“What about the boy?” Hunter snapped.
“The boy’s in shock. I’d bet a container of fuel his parents were one of those dead things in the bus. He must have been camping in there since the crash. He had a damn camp fire in the back by the looks of it. I don’t know how he survived.”
“Whatever his problem, he’s still a risk,” Hunter said.
Abraham paused. “The boy is a menace, but we can’t leave him. We must never become animals.”
“Grandpa, if he screams, all of the infected freaks in the Rocky Mountains will be after us.”
Abraham didn’t like the idea of keeping something he couldn’t tame. But what choice did he have? “What would you have me do?” Abraham knew Hunter was right. His grandson was getting smarter by the second. Nonetheless, Abraham couldn’t leave the offbeat boy for the monsters of his dying world. “Let’s cross that bridge later.”
Hunter blew out his cheeks. His shoulders sagged under the weight of what his grandfather had ordered. It was apparent he had a bad feeling about their newest member.
“So where are we heading?” Sam questioned. “The clouds are getting thick.”
A faded green sign hung on the highways desolate edge. Fairplay, it read, the cheap metal holding it up curved and bent as if a truck had slammed into it long ago.
“Only a few more miles to town,” he replied, unsure of his plan. Abraham had a bad feeling about traveling through such a big mountain town. His guts told him to ignore the blooming smoke that seemed to have permanently settled in the sky above the high county town. Glancing back, he knew several other ways that avoided Fairplay, but it would eat up the rest of his limited fuel well before the next town. He needed to stay on the highways to conserve gasoline. This was the only way he was going to reach Denver by dusk. “The city’s got fuel and an old friend.”
“Who do you know in Fairplay?” Hunter asked, coughing into his fist. He contained his asthma with his half-empty inhaler. Two puffs seemed to give him instant relief. Abraham worried what would happen when the albuterol ran out.
“Bob Hatchet,” Abraham replied. “Assuming he didn’t get chewed up and spit out by the infected freaks.”
“You think he’s alive?” Hunter asked.
“Bob’s got a lot of guns and a dozen men working for him. If anybody made it, it has to be Bob.”
“No, no, no,” Emme whined, as she leaned forward. “Bob is a terrible man. Remember he was selling drugs to Uncle Benjamin?” She shrugged out of her purple hoodie she’d worn over her black sheath blouse. “Grandma told me bad men before all of this only turn worse. She said they spoil like milk.”
“Have you seen the world?” Hunter asked his little sister. “Bob’s the only chance we’ve got at getting back our family. We need a tough guy like that on our side.” Hunter was too excited to see Bob. This troubled Abraham. He knew what Bob was capable of and didn’t want that kind of mentality to rub off on Hunter.
Some business-minded man had purchased a large plot of land and took the simple town of Fairplay and turned it into an industry right before the war. It was like he knew what was coming. Dozens of apartment complexes were built to house the expected rush of war refugees. However, many of the buildings remained vacant. Only a small amount of migrants came to Colorado. For years the town was only a grocery store, hardware store, and pizza parlor. Now, the town was a web of empty buildings nested in the Rocky Mountains.
“We don’t have a choice,” Abraham said. “Maybe Bob will have food, cold beer, and some fuel.” Maybe he knows something about the men in yellow, he thought, plotting his desires.
***
Abraham appeared sleep deprived when he took the wheel from Sam at the edge of town. His soiled coat and jeans were disheveled, his white hair a mess, and his boots stomped in filth. Still, he pressed the gas as the Blazer entered the outskirts of Fairplay. On the left and right were a series of mandatory evacuation notices on each of the abandoned buildings. Two burned police cars formed a wedge in the middle of the road. Abraham cringed as he witnessed the skeletal remains of what once must have been a police officer sitting in the front of one of the charred vehicles.
“What happened here?” Emme asked.
“Looks like these folks had some sort of notice to evacuate. The evacuation signs are the same ones posted up at the farm,” Abraham replied.
“This is a good sign,” Hunter added.
“How is this good?” questioned Abraham. “The town is destroyed.”
“But the evacuation means people got out. We only need to find where they’re staying.”
“You might be right,” Abraham agreed. “Some of these vehicles might have fuel. Let’s check.”
Abraham was upset the check produced nothing. He gathered his party and kept the vehicle rolling deeper into town. He studied the several warnings painted in big, bold letters across the tops of some of the buildings. All of the warnings suggested outsiders should stay away. Chain-linked fences that must have been put in place to keep the infected out were now trampled down in several places. For obvious reasons, he believed the town must have tried to set up its own quarantine and failed.
His face turned pallid as he watched hundreds of birds feast upon the festering body parts left to spoil in the daylight. There were dozens of brainless bodies blooming in an array of mold stung about.
“It must have been a massacre,” Abraham said, rolling his tense shoulders. “But the fungus continues to thrive in the human tissue even after the true death.”
“I don’t understand,” Hunter said, lowering his voice to a whisper.
Abraham observed the misty cloud of spores orbiting the sick growths. “The fungus is still searching for carriers. The brain is dead, but the flesh is perfect for supporting the fungus.” He blew out hard as the Blazer crept farther down the damaged road. A few of the blood-eyed birds fluttered their wings and gave a harsh, grating sound. Abraham had to turn away to keep his composure after witnessing the awful sight.
“Don’t look,” Abraham said to Emme, wiping the pouring sweat from his crumpled brow. He wanted to avert his gaze, but the picture of death called out to the old man.
“Do you think Grandma is alive?” Emme asked. “What about my mom and dad?”
Abraham didn’t expect his sweet little granddaughter to understand the trouble of not knowing. I have to believe my family is alive. “They’re safe. The people in the yellow chemical suits took them somewhere free from the infected. We only need to find them.” He didn’t know what to say about his missing son, Emme’s father, or her mother. So he remained tight-lipped.
After a few more blocks, he tapped the brakes. Stacks of abandoned vehicles threaded with barbed wire blocked the road. “This is the work of Bob,” he said, unbuttoning his collar and letting his neck breathe. The forest green color of his flannel infused with the flakes of gore gave it a nasty mud color. The putrid shade did little to calm his nerves as he searched for a different route.
“Let’s go back,” Emme pleaded.
Abraham regarded the faces of the long-abandoned buildings in the distance supplemented by eerie alleyways. Numerous windows were broken and the furnishings meant for the inside were thrown about in the streets. Somebody had set up a series of blockades. “If only we didn’t need fuel.”
“What if Bob killed all of those people?” she said, turning back to the flock of dining birds behind them.
“Bob is bat-shit crazy, but this isn’t him. Those people died fighting the infected.” Abraham didn’t believe his own words. He knew Bob was a dark man with sinister beliefs. Things have changed, he thought taking in the daunting words of his granddaughter.
“Whoever killed them did it to stop the infection,” Hunter said, sitting up straight. “Look! Over there is a narrow path big enough for the vehicle. I bet it leads to Bob’s garage.” The ruined sight didn’t seem to scare Hunter, at least not on the surface. The boy looked over to Sam, and then turned when she looked back at
him. Abraham could all but hear his grandson’s heart beat quickening at the sight of Sam.
“This is a well-fortified defense,” Abraham said. “But is it to keep out the infected freaks or keep them trapped in?”
Nobody answered because nobody knew.
The Blazer rolled onward through the serpentine of abandoned furniture and poorly erected, improvised fences. He felt like he was being forced into an ambush. Abraham weaved the vehicle through the broken part of town, and after a sharp curve, he came to a tight space. A single ramp led up and down. Abraham kept the vehicle rolling through the constricted space. His eyes searched the high walls for men with guns. But only the smooth bricks of the buildings greeted him.
“Do you think this place is abandoned?” Sam inquired.
“It looks that way. Bob wouldn’t want people to come into his town. I think the place is meant to scare survivors away. But then again, we saw the smoke rising from the road, so maybe Bob doesn’t care.”
The vehicle navigated deeper into the network of buildings, traveling the only path possible. There was only one way in and one way out and it was a tight squeeze. A cement truck on cinder blocks was surrounded by boards blocking one of the routes, a stack of Dumpsters blocked another path, and the last alley was obstructed by a pile of tables and poorly wielded gates. For an end-of-the-world scenario, Abraham thought the defenses were stout.
“I bet the dead are watching from the windows,” Emme said, running her hands through her pockets. Next to her, the peculiar boy snored in a deep sleep. It was hard to fathom how the boy was still out cold.
“We won’t be long,” Hunter said as if he were the boss. “Get some information and some fuel, and with any luck be in Denver before sunset.”
Abraham ignored the boy as the growl of the tires brought the Blazer to a sudden stop. The maze ended at a long building connecting to a lofty series of warehouses. The first floor windows were all boarded up with the words NO TRESPASSING painted in red.
“This place gives me the creeps,” Sam said.
Killing the rhythm of the engine, he had a growing suspicion they would have to walk the rest of the way. Muttering curses under his breath, he cracked open the door and made his way to a shoddy ladder running up the side of the long buildings. The residence didn’t look inviting. Dropping down to a knee, he picked up a few 55.6 casings and then looked up toward the roofs.
“What about the roll door?” Hunter asked, slipping out of the vehicle after his grandfather.
Abraham gave it a lift. “It’s locked.” He looked up toward the roof again and then back to the vehicle. Smears of infected bodies being dragged toward the roll down door gave him pause. “Whoever is running this town has been killing the infected at this choke point.” He pointed his finger back to the door. “And it looks like they’re dragging their corpses inside.” This has to be Bob.
Abraham felt a set of unseen eyes drilling his back. Nevertheless, when he turned to look, he saw only Sam kneading at her wrists. She looked charming in his daughter Alison’s fancy pea-coat.
“Shall we have a look?” Hunter asked.
“Who’s going to babysit the weird boy?” Sam reminded them, tugging at her borrowed cargo pants.
Hunter rolled his hazel eyes toward the Blazer. “What you think, Grandpa?”
“Let him sleep. Bob’s garage is only a few blocks away. It shouldn’t be that difficult once we get over this giant building.” Abraham let out a shallow grunt and placed his hands on his hips.
“What about the freaks?” Hunter asked. “The clouds are blocking the sun. Won’t they come out?”
“I don’t know. Everything I told you about Red Dead and the freaks is a theory.”
“Alright, I’m ready to scout,” Hunter whispered, touching the ladder. At that time, Abraham peel back his grandson’s fingers and growl.
“Let me take a look first and make sure it’s safe.” Abraham tugged at the ladder, relieved to see it was still secure. The muscles in his back twitched in protest as he strained in effort to climb. There was no question his body was weakened in his old age. Yet with a grumble, he managed to make it despite sweat dripping off his nose with an evil tickle.
***
Emme watched Hunter trace the offensive words painted over the brick of the building. “Somebody lives here,” Hunter told her.
“And they’re telling us to stay out,” Emme was quick to answer. “Perhaps we should continue to a friendlier-looking town.” She pulled up the hood on her hoodie and waited. In the low frequencies of her hearing aids, she heard the heavy breathing of the infected freaks somewhere inside the mess of dark buildings. “They’re inside the buildings.” I need to show them. She was sure nothing in her little black backpack was going to help convince them. Still, she rummaged through it anyway.
“Who is?” Sam asked.
“The infected freaks,” Emme answered as her smirk slipped away.
“You don’t know that,” Hunter argued.
“I do too.”
“Quiet.” Emme heard Abraham yell from the roof. She knew he was growing tired of the endless bickering so she stayed silent.
Hunter bent over and strained to lift the locked roll-down door again. He didn’t notice the wild boy creeping up behind him, but Emme did. The strange boy littered in filth was almost on top of Hunter when Emme screamed, “Watch out!”
Her brother jumped out of the way, landing in a puddle of murky water as the wild boy poked at him. “Dr. John,” the boy whispered over and over. Emme watched her brother pull himself back to his feet, pushing his arms in a futile attempt to rid himself of the advancing boy. “How did you get out of the restraints?”
“Calm down, man,” Samantha said, placing a firm hand on the peculiar boy’s shoulder.
The wild boy scurried away, screaming the only phrase he must have known. “Dr. John!”
Hunter pursued the boy, swearing revenge. Yet, the faster he moved, the quicker the odd boy circled the Blazer. The chase ensued with Sam joining in on the anxious fun. Hunter and Sam cornered the boy, and when they thought they had him, he ducked under the Blazer and curled up, repeating that same old name.
“Dammit, Sam, you let him get away,” Hunter said with passion in his hazel eyes. This made Emme smile as big as a child on Christmas morning. She had a feeling Sam wouldn’t put up with his shit.
“Me? Are you kidding? There is no way this is my fault. You had the boy in your hands.” Rolling to the right, Sam gave Hunter the cold shoulder.
“Because I was pushing him toward you,” Hunter argued, dropping to a knee.
Emme enjoyed the pinch of agony annoying her brother.
Sam knelt down and stared at the panicked, wild boy. “Oh shit, he wet himself,” she stammered, breaking into a contagious laugh.
“Go get him,” Hunter ordered, making a humorous expression.
“You let him get away,” Sam snapped back. She seemed to enjoy the playful tones.
Emme squinted and kept a nasty glare toward Hunter. They’re only flirting, Emme thought, pushing up her purple glasses. Emme felt disappointed.
Sam scooped her hand under the car in a feeble attempt to frighten the boy. However, he didn’t move a muscle.
As if remembering his manners, Hunter tilted his head towards Sam. “Fine, I’ll get him.”
Sam scoffed at the notion. “Please.”
“Don’t let him tell you what to do because you’re a girl,” Emme said. She wasn’t going to let Sam be outdone by her brother. Hunter needed a pretty girl to keep him in order.
Right as Hunter had his fingers on the boy’s clothing, he jerked back at his sister’s comment, bumping his head on the undercarriage.
Emme laughed as the wild boy wiggled out the front of the Blazer. The sounds leaving the wild boys lips came out funny, almost distorted. He dashed to the right, then danced around Hunter and Sam. He was leading them on a wild goose chase. His sudden movements and jerky steps brought both Hunter and Sam to t
he ground in a soft tumble.
It was like watching the fastest kid play tag on the playground. She giggled a little louder, sitting on a pile of crates and enjoying the show. “You’ll never catch him.”
“I’ll bet you the front seat, you can’t either,” said Hunter, raising his proud chin.
“Deal,” Emme agreed, vaulting to her feet. She lowered her hand and held out pieces of candy in her palm. The men in yellow had given her the candy right before she ran away. “It’s okay,” she whispered, batting her mocha-colored eyes behind her glasses. The strange boy stopped and sniffed. He looked back toward Hunter and Sam and then took a single step forward. His head jolted up and then down.
“Try it,” Emme said, and when she did, the small boy snatched the chocolate pieces from her hand. His tight face made a series of sour expressions and then he spit it out. He snarled at first, and then fell at Emme’s boots. “Are you okay?’’ she asked, touching the top of his oily head. The boy seemed to enjoy her touch. “He’s scared.”
“Emme, get away,” Hunter ordered, taking aim with his rifle.
With arms crossed in front of her chest and her head cocked to the side, she replied, “He’s not dangerous. And it seems I’ll be riding in the front seat from this point forward.” The way her lips curled into a smile made her brother boil. I win, she thought, watching him march off back toward the bay door to clear his head. Emme could still hear the moans of the infected. Though she didn’t feel like being called a liar again, so she kept the truth of it to herself.
III
“So many damn obstacles,” Abraham whispered. The surrounding buildings were strung together tight. He saw high walls, barbed wire, and a variety of makeshift barricades. However, he also noted well-placed ladders, ropes, and promising doors. The pathway appeared manageable.
Abraham hadn’t visited Bob’s garage in years. The place was a warehouse of considerable size. The iron doors and brick structure would keep Bob and his men safe. Abraham regarded the rest of the town from his vantage point. Nothing appeared the same. He remembered large, open spaces between the buildings and a wealth of greenery decorating the town. Now all he saw was crumbling walls and abandoned vehicles in devastated ruin. It reminded him of his time in Russia during the Winter War. Strategic bombing leveled hundreds of towns.
Infected Freaks (Book 2): The Echo of Decay Page 3