The Last Outbreak (Book 2): Devastation

by Jeff Olah

  Nothing—just the crowd’s gasps quickly followed by more laugher.

  A second kid. A boy from Ethan’s class. They knew each other, but not well. His name was David, or at least that’s what Ethan remembered. He stood in the shadow of the much bigger kid and stared blankly back at Ethan. He had ahold of the bigger kid’s wrist, although the look in his eyes said he had no idea what to do next.

  As the bigger kid turned to face David, Ethan reacted without thinking. He lunged forward and shoved the big kid in the back. Catching his aggressor in a moment of vulnerability, the big kid fell face first into the dusty grass.

  Looking around at the surprised faces and then back at David, Ethan pointed to the street and yelled, “RUN!”

  The big kid rolled over onto his back and decided the reward wasn’t worth the chase. He only sat in the grass watching the two younger boys scamper away.

  Out away from the park and into his neighborhood, he and his new friend never looked back. They rounded the corner to his street and were sitting in his front yard by the time Emma’s bus rolled to a stop.

  Ethan walked his sister into the house, got her settled, and returned a few minutes later. “Here,” he said handing David a soda. “Thanks.”

  David nodded and smiled.

  . . .

  This was his first real memory he had of the man he’d called his best friend for the last thirty years. He wondered how long he’d still have that memory. How long before he could no longer recall that day in the park. How long before it was replaced by the horrific images that were his new reality.

  Tonight, though, he came to the place where it all started and would speak to his friend for the last time. But he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to be here. Doing what he was doing. He didn’t like having to bury his best friend. Having to say goodbye. He wasn’t ready.

  Looking out over the park, he wiped away a tear and quietly cleared his throat.

  “David, I’m sorry— I’m sorry that this happened to you. I’m sorry for not being a better friend. I’m sorry that I didn’t save you. That I couldn’t. That I was weak. I’m sorry for not doing what you needed me to do.”

  Pausing, Ethan raked his hands through his thick dirty hair and looked into the dark sky. “But I will. I’ll get Carly somewhere safe. Somewhere far away from this mess. I promise I’ll do what you asked.”

  He sat quietly for a moment and then stood and moved to the far end of the roof. Turning back one last time, Ethan said, “I’m gonna miss you.”

  7

  Frank had lost track of the time and couldn’t recall exactly how long ago the armored vehicle pulled into the lot. He could stand and walk to the end of the cell and again check the wall clock, but that wouldn’t change anything. They’d come through the door when they were ready. When the time was right. When those things didn’t offer up more trouble than it was worth… If that’s what they were even here for.

  Reaching around and digging his thumbs into his lower back, he winced. His back was still a bit tender from standing in one spot and shouting for over two hours. Moving off the cot, he began to pace. He contemplated moving the cot back, getting into position, and seeing what he could see, although that also wouldn’t do anything to bring them here. Hell, they didn’t even know he was here.

  . . .

  Moving away from the armored truck, Griffin stayed in the shadows. He clung to the rear wall and contemplated his decision to go out looking for Ethan. If things went bad, which they usually did, he would be in no position to defend himself. And although he couldn’t stand another minute inside that claustrophobic metal box on wheels, actually finding Ethan may not be the answer.

  There were only three likely conclusions to this trip. Get to Ethan while he was still alive and convince him to come back. Finding out that Ethan had been trapped by those things and then somehow managing to get to him—without the use of any weapons. Or the option he prayed he wouldn’t face—locating Ethan’s lifeless body and then having to return to the others without him.

  He didn’t particularly like his odds and as he stepped out from the cover of darkness, he thought he’d heard a voice. Someone shouting for help. It wasn’t Ethan, but it was close by. Muffled, but close. Leaning back into the wall, Griffin peered into the adjoining lot and squinted to get a better look.

  Nothing. The voice was coming from somewhere else.

  Turning, he again squatted in the shadows and took a quick scan of the parking lot. No Feeders within sixty feet and the group moving slowly out of the lot had other interests. Closing his eyes, he heard nothing, but he sensed that the voice had come from inside the police station.

  His back to the wall, Griffin stood and started toward the building, but something out in the street caught his eye. The group of four had grown. They weren’t headed for him, but they were headed somewhere. After five days of running from those things, he could sense when they were hunting—and they were hunting.

  Moving toward the end of the wall, to where it bled into the sidewalk, he watched as the few who had exited the parking lot joined the others. A growing crowd of more than thirty pushed their way up Main Street. He couldn’t see past those up front; however, he feared the ache in his stomach wasn’t necessarily the result of hunger alone.

  “Ethan.”

  They’d fought through bigger crowds and for whatever reason, over the last several days, those beasts appeared to slowing down. They looked almost lethargic—like they were getting tired. This worked in his favor, but no matter how slow they’d become, the bigger groups would always pose a massive threat.

  Watching the last two move away and join the growing horde, Griffin slowly walked out into the street. He looked on as the group turned left at Second Street and then one by one disappeared into the night. Whatever was drawing them away was at least a block south. Going straight through wasn’t going to be an option. He had to find another way around.

  Back into the lot, Griffin moved to the brick planter at the rear of the yard and scaled the six-foot wall. He dropped down into an ankle deep puddle of water and rebounded out just as quickly. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  Moving away from the wall, his shoes slapped at the drying asphalt as he ran through the rear lot of the supermarket. His feet felt like they were encased in ice and with each step forward, he regretted the decision to wear two layers of socks. Now they were simply holding in the ice-cold water. He cursed every other step.

  Three abandoned trucks, an overturned dumpster, and eight Feeders sat between him and the exit into the street. Moving to the first truck, Griffin reached into the bed and retrieved a two-foot section of metal pipe. He swung it back and forth through the air and then slid it between his belt and his pants, flinching as the cold steel grazed the exposed skin along his hip.

  Leaning back into the bed, he reached for the toolbox and quietly popped it open. Feeling his way through the dark, he pulled out an eight-inch crescent wrench. Recalling the years he spent as a motorcycle mechanic, the red handled tool felt good resting in his hand. However, tonight he had another use for the perfectly weighted hand tool.

  Twisting to the right, he drew back his arm and tossed the wrench to a spot at the opposite corner of the lot. He watched as it clanked end over end, finally disappearing behind a large recycling dumpster. The small group of Feeders also tracked the sound and began turning away from the street.

  Rounding the rear of the truck, Griffin stayed low. He crouched next to the driver’s door and was able to see past the side of the market. Peering out into the street, he saw that the crowd had already moved by the storefront and was heading toward the bank. This was bad—real bad.

  If he was correct in his assumptions, those things were now on a collision course with Ethan. And that wasn’t even the worst of it. His attempt at misdirecting the few in the yard away from the street had inadvertently also caught the attention of the larger crowd. At least a dozen had peeled off and were now staggering along the side of
the market. They’d reach the rear lot in less than sixty seconds.

  “Well, that didn’t go as—”

  He could feel their presence even before they’d made a single sound. Gripping the side of the truck, Griffin leapt into the bed, pulled the twenty-four inch pipe from his waist and turned to face them. Breathing out slowly, he cut his eyes quickly from left to right. There were three.

  A Rottweiler, a badly stained German Shepherd, and some sort of Boxer mix. They stared back at him and panted as if they’d been running continuously for days. They didn’t appear aggressive and as Griffin knelt in the back of the truck, they also took to sitting. Except for the Rottweiler. The dark-colored dog with blood dripping from its jowls lunged at the truck and began to bark.

  8

  Climbing down the backside of the hardware store, Ethan was able to leave the scene mostly undetected. There were a few that had taken notice, although they were so far behind that he wouldn’t have to give them a second thought. Staying along the storefront, he moved quickly in and out of the darkened alcoves and headed south toward Second Street.

  Beginning to jog, he moved off the sidewalk and listened as the sounds from the park were overtaken by something else. It was the same monotonous guttural tone, but was coming from somewhere else. Somewhere not far away. And as he rounded the corner of Bridge and Second, he found out exactly where.

  Sliding to a stop in the middle of the street, Ethan instinctively reached for his weapon. Moving his hand along his right side, he pulled back a handful of nothing. And as the error of his prior decision began to set in, he looked for an exit. “Maybe Griffin was right?”

  As far back as he could see—well beyond the supermarket and possibly as far as City Hall—they were coming. What brought them here and why was a question he’d have to contemplate later. Right now, he needed to find a way past the biggest congregation of Feeders he had yet to run across.

  To the right, he could continue along Second and possibly make his way back through the old farmland near the city limits. It would add at least another hour to his trip, although he may not have another choice. Going back wasn’t going to work either. He was lucky to have escaped the park the first time; he didn’t think giving those things another chance was any smarter than coming out here alone in the first place.

  One last glance at the advancing horde and then Ethan started again. He jogged back to the long sidewalk that ran the length of Second Street. Approaching his former high school, he looked out over the parking lot and recognized many of the vehicles left behind by the unfortunate souls who never made it out.

  Turning to look over his shoulder as the crowd exiting the park joined those from Bridge Street, Ethan stepped back off the curb and into the street. If he cut through the alley running parallel to his apartment building, he could shave a few minutes, but would be running into the unknown. He and the others had avoided this part of town since day two. He didn’t like that plan.

  Continuing to make his way along Second, he chose to stay in the middle of the street. He liked being able to see at least thirty feet in all directions. No surprises, nothing to catch him off guard, and without a weapon, this was all he had.

  Again checking the advancement of the crowd at his back, a single gunshot rang out. Struggling to place its origin, Ethan stopped and listened for what was sure to follow. There was never just one shot. Not in the last few days anyway. Usually it was two or three in quick succession and then running and then more shooting.

  He waited.

  Nothing. No more gunfire. And although he wasn’t able to get a definitive location, he knew exactly where it was coming from. The others had decided to come for him. He’d been gone for too long and they assumed he was in trouble. And as the streets continued to fill with Feeders, he knew they were right.

  . . .

  His ears still ringing, Griffin stood in the back of the pick-up and stared across the wall at the kid as the dogs ran off. Ben smiled from atop the armored truck and held the nine millimeter at his side. “Griff, your plan’s not working. We’re all gonna need to go find Ethan.”

  As the armored truck slowed to a stop against the opposite side of the block wall, Carly sat in the driver’s seat. She set the parking brake, looked through the window at Griffin and waved him over. Sliding out of the cab and into the back, she opened the side door and shot him a look. “Let’s go Griffin, we’re doing this my way.”

  He couldn’t argue, and with more of those things pouring into the supermarket’s rear lot, now was probably a good time to vacate. He jumped out of the truck bed, moved to the wall, and quickly scrambled to the other side.

  Meeting Ben at the rear door, Griffin said, “You couldn’t help yourself, you just had to fire that thing, didn’t you?”

  Shannon held the door open and looked out over the lot. “Let’s go guys, get in.”

  Ben shook his head as they moved inside. “I only fired one round. Those dogs were pulling more of them off the street. I just scared them away, and oh yeah… you’re welcome.”

  Griffin smiled and moved through the cabin. “Thanks.” Sliding down into the driver’s seat, he turned to Carly. “I’m pretty sure I know where he is, but getting there is a different story. Is there another way to get to the bank, other than the obvious? Any shortcuts you know about? Now would be a good time for one.”

  “No,” Carly said as she moved into the passenger seat. “If we have to go right through them, then that’s what we do. We’re not leaving Ethan out there—we’re going to find him, no matter what.”

  Shannon moved in and kneeled down behind the driver’s seat. “I have an idea.”

  “Yeah?” Griffin said. “I’m all ears.”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure I know how to pinpoint Ethan’s exact location.”

  “Okay?”

  “Those things—they’re drawn to us. Those of us still living. They can’t stop themselves. It’s like magnets drawn to one another. And we’ve already determined that they have a heightened sense of smell.”

  “So, what does that have to do to with finding Ethan?”

  “We just need to get out ahead of the current. Watch where they’re going, find their magnet. That’s where Ethan will be. He’s their magnet.”

  “Okay?”

  “Yeah, I know,” Shannon grinned as she looked around. “It’s a silly comparison, but I think—”

  “She’s right,” Ben said. “Those things are drawn to us just like magnets, they’ll go wherever we lead them, so maybe we can use that to our advantage.”

  Griffin released the parking brake and pulled to the end of the lot, nosing out into the street. “Kid, what do you have in mind?”

  “Let me drive. I’ll get us right where we need to be. You guys just be on the lookout for Ethan.”

  9

  His head was spinning. They’d driven by the front of the station at least a half dozen times over the last five days. They’d driven in and parked a few hours ago. Someone got out and then ten minutes later, they’d pulled back out into the street. And as the massive vehicle drove away, the diesel engine taunted him as it disappeared into the night.

  Frank folded his arms, sat back against the wall, closed his eyes, and rested. He’d made the decision to put his rescue in the hands of others and although he regretted it now, he was sure if he would have kept the keys, he would have walked out of the building days ago. But he’d also most likely be dead.

  . . .

  Back behind the wheel, Ben pulled alongside the curb and waited as the others got in position. “It looks like they’re all definitely going toward something. They usually scatter if there’s nothing to hunt. I’ll bet Ethan is down there somewhere.”

  Griffin slid into the passenger seat as Carly, Cora, and Shannon covered the rear and side windows. As the massive vehicle slowly drifted out into the street, they each kept one hand over the door handle and scanned the area outside their respective window.

  Nodding toward the r
ight sidewalk near the old pastry shop, Ben said, “I’m going around them there. Once we get to the front, they’ll probably start coming after us, so hold on, I’m going to push through. Just like the last time.”

  “Okay,” Carly said, mainly looking at Griffin. “Anyone sees Ethan and you say something before you get out to go after him? Are we all in agreement?”

  They all agreed.

  Ben’s eyes widened as he got a full view of the street ahead, of just what they were dealing with. At least twenty bodies wide and stretching three long blocks, he had trouble even putting a number to them. A few hundred? Possibly more, many more? He didn’t know. He didn’t want to think about it. But that’s all he could think about. There were too many. For what they were trying to do anyway. Running away from them was easy, going straight through was a different story altogether.

  Pulling the rig to within twenty feet of the crowd, Ben bumped up onto the curb and took down a row of still-standing tables and ripped the red canvas awning away from the storefront.

  “Hold on.”

  Those in the massive horde who were closest began to turn toward the disturbance as Ben wheeled to the center of the wide sidewalk. They started back in the direction of the armored vehicle even as Ben drove the pedal into the floorboard. The engine raced as the truck accelerated, and plowing into the first row of Feeders, the already mangled bodies were tossed back into the street.

  Rebounding against the seat belt and as the crowd grew to twice its size, Ben pointed out the windshield. “Griff, you see anything?”

  “You kidding? I can’t see a damn thing.”