Break Free (Book 3): Through The Frozen Dawn
Page 22
Kaylee spun back to Jack, finding him crouched under one of the cars. A pungent odor arose, the snow staining yellow in a halo around him. When he stood, he was clutching a torn cloth, soaked in the gasoline he just drained from a punctured gas tank. He ran towards a car near the gate, reaching for the door to the gas tank. As he unscrewed the gas cap, Kaylee stopped him.
The van, Michael's van, was parked just inside the gate, close to one of the massive concrete sides that held the wooden doors in place. She recognized it and she knew what was inside. She reached for the sliding door and yanked it open, finding, as she knew she would, a floor packed with homemade grenades, and open boxes of dynamite.
"Blow this one," she whispered, nodding towards the dynamite. They didn't have time for anything elaborate. She slid the door shut and he unscrewed the gas cap. Jack stuffed the gas soaked rag into the opening and brought his lighter to the end.
It caught with a whoof that brought a shock of heat over Kaylee's exposed skin. He grabbed for her hand and pulled, running towards the gate that hung open.
Infected fingers reached up through the grate and grabbed at her boots. She stared straight ahead, crushing fingers as she ran. The howls and moans didn't shift, even as their bones were snapped. They had a hunger that would never be satiated, not until death, no matter the injury. The jeep was a safe distance away but the van was waiting. Kaylee was startled by the shout that came from behind, a scream of anger that rose over the snarls. She jumped when a loud ding sounded, confused at first by the circle of metal that bloomed on the side of the van, bright silver where navy blue had been. Then she realized, someone was shooting at them.
Whoever it was, they must not have realized the gate was about to blow. Kaylee ducked her head and ran faster, her hand melded with Jack's. Emma's face peered from the cracked door of the van, urging them on. Out of nowhere, Kaylee felt the grate under her feet tilt and pitch. Jack tugged her hand and they leapt to the side, staggering as the grate they had been running on slid back. A horde of infected gathered at the mouth, reaching and then climbing over one another to get at them.
They ran forward. Adrenaline surged through her limbs, pushing her faster, faster. They were so close, almost there.
Something whizzed by, she felt as it passed her body. But it was too late now. Behind her, she could hear the soft roar of a fire catching. The gas tank had caught. If the van was on fire, the dynamite would go next. She heard another scream, one of warning and fear, as she threw herself into the van. The door slammed shut after Jack joined her. Anna floored the gas and the van rocketed forward. Kaylee and Jack both tumbled backwards, sliding along the empty floor until they were tangled with Emma and Andrew.
Blood and gasoline, sweat and tears, they mingled together on that van floor. The whole vehicle shook when the first stick of dynamite blew. The rest followed with an explosion that rocked the earth. Anna slowed down, turning the van so that the driver's side faced the crumbling gate. Ahead of them, through the windshield, Kaylee could see that Marco's jeep did the same.
The four of them untangled their legs, Kaylee and Jack yanking open the sliding door with trembling hands. Emma and Andrew didn't leave the floor, eyes only for each other, reveling not only in their survival, but in each other. Kaylee kept her back to them, knowing more than she ever wanted to by the sounds that were coming from behind her.
"Where to now?" Marco asked, coming to stand with Kaylee and Jack. The gate was a massive pile of splintered wood and concrete. Parts of it had smashed into the pit of infected. Some of the rotting bodies were climbing up the remains of the doors, staggering towards the camp.
"We head west," Jack answered. "Drive until the cars break down or we get to the coast."
"Sounds good to me," Marco answered, dipping his head.
Kaylee let Jack drag her back into the van. Emma disentangled herself from Andrew, but she didn't move away. Kaylee kept her eyes to the windshield.
Epilogue
The ocean air breezed over them, cold and stinging. And yet, the scent of the salt reminded Kaylee so forcefully of summertime, that for the first time in weeks, she felt warm.
A sound, sharp and piercing in the night air, startled the group.
Emma turned towards it. Even in the dim light, Kaylee saw tears spring to her sister's eyes.
The couple that walked towards them moved carefully, weighing each step. Their skin was dark, almost lost in the nighttime, but they're eyes were locked on the small group and in each hand, moonlight glinted off gun barrels. In the woman's arms, a bundle of blankets squirmed and screamed.
"Is that a baby?" Emma whispered, stepping towards them. Andrew's hand went to restrain her, but she slipped passed. The couple tensed.
But the adoration, the longing, in Emma's gaze was clear. Kaylee stepped forward with her, reaching to clasp her sister's hand in her own.
"See, Em," she whispered. "I told you you weren't the youngest person left alive."
Emma laughed softly and reached a hand discretely to her eye, wiping away any moisture. The child in the women's arms let out a wail, the normal cry of a hungry infant.
"Is that a bite mark?" the woman asked, staring at Emma's scarred hand. Emma smiled warmly.
"It is," she answered. "I'm immune." As if on cue, Andrew strode over and took Emma's face lovingly in his hands. He pressed a kiss to her lips, lingering as he was prone to do. The woman stared, horror and shock gradually making way for curiosity.
"I've never known anyone-" she murmured, breaking off at Emma's grin.
"We haven't either," Kaylee said kindly. "She's one of a kind."
"Yeah, it does come in handy," Emma joked. Her tone grew plaintive towards the end and her eyes were drawn back to the infant wiggling in his mother's arms.
"This is Henry," the woman whispered. "Are you the one's who have been leaving the signs?"
"And the food?" the man added. He looked passed the girls to Jack, Andrew, and Marco and his gun lowered fractionally. Their group had already set up for the night, most were circled around a small campfire as they warmed their food. The few that weren't standing looked up, gave cursory glances to assure themselves the newcomers weren't dangerous, and then went back to their dinner. The boys moved forward, slowly so as not to startle the couple. And as Jack explained to the newcomers about the New North America, about what they were going to do instead, Emma spoke to the young mother.
"Can I hold him?"
The tender longing was something Kaylee had never expected from her younger sister. She watched as Andrew's eyes flit over Emma, burning in intensity. The woman offered a strained smile and looked to her partner. His gun was holstered now and his attention was focused on Jack.
"Hi, Henry," Emma whispered as the infant was placed in her arms. The mother hovered protectively, pressing close to Emma. She didn't seem to notice. Her face was low, almost nose to nose with the baby.
Kaylee moved forward and impulsively pressed a kiss to her sister's cheek. Emma smiled but didn't look up. Kaylee stepped next to Jack, letting Andrew take her place next to Emma. He belonged there anyway.
The young couple were Ridhi and Lawrence. They had traveled from Georgia, following the signs that first Quinton and Jack, and then the rest had left outside decimated cities. They had used all the food and had particularly appreciated the baby formula Anna insisted they leave outside Kaylee's own home city.
They wouldn't be traveling North any longer.
On that night, on a freezing shore on the Northwest coast of North America, a new colony was born. Looking out over the dark horizon, pretending they could see the islands they would travel to in the morning, they left a sign. It started as all the others had before.
Supplies here for those who need them.
It did not read that anyone should head north and it did not promise safety. Instead, there was a simple message.
We have found freedom. If that's what you're looking for, you have found it, too.
Kaylee k
new this truth now. There was no such thing as safety without the loss of freedom, they were ever balanced on the scales of life. It wasn't safety that their group could offer anyone. It wasn't safety that Kaylee should have been searching for; it was companionship, the hope of rebuilding, the re-establishment of humanity. Since the dawn of the infection, those should have been the goal. True freedom, freedom from fear, from attack, freedom to live as they chose, that was the real hope. It had been convoluted, lost in the daily struggle of infection, pain, and hunger.
It was clearer now.
After The Mill, The Circle, after The New North America, it was clear that it wasn't safety that would give them the life they wanted, it was freedom. And they would find it. Not in the promise of numbers or the building of a large fence, but with the shared goal of a group of people, determined to live to the end of their lives in the best way they knew how. They alone, each individual, would be responsible for their happiness, their survival.
There would be losses. The world was a dangerous place. They would lose their friends, some in the clear light of day, and others, like Bill, to the vastness of the world and the unknown.
They belonged together, torn apart from family and friends and every way of life they had grown up knowing. Those ways weren't lost forever, only for now. It could be theirs again. They could, and they would, build it again. They would keep alive the hope for a future for themselves, little Henry, and anyone else who chose to follow their signs.
The End
About the Author
E. M. Fitch is an author who loves zombies, chocolate, and tall trees. When not dreaming up new ways to torture characters, she is usually corralling her four children or thinking of ways to tire them out so they she can get an hour of peace at night. She lives in Connecticut, surrounded by chaos, which she manages (somewhat successfully) with her husband, Marc. She has been published in Pulp Metal Magazine, Under the Bed Magazine, and her novels, The Break Free Trilogy, are available on amazon.com.
You can find more about her works through her web site: www.emfitch.com or chat her up on Twitter @erinmfitch.
If you've enjoyed this story, she'd love to hear it.
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Acknowledgments
Firstly, a giant thank you to my loving husband. He doubles as an editor, someone who tells me when my work is crap, and my biggest promoter. The Break Free Trilogy would never have seen the light of day without him pushing me to publish. To the wonderful Marc E. Fitch, I thank you for your support and couldn't think of anyone with whom I'd rather share this crazy existence.
My lovely children know nothing of my work expect that "Mommy is writing about zombies again," and I thank them for their patience with my blank stares and for the quiet evenings they give me after they go to sleep. Caitlin, Adam, Matthew, and James you are what keep me grounded and somehow, with all your wild ways, keep me sane.
To my large and wonderful family, I thank you. My parents, Tom and Rita McCullough, you bought me my first books and let me stay up to all hours reading them. Thank you for all the love you've always shown me. My brothers Paul and Mark and their fabulous wives (who have become two of my best friends) Caitlin and Shelaine, thank you for enduring my zombie rants and always supporting me with kind words, book purchases, zombie 5k runs, zombie pub crawls and whatever other ridiculous thing I dream up. You are all always up for adventure, which will make surviving the coming apocalypse together feel like just another day. To all my aunts, uncles, and cousins who lovingly support me, and the ones who have actually read the books, Meaghan, Aunt Mary, both Aunt Pats, thank you all! Uncle Terry, my amazing uncle, I stole your story about spending the day relaxing on the cruise ship. Your life is nothing short of inspiring. I so appreciate the wonderful stories that you have collected during your lifetime. I love to hear them, and I am so grateful to you for sharing them with me.
Grandma Brock. You will always be my foundation.
Maureen Dorff, my cousin and friend, thank you for your horrific and nauseating first-hand description of what it looks like to put a chest tube in a patient with a collapsed lung. (When I asked her how it sounded, she answered: I'm not really sure, he was screaming too loud for me to hear much of anything.) I hope I captured the screams to your satisfaction.
Thank you to the friends and random acquaintances who have cheered me on from the sides, buying my books and finding time to comment or review them. It is so appreciated! Thank you to everyone who weighed in on the what-is-that-thing-over-gas-pumps-called Facebook discussion. Overall, we went with canopy, though I was seriously tempted by car port...
To the wonderful Mav Skye, her cohort Jason Michel, and Pulp Metal Magazine, I thank you sincerely for publishing my short stories, helping me to grow, and developing a fantastic community in which I can play. Much of my writing would have stalled or stuttered out completely without your support. Thank you!
Racheal Placentino, thank you for your beautifully descriptive, pictures included, retelling of the third degree burn you gave yourself (and treated yourself). You make Emma look like a complete wuss and I'm proud to have a friend who can do that.
Thank you to the reviewers and strangers who have emailed and become my friends from all over the world. Reaching out to people I would have never met before is what continues to inspire my writing. I truly value you all and hope we can remain in touch. Thank you!
To anyone I didn't mentioned specifically and to all the people whose names I've 'borrowed' to complete this novel, please accept my gratitude.
These novels were my first dip into the world of publishing. I'll never regret the decision to put them out there. They have helped to open so many doors, and given me the opportunity to meet and interact with so many amazing people. They have grown with me and pushed me to bigger, hopefully better, and certainly more challenging places. Zombies will always hold a special place in my heart and I thank everyone who read The Break Free Trilogy. You all mean more to me than you know.
With much love,
Erin M. Fitch
Table of Contents
Through the Frozen Dawn
Untitled
Untitled
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Untitled
About the Author
Acknowledgments