Torn Apart (Book 1): Terror In Texas

by Hoaks, C. A.

  Harry nodded toward the front of the store beyond a dark curtain stretched across the room. “We can’t turn on more lights or they’ll notice. When you’re out there, duck down and stay behind the racks. There’s glass across the front and we don’t want one of those crazies to look inside and see us.”

  The store was a typical resale or second-hand store. Racks and rows of clothing filled the place. After a quick scan, she realized the children’s clothes were up front and women’s clothes hung on racks to the right of a main walkway.

  Harry stood to the side with his arms folded across his chest. “Get a couple sets of whatever you need. There’s a shoe rack on the far side. Myself, I don’t much care for someone else’s toe jam in my shoes, but under the circumstances you can’t be too picky, I guess.”

  Liz gave a quick nod and made her way to a rack of jeans. She pulled a pair of size six from the hanger, stepped out of her sandals and into a pair of pants. She decided they would do, buttoned the waist, and left them on. She pulled two more pairs from hangers. After a quick examination, to make sure they weren’t shredded on the legs she draped them over her arm and moved on to a rack of t-shirts.

  She glanced over her shoulder toward Harry and saw he was watching the front window. She pulled four dark colored shirts from the rack then headed toward the front of the store where racks of new underwear and socks were displayed. As an afterthought, she grabbed a card of hair bands.

  When Liz got close to the front window, she ducked below the checkout counter to make her way to the display. After a quick perusal, she found the right size socks, grabbed two packages from the shelf and retrieved a package of boy’s briefs when she didn’t find anything but frilly scraps of nylon for women. She stooped behind a row of racks displaying purses and bags. She grabbed a backpack from the display.

  As she walked away, she stuffed clothes in the bag keeping one shirt out to put on after she got cleaned up. Her last stop was the shoe rack.

  She found her size but saw nothing she thought would be practical so she moved down the aisle to the boys shoes. She found a pair of boy’s work boots with a steel toe. She picked up her foot and pressed the boot to the bottom of her bare foot. With a shrug, she settled on a stool and slipped on socks and the boots and tied the laces.

  After her four-minute shopping spree, she made her way to the back of the store staying below the racks. She nodded toward the bathroom. “I need a minute?”

  Harry shrugged. “Feel free. Try to be quick.”

  Liz slipped inside leaving Harry in the dark. She looked in the mirror and realized how much blood covered her neck and shoulder. She jerked up the dress and turned the water on. She grabbed a clean handful of skirt soaked it in water and began scrubbing at the gore still clinging to her skin. She scrubbed the wet cotton against a white bar of soap and cleaned her skin. When she was satisfied she no longer bore the remnants of carnage, she splashed water on her face then dried with paper towels. She pulled a white wife sleeveless wife-beater undershirt on, then a cotton t-shirt.

  She finger combed her shoulder length hair and used one of the hairbands to pull it back from her face. She fought it, but tears glistened in her hazel eyes. Her oval face was void of makeup but still flushed from exertion. Where was Brian? Where were her children? Were they safe? Please God.

  “You about ready, Lizzy?” Harry whispered through the door. “The natives are getting restless out front and I don’t like being in here with all that glass.”

  “Sure,” Liz answered. She slipped a t-shirt over her head and picked up the backpack. Being small busted made the lack of a bra a non-issue. She squared her shoulders and stepped into the gloom of the darkened store.

  “You get everything you need?” Harry asked.

  “I need my daughters,” Liz answered.

  “I hear what you’re saying, but right now we can’t do anything. “It’s dark,” Harry answered as he locked Edith’s shop. “The streets are crawling with those fucks.”

  When they stepped into the bar, Liz could smell cooking meat.

  “Hey. Are you two hungry?” John asked from behind the bar. He held up a beer and nodded toward Liz.

  Liz sighed. “Water, please.” She dropped the backpack at her feet.

  Harry settled on the bar stool next to Liz with a deep sigh. He unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled up the cuff twice. He stared into the mirror behind the bar while he clutched the opened bottle in front of him. Finally, he took a long swig of beer.

  “Beer tastes like shit with the smell from outside creeping in here,” Harry complained.

  Liz glanced at him then turned back to study the pictures taped to the cracked mirror. She saw images of young soldiers that included Harry and his two companions. Despite the picture being at least 35 years old, she could recognize the three younger versions of the men.

  John laughed. “Far as I’m concerned, beer has always tasted like cow piss. Only now you can smell it, too.”

  Liz continued her musing while they discussed beer. She imagined the trio was Viet Nam Vets so Harry and his friends had to be at least sixty years plus in age. All three wore jeans, heavy chambray shirts and leather vests with an emblem with a caricature of an angry rat holding a machine gun. The two-word moniker, River Rats, was embroidered in gold and black thread. The angry rodent was surrounded by a medallion edge of bamboo.

  Harry chuckled. “So you’ve been drinking a lot of cow piss so you’d know what it tastes like?”

  John coughed. “Fuck you. Harry, you’re a disgusting fuck.”

  Harry just grinned back and raised a hand with the middle finger extended.

  Liz felt the corner of her mouth raise at the good-humored ribbing and continued her assessment. John was a man of medium build with dark hair thinning at the top. His eyes sported a fan of lines at the side and she imagined the hazel color sparkling when he laughed. The laugh lines at the sides of his mouth were hidden by more than a five o’clock shadow hinting at the number of days spent away from home.

  Dave was the smallest of the trio. He was a nervous man that seemed to be more distressed by their confinement than the other two men. He would pace from side to side then suddenly stop in front of the door, open the peephole then peered through the opening at the streets beyond. After several minutes of watching, he would close the opening and begin pacing again.

  Dave’s dark blonde hair was thinning and looked as if it had not been washed in days. A strong jaw hinted at having been a good looking man at one time, but now his mouth seemed to be in a perpetual frown. When he reached up to smooth back his hair his hand trembled.

  Harry glanced over his shoulder. “Dave, come on over and have something to eat. We got a mission.”

  Dave glanced toward the peephole in the door then turned back to cross the room to the bar. “Mission?” He mumbled. “Right. Good to go.”

  Harry sighed. “When things calm down, we have to help Lizzy here find her kids.”

  “It’s almost full dark. Maybe we can get out tonight.” John commented.

  Laughing without humor Dave answered. “Haven’t you watched any of those Zombie movies? Those bastards don’t sleep.”

  “Enough.” Harry walked to the peephole and looked outside. “If we can’t make it any sooner, we’ll wait until morning. The crazies are chasing anything moving right now. Good chance they’ll wander off when there’s no one to chase.”

  Liz sighed. She closed her eyes and prayed softly. “Please God, send angels to watch over and protect my daughters.”

  “Amen,” Harry whispered behind her. “We’ll do what we can, Lizzy. I promise.”

  The evening was filled with terror. Screams continued to shatter the stillness as the night grew dark. Safe inside the bar, Harry, John and Dave took turns watching through the peephole in the heavy wood door. Liz took comfort in not hearing the scream of a child.

  The infected moved up and down the street until they would suddenly congregate in front of a window or door. T
hey would pound and push until the barrier gave way or glass shattered then they would stumble inside. Those who ran for their vehicles were quickly surrounded. They would try to dodge and weave around the bloodied bodies only to be pulled to the ground and devoured. Their terrified screams echoed through the night until they fell silent, time and again.

  One such attack happened right in front of the bar door. They hid behind the door, but no one made a move to open it. They knew it would be a fatal mistake. The victim’s screams finally stopped. Liz stood by with tears sliding down her face.

  Harry took a deep breath then whispered. “Let’s go upstairs and get some rest. Dave, can we use your place to crash tonight?”

  Dave looked as if he would protest then shrugged and turned toward a side door. “Sure.”

  When Liz followed them up the side stairs she realized Dave had lived above the small bar in the apartment for several years. The one bedroom apartment included worn remnants of carpeting and the barest of furnishings. He had a few pieces of living room furniture, a dinette table, and two chairs while the bedroom held a battered dresser and a neatly made double bed. A couple cots and sleeping bags had been stacked in the corner.

  Dave offered the bed to Liz, but she insisted she wouldn’t sleep so she could rest on the couch. As it was, none of them got much rest, the rest of the night was filled with the screams of those unfortunate enough to be found by the infected. As soon as it got quiet, another unfortunate soul would be torn from their hiding place and the terrified screams would begin again.

  The men took turns watching the street from the second story windows while Liz curled up on the couch to worry if her children were warm and safe. As the night wore on, tears slipped from her eyes until finally exhaustion pulled her into a fitful sleep where she dreamed of Brian.

  Her husband’s arms held Liz close. “If anything ever happens, head to your dad’s cabin. The General and I have plenty of supplies stocked up. It’s important you don’t wait for me. Get in the car and get there. I’ll find you.”

  “We can’t leave you.” Liz sighed as she stroked his face.

  Brian pulled Liz away. “There’ve been things going on that really scare me, Liz. We live too close to the base for you and the girls to be safe. If I’m not able to protect you and the girls, you have to do like I say and if the base ever declares an emergency you have to leave right away. No question. Go to your dad’s and I’ll know where to find you.”

  Liz snuggled into his arms and fell asleep knowing Brian would always be there to protect them.

  Chapter 7

  Finding A Way Out

  The group of seven sat or squatted on the small area of decking around the attic access door unsure what to do next. Steve dropped the square of plywood back in place. After covering the opening, the sound of the infected decreased but a tell-tale stench still wafted up from below. Della flicked on the larger flashlight she had retrieved from the closet shelf.

  Steve looked from one terrified face to the next realizing he knew only one of the new arrivals. The woman was the receptionist from the first floor. Her hair, usually neat and styled in a sculptured bob, clung to her face in damp ringlets. Her face was pale and streaked with makeup after the terror of their escape from the ground floor. Her clothes were twisted and in disarray. She looked ready to cry.

  Steve searched his memory for her name. Audrey, Annie, no…Andy. That was it. “Andy, I’m glad to see you.” Andy nodded and he continued. “You know both Della and me but who did you bring along?”

  Andy introduced the others. She nodded toward each and whispered a name. “Sandy, Martha, Jimmy, and Zack, they’re students checking out the internship program. I found them in a classroom a few minutes ago when I ran in there to hide. When we heard the crazy people break through the security door, we ran up the stairs and they followed. I thought we could barricade the therapy room door and we’d be safe. I was wrong.”

  “You made it. That’s the important thing.” Steve responded.

  He studied each of the kids and realized how really young they were. Both girls stared at Steve with eyes wide with terror. Sandy was thin and fine boned with an oval face framed by thick dark hair. She looked as if she were ready to cry. Steve tried to give her a reassuring smile.

  Steve nodded a hello to Martha. She was a little taller and bigger than Sandy with curly blonde hair trimmed short to frame her round frightened face. She kept glancing toward the square of plywood between them.

  The kid with blood smeared across his face was Jimmy. He was thin and sported a shock of curly, red hair. He used a handful of tissues Della had shoved at him earlier to stanch the flow of blood. Steve could hear him struggle to breath around the wad of tissue pressed to his face.

  The fourth member of the group was a thick-bodied, black kid with a hesitant smile. He probably out-weighed Steve by fifty pounds, so he weighed over two hundred-twenty. He was well muscled with a roundness suggesting a kid in a man’s body. Steve imagined him as a linebacker on a high school football team and hoped he would be able to help if things got dicey.

  “We have to figure a way out of here. Where is Della?”

  Della leaned around one of the kids and answered. “I’m here.”

  Steve nodded. “Okay, we’re at the front of the building. We need to use the back stairway.”

  “You mean the one at the southwest corner of the building, near the main parking lot?” Della asked.

  “The front stairs are crawling with those dead people. They followed us when we ran up here.” Jimmy commented.

  “We know that.” Della pointed into the dark. “That’s why we’re heading to the other end of the building. The back stairs should be that way.”

  “Okay, we have to get down from here, and that looks like our best option.” Steve answered. “But before we do, we need to get some weapons and I have an idea where to get them. When we get outside, I have a van that has room for all of us.” Steve began. “We just have to get to it.”

  Della moved closer. “Can you manage stairs?” She glanced down pointedly.

  Steve shrugged. “Since the elevator isn’t an option, I guess I’ll have to manage them.” Steve asked. “Where is the fabricating room from here?”

  Della pointed toward the back wall. “That way, but we can’t get to the door.”

  Steve grinned. “We don’t need to. We can go through the ceiling. We have at least a couple strong arms to help make an opening.” He looked to Zack.

  “Sure, Man. Just point me in the right direction. I can punch through sheet rock, no problem.”

  “I was hoping we could be a little quieter than that.” Steve answered. “Let’s go folks.”

  Della stood as did Andy and the teens. Zack leaned over and grabbed Steve under one arm and pulled him upright. He held his arm until Steve was balanced on a rafter and clutching a cross-beam.

  “Thanks, Zack. I’m good. Sorry, guys, the blades are new, still getting used to them.” Steve commented as he stepped out and reached for the next rafters for support. “Della, lead out. People, stay on the wood rafters. Don’t step on the sheetrock. You’ll go through.”

  Della adjusted the bag on her shoulder and reached out for the flashlight from the utility room. Jimmy handed it to her and she passed the smaller light back to Jimmy. She pointed the wide cone of light toward a distant wall.

  Steve followed with the new arrival close behind. He sighed as he realized he would have his hands full watching out for half a dozen people. Except for Zack, maybe, Steve thought of him as a survivor built like a brick shit-house.

  After a couple minutes of everyone stumbling from rafter to rafter, Della stopped. “Here I think. We’re above the fabricating room.”

  Steve grabbed a knife from his pocket, eased himself into a sitting position on a rafter and shoved insulation aside. He worried a three inch hole into the sheetrock then sat up and slid his arm across his damp forehead. He looked around and realized everyone else was getting over
heated too. They wouldn’t last long in the sweltering heat of the attic.

  He nodded at Jimmy. “Sorry I clipped you with the door. How’s your nose?”

  Jimmy shrugged. He no longer held the tissues to his face. “It’s good. Little tender, but considering where we are...no problem at all.”

  “Glad to hear it. Do you think you can check it out?” Steve pointed at the hole in the sheetrock.

  “Sure.”

  Jimmy stretched out across the rafters and pressed his eye to the opening. After a full minute of moving his head from side to side, he looked up and grinned.

  “Nothing moving. Just the work bench and lots of metal, plastic, and tools. No one in the room at all that I can see.”

  Della spoke up. “It’s controlled access so it should be fine. No one can get in without a card. The techs leave by noon on Friday. It does have a clear glass door though.”

  Andy interrupted. “We can’t go in there. They pounded on the glass downstairs until they broke through in the lobby.” She sniffled. “We haven’t got time for this. I need to get out of here so I can go home to my family.”

  “Hush, Andy. We’ll get out of here as soon as we can.” Della hunkered down and studied the inside of the room below. “If we make the opening eight feet back that way, it will be behind the work bench. There’ll be less chance of ME being seen through the glass.” She added.

  “Della?” Steve began. “You can’t....”

  “Stuff it, Steve. I’m not sending one of the kids, Andy wouldn’t have a clue, and you...well. I won’t even begin to tell you why you can’t do it. Besides if anything happened, who would drive your van?”

  Steve shrugged. “Okay, but the first hint of trouble….”

  Della sighed. “Let’s get this hole started.”

  The team crept down the rafter toward the place Della indicated. “This should be over the work bench but on the back side.”

  Steve leaned down and began to saw at the sheetrock with his knife. He quickly grew heated, but kept sawing at the opening despite the perspiration dripping from his face.