to accomplish. The armory was the emptiest she had seen it all day. The battle outside rattled the room’s windows and the smell of smoke drifted in on the breeze. Doctor Bryant and Pastor Michael watched the fight from the open back door.

  “Pastor Michael, grab a gun!” yelled Dana as she lifted an assault rifle from the rack and snagged a handful of extra magazines. She fed a mag into each of her jean’s pockets as the twenty other adults from the auditorium filed in behind her.

  Michael stammered, “But I’ve… well I should… stay here and watch the children.”

  Dana loaded a mag into the gun and released the slide, “Scott says there’s a couple thousand out there, now pick up a gun and follow me.”

  Doctor Bryant stepped from the door, moved toward the gun rack and reached for a rifle.

  “Doctor, you’re too important. We can’t risk it. Give the gun to Michael, stay inside, lock the door and pray your heart out.” Dana stood next to the back entrance. From this angle she could only make out a portion of the intense gun battle.

  Holy hell! Thought Dana as she psyched herself up and got her head in the game.

  The others were finished gearing up as the Pastor wrestled with his fear. Lindsey handed him the rifle. Her gaze was concentrated. She seemed to be looking straight into his soul. “God will see you through this. I know it,” said Lindsey as she handed the weapon to him.

  He hadn’t had enough time to work out his amazing monologue. The best he could muster was, “Thank you.” The gun was heavier than he remembered. The training he had done months ago slo
wly crept from his memory banks.

  Dana looked him dead in the eyes and said, “We’ve got to move, now!” She raced out the door. The others quickly followed her onto the field.

  Michael clumsily pushed the mag into the gun.

  “You’ll need more of these.” Lindsey picked up four magazines and as Michael fought to get his gun ready, she slipped one into each of his pants pockets. Her fingertips guided the plastic mag and dipped into the back of his slacks. The sensation sent a shiver down his spine. He hoped she hadn’t noticed and there was no time to say something clever, even if she did. Her hand lingered on his shoulder for a second as she said, “I’ll pray for you.”

  That was enough to get him the confidence he needed to get out the back entrance. Michael was convinced if he chickened out in front of Lindsey he would never have a second chance to redeem himself. He charged out the door and sprinted for the back of Dana’s group. Everything around Michael appeared to be sped up and happening way too fast, like a strobe light was flashing in his face, allowing him to only see a few seconds of action at a time. The semi-circle of vehicles was shrouded with smoke. As he approached the front line he caught glimpses of the monstrous horde. Michael had only seen a few infected humans since the whole thing got started and all of them were at a great distance. This was Michael’s first look at the creatures up close and they were shocking.

  Gray colored skin covered in black ooze.

  Chunks of missing flesh.

  Snarling teeth and fingertips worn down to bony sharp claws.

  Bodies so badly disfigured they no longer resembled a human.

  Michael’s own body was experiencing sensations it had never felt before. His elevated heart rate felt normal and was mostly caused by the race to the front line. There was something else going on inside him, something that seemed to affect every cell in his being. Almost as if he had stuck his finger in an electrical socket.

  In Michael’s life he had a normal amount of moments that were boosted by adrenaline. He had done some pretty intense black diamond skiing, a few fender benders, a wrecked car, he was almost hit by a semi while riding a bicycle, he came close to stepping on a rattlesnake while on a hike and during a fishing trip on the ocean, a great white shark swam right next to the boat. All of that paled in comparison to the horrors before him.

  What he felt at that very moment was an excruciating amount of fear. His legs turned to rubber bands. Tears poured. He was positive his full head of brown hair had gone shock white. His intestines felt like they were feeding on itself and his asshole was busy eating the seat of his pants. If he spontaneously combusted into a human torch it wouldn’t have surprised him at all. Seeing the creatures truly made him question the existence of God and his faith as a Christian. All Michael wanted to do was climb into a tiny closet, shut the door, turn off the light and cry himself to sleep. Instead he was stuck outside, in the broad daylight and certain he could never sleep soundly again. A surge of infected humans crashed through the treeline.

  I’m really glad I already went to the bathroom this morning! Michael thought to himself and like his father always told him, ‘You have to appreciate the little things in life.’ This time he was ecstatic that he didn’t have a load in the seat of his pants.

  Brother Paul fished the last mag from his vest and fed it into his rifle. His thumb brushed against the ejection port. Pain spiked and he pulled his hand away. A white blister had already formed on the pad of his thumb. He had never put this many rounds through the thing in such a short period of time and now the gun was literally blistering hot. From the corner of his eye he spotted Dana racing across the field. Behind her was the rest of his flock.

  Dana paused, turned to face her group and yelled through the bullhorn. “Spread out along the line and remember, headshots only!” She signaled a group of ten to move straight ahead, the next group of five toward the northern end of the line and the rest to head south.

  Dana jogged toward the command bus where Brother Paul and Connie were stationed. She tossed the bullhorn to the ground and climbed the ladder. From this vantage she could see every angle of the battle. She positioned herself next to Paul and the nod of appreciation he gave her was priceless. She raised her rifle, calmed her breath, sighted the target and squeezed. The trigger clicked and slammed the butt of the gun into her shoulder. Fifty-yards away the back of an infected skull exploded, splattering a mess of gray matter all over its comrades.

  Dana smirked as a twisted image of her own gravestone popped into her head.

  It read:

  Here lies Dana Fletcher.

  Monster baker and monster breaker.

  Her exhaustion, mixed with this insane amount of terror was apparently sending her to Bonkersville. She hoped someone would find a more creative way to phrase it, but enjoyed the sentiment none the less. She found her next target and fired.

  Michael crawled onto the hood of a sedan, then stepped up onto the roof. His lungs felt tight in his chest and he realized he was holding his breath. If he didn’t force his lungs open soon, he was going to pass out. He sucked in a mouthful of rank, smoke filled air. He wanted to vomit, but at least he wasn’t going collapse. He tucked the gun in tight to his shoulder, raised the barrel and opened fire. Seeing his first kill drop to a heap on its bloody face got his juices flowing. The fear that threatened to cripple him shrank with every squeeze of the trigger. He couldn’t believe it. The power of the rifle fueled his courage. He felt like Rambo, gunning down the Viet Cong.

  This is bad ass! Thought Michael. He wanted to take a look and see if Lindsey was watching him, but he resisted and remained focused on his task.

  Brother Paul was hopeful that with the twenty fresh guns chopping away at the infected it would be only a matter of time before they would finish off the last of this horde. The wall of dead flesh was tall enough to bring their forward movement to a halt, allowing the shooters time enough to sight in headshots.

  He began to work on his end of battle speech. Odds were they would expect him to say something. A congratulations of some sort. It would need to drive home the importance of their community and how when they work together, all things were possible.

  At the very second Paul was getting ahead of himself, one of the taller evergreens, which made up the treeline, decided it had taken one too many shots to the trunk and a massive cracking sound rocketed from its base. It started slow and leaned forward ever so slightly. The tip of the eighty-foot tall plant picked up speed as it came crashing down. It landed squarely on the wall of dead bodies. Splitting it down the middle as if it was a till, working its way through the Earth.

  It became the route of least resistance and a moment later the horde broke through the limbs of the fallen tree. The sudden flood of beasts in the center of the field caused the shooters to panic. Some fled their posts and that allowed even more of the monsters to race through the gap.

  The bus Brother Paul stood on was the closest vehicle to the flood of infected and they came crashing into the side of the big rig. The mass of their diseased bodies hit the bus with so much force it rocked back enough that Connie McEntire and two others lost their footing and tumbled forward over the edge. The rest of the group dropped to their knees. Paul fell to his stomach and slipped toward the edge. Dana caught him by the ankle and kept the man from falling to his death, but he got a front row seat to Connie’s execution.

  The beasts tore into her like a pack of rabid dogs. They ripped out her intestines and peeled the flesh from her bones. Connie and the two others screamed like nothing Paul had ever heard before. Finally in a stroke of mercy, one of the infected chewed out her throat and she was gone. Dana yanked at his leg and ushered him to safety. He rose to his knees, steadied himself, aimed his rifle at the two screaming members of his church and Paul put them out of their misery. He continued to fire at the monsters below until his gun clicked empty. Paul glanced back to find his people retreating for the church. More infected bodies crashed into the barricade made up
of vehicles.

  “Don’t run you fools. Stay and fight or we’ll lose everything!” Among the screams and gunfire Paul’s voice drowned in the ear splitting noise.

  A feeling of despair swarmed him.

  We planned for so many years and we didn’t even make it twenty-four hours.

  He wasn’t about to give up.

  I won’t let a single one of those things into my church.

  As long as there was air in his lungs he would continue to fight. Paul exchanged mags and opened fire. He was going to lead by example and show everyone exactly what he was made of. He let loose a battle cry. There was no room in Paul’s mind for fear or doubt, only the thought of his next kill. He was going to slaughter every one of those monsters, or die trying.

  Chapter 16

  Sara entered the living room with a steaming mug of coffee in each hand. Eric remained passed out on the couch and made a wheezing noise through his busted nose as he slept. A cigarette hung from both Frank and Troy’s lips as the two shared a quiet smoke. Frank worked quickly thumbing rounds into a magazine. Sitting next to him was a stack of full mags ready to rock.

  “Here you go.” Sara handed the men their coffees.

  “Well thank you kindly, darling. That was mighty sweet of you,” said Troy as he reached for his drink.

  “You are very welcome.” Of course Sara had seen Troy earlier that morning, but it was the first time she really looked at him. The man was a few years older than Jim, but the decades of smoking made him rugged and manly. He was broad shouldered with a thick chest and a full beard that covered most of his face. At first glance he looked like a Yukon lumberjack ready to fight at a moment’s notice, but when he spoke it was as calming and soft as a babbling brook. There was no doubt about it, Karen’s brother was a handsome man and Sara found herself staring for a few moments too long.