I turned the knob and lightly pushed the door open, ready to fire. I felt tense but incredibly focused too. Across the room in the darkness, I could make out the shadowy silhouette of a small woman with stooped shoulders standing silently in the living room, half facing me as if she had just turned when she heard the door open. I eyed her carefully in the darkness as I stepped up to the landing and pointed the gun in her direction. I didn't want to believe this was real. I felt incredibly awkward pointing a gun at a woman even if she was infected. It just didn't feel right. I hesitated, not knowing what I should do. But then she suddenly lurched unsteadily toward me, reaching her right arm out as she moaned excitedly in a soft, gravelly voice. I was surprised I could hear her above the muffled cacophony of moans from outside. She was coming toward me as if she were thrilled to see a long lost relative.
I couldn't bring myself to aim the Glock at her head and I had trouble catching my breath. I knew I needed to focus, and I had to do it now. I steadied myself, aimed the Glock at her knee, then fired three times, holding my wrist and arm steady to minimize the kickback. The shots echoed loudly throughout the house, silencing the noisy mob of infected outside if only for a second or two. My ears rang with a long pulsing tone from the sharp report of the gun in the narrow hallway. I stretched my jaw and tried to pop my ears clear, but the tone continued to echo in my head. A hint of burnt cordite teased my nostrils.
One of the bullets must have hit its mark because the infected woman wobbled for a brief moment before her leg collapsed under her and she fell in a heap on the floor, maybe six feet from the garage door. She didn't cry out in pain or reach for her knee. Her knee didn't seem to bother her at all. She kept focused on me, and she used her forearms to drag her crippled body forward, grumbling incoherently in a low raspy voice. I kept the gun pointed at her.
The infected continued their relentless assault on the picture window, hammering at it with fists and heads. But they were right where I needed them to be. Being at the picture window would make my escape easier. I wrestled with how I felt about shooting the woman. I knew it needed to be done, but something was bothering me. What I found unsettling was how relatively calm I felt. Sure, I felt a bit tense and on edge, but I also felt an evenness of mind that felt out of place. I found myself swimming in ambivalence over what I'd done and my feelings about it. No question it was necessary, but why wasn't I more upset about it? I knew she was infected and was no longer herself in any real sense, but I thought I should have felt something more.
I closed the basement door and walked quickly toward the garage door, keeping a wary eye on the woman. My hearing was coming back and the noise from the infected was once again deafening. When I opened the garage door, the woman was still several feet away. But I didn't go in. I hesitated when she crawled into the finger of moonlight that stretched out from the kitchen window. The light touched her face and I could see her clearly. She was an old woman with sparse, wispy white hair, the color and texture of cornsilk. She had the appearance of a long-dead corpse. Her facial skin resembled an overripe avocado, dusky black and leathery. And it looked as if a thousand fine lines had been perfectly etched into her thin, hardened skin—skin that clung so tightly to her facial bones, it was as if they had been fused together. Her eyes were recessed so deeply into their sockets, I couldn't make out the color of her eyes or if she even had eyes. They were lost in dark caverns. She looked so pitiful, I thought about putting her out of her misery, but I knew I couldn't do it. And then a dark shadow fell across her face and I felt a sudden tugging on my backpack and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
Instinctively, I wrenched myself free and ran past the old woman and into the living room. I turned quickly and raised the Glock, my hands trembling. An infected boy in his late teens with long stringy hair staggered resolutely toward me. I used my free hand to steady my gun hand as best I could. He was closing quickly, just a few feet away. I leveled the gun at his head and fired, hitting him in the forehead. He stopped in his tracks, then took a mindless half-step forward before collapsing to the floor. I took a step back and aimed the gun at his head, but he was already dead. Three more infected ambled into the hallway from the kitchen. I had to move quickly. The old woman had changed her line of pursuit and crawled stubbornly toward me. She took a desperate swipe at my leg as I carefully side-stepped her before sliding through the garage doorway and closing the door behind me.
The only light came from a single window on the side wall of the garage. A shaft of thick moonlight splayed through the window onto the garage floor and I could see a galaxy of dust motes floating effortlessly through the light. The moonlight gave me enough light to see inside the garage which meant I wouldn't have to turn the garage lights on. This would work perfectly. The only thing I wanted the infected to see when I opened the garage door were the car's headlights. I was hoping the headlights might momentarily blind them or at least disorient them.
The three infected from the hallway were already banging on the door to the garage. I just ignored them. I headed to the car and grabbed the key fob from the roof of the car and activated the keyless entry system. I'd watched a video on YouTube to see how to use the key fob to open Cadillac car doors and how to start the ATS. Before watching the video, I knew absolutely nothing about Cadillacs or start buttons. Watching the video was one of the few things I'd done right since arriving at the Josephsons'. I pushed the button on the door handle to unlock the driver-side door and then I opened the door. I placed the Glock on the roof of the car and quickly slid my backpack off. I removed the bat and tossed the backpack onto the passenger seat. Then I grabbed the gun. Once inside, I placed the bat snug between the backpack and the seatback crease so it wouldn't roll around. I'd be able to grab it quickly if I needed it. Then I carefully stuck the gun into my waistband for easy access.
It only took me a few seconds to find where the key fob needed to go on the console. I fit it in and was ready to start the car. All I needed to do now was to start the car and open the garage door. I grabbed the opener from the visor and took a deep breath. And then I thought about Sarah and Becky. And for the briefest of moments, I entertained the thought of packing some food in the back seat. But it wasn't a serious consideration. It was an irrational thought and I let it pass. I didn't have time to pack food in the car. I had to get away from the Josephsons' as quickly as possible. I decided I'd start the car first just to make sure it would run. Then as soon as the car started, I'd open the garage door. I knew as soon as they heard the car engine, they would begin their migration to the driveway and the garage door. But I had no idea how many of them were out in the front yard. Could be a handful or a lot more. And I wondered how long it would take for the garage door to open far enough for me to drive the car outside. I estimated six to eight seconds. I had no idea how many of them would make it to the garage door in that time.
I took another deep breath. I held the opener in my left hand and pointed it at the garage door. Then I used my thumb to push the ATS start button. The Cadillac engine thrummed to life and I breathed a sigh of relief. I engaged the garage door opener and the door began its noisy ascent. The car idled quietly for a moment, then the radio came on automatically, playing a rousing rendition of Beethoven's seventh symphony—one of the few classical symphonies I was familiar with. I turned it up full blast. I didn't have to worry about noise anymore.
The infected would be coming now, likely all of them. I put the car in reverse and backed it up as far as I could against the storage shelves. I needed as much room as possible to create momentum for the car when I drove it out of the garage. If I went too slowly, I might end up with some infected on the hood of the car. I also might need to run some of them over, and the faster I went, the better chance I'd have of knocking them out of the way. I decided if I couldn't avoid hitting them, the best strategy would be to hit them with the side of the car. But I knew that wouldn't always be possible.
The garage door had inched up somewhere between three to fo
ur feet. Another foot or so and I'd be able to drive out. I felt like it was taking an eternity for the door to open far enough. I smacked the steering wheel hard with the flat of my hand. "C'mon!" I screamed, "Let's go!" I could feel my inner tension ratcheting up as the moments passed, but I knew the adrenaline would help me. The car's headlights had come on automatically and their beams clearly illuminated the garage door and the driveway. Another second, maybe two. I could already see two pairs of legs in front of the garage. Suddenly, a head that belonged to two of the legs ducked down underneath the garage door and peered inside. The headlights seemed to bother him and he raised his hand to shield himself from the bright lights. He was wearing a pin-striped business suit that was in tatters. I put my left foot on the brake and shifted the car into drive, then put my right foot on the accelerator and pressed down and revved the engine.
I decided the timing was right. I took my foot off the break and floored the gas pedal. The tires squealed madly and the car sprung forward. There were three infected in front of the garage now, though I could still only see the head of the man in the pin-striped suit. I aimed the car to the left side of the garage door so I'd only hit two of the infected. I gritted my teeth before the car slammed flush into the legs of the infected man in the business suit. The Cadillac sent him flying through the air and he landed well down the driveway before somersaulting backwards twice. I'd hit the other infected man with the right front fender, sending him pirouetting awkwardly into the yard where he fell hard onto his butt. He sat on the grass looking bewildered.
I slowed down after I'd hit them. It wasn't something I'd actually planned. I did it without thinking, an unconscious reaction to having hit someone with a car. There were maybe thirty or forty infected in the front yard now staggering eagerly toward the car, closing in on me in their relentless fashion. An infected woman, a runner, sped past the others.
In both directions, the street was littered with stragglers, apparent late comers. The man in the business suit lay crippled in the middle of the driveway. His legs were useless and he tried to prop himself up with his forearms. I swerved around him and stopped at the bottom of the driveway. I hesitated, not sure which way to turn. I was indecisive and starting to panic. I had to decide which direction to go and only had a few seconds before the infected woman would get to the car. My preference was to turn right and head toward the underpass, but there were considerably more infected in the street to my right, at least twenty or more of them. They were like a neighborhood of sleepwalkers trudging mindlessly through the night.
Just then I felt something slam into the passenger side door. It was the infected woman. She arrived sooner than I though she would. She began clubbing insistently on the window with her fist. Her jaw hung low and her mouth drooped open as if she were surprised to see me. She was moaning something incoherent and indecipherable, but Ludwig Van drowned her out.
She slammed her head viciously into the window and I hit the gas pedal and sped out into the street. Without thinking, I turned the ATS sharply to the right. I weaved my way around two of the infected but hit an infected man with the front bumper of the ATS, knocking him down onto the street. Then I ran him over. There were too many of them scattered about in the street, all converging toward the car. I'd never get past all of them without incurring some kind of damage to the car or having some of them end up on the hood. Then I came up with an idea.
I headed to the nearest driveway across the street and turned in and then cut across the yard. Since they were all congregated in the street, driving through front yards was the simplest way to avoid them. The front yards in Holladay neighborhoods were quite spacious. For the most part, I just had to avoid hitting trees. But in the third to last yard before the intersection, the peripheral glow from the headlights briefly illuminated an angular figure standing motionless in the shadows of a large elm tree. I knew who it was without ever getting a clear view of him. The Swimmer didn't move a muscle as I drove the Cadillac past him. But after I passed by him, he began running after the car.
Everything suddenly made sense. The Swimmer had lead the group of infected to the Josephsons' house. He'd opened the gate to the backyard and let them in. And under his direction, they'd virtually surrounded the house. He must have heard the phone, then bided his time before leading them to me. It was the most logical explanation. And after he'd led them to me, he sat back to watch his handiwork.
I kept glancing in my rearview mirror to keep track of him. He ran with great ease, the way tall, lean men sometimes do. He had obviously been an athlete of some kind. I turned Beethoven off. I needed to focus. I convinced myself that once I got the ATS back out onto the street, I'd be able to distance myself from him. There was just one more yard to cross before I came to the street I needed to turn down, but a thick Boxwood hedge bordered the yard and I didn't want to risk trying to drive through it. If I got stuck, that would be the end of it all. At the last moment, I turned onto the last driveway before the hedged yard and drove back out into the street. I had already gone past most of the infected and there were only a few left. Three to be exact. I managed to avoid two of them but sideswiped an infected teenage girl, knocking her to the pavement.
When I looked back, they were all in pursuit, ambling frenziedly down the darkened street. But they'd never catch me now. The Swimmer was the only one I was truly concerned with at this point. I turned left and hit the gas. The street was clear. The ATS accelerated smoothly and I reached fifty easily before I had to slow down to turn right on Lisa Drive. At the intersection, I took a deep breath and glanced both ways down Lisa Drive. I didn't really see anything. If my calculations were correct, there would only be maybe eight or nine blocks before I'd reach 39th South. I looked back before I turned. The Swimmer was maybe a quarter of the way down the street, running with a purpose. I knew he wasn't going to give up.
I turned right and sped down Lisa Drive. I accelerated up to fifty again and kept the headlights on, at least for the time being. I knew the road would curve to the right up ahead and I didn't want any sudden surprises. I would slow down once the road began its eastward bend. The last thing I needed was to get into an accident. I just needed to be aware and manage my speed.
I couldn't believe how amped up I felt. I felt exhilarated and could feel the blood surging through my veins. I was bristling with energy. I couldn't be sure if it was because the underpass was so close or because of the close call I'd had back at the Josephsons'. I had a feeling it had to do with the danger I'd been in and my narrow escape. I found it strange the danger would excite me. Driving fifty miles per hour in a residential neighborhood didn't hurt either. I felt invincible and ridiculously confident, almost cocky, which had never exactly been my modus operandi. I knew I was going to make it to the underpass and nothing would stop me, no matter what lay ahead. I would make it to the underpass this very night, infected be damned.
I eased my foot off the gas as the road began its gradual eastward sweep to Olympic Way. I slowed to thirty-five just to be safe. The ATS hummed quietly. I couldn't believe how smooth and quiet the ride was. I glanced in my rearview mirror one last time but didn't see the Swimmer anywhere in sight. Lisa Drive was dark enough that he could have been back there somewhere. There were a few homes here and there with lights on, but for the most part, the street was dark and utterly silent. Olympic Way was no more than a few blocks ahead. Then I saw movement about half block up on the left.
A group of infected were laying siege to a large brick bungalow. They had already shattered the picture window. About a dozen of them were clumsily stepping over the window's low sill to get into the house. A few strays ambled about in the front yard. I turned my lights off, but it was already too late. Several of them had already turned to look as I approached in the ATS. It may have been the lights they noticed or maybe the sound of the engine. I didn't know and it didn't matter. I would never have gotten by them without being noticed anyway. I'm not sure why, but my intuition told me not to speed up. T
hey stood quietly on the porch, not moving, mesmerized or bewildered by the Cadillac as I cruised by. They appeared indecisive, though I doubted they had the capacity for it.
After I'd driven past them, one of the infected stumbled down the front steps in pursuit. Then a second one came and a third, maybe more. But I was already a half a block past them and I wasn't concerned in the least. They had no chance to catch me.
When I'd passed by the house under siege, I noticed a string of five homes in a row that had been broken into, just as had been described in Julia Courtney's blog. It was the first time I'd seen anything like it in the valley.
I left the lights off and slowed the car down to twenty. I began to feel some anxiousness. I knew Olympic way was very close. And then I caught sight of the street about a block away. From there, 39th South would be just a half block jaunt to my left. Despite the long day, I felt incredibly alert. I lowered the driver side window and listened. 39th South was a major street and I wanted to know if there might be any infected groups nearby. I kept my eyes peeled for any sign of movement, but saw nothing of consequence in the tar-black darkness. And all I could hear were the fading moans of the infected I'd just passed. And then I realized something about the ATS. I believed it was quiet enough that as long as I wasn't too close to a group of infected, and as long as I didn't accelerate too quickly or smash into anything, there was a good chance I wouldn't be heard.
Lisa Drive angled onto Olympic way and the first thing I saw when I reached the intersection were cars backed up on Olympic from 39th South. Some of the cars had their doors open and had been abandoned. The street lamp on 39th South illuminated the area. It was a grisly sight. The street looked like an automobile graveyard. And here and there, human bones were scattered about in the street. I saw a skull in the gutter with a patch of dark scalp hair remaining. I'm not sure what I expected, but this wasn't it. Cars were crammed together, many of them smashed up. I suddenly wasn't sure what I should do. I couldn't go back on Lisa Drive. There were too many infected back there, the Swimmer too. And heading back into the residential neighborhoods via Olympic Way was a definite no go. I had no intention of backtracking. I just needed to get a closer look at 39th South, then I'd know what my options were.
Jacob's Odyssey (The Berne Project Book 1) Page 13