The Complete Lethal Infection Trilogy

by Tony Battista

  Tom flew down the basement steps into the small corner he’d made into his man cave and fumbled with the keys to unlock a wooden strongbox. Inside were two .22 caliber revolvers and a fifty round box of shells. He loaded both guns, stuffed one of them and the box into a pocket and looked around to see what else he might want to take, settling on a ball-peen hammer and a short pry bar. Back upstairs, his wife and daughter were nervously waiting near the front door and he gave one of the pistols to Liz.

  “I’m going out first, to make sure it’s safe,” he told them. “When I tell you, hurry over to the car, toss everything into the trunk and then get inside as fast as you can!”

  “Be safe, Tom,” Liz pleaded, throwing her arms around him and kissing him.

  When he opened the door, he could see George struggling against two infected who’d set upon him. Tom raced across the lawn and swung the hammer as hard as he could, crushing the skull of the first one and George was able to push the second away to shoot him in the head.

  “Thanks, Tom,” George panted. “After the way I threatened you…”

  “No time now, George! We have to get out of here!”

  “It’s too late, Tom, too late.” It was then Tom saw the ragged wound on George’s bicep. “They bit me. It’s all over for me now. Mary and Georgie are both dead. There’s nothing left for me even if this hadn’t happened.”

  George reached into his pocket and handed Tom a handful of bullets.

  “Take these,” he told Tom. “I wish there were more. Once I’ve done what needs done, take my pistol, too. You’re probably going to need it.”

  “What are you talking about?” Tom started to ask, but his friend brought the gun up to his head and pulled the trigger, collapsing lifelessly to the ground.

  It took a moment for Tom to comprehend what just happened as he stared at the corpse of what was once his best friend. The sickening realization swept through him and he turned away, doubling over to vomit in the grass. Looking back toward his house, he saw Eve with her face buried against her mother’s chest, sobbing uncontrollable as a wide-eyed Liz hugged her tightly. More gunshots, more screams snapped him back to reality and he bent to take the .44 Magnum revolver from George’s dead hand and yelled for his family to run for the car.

  Now, two weeks later, they had to abandon their car after a radiator hose gave out and they searched for nearly an hour to find another vehicle with the keys left inside. All the power in the area went out three days after their escape and two days after that the last of the radio stations went off the air except for an emergency alert giving directions to a safe zone called Camp Bravo. They were only a few miles away now, and Tom prayed that the military would have things under control.

  Chapter 7: Pursued

  Vickie woke with a start, confused at first as to where she was. It was mid-morning and even though it was a pleasant day outside, the air in the rafters above the garage nevertheless was uncomfortably warm and her hair and blouse were already damp with sweat. She climbed down the ladder and went to the overhead door, looking out the small windows set into it. Only two infected were in sight on the street, both slowly making their way to the south. Out the side door window, everything looked clear. Vickie searched the garage in hopes of finding food or water stored there, but had no luck. She did find a crowbar, which she deemed more formidable than the iron pipe and, with it in hand, opened the door and slid outside.

  Her stomach growled so loudly she stopped and flattened herself against the garage wall, fearful that the noise would draw the infected to her, but it was much louder in her imagination and none of them took notice. Her throat was parched, her lips beginning to crust over and she desperately wanted water. Above, the sky was clear, only a few, high, wispy clouds far up so there was not much chance of rain quenching her thirst. With no other plan in mind, she started down the road, heading south, following the two infected from a distance, reasoning that they would be unlikely to look back unless she did something to draw their attention. At the next intersection, she turned left, toward the still climbing sun, remembering that there was a river somewhere nearby and thinking it was to the east. The thought of water foremost in her mind, she headed that way.

  She passed piles of bones with a few scraps of clothing still clinging to them. Not even piles, really, for many were scattered over the landscape as some of the infected had torn limbs off the bodies while others fed off the dismembered torsos. Her stomach turned at the sight, but there was nothing left to come up and she endured a spate of dry heaves before she was able to continue, waving away the persistent swarms of flies that seemed omnipresent anywhere near the infected or their victims. She walked for hours, trying to find an unlooted store but there were always too many infected nearby to chance it. She felt her body weakening, her strength falling away with every yard she walked. Once she had to run to get away from a small group that she failed to spot in time to avoid and she had to lean against a streetlamp pole for long minutes, hugging it to keep herself on her feet while her head spun and her vision blurred. It could not go on like this much longer, she knew. If she didn't find some food and especially water soon, she would be too weak to keep going and easy prey when they caught up with her.

  Reluctantly tearing herself away from the pole, she started on again, using a cane she'd found near one of the corpses to help steady herself. A few hundred yards down the road, the crowbar was becoming unbearably heavy and it slipped from her fingers to clatter on the pavement. She stared at it for a minute, knowing she should pick it up, but eventually moved on without it.

  The thing that had once been a road worker heard the noise and turned its head in that direction. From where it was, it couldn't see Vickie, but knew that a loud noise like that potentially meant food. It started off toward her, moving more smoothly and surely than most infected. He was one of the alphas and was much more coordinated than the others, thus much more dangerous.

  Vickie crested a small hill and suddenly saw the river ahead, not a quarter mile away. She perked up immediately and began moving toward it a bit faster than she'd been managing, tossing the cane aside as the prospect of finally quenching her thirst seemed to turn to reality. At least she was traveling downhill and the going was easier. With an objective in sight, she felt hope for the first time since she left the Peterson house.

  He spotted her on the road ahead of him and squinted, trying to bring her into focus. He perceived that she was young, fresh meat, alone and defenseless. The thought that she was anything other than prey never formed in what was left of his mind, but he did feel the hunger and he did sense that this walking meal would satisfy that hunger especially well. She was moving more awkwardly than he was, stumbling, so she was injured or weak. He began salivating and quickened his pace.

  . . .

  Jake slept until almost six o'clock. He did a quick check of the grounds and, after re-opening all the first floor windows to help the place air out, made a breakfast out of powdered eggs and spam and had a couple of cups of instant coffee. He went outside and, using the wheelbarrow, gathered the remains strewn about there and dropped them in the river as well. Then he collected all the weapons from inside and outside. Some few of them seemed to need only a thorough cleaning and oiling to be usable, but most had been used as clubs when their ammunition ran out and were fit only for spare parts. In all, he acquired two more serviceable AR-15s and two .45 pistols plus another eight rifles and two pistols to scavenge parts from, if the need arose. There were spent shell casings by the hundreds both inside and out, but he'd found less than thirty rounds for the rifles and a mere dozen for the pistols. Still, the sporting goods store had yielded more ammo than he could imagine he'd have any use for in the immediate future.

  Gathering up the tent canvas, tent posts and lines that hadn't been torn asunder by the infected or ruined by the elements, he stored them under a tarp behind the building, at each corner of which he found the downspouts leading into over-large barrels. Pipes led from each
barrel up to the roof and he surmised that a pumping system filled a reservoir up there with whatever rainwater was collected for the toilets and showers, saving what was in the water cubes for cooking and drinking. Inside again, he set about straightening up the dining hall, moving the debris from the broken chairs outside and stacking the intact ones against a wall.

  The upstairs rooms had shuttered windows similar to, but somewhat larger than those downstairs. Someone had planned for a siege at least or the end of the world at worst. The Colonel's room had a door that opened to a covered balcony. Jake found a pair of expensive binoculars on a table by the door and decided to scan the area up-river before making lunch. Movement almost half a mile away caught his eye. Focusing in on it, he saw a young woman stumbling her way toward the river and a bare hundred yards behind her followed an infected. Damn the luck, he recognized it as one of the alphas. He quickly ran down the stairs, grabbed a pistol and an AR-15 and hurried out the door, running across the bridge to the Hummer, latching the gate behind him. The engine started right up and he gunned the motor, racing up to the access road toward the main road into town.

  . . .

  Vickie thought she heard a noise behind her and turned to see the infected only twenty yards away. Fumbling, she grabbed for the .38 in her back pocket, lifting it and firing when the beast was nearly at arm's length from her. The slug tore through its left shoulder and it turned slightly before slamming into her, knocking her to the ground. The revolver flew from her hand, landing a few feet away, but it might as well have been on the other side of the planet because she looked up to see the creature looming over her, teeth bared, a bestial growl issuing from bloated lips. It couldn’t use its left arm, but even with the use of both of hers, she was barely able to hold it back. Drool trickled from its mouth onto her cheek and warm, foul breath in her face sickened her. She was losing the battle and ragged, yellowed teeth still bearing bits of flesh from its last victim, moved inexorably closer to her face. The last thing she remembered was that the side of the thing's head seemed to explode, and then it collapsed upon her with all its weight and she blacked out.

  . . .

  Jake grabbed the infected by the shoulder and hurled it away from Vickie. She was motionless, but still breathing. Firing the rifle six more times, he brought down four more infected who were getting too close for comfort. He glanced at the cheap snub nose on the ground, then ignored it, slinging the rifle and picking the fallen girl up in his arms. Once he placed her in the back of the Hummer, he drove a circuitous route back to the island, losing any curious infected that followed.

  He carried her across the bridge, through the gate and the door on up to the big bedroom, setting her gently down on the bed, and then brought in towels and hot water from the bathroom. He pulled off the filthy clothes she was wearing and carefully examined her body for any bite marks, incidentally reminding himself of how long it had been since he was this close to a living, breathing woman. A very attractive one he realized after washing the dirt and filth from her face.

  Her clothing went into a black garbage bag and he covered her with a blanket. Then he went to the kitchen, heated some soup on the stove and brought it and a pitcher of water back up with him. Taking a cool, wet washcloth, he dabbed her cheeks, her forehead and parched lips, talking softly to her until she began to stir. She suddenly opened her eyes and he saw a look of sheer panic on her face.

  "Easy! Easy, now! You're safe. They can't get to you in here," he soothed. "Here, take a drink of water, then I've got some soup for you. You look like you're probably hungry."

  Vickie slowly calmed down, eyes darting around the room and over his face. He handed her a coffee cup about a third full of water and she gulped it down gratefully.

  "Don't drink too fast. I'll give you a bit more now, but swish it around in your mouth first before you swallow. I've plenty of water so you don't have to gulp it down in a hurry. Yeah, that's better."

  When she'd finished the second cup, he handed her another full of chicken soup and she took a couple of sips, and a couple more, continuing until it was empty, then handed it back and just looked at him, eyes wide more in wonder now than in terror.

  "My name's Jake," he told her after a few moments of awkward silence. "I spotted you out there on the road. Saw that thing behind you and figured you could use a little help. What's your name?"

  "I'm... Vickie," she answered hesitantly. Then it suddenly dawned on her that she was naked beneath the blanket and she grabbed the edge with both hands, drawing it up under her chin. "Where are my clothes?" she demanded.

  "Yeah, I had to throw them out. They were pretty filthy and smelly and I had to check you for bites; I can't afford to take any chances. But I told you you're safe now, and I meant it. I can fix you up with some clean clothes, though they won't fit well, and there's a place you can take a shower. And you can lock the door from the inside," he added at the look she gave him.

  "What is this place?" she asked, relaxing slightly.

  "Don't really know. I just found it myself yesterday. I had a safe place in the suburbs before that, but I guess it wasn't as safe as I thought. That whole area's overrun now, so I looked for a new place. After you wash up and get dressed, I'll tell you more about it."

  . . .

  The hot shower was a little slice of heaven to Vickie, but she nervously hurried through it, not yet trusting being naked in a strange house with a strange man, especially under the present circumstances. She found a private's fatigue uniform laid out on the bed for her when she unlocked the bathroom door. It was several sizes too big, but clean and fresh. The boots were ridiculously large and she found a pair of flip-flops to wear downstairs. As she descended the stairs, she could smell a delicious aroma and found that Jake had opened a canned ham and whipped up some canned corn and instant mashed potatoes.

  "I thought you could use something a little more substantial than that soup," he greeted her as she walked into the dining hall. "Sorry about the metal tray, but I seem to have misplaced the good china."

  She smiled politely at his attempt at humor, sat down at the table, and dug into her meal. Jake sat opposite her with his own food and studied her as she ate. Cleaned up, she really was quite attractive; shortish red-brown hair, nice tan, nice face, but she was rather thin in his opinion.

  "College student," he pronounced at length.

  "Up until eighteen months ago," she smiled sadly. "I'm a legal secretary now, or at least I was working toward it. I don't suppose there'll be much call for that occupation now."

  "Not for a while, at least. How'd you get here? I mean, on the road there. How'd you survive?"

  Vickie gave him a quick recap of the time she spent in Peterson's home and the ensuing events. He’d suspected there was no possible way she could have survived all this time on her own and her story confirmed that.

  "So what's your story, Jake? What did you do before everything went to shit?"

  "Well, "Jake began, "I was at the InterSteel plant just outside of town, working the night shift. It had been all over the media about the outbreaks in New York and Miami, L.A, Texas and New Mexico. It hit the plant like a bomb in the middle of the night. I saw some pretty awful things on my way home, and it seemed like most of my neighbors were already dead or infected, so I grabbed what guns and ammo I had, filled a backpack with food and bottled water and got out of there as quick as I could. I hooked up with a National Guard unit for a while, stayed at a couple of different spots near mid-town, and then I found a place to stay on the north side and holed up there until yesterday. I found this place later in the afternoon, cleared it and here we are. Still a lot of cleaning up to do and I haven't yet seen everything there is to see here, but it looks like a secure site. Some para-military types set this up, looks like. Pretty sweet set-up, too."

  "So, where are these para-military types? They just moved out and let you take over?"

  "No. I spent hours hauling corpses out of the house and off the grounds. I dumped th
em in the river. I figure some of them must have turned while they were inside the compound and things just went to hell after that."

  "So, what does that mean? Is this place safe?” she nervously fidgeted. “Can we get infected, too, just by staying here?"

  "Not a chance," he said, shaking his head. The original infection is over. This virus infected everyone it could in the first weeks. Anyone alive now is immune, unless they get bitten." Seeing the look on her face, he continued. "That National Guard unit I hooked up with? Guy with them was with the CDC, here visiting his family when the outbreak hit, but he was still able to communicate with Atlanta before the landlines and cell towers died. He told me that the general consensus was that the virus was short-lived, designed that way as a biological weapon; supposed to devastate an area and allow it to be easily overrun afterward, but it got loose before it was perfected, before a vaccine was developed. Anyway, that's the story as it was told to him. If you haven't been taken by now, you're okay, unless you get bitten."

  "Well, that's good to know, at least. Why didn't you stay with the military?”

  “Wish I could've. There were about two hundred or so of us altogether, about forty NG and the rest civilians. The fourth day, maybe two or three in the morning, there was a breakout. Someone in one of the civilian tents spontaneously turned and attacked the others with him in their beds. The survivors turned then and they made their way into a couple more tents before anyone could raise an alarm. Panic broke out. The troops opened fire on the infected and then started firing on the ones who'd been bitten or were even suspected of being bitten. Some of the people still had guns and began to shoot at the troops and everything just fell apart. I was lucky to make it out alive. Two other guys were with me, but one was hit by a stray shot and the other thought he could do better on his own. I like to think he made it.”

  “But, what do we do now?”

  "We survive. Eventually, we rebuild."