Infected Freaks (Book 2): The Echo of Decay

by Jason Borrego

  “I know that now. You guys let in a bunch of those zombies.”

  “I’m sorry.” Abraham was helped to his feet. He heard his grandson choking on the unpleasant smell of cigarette smoke that permeated in the garage. “Hunter, you alright?” he asked as two more cronies brought his grandchildren, Sam, and the wild boy toward him. Abraham scrunched his brow as he used all of his energy to walk, trying to regain the only thing that mattered in the moment, his grandchildren. Struggling along the work benches and tool carts, he fell back to the pavement as his own body failed him.

  “Take it easy, old friend.”

  Bob and Abraham had served together in the Winter War. The brotherly ties were deep between the two, but Abraham kept this to himself. He didn’t want his family to hear of the terrible things he was forced to do and failed to act upon. Bob was ruthless and thrice as brutal when it came to war.

  “Glad you’re alive, my old comrade,” Bob said.

  Bob had the look of a man overwhelmed with sympathy. Abraham didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for him. He didn’t like the way his old comrade watched his grandchildren with keen interest. Back during their time in the service, Bob never craved love or simple things. It was always the adrenaline rush. Abraham exhaled as Bob pulled up two chairs and unfolded them in front of him. He was busy questioning his decision to come here.

  “Abraham, what brings you to my humble home?”

  Abraham appreciated the helping hands of Hunter as he attempted to reposition his back on the icy metal of the seat. The bones in his neck screamed. “You got any pain killers?” he asked, mustering enough strength to look Bob in his deceiving green eyes. He knew what those green eyes were capable of in the heat of warfare.

  “Help my friend out here,” Bob said to another mechanic with a bald head. The man shuffled through a locker and brought two horse pills and a cup of water. Abraham noticed how the mechanic gave Bob a hard look as if he had taken away the man’s prize.

  After a few awkward seconds, Abraham swallowed the pill. He took a deep breath, thinking over his decision to come to Fairplay. Bob was dangerous, but was he Abraham’s enemy?

  “About twenty-four hours ago, a convoy came and took my family away while I was out gathering supplies.” He paused and closed his burning eyes. Yet his world kept spinning. “So I set out after them. I was hoping you might know something about the convoy taking people in big, armored buses. I need to find my family.”

  “Shit, I know about those convoys and those men in yellow chemical suits, a bunch of assholes. I told them I wasn’t going with them. They pulled out a few assault rifles and a stack of mandatory evacuation notices. I laughed and then pointed up toward the roofs. The fools saw I had a dozen bad ass guns aimed in at them. I then told them to get the fuck off my property and never come back. They’ve been using the dirt highways, avoiding the town ever since. I see them every few weeks coming back and forth, but they don’t dare come to my town anymore.”

  “They’re taking people to Denver,” Abraham stammered. “It’s safe there.”

  “So they say, but I don’t believe them.”

  “Why? What have you heard?”

  “Well, there are other survivors out there in the sticks. Haven’t heard shit outside of Colorado. But in Denver, I heard shit’s real bad. I heard one half of the city is owned and operated by the South, and the other half by the North. If it’s true, the only city worth a damn is going to be torn apart by their endless hate. But I kind of like that. Then, you got the Neutral Zone Federation crying foul on both. But these mountains, they’re going to belong to me. And when the opposing forces kill each other, all of Colorado will be mine.”

  “The mountains belong to the infected.”

  “The infected will rot away with time.”

  Abraham’s nostrils flared, remembering the stench of death that followed war. He thought of both Robb and Alison, his grown children fighting on opposite sides of the Civil War. God, I hope you’re both alive. This was the first bit of news on Denver he had heard. There was no way his grown kids were still alive. However, he needed to see their dead bodies if he was ever going to stop looking for them. “Which side do the yellow suits serve?”

  “I don’t think the men in yellow serve either. One of my sources tells me they keep busing people up to a fancy science tower outside of Breckenridge. Right before the bombs dropped, some megacorporation built a super compound or something they call the Red Tower. Shit, I don’t know, but that’s where they are talking everyone on those buses. They don’t ever go to Denver. We don’t get out much anymore, but I can promise you the men in yellow are not who they say they are.”

  Abraham sighed. “They have my family.” If the pain killers were working, he couldn’t tell. “They took Beth, my kids, and grandkids. What the fuck am I going to do now?”

  “The compound is posing as a sanctuary. I heard there are at least twenty armed men on the outside at any given time, and I’d guess thrice as many inside. It won’t be easy if they aren’t willing to compromise. Then again, you could slip on one of the buses. Don’t know how smart that would be, though, they take your weapons.”

  Abraham spit out a wad of blood and curled his lips.

  “Find strength, old friend.” Bob’s green eyes set out to one of his cronies, and the bald man stepped out to deal with whatever a raised brow required. “I like you, Abe. I like you and your family more than I’m willing to admit. Most of the time when strangers come into town, it doesn’t end well,” he said, tossing a wrench back and forth. “I guess what I’m trying to ask is how can I help you?”

  “I need fuel,” Abraham stuttered. Only his mother had called him Abe. Yet, he wasn’t about to correct the only man who could help him, at least not at the moment. The tension was still too high, and his wits numb.

  “I got fuel,” Bob said, lowering down and staring at Abraham at his hunched level. “But I’ll need a favor in return.”

  Abraham felt the slow-falling blood drip from his nose. He hated how venerable he looked. Bob was a shark, and that meant he was sure to taste blood.

  “It’s something minor.”

  Abraham shifted. “Let’s hear it.” His knuckles were swollen as he pressed them into his cheeks to hold up his head.

  “I need someone to get something for me at the local high school. It isn’t far.” Bob turned around and smiled at another one of his cronies positioned near the bay door.

  There must have been at least a dozen men in the garage. They were talking without words. This alarmed Abraham. “A high school. What the hell do you need from there?”

  “What I need is a piece of machinery. Well, that’s a lie. I need the last working bus in the town. It’s in the school maintenance bay. The problem is the school is infested with those zombies, or whatever you want to call them. We used to have more of the city under control, but those things are crafty and have found ways through some of my barricades.”

  “Infected freaks,” Sam said. “We call them infected freaks.”

  The look in Bob’s eye when he viewed the tiny, ebony-skinned girl gave Abraham the creeps. “She’s with me,” Abraham said, looking at Bob.

  “We haven’t seen too many folks with dark skin. Or girls.”

  “Have you seen black folks?” Sam inquired.

  Abraham wished the teenage girl would shut up. But she needed answers all the same. Her brother was missing and most likely headed through the town at one time.

  “I saw many faces. But only one colored man. He said he was traveling to Denver a while back. He didn’t say much else. He had a few Mexican dudes with him and was in a hurry. They gave us some good weed and we gave them a little advice.”

  “Was it Tyrell?”

  “In this business, it’s better not to know names. Why? Was he a friend of yours?” Bob licked his cracked lips and rested back one of his hands against the top of the chair.

  “My brother,” she said, rubbing at her weight lifting gloves.


  “That’s enough, Sam,” Abraham said, cutting the girl off before she could speak another word. He didn’t want Bob to have any information on them. He looked back to Bob and squinted. “Why do you need a bus?”

  “My boys and I are going to fix it up into an armored vehicle and start looking for survivors. My town needs a lot of work, and we need hard-working people to help make this place safe. I told you the mountains are mine.”

  “Nothing is safe,” Hunter said. “The infected freaks are everywhere.”

  Bob turned his head left and then right. “Really, you think so, boy? I don’t see any of the infected things inside my garage.” He stared at the boy hard and then snickered as if he were only playing.

  Abraham wasn’t surprised when Hunter started to speak. The boy loved to argue. He must have thought he was invincible. Abraham wanted to tell him nothing was safe in the new world. Instead, he hushed his grandson and fought the bad feeling swarming his mind. Bob was a bomb waiting to explode. One second the man was hot, the next cold. He would never admit it, but Abraham was starting to think his granddaughter was right. We should have gone elsewhere.

  “I’m only playing with your grandson, Abraham, settle down.”

  Bullshit, Abraham thought. He knew Bob didn’t give a shit about his grandson. “Give me a half hour to get my wits, and then I’ll get your damn bus.”

  Abraham’s courage forced Bob to reveal his ugly teeth. “Abraham, my friend, you’re in no condition to fight. If you go, you won’t come back. Look at you, gramps. You can’t sit up straight in that chair. You’re not that young soldier I once served with.”

  “I won’t put my grandchildren in danger.”

  Bob’s smile faded. Abraham figured Bob must have been upset that his generosity wasn’t being repaid. “Sam, you’ll go with Scotty and bring back the bus. We need someone small to wiggle through some of the ductwork into the school’s maintenance bay. It’s locked from the inside and the door is reinforced. You’ll find it right through the gym.” Bob’s tone left no room for argument.

  “Hell no,” Abraham barked, touching bruised ribs. “I’m still a tough son of bitch.”

  “You’re too big, and way too old. Besides, Sam isn’t one of your grandchildren.” Bob raised his hooked nose and appeared to take in a fragrant smell. This was puzzling because the garage smelled like a years’ worth of backed-up waste. “Sam isn’t yours, is she?” Bob asked, crossing his eyes back to the bald mechanic.

  “No,” Abraham admitted.

  “I’m smaller,” said Emme. “I could glide through the vents.”

  “Yes, that would be most welcomed. All she would have to do is slide through the vent and unlock the door on the other side of the reinforced wall. But you’re his grandchild.”

  “I’ll go,” Sam said, stepping forward. Sam was a smart girl. She had been around criminals all her life and Abraham was thankful for her courage. But did the teenage girl really understand how men like Bob operated? If she didn’t go, bad shit was going to happen regardless. So Abraham wasn’t going to reason with her. Does this make me a bad man?

  “But I can take Jeffery with me,” Emme contended. “He will protect me.”

  Abraham wasn’t the least bit amused by her naming the wild boy with mental health issues. “I could,” she added, rolling her eyes.

  “Why did you name him?” Abraham asked.

  She smiled and pulled out a pair of dog tags nested around Jeffery’s neck. “It says Jeffery Miller.”

  Abraham blew out his cheeks.

  Bob closed his green eyes and must have imagined something pleasing. Was he plotting something for Sam? Abraham didn’t like the direction the journey was heading.

  “The small boy, is he some sort of retard?” Bob made a fist and pressed it against his jawline.

  “How dare you,” Emme snapped, ruffling Jeffery’s messy black hair. “I should go. Sam is too damn big.”

  Sam rolled her eyes.

  “You’re twelve years old,” Abraham replied. “You will not go.”

  “So, I shot the shit out of the infected freak in the lobby.” Emme crossed her arms and canted her head.

  Shit, Abraham thought wishing he hadn’t cussed around the girl so much. “Watch your mouth, little girl.” He turned his attention back to Bob. “How far is the school?”

  “It’s a nice walk. I would send more of my own men, but they’re all too big to fit through the vent.” He threw up his hands and smiled. “Besides most of them will spend the rest of the day killing the infected freaks you brought into our safe zone.” Bob glared at Abraham with his piercing green eyes. They were not the eyes of a man he could trust. The drumming of another infected freak at the considerable metal door was followed by another blast from a gun. “So what’s it going to be?”

  “Okay,” said Abraham, realizing he had no choice. He reached over and shook Bob’s icy hand. It was worth all the promise in the withered world. At least to Abraham it meant something. Bob smiled too much, and he wondered what the old mechanic was working behind the scenes.

  “When are we leaving? After the storm?” Sam asked.

  “Best to travel in the heart of the storm. It messes with their senses,” the bald man muttered, never taking his bold eyes off Bob. They were talking without words, but Abraham didn’t know what they were saying. “I’m Scott by the way.”

  “But I’m hungry,” she whispered. Everyone heard her stomach growl.

  “We can’t send you off to school without a meal,” Bob replied. He appeared to undress the girl with his eyes. “The storm usually doesn’t peak until after dark anyways.”

  “As long as I get to eat first,” Sam said like a true con artist. If Abraham could see through her, so could Bob.

  “See? That wasn’t too hard.” Bob stepped toward a backdoor and cracked it open. “Scotty, take them upstairs to the guest rooms and give the old man something to wash himself with.” He stepped through into the dim light and slammed the door closed. Abraham finally realized that maybe Bob wasn’t the right person to visit during the apocalypse. But what choice did he have?

  V

  Samantha crouched next to the eroded shell of a truck. Scott Mahoney made her nervous, and it wasn’t all in a bad way. The proud mechanic wasn’t bald for lack of hair growth. He was the kind of man who shaved his head along with his face every morning. His muscular physique made him look like a bad boy, and Sam had enough bad-boy boyfriends in the past to make her sick. Still, he was the finest thing she had seen in years. She thought of Hunter and told herself he was only a boy. She needed a man. It was ignorant, but an unmistakable emotion that pained her confusing thoughts. The pit of her stomach was locked in a vice of teenage confusion and anxiety. Abraham told her not to trust the mechanics. However, she couldn’t take her eyes off his pulsating muscles as he remained crouched next to the vehicle.

  He’ll keep me alive, she thought, swallowing hard. Scott was a durable man, and that meant something in this world. She almost liked the way he looked at her with no love or enthusiasm. Scott was all business. The first part of their journey was without incident across several abandoned blocks of the ruined town. Now they were about to head into infected territory. She would see what this savage man was capable of against the freaks.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “Am I ready?” she repeated, trying to be curt with him, but the man didn’t seem to care. “I mean, yes.”

  He lifted his hunting knife tethered to an extensive metal rod and squeezed his forearm. Then he let out a trifling breath and darted to the next vehicle in the obscure parking lot stuffed with shadows. He looked back and waved his massive hand for her to follow. Scott made it look easy as he weaved ahead. Why then, when she pushed off the ground, did she feel awkward? Get it together, girl.

  Sam wobbled through the metal shells of what used to be working cars, kicking rocks and anything else that littered the asphalt. She was no scientist, but it wasn’t hard to imagine that some of Bo
b explosives must have leveled the area in the past. It was a short run, but it felt long and tiring like a marathon. The whisking clouds blocked Red Dead, and for that, she was grateful. However, the terrible buzzing sound rode hard through the shrill night.

  “We don’t have much time,” he whispered back to her.

  Scott wore a manly scent that lingered out of his every pore and continued to excite Sam’s senses. She watched him scan the distance between the school and the parking lot, infatuated. Then she wondered if his strong scent was going to attract the infected freaks. Sweating in the cold breeze wasn’t her ideal look, but she couldn’t help herself. For reasons unknown, she felt unpleasant. This isn’t a date.

  Still, she joined Scott at the front of the vehicle and slipped somewhat out of her gray coat. It was chilly on this autumn night, but the silly girl wanted to look her best for this handsome stranger. After a few seconds, she shrugged the comfortable coat back on and tried to gather herself in a realistic manner. For some strange reason she found herself thinking of Hunter again.

  Then and there, a loud buzzing erupted behind them. It brought the tiny hairs on her neck up in a hurry. “Were trapped,” she said.

  “Shut up,” he replied, crawling ahead. He slithered up like a snake under a worn bus, rusted out through the years. Sam trailed closely, afraid of being left behind. In front of her, a series of swollen ankles in broken heels bopped across the asphalt. The rotten odor stung Sam’s eyes as the freak kept pace around the vehicle. The whines of the monsters in the distance increased tenfold and drew the freaks attention. She felt better when the corpse staggered around another vehicle in the parking lot, responding to the call of its kin.