by Jay Brenham
The glass in the chest-high door spider webbed and then broke with the second impact.
The infected man went head first through the broken window, his stomach and chest scraping across the broken glass. A second infected man, this one wearing a bloodied and torn suit, came pushing after the first.
Shit. He hadn’t realized there were two. The infected men smelled rank, like piss and shit and unwashed bodies. They panted heavily as they got to their feet, heedless of the damage the glass had done to their stomachs.
These infected did not snarl or howl or scream. It was as if they were driven by an unflinching desire to kill. Instead, all Sam could hear was heavy panting and sounds of men exerting themselves to their limits.
The two men did not attack each other but they didn’t seem to have a natural pack mentality either. They were more of a mob. He’d seen the infected move toward the sound of conflict and scream to alert others, other times they relied on the sounds of their prey to alert other infected.
Although the scene in front of him was reason enough to scream, Sam kept silent. The infected man wearing the suit scrambled to his feet, pushing off the other man. He charged toward Sam, gaining an incredible amount of speed in just three or four strides. Sam stepped to the side and at the same time sent the top of the sledgehammer into the man’s jaw, setting him off balance. The infected man fell to the ground like a tackled football player: not out of the game, just temporarily out of play.
Wasting no time, Sam moved toward the first man he’d seen, who was now charging on his hands and feet, running like a dog. His stomach had been cut deeply by the shards of glass and intestines hung from the opening like long pieces of kielbasa.
There was murder in his eyes. Sam cocked the sledgehammer back and brought it down between the man’s shoulder blades with as much force as he could muster. The man fell but did not die. His spine was shattered but he continued to struggle in an effort to grab hold of Sam.
Sam turned around in time to see the suited man get back to his feet and charge. This time, Sam took the opportunity to do some lasting damage. He stepped towards the business man, striking the hammer into his chest; he missed the heart but damaged the right arm, shattering the rib cage and causing the arm to go limp. Then he spun around and sent the sledgehammer hurtling into his neck. Both infected were down but not necessarily dead. The business man registered that its vertebrae were crushed no more than the other realized its intestines were hanging from its stomach. It continued to bite as if feeding was its only desire.
Sam finished them both off with a swing of his sledgehammer, sending the cold metal head of the hammer into the base of their necks.
He ran to the front yard, not giving the killing a second thought. There was no time for somber thoughts or moral arguments about right and wrong. More infected may have heard the struggle and he hurried toward the front of the house to start the pickup truck.
The sun brought its heat with it and he knew that in a matter of hours the mercury would press itself to over 100 degrees. The inside of the pickup already felt warmer than the outside air. He slid the key into the ignition and felt the engine turn over. The gas tank was filled halfway. Good enough.
As he turned out of the driveway and onto his road, those good thoughts quickly disappeared. Sam saw what he feared most: sprinting along the center line in his direction was another infected. It was the middle-aged bald man Sam had seen an hour earlier. The man had heard the car start or the sounds of the fight. Either way, he’d seen Sam now, and wouldn’t give up until one of them was dead.
Sam had never been in an accident more significant than a fender bender and he didn’t know how much damage an impact with a person could do. Just to be safe as he picked up speed he swerved to the left and then back towards the infected so the impact occurred on the driver’s side just above the wheel well. The infected man spun and fell to the ground.
Sam pulled up to his house and threw the pickup into park, exiting the vehicle with his sledgehammer in hand. He motioned for Gloria to come out and load the truck, then went to take care of the infected laying in the middle of the road. The other two hadn’t made a sound but the middle-aged man screamed out like a wild animal. Why, he didn’t know. Perhaps it was the injury or maybe it was the fact that they were so far away from each other.
He didn’t care. All he cared about was getting to a boat as fast as he could. Sam ran at the infected man with the head of his sledgehammer behind him like a croquet mallet. He brought it into the infected man’s face, collapsing his features around the end of the hammer. Adrenaline surged through his body, but he forced himself to remain alert and not develop tunnel vision.
As Sam dispatched the infected, Gloria ran out of the front door with the crowbar in hand, slamming the front door as she came out. She grabbed the bags and threw them in the back. Two trips and the truck was loaded.
Sam ran back to the idling vehicle and gave one last glance towards Jack’s house. Jack waved from the top window, clearly ready to help if called upon. Sam shot him the thumbs up, along with the silent promise of returning.
Gloria closed the passenger door and gave Sam a single nod.
They drove off toward the closest marina, hoping to find a boat that would take them to safety.
CHAPTER FOUR
Turning left, they drove past the wrecked sports car at the end of the street and Sam said a silent thank you to the man who had driven it. The thought of the loaded gun had given Sam the confidence to get out of the house and survey the road. He might not have even attempted an escape without it.
The sun peeked over the horizon, bringing with it a hint of the day’s heat. Immersed in his immediate problems, Sam barely noticed the warmth. They needed a boat with keys left inside or even a canoe to float to the other side of the river. Hell, he could probably even swim the channel. These smaller rivers were nowhere near as intimidating as the body of the Chesapeake Bay and the water was warm this time of year. But he didn’t want to swim if there was a chance that people across the river had been infected too; nothing like exhausting yourself on a long swim only to find a welcoming party of vicious monsters waiting for you.
A flash of movement made Sam glance in the rear view mirror.
“Son of a bitch.”
“What is it?” Gloria asked.
“A group of infected probably thirty strong are behind us. If I don’t lose them soon I’ll lead them straight to the marina.”
Gloria shook her head. “I can’t believe how many are following us already.”
The road in front of them was spotted with vehicles that had been abandoned or, in some cases, wrecked. Increasing their speed would be dangerous but he had little choice. Sam swerved, giving a wrecked commuter bus a wide berth. He’d hoped to do some scavenging—who knew, maybe he’d find another weapon like he had at the sports car—but there would be no chance for that now.
As he approached the intersection of Terminal Boulevard and Hampton Boulevard, Sam hazarded a glance down the road.
“See something?” Gloria asked, swiveling to look too.
“I was just thinking about the ships. I wish I could see how many made it out.” He took a sharp left and headed away from the base.
A mile later, Sam pulled into the yacht club, running the truck through the grass traffic circle and between two buildings. He hopped out of the pickup, taking the key with him as he went. He closed the door softly, trying not to alert anyone to their presence, but Gloria was not as cautious. Sam cringed as her door slammed shut.
“Keep it down,” he whispered sharply.
“Sorry,” she mouthed.
Sam shrugged one shoulder. Whatever the damage, it was done.
There were six piers. The smaller boats were kept closer to the road, while the larger yachts were tied farther out, where the water was deeper. Sam paused, thoughts racing. The smaller boats were more likely to have keys left inside but the larger yachts were more likely to have a small canoe or inflatable boat sit
ting on the back. They didn’t have long to find something. The infected would overrun them if they took their time.
Sam looked at Gloria. “There are a lot of boats. If we split up we can cover more territory.”
“If we split up we can’t help each other.” She looked over her shoulder reflexively.
“Alright then. We’ll stick together,” Sam said, eying the big yachts. They were something he would never have been able to afford; today, though, the price tag was no object. “Let’s start with the big boats.”
They started toward the pier. Sam carried his sledgehammer and Gloria picked up the crowbar and a nylon rope.
“What’s with the rope?” Sam asked.
“Just keep a look out and you’ll see,” she said.
Gloria stopped at the beginning of the pier and tied one end of the nylon rope to a pylon before stringing it to the pylon on the opposite side to create a tripwire. When she was finished the first fifteen feet of the dock looked like a game of cat’s cradle. It would only buy them a few seconds if they were pursued, but from what Sam had seen, they would need every second they could get.
Time seemed to pass very slowly as they walked down the dock. Sam held his sledgehammer on his shoulder, ready to strike. A seagull sitting at the end of the pier became startled and flew off. There was plenty of life left, Sam thought, just not uninfected human life. He hadn’t seen any infected animals, come to think of it. He wasn’t sure whether that was because the animals were too good at getting away or if the infected people didn’t bother pursuing them in the first place. Or maybe the virus could only transfer between people.
There were four yachts docked at this particular pier, two on each side. Sam and Gloria paused for a moment, listening for anything suspicious. Nothing.
Sam was leaning over the first yacht, a blue-hulled boat called “One More,” when he heard the sound of breaking glass behind him. He turned in time to see a man, obviously infected, bursting through the glass door of the yacht docked across from him. He wore a pair of baby blue bikini briefs and his chest was covered in thick hair, like a woolly mammoth. Sam had a split second to register that the man looked eastern European or maybe Russian, and that his choice of underwear marked him as being from another country. Gloria turned to run just as the Russian Mammoth jumped onto the pier next to Sam. In the next moment, the Russian Mammoth was airborne, this time coming toward Sam.
Sam swung, but the Russian Mammoth had too much forward momentum. The hammer made contact with the man’s thigh but Sam was knocked off balance and lost his grip. His sledgehammer skidded across the decking and fell into the water with a splash. Sam landed on his back and the creature sprawled across him, jaws already spread wide. Sam grabbed it by the head and neck, trying to keep its teeth away from his throat.
There was a flash of motion over the creature’s shoulder and Sam ducked just as Gloria brought the crowbar smashing into its skull.
Sam shoved the still twitching body to one side and got to his feet. “Thanks, that was—”
A second infected creature, this one a woman, ran out of the same yacht and leapt to the dock in front of Gloria. Gloria brought the crowbar up to her chest, one hand on each side, and used it to shove the infected woman away. As the woman fell to the side, Sam kicked her hard in the back, sending her into the water. The woman thrashed and attempted to grab the side of the pier but it was too far away.
There was movement at the far end of the parking lot and Sam knew that meant infected. The fight must have brought them to the pier. He pulled the Glock pistol from his pocket, tightening his hand around the plastic grip. The yacht the infected had come from rocked slightly as he stepped on board.
“I need to find another weapon,” he said.
“I’ll keep them off the boat the best that I can,” Gloria said doubtfully, “but hurry up.”
Sam stepped onto the fiberglass boat deck and grabbed an aluminum boat hook and turned to Gloria.
“They’re coming,” she said.
Sam jumped from the boat and began running for their car. “We don’t have time to take the lines off the pilings,” he shouted.
Gloria jumped from the boat right behind Sam. They would have to make a run for the truck and abandon the boat idea. The certainty of the working pickup was far better than a yacht that would inevitably drift into the shore and get them attacked.
Sam and Gloria had almost reached the end of the pier when five infected ran onto it. The infected were running over each other, almost working against each other, to see who could get to Sam and Gloria first. A few steps later the first infected’s feet caught on the trip wire Gloria had set, sending them sprawling over each other and the next set of nylon trip wires.
“Run around them. Don’t engage, just get to the truck,” Sam yelled as he ran down the right-hand side of the pier, careful not to trip on Gloria’s trap.
As Sam came to the end of the pier he thrust the butt of the extendable boat hook at an infected when it lunged at him. The infected grabbed the end of the hook and yanked. Sam let it go. There were sure to be other infected coming and the boat hook was not worth his life. This was how the infected worked: if you slowed down to fight, another would be right behind, ready to attack. The danger became exponentially greater the longer you engaged the enemy. Sam ran to the car, but glancing back he saw Gloria had run to the far end of the pier, away from the car and towards the water.
At that moment, Sam realized Gloria hadn’t answered when he’d warned her not to engage with the infected. He’d been too caught up in fending them off to notice.
Damn it.
Sam jumped in the driver’s seat, sliding the pistol between his right leg and the seat so it would be ready when he needed it. Some of the infected were caught in the trip wire Gloria had set while others swarmed out of the yacht club entrance. He stepped on the gas and drove forward, buying himself a precious few seconds.
Sam leaned out the window. “Swim across to that far point. I’ll meet you there,” he yelled.
Gloria nodded and hurled her crowbar at the oncoming infected. The pointed end sunk into the rib cage of a middle-aged woman; despite the injury she kept running towards Gloria. Gloria dove into the water just before the wave of infected reached her. They continued running, piling off the pier after her. The water churned with their haphazard strokes.
Sam didn’t have time to observe further, however. An infected man grabbed the tailgate of the pickup just as a female clad only in a pair of rainbow underwear launched herself into the truck bed. Sam punched the gas. The acceleration threw the woman back against the tailgate and Sam caught a glimpse of the back of her underwear. A unicorn holding a rifle was drawn across her ass. If things weren’t so damn serious, he might have laughed.
The little pickup tore through the parking lot as Sam aimed for a line of small shrubs that made a barrier at one end. When the pickup hit the curb, the infected man hanging onto the tailgate let go and skidded across the ground behind him. Unicorn Panties bounced high in the air, dropping back into the bed on her left arm. Sam glanced in the rearview mirror. Unicorn Panties’ arm was broken at a right angle, like a picture from a medical textbook.
The Tacoma crashed through the bushes, picking up speed the moment its tires touched the pavement. Unicorn Panties fell to the rear of the bed a second time when the vehicle accelerated. In front of Sam a crowd of infected blocked the road. They were coming from the direction of Sam’s home. Dozens of them ran into the entrance of the yacht club. Others noticed the pickup and peeled off in Sam’s direction. Sam hit the brakes and pulled right, skidding onto a side road and tossing Unicorn Panties out of the truck bed.
For a moment, Unicorn Panties was able to cling to the side of the pickup with her good arm. Then Sam heard a sickening pop as her legs caught in the wheel well and were ripped from their sockets by the turning wheels.
Unicorn Panties fell away after that.
Sam looked back to see her lying on her chest, rea
ching after the escaping vehicle with her good hand.
#
The green Toyota Tacoma accelerated as it headed across the small bridge that spanned the Lafayette River. The sun had topped the horizon by now. Sam wiped a line of sweat from his upper lip. What was he supposed to do now? He’d had a plan: get a boat and get across the water. He wasn’t looking for a yacht. He wasn’t looking to be rescued. All he’d needed was a small boat. And now he had nothing.
A glance in his rearview mirror showed infected less than 200 yards away, still chasing him.
From the bridge Gloria’s arms and head were just visible above the surface of the water as she swam to their meeting point. Could she even make it in time? Would their exit be blocked by the crowd following him? She was painfully conspicuous in the otherwise empty river. Infected might already be waiting for her on shore. What was the point in both of them getting killed? If he drove away now he could escape.
Thoughts of betrayal packed Sam’s mind, followed immediately by shame. He couldn’t control the first thoughts that popped into his head, but he wouldn’t let them stick and he wouldn’t let them dictate his actions. Gloria was depending on him; she had people waiting for her—children and a mother—just like he did. He was resolute that they would escape the city as partners.
Sam drove down the wrong side of the road of Hampton Boulevard, taking a left just past the Naval Facilities Engineering Command. He made a nice easy turn, nothing drastic. Breaking anything on the truck had the potential to be a death sentence. Turning left took him away from their meeting point. But if he’d taken the right like he was supposed to, he would arrive too early, giving his infected followers time to gather while Gloria finished her swim. There would be no escape if that happened.
He slowed down around a traffic circle, waiting for his pursuers. He needed them to see where he was going, to focus on him and not Gloria so she could come ashore safely.
He let the needle on the speedometer drop from twenty to fifteen and watched as the horde of infected turned down the road. What he didn’t want was for this crowd to make so much noise that it alerted infected in front of him, pinching him in the middle of two groups. Sam slowed down a little more, but didn’t come to a complete stop. No point in being a sitting target if a stray infected happened to spot him.