While the path across the bridge appeared to be perfectly clear, I didn't move a muscle. I remained perfectly still and I knew why—because every step I took carried me further away from the comfort zone of my apartment. And I knew the infected would never get to me if I stayed there. The fearful part of me kept me locked in place, seeking the familiarity and comfort of what was known. Like most people in this world, I preferred the coziness of the carefully crafted life I'd created for myself. And even though that life had essentially been destroyed, I still pined for the remnants of it. But that life no longer existed, and I'd be a fool to cling to it. I ran my hands through my hair like a squeegee to wipe the water away and stepped away from the condo toward the bridge. I knew if I went back, I'd never leave. I'd eventually starve to death and wouldn't really do anything to change the outcome. Call it a passive suicide.
I began running determinedly toward the bridge, and as I made my way across the bridge, I looked both ways to see if there were any infected lingering on the banks between the creek and the condos. But there weren't any infected around. And other than the screeching of the crickets, the condos were like a silent ghost town, staid and quiet amidst the blustery storm. I slowed down as I approached the street side condos. I hugged close to the side wall of the condo on my right, hoping the shadows might help to obscure my presence. And as I approached the front edge of the building, my view of the street to the left widened perceptibly. Straight across the street there was a home with a six-foot white vinyl fence in the backyard, and I decided that that would be my target. While I was facing east, the house was on a side street and faced north. It would make my task easier since the fence was so close to the street. I'd actually be climbing over the side fence bordering the backyard.
From my vantage point, I could see as far as a block and a half down the street to my left and still didn't see any infected wandering about. Everything was clear and I began to believe I'd get across the street without any problems. I was only a few feet from the front edge of the building now and began to inch my way toward it. The closer I came to the edge, the slower and more meticulous my movements became. The heavy rain was making quite a racket, pinging loudly off the roofs of the cars in the front parking lot and slapping the leaves of the large elm trees in the front of the complex. Leaves and small branches littered the street and parking lot. The blustery wind wasn't as strong as it had been earlier and was blowing out of the west now. It gusted at my back and was still strong enough to slant the rain. I was close enough to the edge of the building to lean my head toward the edge and get a glimpse to my right to see if there were any infected down the right side of the street.
I moved my head just past the edge and spotted five of them about a half block down the street on the far side. They were milling about underneath a tree next to the sidewalk, four adults and a child. At least that's what it looked like. In the growing darkness, it was difficult to make out any details through the blurring veil of rain. All I could see were black silhouettes walking drunkenly in circles underneath the tree, randomly bumping into one another. And I'm not sure why, but I was surprised to see them. For some nonsensical reason, I had expected the street to be empty. I moved my head back behind the edge of the building and took a breath. Ever since I'd come up with my plan, I hadn't once imagined anything going wrong. I thought everything would simply fall into place.
After a few deep breaths, I decided I had two options. I could run as fast as I could across the street and climb over the fence before they had a chance to catch me. There was no question I could move faster than them and the distance to the fence was about the same for both of us. But if I slipped or fell on the slick, wet street, they might be on me before I could make it over the fence. The only other thing I could think of was using the cars in the condo parking lot for cover. If I got down real low, the cars in the parking lot might block me from their view. That would get me much closer to the street and closer to the fence. From there, they'd have almost no chance to catch me even if I fell.
I stooped down low and moved back to the edge of the building, and when I peered around the corner, I couldn't see them. Even though the nearest cars were about twenty feet away, as long as I kept myself crouched low enough, I was certain they wouldn't see me. I moved cautiously alongside the parking lot curb, keeping an eye out to my left in case any infected showed up down that side of the street. If they did, I'd be in plain view. I crept stealthily along like a thief in the night. It made me nervous that I couldn't see or hear the infected group underneath the tree. And for just a moment, I was tempted to raise my head enough to catch a glimpse of them but thought better of it. The rain was so loud, thrashing through the trees and pounding the cars, that I couldn't hear their constant moans or rasping breaths. If I could hear them, I'd at least be able to gauge their location. But I remained vigilant keeping my eyes trained to the left for any unexpected visitors from down the road. And then there was a sharp crack. I had felt the tension of the branch right before my foot snapped it in two. I remained motionless for a few seconds and listened intently, hoping they hadn't heard me, wanting to believe that if I just remained quiet, they wouldn't notice me.
But then a loud piercing shriek sliced through the noisy chaotic rain. I lifted my head and saw the infected child careening wildly down the street. I couldn't believe she'd heard the sound of the branch breaking with all the attendant noise from the rain. The advantage I'd gained creeping alongside the parking lot was already lost. I started to run and kept my eyes locked on her. And then I began running faster. She was a young girl, maybe eight or ten. The others suddenly noticed me and began trundling frenziedly down the road in my direction. But I knew they'd never catch me. The young girl moved at a much faster pace and was already well ahead of the infected adults. I thought I could make it to the fence moments before she got there. And if I could pull myself over the fence in one smooth motion, I would be in the relative safety of the backyard.
It only took me a few seconds to reach the condo frontage road. I was running as fast as I could, my waterproof hiking shoes splashing the standing street water in every which direction. I headed in a direct line for a fence post that rose several inches above the top line of the fence. I planned to use the fence post for leverage to help pull myself up and over. The infected girl had started off in the direction of where I was when I had snapped the branch and now she had to readjust her line of pursuit. It probably cost her a second. She reached her right arm out toward me and let out a screeching high-pitched wail. But she was still thirty feet away. I leapt over the curb and timed my steps leading up to the fence. When I got to the fence, I jumped up and grabbed the top section of fence and reached up further to grab the top of the post, but as I grasped it, my hand slipped on the slick wet vinyl and my momentum carried me back down to the ground. I stood up and glanced back and she was maybe fifteen feet away and closing. She was lurching toward me, her head bent forward in a crazed focus, a maniacal look on her small, dusky face. Several slick strands of dark wet hair slashed wildly across her face.
The other infected were still thirty feet or more away. I reached back for the bat and pulled it out and held it with both hands in a striking position above my head as I moved forward. I was trembling wildly and could barely move. And just as she reached for me, I brought the bat down hard on her skull. I might have killed her, but before impact, I'd turned my head away and let up on the bat's momentum. I still heard the sharp crack of bone and saw her slump to the ground in a daze. Her head lolled around in a spiral circle for a moment, then she looked up at me with a foggy expression. She lunged for my leg, but I was already back at the fence and out of reach. I tossed the bat over and quickly pulled myself up and over using every ounce of strength I could muster along with a sudden, powerful surge of adrenaline.
As I picked up the bat and replaced it in the backpack, the other infected began slamming themselves into the fence. I felt a sharp tightness in my chest and noticed I was gasping for air and my
heart was beating wildly. My breaths were rapid and shallow and I was close to hyperventilating. I consciously slowed down my breathing and tried taking deeper breaths. I felt incredibly drained and still had another seven blocks to go. I stumbled across the yard but only made it halfway before I fell to my knees and began to retch violently. Before long, I had vomited out the entire contents of my stomach. But even after there was nothing left, my stomach continued to roil and spasm with dry heaves. All the while the infected continued to relentlessly bash themselves into the vinyl fence.
*****
The rain had dissipated into a light drizzle. I peered over the fence into the back parking lot of one of the businesses on 9th East. I couldn't be sure which one. The last seven blocks had gone pretty smoothly and I was feeling much better. It had taken me close to three hours to get here. Only once had I seen another group of infected. There had been maybe twenty of them slowly shuffling down a darkened street, a chorus of soft, rasping moans rising from their throats. They seemed quite passive when there was no prey in sight. But even after they were out of sight, I waited several more minutes to make sure they were gone. I decided there wouldn't be any more close calls like the one I'd had earlier, even if I had to wait all night for a street to be clear of the infected.
I was less than a half block from Barry's Locksmith Shop. Since all businesses had closed that first week, I was hoping there wouldn't be many infected still lingering around the 9th East business area. The parking lot was clear. I clambered over the fence as quietly as I could and crept up to the side of the building. I found a dry section underneath the eaves of the roof, took my backpack off and removed the battery-operated alarm clock. After placing it near the wall, I grabbed my binoculars and moved to the front of the building to check out the street. I scanned the street in each direction and didn't see any infected. The street was well lit since the street lamps still came on automatically each evening. But I still couldn't be sure if there were any infected around because of all the abandoned cars littering the street. Toward the end of the first week, the infected began attacking motorists in their cars, mostly at intersections. Some people attempted to run red lights to get away from the infected, but would end up crashing into cars when they tried to cross the busy intersections. Others who were backed up at intersections abandoned their cars and tried to run from the wandering groups of infected. Some got away, some didn't. By the end of the first weekend, every heavily traveled street in the valley was cluttered with wrecked and abandoned vehicles, and it became impossible to get through the once-busy intersections.
I used the binoculars to get a more detailed view and still couldn't see any infected. And while it was good news, I wasn't going to take anything for granted. As long as I hurried, I estimated it would take me three to four minutes to cross the street and travel the half block to get to the locksmith shop.
I set the alarm clock for six minutes to give myself a little cushion and checked my watch. It was ten to eleven. I slipped my arms through the backpack straps and headed to the front edge of the building. In the middle of the street, a late model Ford pickup truck with its driver side door open straddled the median. If I needed cover when I crossed the street, the truck would serve as adequate cover. I took one last look in each direction and then sprinted across the two southbound lanes for the truck. I crouched down by the front grill and looked around. The rain had become an almost imperceptible mist, and I still didn't see any movement anywhere. I could see the locksmith shop down the street and it looked to be as deserted as the rest of the businesses along 9th East. It was an eerie scene with all the abandoned vehicles and empty businesses, and the incandescent lighting from the street lamps cast dark shadows seemingly everywhere. 9th East was a surreal wasteland, murky and foreboding. I took a deep breath and ran across the northbound lanes to a 7-Eleven store and made my way around to the back area behind the store.
As I made my way through the back parking lot areas of the businesses, I kept as close to the buildings as I could. I kept checking my watch to make sure I'd get there in plenty of time. I rarely wore a watch, but on this night, knowing the time was critical to my plan. But even with the illuminated dials, it was tough to clearly make out the time in the inky shadows of the buildings. I needed to be at the locksmith shop before the alarm clock went off for my plan to work effectively. I'd set the alarm to the buzzer setting, an obnoxious sound that grew louder and more shrill as the minutes passed. I knew that breaking into the locksmith shop would make enough noise to attract the infected from nearby areas, so I needed a distraction, and the alarm clock would serve as a perfect diversion to allow me to break into the shop and find a lock pick set for my journey. But the timing needed to be just right. As soon as the alarm went off, I planned to break down the back door or smash through a window pane whichever proved to be the best option. Whatever noise I made would be short-lived, and I was gambling that as the infected arrived, the annoying alarm would draw their attention away from me.
I climbed over a short cement wall and I was there. I checked my watch and still had nearly two minutes left. The parking lot area was fairly small with just four parking stalls. There was also a large garbage bin nestled against the back fence. The fence was a chain link affair that led to a neighboring backyard. That would be my avenue of escape. The back door of the building had a window pane with the name of Barry's Locksmith Shop stenciled on it in white lettering. I headed for the back door and drew my bat from the backpack. I had decided smashing the window would be the easiest way to break into the shop.
The rain had started back up again. A steady downpour that wasn't as heavy as before, but certainly enough to help mask any sounds I might make. I still had a minute and a half to go. It was quite dark inside the shop, so I leaned my head against the glass pane to peer inside. But the door gave way and I nearly lost my balance. I grabbed the sides of the door jamb to keep myself from falling forward. And while I was able to grab the left jamb with my left hand, I clumsily clubbed my right hand into the edge of the other jamb and nearly dropped the bat. My hand stung from the pain.
I rubbed my knuckles as a jumble of anxious thoughts peppered my mind. The alarm would go off in a minute, only I didn't need the diversion anymore. My clever little plan had backfired. And there was no way I had enough time to run back and turn the alarm off. In a minute or two, 9th East would be crawling with the infected. And as bad as that was, I had a more imminent problem. What if someone or something was inside the shop right now? Could the owner still be here? The owner or someone infected? What if I had to abort my plan and couldn't get the lock pick set I needed? I had my bat, but in the close quarters of the hallway if there were any infected around, I could get bitten. If I had to use the Glock, any infected nearby might swarm the shop before I could grab one of the lock pick sets. Time was running out and I knew what I needed to do. I had to get a lock pick set. I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. But the door wouldn't close and I noticed the wood in the door jamb near the lock had been stripped away by a previous break-in.
I slipped the backpack off and jammed it as best I could against the bottom of the door. I removed the gun from the backpack and stuck it inside the front waistline of my shorts. The gun would be a last resort if needed. I gripped the bat with both hands and began moving down the hallway. There were two doors on each side of the hallway, but only one door was open, the second door on my left. I raised the bat up in striking position and moved very slowly toward the open door, keeping an eye to the front just in case. The shop was remarkably quiet, and it suddenly dawned on me that if there were any infected inside the shop, I'd likely have heard their moans. My eyes were beginning to adjust to the dark, and as I came abreast of the open door, I could make out the shadowy silhouette of a toilet against the back wall of the room. I breathed a sigh of relief and quietly closed the door.
I kept my bat ready as I entered the retail area of the shop from behind the counter. Light from one of the street la
mps angled through the large windows that covered the shop's front wall. Because the actual retail area of the shop was fairly small, it was easy for me to see there weren't any infected in the shop. On the other side of the counter were two merchandise carousel racks. I decided to check them out first.
As I moved around the counter, I began to hear the faint staccato ringing of the alarm sounding off through the steady drumbeat of the rain. In another minute or so, it wouldn't be so faint.
I hustled over to the racks, figuring I had maybe a couple minutes before the first infected would be filing past the front of the shop. A number of product packages were strewn around on the shop floor. I quickly scanned the front and sides of the racks but didn't see any lock pick sets or tool kits. Just keys and key chains, alarms, screwdrivers, and small drills. The back of the racks were more of the same. I couldn't understand why the lock pick sets weren't on the racks. Then I turned around and looked into the glass counter case and there they were, right on the top shelf of the case. I hadn't even noticed them when I was behind the counter. A half dozen sets on display. But they were behind the glass and I needed to get behind the counter again to get at them. And that's when I heard the first plaintive moan. I hunkered down behind one of the racks and waited. He had to be very close for me to hear him through the rain. The large windows in front, separated by the door, were filled with big lettering which gave me some cover but also obscured my view. When he slowly trudged by, all I could see was that he had long, dark hair matted down from the rain and was half-dragging his left leg. He was a loner and his attention seemed fixed on the sound of the alarm which had now taken on a shrill, high-pitched cadence. As soon as he was past the shop, I hurried around to the other side of the counter, but the sliding glass doors to the case were locked.
I foraged through a couple drawers beneath the cash resister looking for a key but found nothing. Then I heard a muted chorus of moans echoing through the rain. A lot of them were coming and I had no idea what to do. The only way I could get to the lock pick sets would be by smashing the case glass and doing a grab and run. But smashing the glass would surely draw them to me, and that's the last thing I wanted. The moaning intensified and seemed to mirror the growing intensity of the alarm. They were getting close. I knelt down behind the cabinet of drawers that had the cash register on it and tried to slow down my breathing. I could feel myself tensing up.
Jacob's Odyssey (The Berne Project Book 1) Page 5