The Infected (Book 4): Death Sentence

by Zuko, Joseph

  “But my buddy and his wife had a huge fight right before they showed up to dinner. That should have tipped me off right there to abandon ship and call it a night, but my date was drop dead gorgeous and it had been a while if you know what I mean.”

  Sara egged him on. “What happened at dinner?”

  “My buddy kept saying these cutting remarks to his wife about her weight and how she should ask the waiter to put a straw in the bottle of wine because ‘she’s gonna guzzle it all herself.’ She was complaining about how long it’s been since she’d had an orgasm.”

  “Oh, jeez.” Sara stopped stabbing the infected so she could listen fully to the story.

  “The tension got hotter and hotter around the table. Me and the girl, Tawny was her name, couldn’t get a conversation going to save our lives because they were at each other’s throats. Our meals arrived and my buddy uttered something about how he married the wrong sister.”

  “Wow!”

  “Yeah, that sends her through the roof, she flipped the table over, picks up a knife and threatens to cut his dick off in the middle of the restaurant.”

  “That’s insane.” Sara shook her head as she thrust her spear at a zombie skull. “Then what happened?”

  “I scooped Tawny up and we left them to pay for the mess. We grabbed a burger and had a few laughs about our friends. Three months later we’re rushing to get married like a couple of dumb kids and like a bad omen, my buddy and his wife got a divorce the same week.”

  “Why didn’t it work out?”

  “We got married for the wrong reason.”

  “And that was?”

  Troy sat back on his haunches and ran a sleeve across his sweaty face. “We were scared to be alone.” He breathed out a lungful of air. “But that was a long time ago.”

  Sara added, “In a galaxy far, far away.”

  “You got it darling.” Troy gave her a wink and got back to the task at hand. With the five of them working as a team they quickly cut through the ranks of the horde.

  Karen climbed through the hole in the roof. She was happy to see how many zombies had already been put down. She carefully crawled up onto the roof.

  “You guys are amazing. You’re about halfway through them.” She got to her feet and headed for her husband.

  Jim stabbed another infected. It was a gusher and squirted a fountain of blood up at him. He ducked it as he said, “You should go lay down and rest.”

  “Why? Most of us are nursing an injury. What makes me so special?” She squatted next to Jim and reached for the spear. “I got the girls a snack and set up Mama’s old TV in the bedroom. They’re busy watching Toy Story. Now let me help.”

  Jim passed her the weapon and let her kneel on the rug. He untied his rope and wrapped it around her waist. “I just remembered I have something to give the girls. Some toys I grabbed from the apartment.”

  “I hope it’s Burt and Ernie.” Karen plunged the spear into a zombie.

  “Good guess my love.” Jim kissed her on the head and headed for the opening.

  Jim stepped up to the kitchen sink. He was covered in sweat and some infected blood. He didn’t want the girls to see him like this so he cleaned himself thoroughly. The backpack Jim had stuffed the dolls in was sitting in the hallway. He grabbed it on the way to the back bedroom. He unzipped it enough to make sure they were still inside before he knocked at the open door. Ernie’s fluffy black hair popped through the zipper.

  “Girls?” Jim called softly as his knuckles wrapped against the door. They had been through a lot today and he didn’t want to startle them.

  His two little ones sat on the edge of the bed a few feet from the twenty-inch tube TV. Buzz Lightyear had just arrived and Sheriff Woody was giving him the rundown of Andy’s room. Their little eyes never left the screen as Jim entered the room. “Girls?” He said it a little louder.

  Still nothing.

  Jim hit the pause button then they snapped out of their magic spell.

  “The show Daddy?” Valerie pointed at the TV.

  “Show?” Robin added.

  “I know. I’ll put it back on in a second. I’ve got something for you.” Jim took a seat between them.

  “What is it?” Valerie asked as she climbed into Jim’s lap. Robin copied her sister and inched her way onto Jim’s other thigh.

  He pulled the backpack open and Burt and Ernie sprung up from the stuffed bag.

  “Ernie!” Valerie grabbed her beloved toy and squeezed him tight.

  “Urt!” Robin reached for his pointy yellow head.

  “Do the voices Daddy,” Valerie handed the doll to her father and Robin did the same.

  “Okay, okay.” He cleared his throat and held the little guys so he could put on a show. Jim executed a perfect Ernie voice.

  “Hello Burt, you wanna see me do some fishing without a pole.”

  Spot on Burt voice, “Ernie you can’t go fishing without a pole.”

  “Oh sure I can, Burt. Watch this, here fishy, fishy, fishy.” Jim mimed a fish jumping up onto the bed as Ernie counted. “One fish, two fish.”

  “Ernie, that’s incredible. How did you do it?”

  “It’s easy Burt, you just have to call them really loudly.”

  “Okay, let me try. Here fishy, fishy, fishy.” Burt looked around but there were no fish to count. “It’s not working Ernie.”

  “You have to call them even louder, Burt.” The girls giggled because they knew what was coming next.

  Jim yelled as Burt, “Here, fishy, fishy, fishy!”

  Valerie flopped on the bed like a fish, made a big silly face and said, “You called.”

  The girls died laughing as Jim wrapped his arms around them and gave them a big bear hug. “I love you guys so so so much.” He planted a bunch of kisses on both of them. “Let’s see what happens next.” Jim hit the play button on the TV and pulled his little ladies into his lap.

  The three of them snuggled for a full glorious fifteen minutes before Jim started to feel guilty he wasn’t up on the roof helping. “Daddy’s got to get back to work. I’ll be out in the garage if you need me. Love ya.”

  “Okay, Daddy. Love you too.”

  Jim gave them one more set of kisses and scooched them off his lap. Their eyes stayed glued to the screen as he left the bedroom.

  Frank did one last check of his duffle bag. “Every mag is loaded. Every gun ready to rock.”

  Eric let out a weak cough. Frank pulled his revolver from its holster and aimed it at the man on the couch. He waited and listened to hear if Eric was letting go of this mortal coil and about to turn.

  Eric let a few words escape as he talked in his sleep, “Don’t make… I’m not…” Then he went silent.

  “Hope you’re having a nightmare, you prick.” Frank found a cleaning rag at the bottom of his bag. He popped out the barrel and let the shells fall into his hand. He set them on the stand next to him and began to wipe down the pistol. The strong coffee had kicked him into overdrive and he had nothing left to do, but sit there, clean his gun and watch the man on the couch slowly die.

  This gave him time to think and Frank wasn’t looking forward to having idle time on his hands. It had been go, go, go for the last twenty-four hours and he hadn’t had much time with his thoughts. Regrets started to pour in. All of the things from his past that he should have done differently were floating around his head. This was a dark path and once he got going it was nearly impossible to stop. Looking at Eric reminded Frank of his first regret.

  I should have shot those boys before they gunned down Devon and Cliff’s family.

  That one weighed heavily on his conscience. He went round and round as his emotions got the better of him. Could he have lived with himself if he had taken someone’s life? He had no way to know those boys were going to open fire on them.

  If I went around shooting everyone in cold blood I’d be no better than those monsters outside.

  Cold hard logic didn’t always win, but it enjoyed sla
pping him around.

  Frank couldn’t stop himself as he kept traveling along this negative path. He shifted to how he should have forced his son to go fishing with him yesterday morning. If he would have been a hard ass, made his son get up and suffer through the hangover, Frank’s wife would still be alive.

  This line of thought had a strong leg to stand on. Frank was aware this Monday morning quarterbacking wouldn’t get him anywhere other than a deep depression, but that’s how despair works. It wants to drag you through hell and point out all of your faults. It loves to kick you in the balls and throw your mistakes in your face. It gets off on making you miserable. Just when Frank couldn’t take anymore and was about to load a bullet into his pistol he heard Eric speak.

  His lips were swollen and he spoke with a slur as he asked, “May I have some water, please?”

  Frank snapped to as if there was a rattlesnake on the couch and in a split second he grabbed a round off the stand next to him, loaded it into the chamber, whipped the barrel into the gun and aimed it at the man’s head.

  Eric sat up and touched his sore face. “I really need some water, please.”

  Frank couldn’t believe the man in front of him was able to form a full sentence. His face was twice its normal size and his jaw hung at an odd angle. Frank grumbled through gritted teeth, “I’ll fill a bowl and let you drink it like the dog you are.”

  “I deserve that. I can’t even imagine what you people must think of me.”

  “No, you can’t.” Frank thumbed back the hammer.

  Eric sat up a little more and Frank rose to his feet.

  Eric motioned toward the bandage on his skull. “You mended my wounds. If you all wanted me dead you had plenty of time to make it happen. I’m just so thirsty, please, may I have a glass of water?”

  Frank’s eyes narrowed.

  “Look at me.” Eric coughed up some blood. “I’m no threat to any of you. I couldn’t get off this couch if I wanted to.” He coughed again. “Please, may I have a glass of water to ease my suffering?”

  Frank pondered for a moment as he stared at the worm. Then he picked up the rest of his shells and loaded his revolver. He clicked the barrel into position and kept the firearm aimed at Eric. The man looked so damn pathetic. His eyes were out of sync when he blinked and drool oozed from his broken lips. It looked like Frank could kill him with a dandelion. Frank’s kind heart got the better of him and he couldn’t see the harm in giving the guy a cup of water.

  Frank groaned, “You stay right there, like a good mutt.” Frank picked up the bag of guns from the floor. “I’ll get you a water, but if you move a muscle I’ll gun you down right where you lay, got me?”

  “Yes sir,” Eric leaned back on to the couch and closed his eyes. “Thank you, sir.”

  Frank hastily moved for the kitchen. He set the duffle bag on the counter, picked up a plastic kid’s cup and turned on the tap. It wasn’t even half full when he heard the sound of broken glass followed by the children screaming from the bedroom.

  “No!” Frank dropped the cup in the sink. The water continued to flow from the faucet as he raced out of the kitchen and down the hall. As he passed by the bathroom he saw the mirror was shattered.

  Frank kicked open the bedroom door and leveled his gun at the monster.

  Eric sat on the bed.

  He attempted to grin, but his broken jaw wouldn’t let him.

  His arms were draped around the two girls. Tears streamed down their frightened little cheeks.

  Eric clutched a shard of busted mirror. The razor sharp tip pointed at Valerie’s shaking chin.

  “Where’s my water?” asked the fiend.

  Chapter 20

  A pink mist exploded from the sniper’s skull, her head snapped back and her body catapulted into the dark building. She disappeared completely from Dallas’ sight.

  “Did you get him?” Charlie yelled from his curled up position on the bedroom floor. His gravelly voice went hoarse. “Is he dead?”

  Dallas fell to his butt. He laid the rifle across his lap. He looked defeated and squeaked out, “Yes.” His mouth went dry. His chest felt empty.

  I took a life.

  A body stomped from the hallway and appeared at the bedroom door.

  Dallas jumped and raised his rifle at the sudden movement.

  It was Shawna. She stood at the door way, sucking in mouthfuls of oxygen, her hand in the air as she proclaimed, “It’s me!”

  Dallas lowered his gun.

  She spotted Charlie lying under the window, next to the dead body and asked. “Are you guys okay?” She looked around the bedroom, taking in the horrors before her and cursed, “Goddamn!” She slung her rifle onto her shoulder and stepped over the little dead body by the bed. “You’ve got blood on you.”

  Charlie sat up and wiped his crimson covered hands along the sides of his jeans. “I’m good, it was his.” He pointed at the corpse on the floor next to him. “I’ll need some therapy to get my head screwed back on straight, but I sustained no injuries.”

  She knelt in front of him and checked both pupils. “We heard the shots.” His eyes were fine. She moved across the floor to Dallas. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  Charlie rocked himself forward and got to his feet.

  Dallas had a thousand mile stare.

  “Are you okay?” She reached for his hand.

  His eyes met hers.

  Her fingertips were on autopilot and were searching for his pulse. The big man’s heart was racing. She spoke soft as a feather, “What happened?”

  He pulled his wrist from her hand and grunted. “We have to go.” Dallas jumped to his feet and bolted for the door.

  Dallas stormed from the house. Charlie and Shawna exited right behind him. It was warm in the sun, but he felt cold on the inside. He didn’t realize how badly his hands were shaking until he went for a toothpick and poked himself in the lip trying to get it into his mouth. His life had flashed before his eyes when she fired at him, but all he could think about was:

  Am I going to hell?

  Was that murder or self-defense?

  Did she have it coming?

  Was I acting as the Will of God or was I sent by the Devil?

  He ached for a drink. If ever there was a time to drink, it was now. His thoughts were way too clear. He needed to feel warm and fuzzy. Walking to the bus he felt icy and jagged as a shark tooth. The adrenaline crackled in his veins like Pop Rocks. As it chugged through his system he was sure he could flip the bus on its side.

  Blaine nodded at him from the driver’s seat, but Dallas pretended not to see the gesture as he rounded the front of the rig. He wasn’t ready to be friendly. He didn’t want to talk about it. He wanted to get this mission over with and head back to the church.

  Theo opened the bus door and got out of Dallas’ way. The big man stepped up into the war rig and said, “We’re clear. Let’s hit the road.”

  Blaine had been friends with Dallas long enough to know when he was itching for a drink and that it wasn’t a good idea to hit him with a bunch of questions about what happened. Blaine opted for his go to move and tried to be funny, “Good, this neighborhood is a dump.”

  Dallas took his seat and put his hunting rifle in its case.

  Shawna and Charlie entered the bus. Blaine did a double take when he saw all the blood on Charlie’s clothes.

  “Don’t ask,” said Charlie as he locked the door behind himself.

  Shawna took her seat across from Dallas. She dug through her pack and found her wipes to hand to Charlie as he passed on his way to sit.

  She studied Dallas’ blank mug. “That was a pretty rough house.”

  He nodded slightly.

  “You did what you had to do. It was his life or ours and he shot first.” She offered a supportive smile.

  He blurted out, “It was a woman.”

  She couldn’t hide how shocked she was. Blaine spun in his seat with the same look of disbelief on his face.

&nb
sp; Dallas looked out the window toward the house. “You didn’t seem that bothered by the room.” His head tilted to the side. “I puked.”

  “I wouldn’t be a very good E.M.T. if I was skittish around blood, but it doesn’t mean I wasn’t bothered.” She reached for his knee. “You don’t have to talk about it now, but I think it would be a good idea to sit with the Pastor or Brother Paul later tonight.”

  He turned back toward her and spoke very quietly, “He was their Father. He ate his own children and I took a life. I don’t see how talking about it will ever help me.” Dallas went back to staring blankly out the window. He caught a whiff of the fabric softener on his face. His thoughts bounced from the nightmare in the bedroom, to the woman’s head snapping backward then to his daughter, Maxine. He had no idea how much he would miss her until it was too late and she was gone for good. He didn’t want to think about how many months of her life he had missed. How tall was she? Did she have a crush? What’s her favorite band? He didn’t know the answer to any question and he wasn’t sure he ever would. If by some miracle he found her again she would be a totally different person than he remembered. His thoughts turned to anger when he focused on the father killing his own children.

  How could a disease make a man do that to his babies?

  The pit in his stomach got deeper. He was spiraling and when he hit rock bottom he wasn’t sure what would happen.

  Blaine got the rig into gear and pulled forward out of the God forsaken cul-de-sac. As he headed up the hill for 164th he noticed all of the bodies lining the street. Each one had been blasted in the skull with a single shot. He wished the sniper would have let them pass without the messy incident.

  Darn it, the gal did a heck of a job clearing the area.

  Blaine hollered at his passengers, “No matter what happens, I’m not stopping for anyone, unless Jesus himself is thumbing for a ride.” He blew through a red light and crossed the intersection. It got him thinking about how long the power could stay up and running without anyone at the helm. Bonneville Dam powered the whole valley, but Blaine had no idea if it was fully automated or took a human to hit a button and keep the power flowing.