The Last Outbreak (Book 2): Devastation

by Jeff Olah

  “Ben, I’m serious. Once we get inside here, we both need to be on our toes. No screwing around, you got it?”

  Ben nodded. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m just nervous, it’s what I do to cope.”

  “I get it, I’m nervous too. Something about this just doesn’t feel right. You feeling it?”

  Ben paused and then looked back toward the massive iron gates that were stuck in the open position, “Yeah, but to be fair, I’ve felt like that since last week.”

  “You ready for this? Can’t be sure what we’re gonna run into.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  Ethan wasn’t sure about what was to come, although he didn’t have a choice. The kid did, and yet he still chose to come. But why? It seemed to him that Ben had been trying to prove something ever since they’d met. Was it the massive amounts of underutilized testosterone coursing through the kid’s body or was he simply trying to gain Ethan’s respect? At present, there wasn’t time for an in-depth analysis; the deconstruction of his young friend would have to wait.

  “Let’s go. Two streets up, fourth house on the right.”

  They moved quickly across the open asphalt to the opposite side of the street. Ethan led the way through the first yard on the left and down the driveway to the recreation vehicle that sat on blocks. He peered around the rear of the massive vehicle and then motioned for Ben to follow.

  They made quick work of the next six houses and ducked under a low-hanging spruce at the corner of his parents’ street. The dark-colored muscle car sat quietly less than fifty feet away. “The home on the left with the blue pickup in the driveway, follow me there and stay low.”

  Ethan held a pistol in each hand as he ran the short distance to the lengthy driveway. Rounding the pickup truck, he waited for Ben to fall in behind and motioned toward the house across the street. “That’s it.”

  Voices—one frantic and shouting—the other calm and even. They could be heard coming from the interior of his parents’ home. “I doesn’t matter. Once we get back we’ll take care of it. No one, including her, will ever know.”

  Obviously Maddox, his tone and his pacing said he was in control of whatever was happening in this neighborhood. The second voice nearly pleading, echoed against the open garage and spilled out into the street.

  “You gonna take responsibility for this? You gonna tell those people what happened here? Because I’m sure as hell not. There’s no reason for it. No one is going to believe you.”

  Ben moved shoulder to shoulder with Ethan. Positioned near the front of the truck and looking out past the passenger headlight, they could see through the garage of his parents’ home and into the laundry room.

  “That first one was Maddox, right?”

  “Think so.”

  “The other one?”

  “Don’t know, maybe Chuck. Maybe someone else, don’t really care though.”

  “We gonna wait to see if your dad’s in there, or—”

  “No, I’m going in.”

  Ben readied his weapon. “Okay.”

  “But you’re not.”

  “What?”

  “I want you out here in case this doesn’t go the way I’m hoping. They won’t know you’re here, so even if I get tangled up, we might still have a chance to walk away from this.”

  “Where do you want me?”

  “Right here is perfect. Do not move.”

  “Okay.”

  Maddox’s voice again shot through the garage. “I’ll do it myself.” A long moment of silence and then it came again. “If you don’t want to join them, you’ll need to step out of my way.”

  The next voice that came through held less conviction. The actual words were much less significant than the way they were spoken. The tone was beaten down, barely inaudible. It was torment being strangled by a healthy dose of anger. But before it was through, Ethan knew exactly who was speaking.

  “You don’t want to do this. We’ll help you. We both will.”

  He’d spoken to the man at least three times a week for his entire life. Not once had he heard this level of pained desperation in his father. Not even after his accident, when he lay in that hospital bed waiting to die. Not ever. This was different. His father, somewhere inside the home less than fifty feet away, was being kept against his will by the gargantuan man known only as Maddox.

  Ethan had a new plan and it only partially involved saving his father.

  “Alright,” he said, “stay hidden, I’ll be back.”

  Moving out from behind the truck, Ethan quickly crossed the street and slipped into the driveway behind his father’s SUV. The voices from inside the house were now gone, although sliding up to the driver’s door and peering over the hood, he could see the outline of a male figure just inside the darkened home.

  Glancing back across the street one last time, he nodded to Ben and then stepped out away from the SUV. Darting to the left side of the garage, Ethan pushed himself into the corner and again studied the doorway leading into the laundry room.

  Three silhouetted figures approached the doorway, their faces hidden under the darkened interior of the home. The first stepped down into the garage, was pushed from behind, and dropped to the concrete like a wet bag of sand. Looking up and attempting to right himself, the man now on his hands and knees appeared to be his father’s next door neighbor, Arvin Plummer.

  Ethan had only met the man a few times, and only in passing. He seemed nice enough and according to his mother, the man who was ten years older than his father had been a private investigator until he retired nearly twenty years before.

  Forcing himself to stay in the shadows. Ethan gripped tight to the pistols as the second and third figures also stepped out into the garage. Same drill—the man at the back pushed the second man to the ground before turning his attention to Mr. Plummer.

  His eyes darting between the three men, Ethan quickly recognized the giant standing over the other two as Maddox.

  “You should have told me the truth, but now your time is up.” Maddox raised his right hand, a glint of moonlight striking the object he held, just as it detonated three feet from Arvin Plummer’s head.

  The sound sent shockwaves through the garage’s interior and out into the street—felt as though the ground shook beneath him. The explosion lit the spacious three car garage, revealing all three men.

  Maddox stood staring down at the man he’d destroyed, the lifeless and nearly headless Arvin Plummer. A thick river of blood pooled around the eight-inch exit wound where the older gentleman’s nose and mouth would have been.

  Ethan placed the back of his hand over his mouth and tried to stop from dry heaving. His knees shuddered and a chill tore up through the base of his spine as he looked toward the third man in disbelief.

  His father—hands out in front, knees pulled up under—was scrambling to get to his feet. Up to one knee and turning his head, his eyes fell on Ethan for a brief second before turning to face the six-foot five-inch Maddox

  Had he seen Ethan? Did he know he was there and was just trying to protect him, pretending not to notice? Or was his father simply acting on instinct?

  His father’s words came out through tears for his fallen friend. “Go ahead, someone like you could never comprehend what it means to—”

  Ethan stepped out and raised both pistols. He was now less than twenty feet from both his father and the giant man standing over him. His voice shook with anger as he took another step forward and addressed Maddox. “I’m going to kill you either way, but if you let him go, I won’t drag it out.”

  Thomas Runner turned away from the man standing over him. Looking up, his face now bloodied and bruised, was nearly unrecognizable to Ethan. His voice was just as beaten. “Son?”

  One weapon aimed at Maddox and the other covering the door, Ethan nodded. “Dad, I’m going to get you out of here.”

  Shaking his head, Maddox maintained eye contact with Ethan, but moved the barrel of his weapon just slightly to the left—again
st the forehead of Thomas Runner. “No, you’re not.”

  44

  California Coastline - Day Seven…

  She’d scrolled through the photos on her cell phone for the past hour, briefly taking in small mouthfuls of the semi-warm canned chili. She shared a few of the images, but kept mostly to herself as the family of three spoke with Tom about the first few days of the infection. They spoke about how they were able to stay—for the most part—away from the worst parts of the devastation.

  Looking out over the crowded streets, Cedric motioned for the others to come closer. “You see how when there are more than about five or six gathered together and all moving in the same direction, others are drawn in? It’s like they can’t help themselves. And as the crowd continues to grow, they attract even more from further away. These massive hordes continue to gain followers until something else gets their attention. That’s how we control them.”

  Tom nodded. “So if you need to go south, you find something to distract them over to the north?”

  “That’s it exactly, and we’ve found that flares seem to work best. Gets them all headed one way. We started using them to keep those things away from the building.”

  “Smart,” Tom said. “How’d you guys find this place? We’re you in the city when it all went down?”

  Cedric smiled. “I’ll let my wife handle that one. She tells it a bit better and had to deal with a lot more than I did.”

  Sliding her chair away from the window, Veronica jumped right in. Her account was straightforward and without the gruesome details usually mentioned when recalling the day the world went to hell.

  “Cedric called and told me not to ask him any questions. He was here working and said that we should get in the car and come straight here. Patrick was at home sick that day, so that made things a little easier. We jumped in the car and drove right over. But it was kind of weird seeing so many people running out of the city as we were driving in.”

  Tom looked away from the window. “You didn’t have any idea what was going on?”

  “No, not really. I was scared, but tried not to think too much about it. I could tell by Cedric’s voice that it was something bad and figured I’d just wait until I saw him to ask questions. I must have passed a few hundred of those things on my way here without even knowing it.”

  “That’s incredible, you’re very lucky.”

  “Yes,” Veronica said, “as soon as Patrick and I got into the parking garage, Cedric hurried us up the stairs and into the suite. I only looked down on the streets a few times that first day. I just couldn’t handle it.”

  “Probably for the best,” Tom said. “It’s also a good thing you came here; this place looks pretty solid.”

  “Yeah, Cedric had it all locked down within the first few hours. There were a few others here. They helped us check the building and then two days later, they were gone. They thought they’d do better out in the country. You know, less crowds.”

  “Where are you going for supplies, food… water?”

  “There was a restaurant down on the first floor. They’d just received a delivery the day before. We found their supply room stocked from floor to ceiling. It’s like we won the apocalyptic lottery. Well, that is if you like canned food and bottled water.”

  Tom leaned back in his chair. “Wow you couldn’t have found a better place to ride this out. You run across anyone other than us out there?”

  Cedric turned to Tom. “We have not. But that may be because our doors remain locked until we decide to open them. The sheer number of those things running around almost guarantees that no one is just going to stroll by.”

  “How are you—”

  “Oh wait,” Veronica said. “There is one other group that I think moved into that abandoned building near the police station. They don’t bother us and we don’t go anywhere near that part of town.”

  “Sounds like you have your own little island here.”

  Veronica nodded and then turned back to her new friend. “I’m sure this can’t be easy—how are you doing?”

  “I have all these pictures of my family, but I don’t know where they are or if I’ll ever get to see them again—if I’ll ever get to say goodbye.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Closing the camera app, she stared at the top left corner of the screen and froze. “I have a signal?” And looking back at Veronica, she said, “How is that possible?”

  Veronica turned to her husband. “How is that possible? I thought we lost our signal the second day?”

  Cedric sat forward in his chair and asked for the phone. “Looks like her provider has a tower nearby that is still functional. Some of the sites have combination generators, plus battery backups. They run on natural gas generators that are hooked up to gas lines. I’ve heard that some of those sites can stay up for weeks after power goes out.”

  Handing the phone back, he pointed to the stairs. “The sixteenth floor is your best bet. The south side would get you the best signal, less interference. But if you’re thinking about trying to contact someone, we better go now.”

  Without another word, the group of five stood and moved to the stairwell.

  . . .

  Into the hallway on the sixteenth floor, it was much the same as every other floor in the building, including the one they’d just walked away from. Out of breath and with her signal again fading, she quickly typed a brief message and walked to the south end of the hall.

  The others stayed back near the lobby and watched from behind as she stared down at her screen, willing the signal to return to something even close to full strength.

  After thirty seconds, she dropped to her knees and began to cry.

  Veronica ran the length of the hall and knelt beside her. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

  The young woman with the dark shoulder length hair and deep blue eyes set her phone in between her legs, wiped away a tear, and looked up.

  “It went through.”

  45

  Hidden in the shadows of the Admissions building, Frank’s lower back again began to tighten. He looked back one last time and then started for the fences. Carrying the two black duffel bags, he stepped carefully through the damp grass, increasing his speed with each new step. One hundred yards ahead and the thick outcropping of bristlecone pine would be his refuge, if he made it that far.

  With Griffin heading toward Carpenter Hall and Horatio attempting to gain the attention of Josie and her men, Frank’s only job was to get to the gate with the weapons and stay put. Although with all the moving parts, he didn’t like the plan. He didn’t like it one bit. There was no room for error or the possibility that the people they were trying to avoid wouldn’t react how they were supposed to.

  Fifty yards from the trees and Frank turned. Through the dense moonlight blanketing the expansive greenbelt, he watched Horatio moving quickly—but not running—between the Admissions building and the gymnasium. And over his other shoulder, Griffin now stood only feet from the steps to Carpenter Hall, crouched down and out of sight.

  Falling into a rhythm, Frank’s pain was manageable. Even with his lower back throbbing, he was able to keep moving at a decent clip. The straps dug into his shoulders and the swaying of the heavy bags made for an awkward gait, but at least he was still upright and moving forward.

  As he stepped off the grass and into the damp underbrush, Frank began to slow. He held his right hand above his brow and squinted through the intermittently spaced pine. Now able to make out the six-foot chain-link fence ahead, he let his gaze drift right, searching for the gate he was told would be close.

  Treading cautiously through a small patch of snow-dusted ice, he reached the fence, dug out two carabiners, and hung the bags one at a time near a set of duel support posts. And before stepping back, he again reached into the first bag and withdrew a forty-five caliber pistol, readied the weapon, and started back toward the edge of the trees.

  With his back against the girth of a large pine, Fran
k again watched and waited. Twenty feet from the gym, Horatio had stopped and turned back as one of the men in black approached him, gun in hand.

  Further on, their hastily thrown together plan had indeed taken an unfortunate turn. Josie was walking Griffin, Helen, and the three women he’d come here with to the center of the greenbelt. And from this distance, it appeared as though they were moving at a right angle to Horatio and his captor.

  The two groups intersected less than fifty yards from where Frank stood in the shadows of the tree line. And through the crisp night air—sharpening his focus and listening intently—he could just make out their conversation.

  . . .

  “So,” Josie said, addressing Griffin, “you and your friends figure that heading back out there on your own would be a better option than staying behind my fences and trying to work together?”

  Griffin turned to his friends and nodded. The lump along the side of his head was again beginning to throb as the pain pushing out from behind his right eye intensified with each breath. Staring back at the woman with the close-cropped hair, his anger was driving his pulse to dangerous levels.

  Outgunned at the moment—two to one—he wanted to choose how he delivered his next message carefully, but he also wanted her to understand who she was speaking to. Josie stood ten feet away, the Smith and Wesson hanging from her right hand, and the man in all black at her side shouldered a semi-automatic.

  Taking a step forward, Griffin gripped his pistol. “We’ll take our chances out there and if it’s all the same to you, we’d like to do it without any problems. Let us get to our vehicle and then we’ll drive away. Nothing else needs to be discussed.”

  Josie also stepped forward, less than three strides now separated the two. “Well, there is one thing that probably should be discussed, at least for my sake. I’d really like to understand why it is you and your people are so obstinate. Why it is that you have gone out of your way to do the opposite of what we’ve asked in every single situation.” Looking back at the man in black, she continued, “I don’t think we’ve been unreasonable or have asked for anything that would put any of you in harm’s way. In fact—”