Fast Walkers: Outbreak (The Dead Trilogy Book 1)

by J. D. Bishop

  Becky sighed, stepping away from Greg. “My dad works for the government—something to do with Homeland Security. I don't know what he does exactly. I'm forbidden to ask questions or to know anything beyond that. My dad left for a work trip last week, and just before he left, he told me not to drink from the water while he was gone. When all of this started happening, I never connected the two things together . . . or maybe I didn't want to, because that would mean my dad knew about this and had an involvement in its taking place, so I didn't want to believe it.”

  Jeff sighed inwardly. So many people could have been saved if Becky had said this from the beginning, not to mention that he thought Becky knew slightly more than what she was telling. He should have pushed the issue earlier. Maybe she could have remembered earlier, made the connection, and maybe saved Tara’s life.

  Greg looked at his niece. “Natalie, I need you to tell me something. Did you have a drink from the water faucet? Or any water today?”

  The girl thought long and hard, fingering her teddy bear shyly. “No,” she said finally, “I just had some juice Mommy left for me and milk with my cereal.”

  In bewilderment, Greg asked, “Then why are you so cold? Where is your hiding spot?”

  Natalie sniffed. “It's under the house, and it's very cold under there. There’s a secret spot to get there from the pantry. Mommy called it the crawl space, I think the one time we had the plumber here.”

  Whooping for joy, Greg pulled his niece back into a crushing bear hug. “Okay, you gotta stop this flipping on me. I’m gonna have a heart attack.”

  All smiles again, he rained kisses on the little girl's forehead, cuddling her like she was the most precious thing on earth. Natalie hugged him back until someone cleared their throat and Greg stopped, his and everyone’s eyes going to Tara. “Oh, Tara, I’m—”

  With a face as cold as the Everest mountains, Tara cast a nasty glare Becky's way. “You fucking bitch. You knew all this time, yet you let me drink from that glass of water. What did you tell me? That I would be lucky to survive the day? Well, I guess you got your wish!”

  A mask of pain spread across her face, and Becky said, “Tara, I—”

  Tara’s words cut like a knife through Becky's. “Save it, you fucking whore. You might can work your charm on two dumb guys who fuck your brains out, but it's not going to work on me.”

  Turning, Tara stormed toward the kitchen, then rapidly reversed her direction when she saw the bodies and stormed up the stairs, even though she had no idea where she was going.

  “I'm going to go after her,” Dante said after a second, chasing after Tara. “Ay Tara, wait up! Why you gotta be hatin’ on Queen B like that?”

  Frigid silence settled over the room when they were gone.

  With his niece still in his arms, Greg stared over at Becky, who had a sudden preoccupation with the wall. His eyes were wary. “What was she talking about?”

  Before she could respond, the sound of multiple roaring diesel engines filled the room. A rumbling could be heard outside, and the three teens and Natalie looked at the windows in fear. Before Jeff could bring his Mini-14 up, the back door was kicked in and Patricia, a man, Wes, and Christy walked in, the latter two dressed in hospital gowns with what looked like baggy pants and cheap slippers on, looking a little worse for wear, followed by Becky's father.

  “Wes!” Greg shouted with excitement. He crossed the room, grabbing his skinny friend in a hug. “Fuck, man, it’s good to see you!”

  Jeff was equally happy and relieved for the interruption and to see his fellow friends. He lowered his rifle, quickly slinging it behind his back to show that he meant no harm.

  “How'd you guys survive?” he asked, a happy grin on his face. He was sure that they’d all been dead twice over by now.

  Wes glanced at his fingernails, polishing them on his toaster rack of a chest. “Oh, I don't know. This ole' druggie knows a few tricks.”

  “My baby!” Patricia rushed forward and picked up her little girl, squeezing her with all of her might, and after a few moments, she included Greg in a group hug. Jeff watched it, tears pricking at his eyes again as he was reminded there would be no happy family reunion for him. He glanced at Becky, but her eyes were fixed on her father, no joyous reunion taking place there.

  After they held each other for a while, Patricia asked, “Mom?” Greg shook his head. Patricia then shook her head sadly, but she didn’t break down into tears like her brother had before. “I’m sorry, Greg.”

  “Well, I'm glad you all enjoyed this little reunion,” Jim told the group. “You're going to need a lot of cheerfulness where you're going.”

  Greg stood up protectively in front of his niece and sister. He’d butted heads a few times with Becky’s dad, who always made him feel inadequate for his daughter. He had enough inadequacy issues to deal with. “And where is that?”

  “Denver, Colorado. There's a base there where we're taking survivors,” Jim said. “I should have sent a squad to get you guys separately, but I wanted to make it easier for you.”

  Greg crossed his arms. “Sounds sweet and all, but we decline. You assholes started it. I can smell that from a mile away. Why should we trust your asses going to a base?”

  “I didn't say you had any choice any matter.” Jim made a motion with his hands, and a group of armed soldiers came into the house, pointing guns at them all. “You’re coming to Denver.”

  “Daddy, stop!" Becky shouted in anger, shaking her head in disbelief. “I can't believe what has happened over the past few hours. After what you told me, to think you had a part in all of this.”

  “I didn’t know at the time, Becky,” Jim said, his voice hard. He might not have known, but he was making no apologies for it now.

  Right then, Tara and Dante came back down the stairs and froze midway, seeing the armed men in the living room. “What the fu—”

  Suddenly, a dog rushed into the room, barking madly.

  Raising a gloved hand, a soldier motioned at the group. “One of them is infected, sir.”

  “Which one is it?" Jim asked his daughter, his eyes roving each of the teens like a hawk, trying to ascertain who had the deadly virus running through their veins. “Tell me, Rebecca. Which one is going to turn?”

  Glaring daggers, Becky turned up her nose. “Fuck you, you liar. I'm not saying shit.”

  “Very well.” Jim nodded to one of the armed men as someone came over and retrieved the dog and took it back outside. “Isolate them. Prepare for total termination.”

  In sudden desperation, Becky yelled, “Wait!”

  Jim raised his hand, staying the soldier. “Yes?”

  “It's me.”

  Jeff’s, Greg’s, Tara’s, and Dante's eyes grew wide with shock at Becky's lie. Jeff gawked, trying to form words. “Becky . . .”

  Doubling back with disbelief, her father gasped, “How? I specifically told you not to drink from the water and left you with the necessary skills to survive.”

  Her eyes briefly flickering over at Tara, Becky said, “Because after I realized you had a part in this horror, I grew suicidal and drank all I could. How could you, Dad? You let them do this, and you looked me in the eye and lied. You said this was to help. Does this look like helping to you?” Without warning, Becky took out one of her handguns and put it to her head. “Tell them, Dad.”

  Her father jumped forward. “Becky, don't!”

  “Tell them, Father!” Becky yelled. “Tell the truth!”

  With wary eyes, he assessed his daughter's grip on the gun. “Becky, I . . .”

  Cocking the trigger, Becky coldly interrupted, “Tell them now, or I'll blow my brains out! Another life you'll have on your hands. You can add it to the half million you’ve already killed, but I think this one might be more than a fucking number in some report to you!”

  Sighing, Jim seemed to relax, standing very still.

  Jeff could barely make out the tiny movement Jim made with his hands to his bodyguards, and befor
e Jeff knew what happened, Becky cried out in pain, dropping her gun to the floor as her body spasmed. Jeff could see in the afternoon light the glint of wires and the two barbs sticking out of her arm as she was Tasered. She was immediately tackled by several men and taken away screaming. “Tell them the truth, Dad!”

  Ignoring his daughter's cries, Jim sternly addressed the gang, “Now the rest of you will come with us. No questions asked. If anyone causes trouble, you'll be executed on the spot. I don’t give two fucks if you’re my daughter’s friend or not. Understood?” Cold eyes met each of the teens along with the newswoman and journalist. Seeing no argument, he nodded. “Good. Now let's go.”

  The group was filed out of the house and into the waiting military vehicles. Before getting in, each of them were patted down and all their weapons were taken away, Dante resisting slightly but letting go of his rifle when the soldiers lifted their M4s. As they rode through the streets of New Orleans, passing through bourbon street, tears rolled down Jeff's face as he witnessed all the death and destruction and zombies running about.

  “Mommy,” Natalie said from her seat beside her mom. Patricia had made sure she was seated in a way to not let her see the worst of the destruction, but the girl could still see some. “What's happening to the city? Why is there smoke everywhere?”

  With tears filling her eyes, Patricia sighed. “It's complicated, sweetie. Someone . . . some people made a mistake, I guess.”

  Nat pointed out the bulletproof windows. “Who are those crazy people running around? They look just like Grandma did when she was sick.”

  Patricia swallowed, turning her daughter’s head away. “They are zombies.”

  Natalie's faced scrunched up in confusion. “Mom?”

  With a gentle squeeze on her daughter's shoulder, Patricia asked, “Yes, Nat?”

  “What's a zombie?”

  Want to know as soon as JD Bishop releases another book? Join my newsletter. You will not be spammed and you can unsubscribe at any time.