by L. T. Ryan
Turk didn’t. He barely heard the man speaking. Behind the group opposite him, the forest moved like a rapidly flowing stream. He squinted. His grip relaxed on the man. Faces emerged from the green and brown canvas. Before he could shout an instinctive warning, two men flew backwards. Their screams, high and shrill, pierced the quiet landscape. Turk imagined the gaping wounds and spraying blood. It wasn’t hard to do. He’d seen it before.
The other men spun around. They found themselves face to face with a horde of the afflicted. Some started firing. Others froze. They didn’t last long. Those things knew to descend upon the weak.
“Run, Sarah.” Turk cocked his arm back and drove the pistol into the side of the man’s head, letting him crumble to the ground. He turned and sprinted toward Sarah. When he caught up, he grabbed her hand and pulled her along. “You gotta go faster.”
“I’ll fall,” she said, panting.
“Can’t worry about that. I got you. Go all out.”
They raced through the woods. Turk knew those things were capable of moving at a high rate of speed, even if just in short bursts. He hadn’t seen it happen yet, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t. Turk had no intentions of being around when they did.
After a quarter-mile, Sarah stumbled and fell to the ground. Turk’s sweaty hand couldn’t hang on. He stopped, turned her over and assessed her for any injuries. Her knees, elbows and forearms were scraped, but not severely. Her breathing was ragged. She gasped for air.
“Do you have asthma?” he asked.
She shook her head in short bursts.
“Get the wind knocked out of you?”
She nodded.
“Easy, Sarah.” He lifted her up and kept going, moving at a fast pace. They needed distance.
“I’m fine now,” she said a couple minutes later. “You can put me down.”
Turk set her down. He leaned his head back and took a few deep breaths.
“You okay?” she asked.
“This kind of thing used to be a picnic for me,” he said.
She gave him a curious look.
“I was a SEAL for twenty years.”
She took a seat on a fallen log. “So that’s why you weren’t afraid.”
Turk leaned back against a tree trunk. “No such thing. The trick is controlling the fear. You let it take hold of you, and you’re a dead man. Or woman.”
“Well,” she said, “I was scared and I couldn’t control it. I ran ‘cause you said to run.”
Turk let the quiet pervade for a few moments. “What’s your story, Sarah?”
“My story? Like, my life story?”
“Yeah, but starting a week or so ago.”
She kicked her legs and placed both hands palms down on the log. “I guess we can start the day the world went crazy. I got kicked out of college last year. My folks told me to stay in Charleston. They didn’t want me back home. So I did the normal thing, waiting tables at two different restaurants, one at breakfast, the other at night. I saw the reports right before I left work. People started freaking out. I tried calling my parents, but couldn’t get through. I hung around for a couple days, but it was obvious things were worse than they first reported. I still couldn’t get through to my parents. So some guy offered me a ride on the back of his Harley. Figured I’d ride to Atlanta.”
“What happened that you ended up here?”
“We came across a group of those crazy people. You know the ones who got all sick and wanted to eat everyone else? Anyway, the guy I was with, he slowed down his motorcycle, told me to get off. I did. He went charging toward the group. No clue what he was thinking. Two of them took the brunt of the impact. The others piled on him. I hopped the guardrail and fled into the woods. Thought, well, hell, I’ll just keep walking west. As long as I kept the highway close by, I’d be all right. You know, that way I’d miss anyone traveling on the road, and the woods would provide me with cover.” She drew her legs in and crossed her arms over her knees. “These guys found me while I was sleeping. I managed to get away. Then you came along. Now here I am.”
Turk nodded and said nothing.
“What about you?”
“Same.”
She laughed. “Come on, I told you my story. It’s your turn.”
“Some other time.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously.” He paused a beat. “I’m not trying to brush you off. I need to focus. And we need to get moving again.” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “We’re gonna head that way for a bit. I don’t think those things are gonna follow us, but if they do, we’re better off not walking in a straight line. Plus, that’ll help us circle back to my bunker.” He walked over and held out his hand. “Ready?”
She nodded as she took his hand.
They walked quickly and quietly. Turk scanned the area ahead and to the sides. Occasionally, he tossed a glance over his shoulder. They were alone. At least, it seemed that way.
“Got any family?” she asked.
“Wife and daughter. You’ll meet them soon.”
“You sure you have room in this bunker for me?”
Turk thought about his brother’s room. “Yeah, we got room for you. Even if we didn’t, you think I’d just leave you outside or send you on your way to Atlanta?”
She shrugged. “You don’t know me from Adam. And you don’t owe me anything.”
“You’re coming. That’s the end of it. Let’s just walk.”
They continued on, passing through a broad clearing filled with high weeds. Turk glanced up at the darkening sky. They should have at least two hours of sunlight left, yet the sky looked black. Something bad was brewing over the Atlantic. How far away was the storm? Not much later, he heard the first rumbles of thunder.
“We need to pick it up,” he said.
“How much further?” she asked.
“A mile or two,” he said. “I’ve got a good idea where we are. Up ahead, the woods will thin out a bit. We need to stick to the edge, and we’ll find it.”
They pushed further through the forest. The clouds broke up for a few minutes, allowing the orange and red rays of the setting sun to penetrate through the trees.
“What do we do if it gets dark?” Sarah asked.
“Stop,” Turk said. “Won’t do us any good to try and find it in the middle of the night with no light.”
Sarah looked up. Turk followed her gaze. The clouds had swallowed the sky again.
“What about that storm?” she asked.
Turk shrugged. “We try to stay out of the wind.”
“That’s your suggestion? You don’t have some Special Forces trick up your sleeve?”
He laughed.
“What’s that?” she asked.
He stopped and drew his weapon. “What?”
“That smell. Is it smoke?”
Turk raised his nose into the air and took several short breaths. At first, he didn’t notice it, but then he felt the tickle in his throat and the sensation of watching a bonfire burn passed through him.
“What’s it coming from?” she asked.
“We need to find out,” Turk said. “If the woods are on fire, we’re in trouble. Come on, this way.”
He led her toward the woods’ edge. The smell of smoke grew heavier. A haze hovered in the air, thick enough that it became difficult to see the tops of the trees. The further they walked, the lower the smoke got.
Thunder cracked above them. A tree branch splintered and fell. Raindrops pelted the canopy of leaves above them. Light penetrated through the haze and trees, indicating they’d reached the edge of the woods.
“There,” Turk said. “Can you go faster?”
“Yeah.”
They ran the remaining distance. The ever-present smoke burned Turk’s lungs as he exerted himself. Instead of thinning out, it seemed to get thicker. They reached the last line of trees. Turk sprinted toward the familiar field. An orange blaze rose out from the ground. Dark smoke billowed into the air. Embers fel
l throughout the clearing. Scorched grass glowed red before fading to gray. The area hissed as raindrops fell from the dark clouds.
“What is this?” Sarah asked, clutching to Turk’s arm when she caught up to him.
“Home.” Tears fell from the corners of his eyes as he thought about his friends and family trapped inside. Without knowing the source of the fire, it was impossible to tell if they were safe, burned alive, or choking to death.
The winds picked up. The fire whipped around. Thunder and lightning drew nearer at a more consistent rate. The rain grew heavier.
Sarah pulled at Turk’s arm. “We have to seek shelter.”
Turk didn’t budge.
“There’s nothing you can do,” she said.
He turned toward her.
She grabbed his arms. “There’s nothing you can do, Turk. The storm will pass. We’ll come back after and figure it out. Okay?”
The rain washed the tears off his cheeks. He nodded, grabbed Sarah’s hand and led her away from the blazing inferno. Marcus had dragged them all to hell after all.
“About a quarter mile ahead there’s an old shed. We can stay in there. We’ll be exposed, but at least the elements won’t get us. Unless the thing falls down, I guess.”
They ran past the blaze. Turk avoided looking at it. Lightning clawed across the sky above and the thunder cracked, rumbling the ground. The wind swirled around them. They reached the weathered shed. The front door flung back and forth, banging against the galvanized steel siding.
Turk went inside, gun drawn, and cleared it. “Come on in.”
Sarah entered, pulling the door shut behind her. It didn’t latch. Turk threaded a rope around the handle and removed any slack. Fading light peeked in through the painted over windows.
“I’m sorry,” Sarah said, wrapping her arms around him.
Unable to avoid thinking about the probable outcome, Turk buried his face into her shoulder and cried.
Chapter 42
“That’s it, just beyond those trees.”
Sean followed Derrick’s outstretched hand and saw a faint glow through the tangle of leaves and branches. Shadowy figures lined the path. His mind matrixed them into humans.
“You’re sure no one is gonna be between here and that first guard?” Sean asked.
Derrick said, “Yeah, as sure as I can be.”
“All right. I don’t want to take any chances from this point on, so lift your arms in the air.” Sean ducked his head and pulled the MP7 away from his body. He pressed the barrel into Derrick’s back, between the shoulder blades.
“This your plan?” Derrick asked.
“Yeah, for now,” Sean said.
“Just don’t shoot.”
“Can’t promise that.”
“What?”
“Relax, Derrick. You’re my bargaining chip. I’m not going to shoot you.” Sean paused. “Unless I have to,” he added.
“Not funny.”
“Who says I was trying to be funny? Anyway, time to shut up and move.”
Derrick led the way with Sean close behind, trusting the man to lead them safely through the woods. He remained focused on the environment around them. Despite Sean’s apprehension, nothing stood out. Although he feared he’d lost his edge long ago.
They reached the clearing. The two men dropped to the ground.
“I want you to go out there,” Sean said. “You’re gonna say your partner is back there, hurt. He collapsed. You need help.”
“Okay. Then what?”
“Lead him to me.”
“You gonna kill him?”
“No, just put him to sleep for a bit.”
Derrick stared at Sean, chewing the inside of his cheek. His mouth twisted to the right. “All right. I’m ready whenever.”
“Go,” Sean said.
Derrick rose, walked to the left about twenty feet and then made his way to the man standing watch. Sean was impressed with the way the man staggered and stumbled, nearly falling as he reached the sentry.
Sean reached down and stroked Marley’s fur to soothe him. He kept his weapon aimed at the guard. If Derrick had plans to sell him out, he’d do it now. Sean moved to his left, taking cover behind a tree. This gave him a head start if things went wrong.
The two men interacted animatedly. The guard tried to turn and walk toward the camp. Derrick grabbed his arm, spun him and pulled him toward the woods. Even at this distance, in the dark, Sean could see the serious look on Derrick’s face. The guard bought in and both men headed toward the spot Sean had been hiding.
Sean crept from one tree to another, positioning himself closer to the ambush spot.
“Where’s this guy?” the guard said.
“Dammit,” Derrick said. “He must’ve ran. I swear he was here. Son of a bitch took me from his house all the way out here, through the woods and all.”
Son of a bitch, Sean thought.
He emerged from behind the tree, hidden in the darkness. The dog followed.
“Don’t either of you move a fucking muscle,” Sean said.
Both men straightened up.
“Hands up, drop to your knees, face on the ground.”
Neither man moved. They glanced at each other.
“For Christ’s sake, Derrick, it won’t take much to get me to pull this trigger. I can hide before the rest of your men can get out here.”
Derrick dropped to his knees and bent forward.
“Who the hell are you?” the guard said.
Sean rushed toward the guy. He slammed the stock of his MP7 into the side of the man’s head. The guy crumpled over. Sean lifted his weapon and drove it down again. Warm blood sprayed, coating his arms.
“I… I… I—“
“Shut up, Derrick,” Sean said, grabbing the man by his hair and pulling him up. “You lost every ounce of trust I had in you. If someone needs to die…” Sean glanced at the motionless body on the ground. “If someone else needs to die, it’ll be you. Now put your damn hands behind your head and let’s go.”
They stepped into the clearing and made their way toward camp. A couple dozen tents filled the area. Some were dark. Others were lit up. A quiet murmur filled the air. It smelled of steak and body odor. Sean’s stomach was conflicted.
Beyond the tent area, wooden skeletons rose out of the ground.
“What’re those?” Sean asked.
“New housing, prison, shelters,” Derrick said.
“Where’s your dad?”
“Straight ahead.”
They pushed forward. A man ran toward them, stopping when he realized what was going on. Sean held a finger to his lips. The man stuck his hands in the air. Sean gestured for him to get down on the ground. The guy did.
They climbed a set of steps. Wood popped and cracked under their feet. Sean’s boots thumped as he crossed the deck to the door. He turned so that his back was against the wall. He looked back at the area they had passed through. The guy still lay on the ground. There was no one else nearby. Marley took a seat at the edge of the porch, watching the camp.
“Open the door,” Sean said.
Derrick reached for the handle. “Locked.”
“Knock.”
Derrick did. A few moments later Sean felt vibrations through the wood. The lock clicked, the door cracked open, and a light shined in their direction. Derrick’s head blocked it out.
“What are you doing out there, son?” a man asked.
Sean pushed off the wall and drove his shoulder into the middle of Derrick’s back. They hit the door, knocking it open and sending Derrick’s father to the ground. Derrick tripped over the man. Sean lost his balance and stumbled. He tucked his right arm to his body and rolled off his side into a sitting position. The men were between him and the open door. He had to act before one of them got out and alerted the others.
Derrick’s father rose, glanced back at Sean and then headed toward the door.
“I’ll shoot,” Sean said. “And I won’t miss.”
&nbs
p; The man froze. He reached out and closed the door. The air turned still. The man turned to face Sean.
Derrick got to his knees. He reached out for his father. The man slapped his son’s hands away. Derrick crawled toward the wall. Sean felt bad for a moment, having shamed the man in front of his father.
“Who are you?” the man asked.
“Someone you fucked with,” Sean replied.
“I messed with no one. My guys went out to investigate a property we felt might contain survivors.”
“Survivors my ass. You came out there, guns drawn, ready to kill whoever got in your way so you could steal whatever they had.”
The man sighed, and said, “You misinterpreted what we were doing there.”
Sean shook his head. “Wasn’t me. My wife is the one who killed your men. All but one. I’m responsible, too.”
“What do you want now?”
“Give me your name first.”
“Phil.”
“Last name?”
“Do those matter anymore?”
He had a point. “Phil, your men took my daughter and my friend. I want them back.”
“Or you’re going to shoot me, right?”
“You, your son, every last person here if you don’t hand them over.”
Phil gestured toward the table. “May I?”
Sean nodded. He followed Phil with his MP7 as the man crossed the room, turned a chair around and sat down.
“Join your father, Derrick,” Sean said.
Derrick rose and did as instructed, taking a seat next to Phil. “I’m sorry, Dad.”
Phil lifted a hand. “It’s okay, son. I can see why this man overtook you.” Phil gestured toward Sean’s arm at the tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve. “What branch and how long?”
“Air Force, twelve years. Was forced to retire eight years ago.”
“Combat control?” Phil asked.
“PJ,” Sean replied.
Phil nodded approvingly. He reached his arm across his body and pulled up his sleeve. “Green Beret. Twelve years active, eight reserves. Left on my own accord about eight years ago.”
“What about the other men here?”
Phil shrugged. “A couple were with me back then. Most are locals. Doesn’t make them any less dangerous, or helpful.”