The first bite victim bled to death and hasty bandaging in the form of table napkins were applied to the waiter’s leg and the other man’s arm. By this time, the restaurant was virtually empty and Teddy hastily ushered Jerry toward the door. Outside they could hear the sounds of sirens wailing in the distance and people seemed to be rushing about blindly, as if in a state of panic. Jerry stared in disbelief, as one person after another was attacked and dragged down to the pavement by a crazed man or woman who bit and tore at their flesh while they screamed in terror and agony.
“What the hell is going on?” he shouted to no one in particular.
“Come on; let’s get the hell out of here!” Teddy called, pulling at his arm.
They had no idea where the valet had parked their cars so they ran along with the horrified crowd, peeling off down a side street after watching several people who’d stumbled and fallen being trampled.
“My car,” Teddy shouted, pointing to a gray Mercedes in a small lot halfway down the block, and they both ran toward the vehicle. More people were veering off from the throng behind them when they reached the car.
“Shit! The valet has my keys!” Teddy’s voice was filled with despair.
“Don’t matter,” Jerry countered. “Too damn many people clogging the streets anyway! We gotta get the hell off the street, somewhere away from the crowd!”
Their mad flight led them to the public library, an old building that stood at the top of three flights of concrete steps. No one else seemed to think of climbing those stairs but there was a small clutch of people, library patrons and employees mostly, at the top, watching the strange and terrifying tableau unfolding below them.
“Where are the police!” one woman demanded as they reached the top.
“Hell, I don’t know!” Jerry answered. “We need to get inside, out of sight and lock the doors!”
“Who the hell are you to be giving orders?” a man challenged but, upon seeing several blood-smeared infected stumbling, clawing and crawling their way up the steps, they all headed for the door.
Once the main doors were secured, a woman appeared, identified herself as the head librarian and said she’d bolted the back entrance too.
“Are there any weapons in here, any guns or anything?” Jerry asked her.
“Certainly not, this is a posted gun-free zone,” she answered indignantly.
“Well, that’s just swell!” Jerry told her. “We’ll read poetry to them when they batter down the door!” And, indeed, there began a loud pounding of fists at the entrance door.
“I got a concealed carry,” one man offered, producing a snub-nosed .38 from a belt holster.
“That’s good!” Jerry said. “Anybody else?” No one spoke up. “How much ammo you got for that piece?”
“Just what’s in it, six shots.”
“Well, it’s something, anyway. Everybody look for something to use as a weapon. Look for something that can be used as a club or for stabbing.”
“Stop it! Put those back!” the head librarian shouted as Jerry picked up a pair of heavy brass candlesticks from a table near the wall. “Those are library property!”
“I think I’ll let them eat you when they break in, you old bat!” Jerry came back.
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“Lady, haven’t you been following the news? How can you not have heard about this Somali Infection that’s been raging over three continents?”
“That’s absurd! To think that some Third World disease could infect America is ridiculous!”
“Good God, lady,” Terry put in, “we just saw two men in a restaurant trying to eat the other patrons! People out on the street right in front of this building are being attacked and devoured alive as we speak! Those people pounding at the doors are infected, too! Lord help us if they get inside!”
“No! No, no, no! This can’t be happening,” she answered in a faltering voice. “I don’t believe it!”
“Look outside,” Terry responded more gently. “It’s happening here and now.”
The woman stared wide-eyed, looking from one face to another until she finally seemed to understand that it was all too real.
The sound of breaking glass drew everyone’s attention to the front of the building, where arms reached in through a shattered window. Jerry beat savagely at them with one of the candlesticks, tearing flesh and splintering bones. He expected the arms would be withdrawn under such an assault but, though broken limbs went limp, the infected still pressed forward, fingers twitching, contracting, searching for human flesh to grasp. He gave up after a few minutes when another window shattered and everyone around him seemed frozen in fear. His shouted commands led everyone through another door into the library archive and office area and desks, file cabinets and a mountain of books were put in place to barricade the door.
“Are there any supplies in here,” Jerry asked the librarian. “Is there any food or water?”
“There’s a drinking fountain and a water cooler and there’s the staff restroom. There are a couple of vending machines and a small refrigerator where some of us keep our lunches.”
“That’s good! I want you to fill up every container you can find with water from the fountain and sinks, then plug up the sinks and fill them, too. There’s no telling how long we might be here before things settle down and help arrives.”
Teddy pulled him aside and said, “What are you talking about? ‘Help arriving’? You saw what it was like out there. You know what they’ve said on the news about everything falling apart once the infection reaches a heavily populated area.”
“I know; keep your voice down! The last thing we need is for these people to start panicking! We’re going to have to get out of this ourselves somehow, and we’re going to need to stick together to have any kind of a chance to survive.”
“Okay, as long as you realize the cavalry isn’t going to come charging over the hill to save us at the last minute.”
One of the women in the group put her hand to her forehead and took a couple of staggering steps, the man with the revolver catching her as she started to fall and easing her into a chair.
“Are you okay, miss?” Jerry asked her.
“I just feel a little dizzy. It’s from all the excitement.”
“Yeah, this is all pretty stressful. What’s your name, buddy?” he asked the other man.
“Jim. Jim Perkins,” he replied.
“Okay, Jim, would you mind getting her a cup of water? Thanks.”
“I know you,” the young woman said. “You’re Jerry Moran. My girlfriends and I went to see you at the East Side Club last week. You have a wonderful voice.”
“Thank you,” Jerry said. “It’s always nice to meet a fan.”
“I’ve got it, haven’t I? The infection, I mean.”
“We don’t know that. Like you said, it could just be all the excitement and tension overwhelming you.”
“No, it’s more than that. I felt hot and sweaty before I ever got here today. I tried to tell myself I was just coming down with something. I guess I was right.”
“Don’t think that way. Here, take a sip of water. I’m going to take care of you. Everything will turn out all right, you’ll see.”
“Would you sing to me?” she asked him, voice growing weak. “I’ve always loved the way you do Sinatra. Sing something for me. Please?”
Jerry took a moment to compose himself, then softly began singing “The Way You Look Tonight.” Halfway through the song, the girl closed her eyes and her body became limp.
“Is- is she dead?” Jim asked.
“No. She’s unconscious. Look, we need to restrain her. Help me find something to tie her down with.”
“What? Why?” Jim’s eyes widened in sudden realization. “She’s going to turn into one of them, isn’t she? She’s infected!”
“Keep your voice down! I don’t know for certain, but we need to restrain her, just in case.”
The young woman was tied to the chair using
belts and ribbons and packing tape and, twenty minutes later, her eyes fluttered open and she glared at the people gathered around her. Her lips curled back and a feral growl issued from her throat. She tried to lunge at Jerry, then at Jim, but couldn’t pull free. She struggled, jerking at her bonds, all the while fixing her gaze on the closest person, reaching her head toward them so she could bite.
“Let me borrow your gun,” Jerry told Jim, who slowly drew the revolver and handed it to him.
Jerry cocked the hammer and pointed the gun at the girl’s forehead. She desperately tried to reach his outstretched hand with her teeth and his vision blurred as the tears welled up in his eyes. In the last second before he pulled the trigger he realized, to his never-ending regret, that he didn’t even know her name. The report was deafeningly loud and the girl’s head jerked as the back of her skull exploded. Jerry handed the gun back to its owner, but he pushed his hand away and walked to the other side of the room.
Chapter 6: Together
Ethan was sitting on the roof of the maintenance building with a pair of binoculars watching a gathering of infected working their way down the road toward the substation. He made out fourteen in a loose group and another seven straggling along behind and to the side of them. This was the largest herd they’d seen in the three weeks since they moved into the substation. They’d be close enough to spot him in a few minutes so he climbed down and told Karen what he’d seen.
“I think if we stay inside the building and keep quiet, they’ll probably pass by us.”
“I don’t know,” she said doubtfully. “They seem to have a heightened sense of smell. They might decide there’s fresh meat here and try to get inside.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed their sense of smell. I’m going to go out with a can of oil and pour it around the cars and splash some on the sides of the building. Hopefully that will mask our scent.”
“Since you mentioned our scent,” Karen looked at him, wrinkling her nose, “if we’re going to be spending much time cooped up in this building in the future, I think we need to find some way to freshen up a bit.”
“Yeah, I guess you have a point. Next time we go out on a run, we’ll hit that drugstore for some more deodorant, hand sanitizers, wipes, that sort of thing.”
“Look, to be frank, you’re in desperate need of some soap and water. Deodorant alone isn’t going to cut it.”
“Well, you don’t exactly smell like rose petals yourself. I think staying alive is a little higher priority than smelling sweet and fresh. Alright, we’ll try to find a stream or a pond or something where we can get enough water to wash up.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
Grumbling to himself, Ethan carried a plastic jug of transformer oil out to the vehicles and poured half of it on the fenders and hoods and the ground around them, then splashed most of the rest around the building’s front wall, saving enough to pour around the gate. Back inside with Karen, they cracked open a couple of wire-reinforced, heavily frosted windows and watched.
The main body of infected passed by without paying any special attention to the compound, but one of the stragglers approached the fence and peered intensely through it. She put her fingers through the chain links and pressed her face close, sniffing and extending her tongue, eyes scanning constantly. She shook the fence a few times and continued her sniffing for a few more moments before deciding to move along, though she looked back over her shoulder a couple of times before disappearing from sight.
“What do you suppose that was all about?” Ethan wondered.
“She could probably still smell you on top of all that oil,” Karen said, moving to the far side of the room.
“I said we’d find some place to wash up, didn’t I? Christ, we’re not on a date, you know.”
“Okay. I’m going out with the binoculars to make sure it’s clear.”
“No, you stay put. I’ve had a lot more experience at spotting enemies while staying out of sight. If it’s clear, we’ll take the truck and head into the suburbs and maybe look for a swimming pool or something.”
Ethan scanned the area until he was satisfied that no infected were close enough to see them exit the compound and he and Karen took two pistols each, the M-4 and a shotgun and headed out. They found what must have once been an affluent neighborhood before the infection and backed just to the rear wheels into a driveway before getting out.
“Stay low and stay close,” he told her. “This is my area of expertise, a search and discover mission. Keep as quiet as you can.”
Karen nodded and he led the way along a line of hedges into the backyard of the first house. There was, indeed, a pool there, but the water was stained a blackish red and contained three partially consumed bodies. Two backyards away they found a second pool in much the same state but a third pool looked relatively clean. Ethan told Karen to remain outside on guard while he cleared the house and she nervously waited beside a small outbuilding while he went in. The next ten minutes seemed like an eternity to her, but Ethan finally emerged from the house carrying a laundry basket and gave her a thumbs up.
“Empty,” he said in a low voice. “No bodies, no blood. They must have gotten out in time. I’d like to think so, anyway. I found some clean clothes in one of the bedroom closets that I think might fit us and soap and towels and such in the bathroom. You go first and I’ll stand guard,” he said.
Karen took off her shoes and started to pull up her blouse, then looked over at Ethan. He wasn’t exactly staring at her, but neither was he making any attempt to avert his eyes.
“Maybe you should go first,” she suggested. “I think you smell worse than I do.”
“Really? You want to use the water after I’m done?”
“Okay, you’ve got a point. But do you have to stay right here? I mean, a little privacy would be nice.”
“You going to take a gun in the water with you? What happens if our friends happen to wander along while you’re washing your hair?”
“Right. Just try to be discrete, would you?”
“It’s not like I’m going to take pictures and post them on the internet. Let’s just get this done and get the hell out of here.”
Karen started to reply, then shrugged and turned her back and undressed. Ethan watched her, taking in the smooth curve of her hips, her slender waist and silken skin of her shoulders. He sighed and looked away just before she glanced back to see if he was watching. She stuck one foot in the water and shivered at how cool it was. Placing the soap and a washcloth at the edge, she slid into the water quickly, submerging herself and swimming across the pool and back underwater. Ethan followed every movement of her graceful swim, turning away only as she broke the surface again and shook the water from her hair. She leisurely washed herself before climbing out and toweling dry.
“Your turn,” she told him after she was dressed.
Ethan stripped his clothes off with no apparent discomfiture and stepped into the water. He had a lean, athletic build but Karen noted the scars from the shrapnel wounds over his back and side and down his right thigh with some concern. They didn’t seem to bother him though as he mimicked her movements in taking a lap around the pool underwater. She caught herself staring at him, admiring his tight, muscular features and forced herself to turn away, embarrassed. He took a bit less time than she had before he emerged from the pool, pulled on his pants and shoes and sat on a folding chair, bare chested, scraping away the stubble on his face with a razor he’d taken from the house while she watched him.
“Get an eyeful, did you?” he asked her point-blank. “I know what they look like. I’ve had to live with them for two years now,” and she realized he was talking about his scars.
“No, really. I wasn’t staring at your scars, I was just looking at-“and she stopped short, face reddening.
Ethan laughed out loud.
“Well, I was checking you out, too. Like I told you, I’m a guy. That’s what we do.”
“Okay, now that we both smell sw
eet again, let’s get out of here,” Karen mumbled uncomfortably.
Ethan rinsed the lather from his face, pulled on his shirt and she followed him to the corner of the house and he held his hand out, shoving her back.
“Infected,” he murmured. “Couple dozen at least. I don’t know where the hell they came from.”
They backed up, back into the yard and around the other side of the house where they could crouch behind a row of hedges and watch.
“This isn’t good,” Ethan whispered. “They seem to be going house to house, looking through the windows and trying to get in the doors. Shit! They’re in the yard next door!” He turned to face her, looking her in the eyes. “We’re going to have to fight our way back to the truck. Are you up to it?”
Karen swallowed hard, then nodded.
“It’s not like I have much of a choice, is it?”
“Stay close. If I go down, don’t stop, don’t try to help me. It’s all over after one bite. Just get back to the truck and get the hell out of here.”
She nodded again and Ethan rose up and began firing his rifle at the nearest infected. He dropped five of them with seven shots and Karen gave three more a full load of buckshot each before they moved toward the truck at a trot. Ethan switched to three round bursts and emptied his magazine, taking another six down and Karen fired her last two shotgun rounds and pulled out her Beretta. The M-4 jammed in the middle of the next magazine and he had to use the butt to knock two infected out of his way before he was able to pull his .45. Karen shrieked and he turned to see her arm in the grip of one infected and two more clawing at her clothes. He charged in, clubbing at the infected with his pistol until she was able to break free, then firing again and again until his magazine ran dry. She fired as fast as she could pull the trigger, taking two and three shots to bring down each enemy until Ethan shoved her roughly toward the truck and followed, backing away from the horde and firing into them calmly and methodically after slamming another magazine home.
At last, Karen climbed in behind the wheel and started the engine while Ethan swapped magazines again and continued backing and firing until he piled in on the passenger side and slammed the door.
The Complete Lethal Infection Trilogy Page 50