This Is the End: The Post-Apocalyptic Box Set (7 Book Collection)

by Craig DiLouie

  It was hard, really hard but I said, “You did too, Jerome. If you’d opened the door, we’d probably all have been killed.”

  “What are you guys taking about?” Murphy asked.

  “He’ll tell you.” I headed downstairs.

  The dormitory and the ROTC building were rectangular buildings, erected in line with one another. They formed the southern boundary of the east mall, which lay on the opposite side of the buildings from the quad and Gregory Gym. Because of that, the door at the east end of the dorm fed directly into the door at the western end of the ROTC building with a mere twenty feet of sidewalk in between.

  As Major Wilkins and I had arranged, his group was waiting at the western door of the ROTC building when I got to the dormitory’s eastern door. I leaned the extra M-4s against the wall just inside the door and checked the gap between the buildings for lingering infected. I saw that it was clear, and swung the door open. I held the door wide and stepped out as far as I could into the gap. I saw infected in the distance, but there were no nearby threats.

  I raised a finger to my lips to indicate quiet and waved Wilkins’ group across.

  Moments later, Wilkins, Felicity, and the five ROTC guys were in the dorm—with the door closing behind—each exhaling breath they probably hadn’t realized they were holding.

  Two of the ROTC guys, Mark and Tom, wasted no time in taking ownership of the weapons I’d leaned against the wall.

  I said, “There’s more ammunition upstairs. We don’t have enough weapons for everyone, but there are a lot more outside.”

  “Thanks,” Wilkins said, reaching out to shake my hand.

  I reached out and noticed Mark flinch as I grabbed Wilkins’ hand. There was no blood on my hand, nor any gory bits.

  Mark’s reaction rattled me. Something wasn’t right.

  Wilkins fished a pair of car keys out of his pocket and handed them to me. “I can go with you,” he said.

  “I can go outside, because I’m infected,” I said bluntly. “If you go out, the infected will come after you and we won’t stand a chance. Thanks for offering though.”

  Wilkins silently agreed.

  Felicity jumped between us and threw her arms around me. “Thank you! Thank you so much.”

  I shrugged as she let go. “Thank me when I get back with your friends,” I said.

  She pulled out her cell phone and gave it to me. “Remember, call Amber. She’s on my favorites list, the first one.”

  “Okay.”

  “They know I’m coming and they’re ready to go, right?”

  “Yes,” Felicity confirmed.

  “And your phone has enough of a charge?” I asked.

  “About half a charge, but that should be more than enough.”

  “Yeah, okay.” I looked everyone over. “Jerome is up on the fifth floor. He knows you’re coming but be sure to say something when you get off the elevator, just in case.”

  “Will do,” Wilkins told me.

  With my pistol drawn, I opened the door and went back out into the heat.

  Chapter 25

  With a callousness that should never have grown so quickly, I walked among the scattered remains of the soldiers, picked out another M-4, and morbidly restocked my ammunition supply. An extra pistol seemed like a good idea, but I cut off my shopping trip there, not wanting to burden myself unduly for when I’d next have to run for my life.

  A faculty parking lot lay two blocks over, just as Wilkins had told me. Among the half-dozen cars, I easily spotted his gray sedan. As I approached the vehicle, I clicked the remote once to unlock the driver’s side door. The car responded with a chirp and a flash of the parking lights.

  Oops!

  I looked around quickly as I realized that it would most likely be some old habit from a different world that would eventually get me killed.

  A half-dozen infected were looking at or already running toward the car.

  I ran the last twenty feet, flung the driver’s door open, tossed in the M-4, followed it in, and slammed the door shut just as two infected pounced on the car. One landed on the hood and immediately started to beat on the windshield with his fist. The other tried to press his face through the glass on the passenger side window.

  “Stupid!” Adrenaline shook my hands as I found the ignition key and started the engine.

  The sound of the relatively quiet engine was enough to send the infected into a frenzy. The car bounced as two more infected bodies slammed into its side. The windshield cracked under the persistent fist of the infected on the hood.

  I shoved the car into reverse and spun the wheels as I backed out. I ran over a soft bump and counted one infected dead. With the crazy infected clawing at the glass all around, I backed into a parked pickup I didn’t see. I shifted the transmission, punched the accelerator to the floor, and the front-wheel drive pulled the car hard right, into two more infected. They rolled off the hood as I raced toward the exit. I swerved hard to make the turn, and the infected on my hood slipped away and skittered across the asphalt.

  I raced out onto the street and caught another infected with the passenger side bumper, breaking out the headlight. I checked the rearview mirror. A dozen infected were running up the street in full speed pursuit.

  When I hit forty, I figured I’d better dodge as many infected as I could, lest I damage the car’s radiator with an impact. They were everywhere—coming out into the street and onto the sidewalks, out on the expansive lawns, from the gardens and fountains. As I passed, every single head snapped in my direction. Every one of the infected flowed into the street after me.

  Good God, there were thousands.

  I pushed the car to sixty as another one of the infected glanced off the passenger side of the vehicle.

  I smashed the brakes hard and rubber screamed on the asphalt as the car floated into a left turn. I spun the car out on a broad boulevard near the northern edge of the campus and headed west.

  I regained control and accelerated toward a wide pedestrian bridge that linked the main campus with the buildings to the north. I saw a hundred heads pop up above the rail as I rolled under. Just as the echo of the engine bounced back to me off of the concrete all around, I saw the dark silhouette of a body fall in front of me from the walkway above.

  I braked and swerved as two more bodies fell. I hit one with the bumper just as the car jarred under the double impact of one on the hood and another on the roof. The windshield shattered into a translucent web.

  My foot found the accelerator again and the infected rolled off, but I was nearly blind and speeding west.

  I looked to my left and right to gauge my position in the road, and to judge how much further I needed to go. I prayed nothing lay in the street ahead.

  The car lurched from another impact. A body smashed partially through the windshield with a crunch of bones and a splatter of blood. The girl stuck in the windshield had done me the favor of knocking out enough of the shattered glass for me to see ahead.

  I spied a street to the left and cut the wheels hard, skidding loudly. I sideswiped a parked car and drew the attention of a few infected up the street, who immediately came at me.

  I checked the rearview mirror. At least a hundred frenzied infected were rounding the corner behind me.

  The car wasn’t going to last much longer. I needed to stop and get away from it as fast as possible, or the infected would shred me in their frenzy before they realized that I wasn’t tasty.

  I aimed the car at a sharp right-hand corner ahead. Past caring about damage to the car, I ran down two more infected and watched parts of the bumper and parts of bodies fly past.

  I slammed the brakes as I rounded the curve, and angled toward another parked car.

  The collision was painfully loud. The airbag deployed and slapped my face hard enough to bloody my nose. The horn sounded and didn’t stop.

  I tried the door but it was jammed shut. I elbowed out the fractured driver’s side window and crawled out as quickly a
s I could with no thought to cuts and scrapes.

  I fell free and hit the asphalt with a slap.

  I got my feet beneath me, pulled the pistol, and shot two infected who were only steps away.

  Thanks to Wilkins’ demonstrably shitty plan, I only had seconds to live unless I put some distance between myself, the bleating car, and the infected mob coming up the street.

  A quick glance around told me I might have time to grab the M-4 off of the passenger floorboard and get away. To face the frenzied infected without it was certain death.

  I jumped back through the window, scrabbling forward. I got a hand on the M-4, smashed my forehead into the cracked passenger side window, and broke it out as I fell through.

  I hit the asphalt and rolled into a somersault that put me back on my feet. I was so surprised that it worked that I almost forgot to move.

  I made a beeline for the corner of the nearest building and faced eight infected as soon as I made the turn. They were running toward the sound of the car, but caught a clip full of M-4 rounds for their trouble. I didn’t slow down at all.

  Two infected came up out of a stairwell to the building’s basement just as I passed. I shouldered the first one and tumbled them both down the stairs.

  I spied a door just ahead and prayed that it wasn’t locked.

  Fast feet and adrenaline got me there—I cradled the M-4 in my right arm and pulled the door handle with my left.

  It opened.

  I stepped inside and pulled the door closed behind me, cutting off the howls of the infected running up the side of the building. I needed a place to hide, and I needed it now.

  I ran into a stairwell as the vanguard of the infected horde hit the door. Thankfully, it was another door that opened out, rather than in. Their collective weight held it closed as they struggled to get in, but that would only last for a moment.

  I bounded up the stairs and passed two, then three infected. I gasped for air. The first floor door burst open as hundreds of screams filled the stairwell.

  I exited the stairwell on three. The hall was empty. Thank God!

  Elevator!

  If I could get inside, I might be safe.

  I ran up the hall and hit the button. The light came on and I waited.

  And I waited.

  The infected were on the stairs.

  “C’mon!”

  The infected were close.

  The stairwell door slammed open loudly and the infected tripped over each other, spilling into the hall.

  The elevator chimed in the nick of time. I stepped inside and pushed the button to close the door.

  Safe!

  I flipped the emergency switch to lock the elevator to keep it from moving up or down— fell back against the wall, slid down to the floor, and finally breathed.

  Two breaths later, the elevator doors reverberated with the impact of bodies smashing into it.

  Damn! Persistent fuckers!

  Fingers started to squeeze their way between the doors.

  I jumped to my feet, unlocked the elevator, and pressed the button for the lowest level in the building. The elevator complied, and took me down to the basement. I reloaded the M-4, leveled it at the door, drew several deep breaths to steady myself, and prepared to run and shoot. The elevator chimed and the door opened. There was nobody there.

  I stepped out just as I heard the sound of several pairs of feet running up the hall.

  Infected!

  I pointed the rifle, but knew that if I pulled the trigger, I would never get out of the building alive.

  The ogre and the harpy.

  It was time to gamble that these guys weren’t in the frenzied mob that was following me, but were lingering in the basement and simply attracted by the elevator noise. I stepped back against the wall, lowered my M-4, and drew the pistol.

  The infected slowed as they neared me, stopped, looked me over, sniffed me, and realized that I was one of them. They turned their attention to the closing elevator doors.

  I drew a deep breath and stepped up next to them. Blending in couldn’t hurt.

  They spent a full minute searching the elevator for something worth eating. They somehow decided amongst themselves that it was empty, and they followed one another through the open rooms on the basement floor, methodically searching for a live human. I searched with them. With the frenzied mob running through the floors above and howling in frustration, I figured the camouflage of being in the group might keep me safe.

  None of the horde ventured into the basement, but it took a half hour before the noise above diminished.

  One by one, the infected in my group gave up the search and settled themselves into a shadowy corner of one of the classrooms where they squatted and stared. I watched them for a bit and wondered how long they’d stay there in the absence of a stimulus.

  I found an empty classroom as far from the infected in the basement as I could get. I went in and gently closed the door behind me. Calculus formulae and equations waited on the chalkboards for students who would never arrive. Desks sat in neat rows, waiting for years of rust and rot to erase them from the world.

  Sunlight shone in from the west through three window wells that also provided me an ankle-level view outside.

  I needed to be patient. The car’s incessant horn was keeping the infected feet outside hurrying urgently around in search of prey. I’d have to stay hidden until they lost interest or the battery died.

  I took a seat on the floor where I could lean on the instructor’s desk and be hidden from any eyes peeking through the door.

  I was drenched with sweat. I was thirsty and had an adrenaline hangover. At least the room was cool, the floor was wonderfully cold, and I felt somewhat safe.

  It was time to think through the next steps. The original plan of loading up the girls and driving them back was off the table. That bad plan had been based on too many old world assumptions. The tunnels were likely still full of infected from my adventure with Felicity earlier in the day. Sneaking back on my own was an option, but the girls’ dormitory lay just across the street.

  I needed to think.

  The cell phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out. It was Wilkins with a text message.

  Wilkins: Zed, are you okay?

  Me: I’m ok.

  Wilkins: The girls said they heard a car crash.

  Me: About that…

  Wilkins: ?

  Me: The car was an idea that sounded good but wasn’t. Your car is toast.

  Wilkins: It’s wrecked?

  Me: The car was like a magnet for the infected. They swarmed it as soon as I opened the door.

  Wilkins: But you’re okay?

  Me: I got lucky, but yes.

  Wilkins: Are you still going to try to get the girls, or will you come back?

  Me: I don’t know.

  Wilkins: Where are you?

  Me: I’m in a basement classroom in the building across the street from Blanton.

  Wilkins: I’ll let the girls know you’re there.

  Me: Tell them to keep quiet. I need some time to figure this out. I’m open to any ideas you guys might have.

  I got nothing back for several long minutes.

  Wilkins: Nothing on this end. Will keep you posted.

  Me: Ok.

  I passed an hour in silence, with no ideas from Wilkins.

  The shadows were growing long. The infected finally dispersed to wherever they preferred to lurk. I still had no idea how to get the girls back to the rest of the group, but sitting by myself in a basement wasn’t going to solve the problem. I texted Amber to let her know I was on the way, and that I’d knock very softly on their door when I arrived.

  Chapter 26

  Crossing the street was uneventful. Entering Blanton was no problem, as the first door I tried was unlocked. This made sense, since the dorm was in use for the summer session. In the recreation area, I passed at least a dozen infected women—former residents, I guessed—who squatted in a corner and eye
d me as I passed by.

  I passed the elevator, with its attractive chime, and slipped into a stairwell. I paused and listened. A few floors up, I heard the sound of the infected squabbling over scraps.

  I quietly made my way up toward the sound. On the third floor landing, five infected were gnawing at someone’s remains—torn clothing, smears of blood, and ragged bones.

  The infected snarled, and greedily pushed at me as I waded through. They had no intention of sharing with me.

  A fat one squatted in front of the door at the top of the stairs and glared at me. She got irritated as I pushed past, but did nothing to harm me. I tried to close the door behind me, but she had shifted when I opened the door—her girth prevented it from closing.

  The hall was empty in both directions. I took a guess and turned right, reading the door numbers as I walked. I arrived at the correct door and softly knocked.

  No response.

  Give me a break.

  I knocked again.

  “Who is it?” a voice quietly asked from the other side.

  “It’s me, Zed,” I whispered. I heard noises from the stairwell and turned to my right. Nothing was coming, yet. “Open the door, please.”

  I heard the working of the lock and then the door opened.

  I stepped inside. A girl was behind the door ready to push it shut, but she pressed herself to the wall in fear when her eyes fell on me. A girl over by the window threw her hands over her mouth and screamed in wide-eyed terror.

  “Damn it! Quiet!” I pushed the door shut, but heard a wail and the sounds of running footsteps coming up the hall.

  The infected!

  I turned to the girl. “What was that for?”

  “I thought…I thought you were one of them.”

  “Damn it. Does every fucking thing have to go wrong? Felicity should have told you about me. You two, get back.”

  The girls moved over by the window. I stood in the center of the room and leveled my M-4 at the door, but I already knew that was a bad idea. Gunfire would draw every one of the crazy bastards from blocks around.

  My mind raced for an escape plan but before the slightest inkling of a thought could gel, the door shook under the assault of a heavy body running at it. Fists pounded. The doorknob jiggled. The infected wailed and then the door flexed.