The Complete Lethal Infection Trilogy

by Tony Battista

  Tad Jamison would have cursed aloud if it had been only two months later. He was still learning what he was capable of, but one of those things was his ability to lead the lesser of the infected. This was his first full scale attack and he would learn from his mistakes.

  . . .

  Jerry and Alan found the missing couple two days later as they were making their way back to the house. They listened to their story and it was retold when they got home again.

  “They were definitely organized, no doubt about that,” Garth explained. The first group got between us and our truck, the second blocked the road the other way and a third was waiting to cut us off after we made the bottom of the embankment. If there’d been four or five more of them in that third group, we’d never have made it.”

  “I wonder if this was the same guy,” Martin speculated, “or if there’s more than one like him.”

  “I think we just have to assume this wasn’t an isolated incident,” Garth said.

  “It was the same area,” Martin persisted. “It has to be the same one!”

  “Look, a week ago none of us would have thought even one like that was possible,” Garth insisted. “I don’t think we can assume there aren’t more like him out there.”

  “But, how did they know?” asked Alan. “Did they somehow know the tanker would lure victims?”

  “I don’t think so. I think it was just luck of the draw. They happened to be nearby, heard our truck and took advantage of the time I spent trying to open those valves to set something up. If they’d had a few more minutes, I don’t know if we would have gotten out.”

  “We almost didn’t,” Larissa put her hand on Garth’s arm. “We were lucky the last group didn’t have time to get into a better position.”

  “So, what does all this mean?” asked Jerry. “Do we stick close to the house and quit going out on runs? Do we pack up and move?”

  “We stay,” Garth stated. “We keep going out, but we keep our guard up all the time. Someone stays on watch here 24-7; nobody goes anywhere alone, even if it’s within sight of the house. While we’re digging up or tending our garden, someone stays on alert with a rifle and everyone else wears a pistol. Rifles and shotguns should be kept loaded and easily accessed by windows and doors with ready ammunition nearby. This needs to be more than a house now; it needs to be an armed camp.”

  No one could find any reason to argue the point so they worked out a guard rotation and alternating teams worked on the garden and on placing obstacles to hinder any assault. This slowed down their progress on the garden and lengthened their workdays, but it couldn’t be helped.

  Eventually the earth was dug up, the seeds were planted, barriers and traps were emplaced and there was finally time to ease off a bit and start up the recon runs again. It was a bit late in the season to finish planting, but the group was composed mostly of city-dwellers and they didn’t really know what they were doing yet. Garth and Larissa took the first recon run to the south, finding lone infected and groups of three to five, but none showed any signs of organization and all were easily dealt with. The next week, Martin and Jessie searched to the east, running into increasing numbers of infected after covering the first ten miles. Jerry and Alan were scheduled to search the area to the north next and planned on driving west until they came to a north-south divided highway, but less than two miles out they discovered nearly three score of infected making their way in the general direction of the house. Instead of doing battle with them, Jerry drove past them slowly enough to entice them to follow and led them to the main road to the north. He then drove along it another three miles until he felt they were far enough away as to no longer be a threat. It was too late in the day now to continue on their original reconnaissance so they headed home to report their findings.

  Garth was convinced they did the right thing and planned to check that area regularly. In the meantime, Jerry still wanted to make the run to the north, hoping to investigate the smoke they’d seen off and on all winter. The next morning, he and Martin were getting their gear together when Chloe approached him and plaintively tugged on his sleeve.

  “What’s the matter, honey?” Jerry asked her. “Is something wrong?”

  Chloe shook her head, pointed to herself and then to the truck and looked up at him with pleading eyes.

  “Are you trying to say you want to come along?” to which she nodded vigorously.

  “Absolutely not!” Martin pronounced. “We don’t have time to baby-sit!”

  Chloe shot him a glance and held Jerry’s arm in both hands, squeezing and looking desperately up at him.

  “She hasn’t been off the grounds since we got here last fall,” Jerry said. “I don’t even plan on getting out of the truck, just taking a look around. She won’t be any trouble.”

  “This is stupid,” Martin insisted. “Why are we even talking about it? She’ll only be in the way!”

  Garth took Martin aside and said, “This is the first real interest she’s taken in anything since we met you people. It might be the start of bringing her out of her shell, getting her back to a normal life. Just take her for a ride-along, an hour or two, just to look around.”

  “Well, I don’t much like it, but if it’ll stop her being a useless dummy, I’ll give it a go. But the first trouble we run into, we’re heading right back and dumping her back on you.”

  “Fair enough. Just try not to act like such an asshole around her, would you?”

  Martin wanted to make a sharp reply but he was already looking at Garth’s back. Grumbling, he said he was going to drive and Jerry would have to take care of her himself. Chloe was delighted and sat between the two men in the cab, to Martin’s distaste, and smiled broadly as they drove out.

  Jerry kept up a running commentary, pointing out different things in the countryside, telling her stories about the places he’d been, venues he’d played. Martin was tight-lipped the whole time and never even looked at Chloe. They were a good forty miles from the house by road, though much less than that straight-line when Chloe tugged at Jerry’s sleeve again. He asked her what was wrong and she reddened and looked embarrassed. She tightened her knees together and folded her hands over her belly and Jerry laughed.

  “I think it’s time to pull over for a bathroom break,” he told Martin.

  “Oh, for crying out loud! Can’t she hold it?”

  “I could stand to stretch my legs, too. I had two cups of coffee before we left.”

  “Damn! Now that you brought it up, I have to go, too!” He applied the brakes and they came to a stop in the middle of the road.

  Martin got out of the truck, walked to the road shoulder and unzipped, relieving himself right there. Chloe looked all around but there was nothing but open space for at least a hundred feet.

  “Well, I thought she had to go,” Martin said as he opened the driver’s door.

  “She’s a girl. She can’t just whip it out and go wherever. She needs a little privacy.”

  “Oh, for the love of… So we’ll turn our backs and she can go behind the truck!”

  “Don’t be such a hard ass! I’ll walk her over to the tree line and wait while she goes and does her business, okay? Come on, honey, just ignore this sourpuss!”

  Martin shook his head and muttered under his breath as the two walked off. They reached the line of trees and Jerry waited, facing the road while Chloe continued into the grove. She’d been gone about three or four minutes when Jerry noticed the first of the infected coming out of the tall weeds on the other side of the road.

  “Chloe,” he shouted. “Come on; we have to go now!”

  Martin noticed the infected about that time and frantically waved for him to come back to the truck. Jerry turned and called for Chloe again and Martin shouted that he should leave her and get back to the truck. The infected were nearing the vehicle now and Martin got in and started the engine. He turned the truck around and shouted to Jerry again, saying he wasn’t going to wait much longer. Jerry heard Ch
loe scream and she came running toward him, tripping and falling twice before she got clear of the trees. A dozen infected were hard on her heels and Jerry grabbed her arm, pulling her along. More infected had crossed the road from the other side and were heading toward them, got between them and the truck. Still more began appearing up and down the road and Martin floored the gas pedal and drove off.

  “You son of a bitch!” Jerry screamed.

  He had a 9mm pistol with two spare magazines and a hunting knife on him. A second pistol and a shotgun were in the truck, now far down the road. Grabbing Chloe’s hand, he pulled her along, angling away from the tree line toward the road, heading north. He fired his pistol until it locked back on an empty chamber, then drew his knife, fighting his way through the last handful of infected between them and the open road. They almost made it through safely. While he was fighting off what he thought was the final attacker, another sank his teeth into Jerry’s shoulder, near his neck. He rammed his knife through the man’s eye-socket and broke free and they ran on. When he turned to look back, he saw the infected were already fighting over the dead he’d left behind and were no longer pursuing.

  They kept going until they found an oil pump with two storage tanks just off the road and stopped there to rest.

  Chloe helped him get out of his shirt and looked at the wound. It was deep and ugly; his shoulder ached and burned and the entire left side of his body was soaked with blood down to his shoe. He wadded up his shirt and pressed it over the wound, slowing the bleeding. His head was spinning; he felt weak and cold and knew he wouldn’t have the strength to get back to his feet.

  “It’s bad, Chloe. I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to go on by yourself now.”

  She shook her head violently and held his hand tightly.

  “There’s nothing you can do for me now, Chloe. I’ve been bitten; you know what that means.”

  Tears streamed down her cheeks and she continued to shake her head.

  “I don’t know where to tell you to go; it’s too far to go back to the house and I don’t know what lies up ahead, but you can’t stay here.”

  She held his face in her hands and pressed her cheek against his, sobbing.

  “Chloe, honey, if I don’t bleed to death first, I’m going to turn. Either way, I don’t want you to see it happen. Honest, if there was any other way… Go, baby, just go.”

  “I love you, Jerry,” her voice was the tiniest whisper but, right then, he thought it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

  “I love you too, honey. I only wish to God that you really were my daughter. For whatever time I have left, that’s how I’ll think of you. Now go; get out of here. Take my gun. Here, let me reload it.” Jerry ejected the spent magazine and slid in a fresh one, chambering a round. “It’s ready to use. Go on, take it. You’re going to be all right, Chloe, I just know you are. Goodbye, sweetheart.”

  Chloe kissed him on the cheek and got up. She stood looking at him for a long moment while he closed his eyes, then turned and started up the road.

  She didn’t know what she was going to do, where she was going to go, she just started putting one foot in front of the other, staring down at the road. After perhaps three quarters of a mile she heard a noise and looked up to see three men gathered around a pot over a small cook fire.

  “Well, looks like we got some dessert, don’t it?” one of them laughed.

  Chloe stared at them, not comprehending the danger until they started for her. She raised the gun and fired, but both the report and the recoil startled her into dropping it. One of the men rushed her and pinned her hands to her sides while the other two whooped and laughed.

  “No need to be that way, honey! We’re friendly; real friendly.”

  “Yeah, we’re gonna treat you real good.”

  Chloe struggled and the man tore at her blouse. She scratched at him and he slapped her hard across the face, knocking her to the ground.

  “I was gonna be nice to you,” he said, rubbing his face, “but now, I guess I’ll-“

  He suddenly stiffened, then half-turned and Chloe saw a gleaming feathered shaft sticking out of the back of his neck. As he fell to the ground, one of his companions let out a yell and Chloe saw a second shaft had gone through the meaty part of his upper arm and buried itself deep in his side. The third man was frozen in confusion and fright when, in a blur of motion, a dark figure swept by him and his intestines seemed to erupt from his body and spill out before him. He looked down in shock and horror for only a moment when a gleaming flash of steel tore across his throat, blood began to spurt, and he sank to the ground.

  A petite, black-haired young woman clad in dark clothing wiped her huge Bowie knife on one of the dead men’s shirts.

  “I’ve been trailing them all day,” she said. “I suspected what kind of men they were; I was just waiting to be sure.”

  Chloe’s eyes went from the knife in her right hand to the compound bow in her left and then to her face. The woman slid the knife into a sheath belted to her thigh and looked back at her.

  “Don’t be afraid. These were very bad men. They would have- well, never mind what they would have done. Are you all alone out here?”

  Eyes still wide with shock, Chloe rose up on her elbows and nodded, then quickly shook her head and pointed to the road behind her.

  The woman looked up and placed her hand on the pistol strapped to her side.

  “Who’s back there?”

  “My… my father,” Chloe’s voice barely squeaked. “He’s hurt.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Chloe.”

  “Hello, Chloe. My name’s Kim. Kim Nguyen. Come with me,” she offered her hand. “I have a car a little ways up the road. Show me where your father is and we can get him to a doctor. Dr. Vargas is a good friend and a very good doctor. Come on.”

  Chloe hesitated for a moment, and then took Kim’s hand and they walked back to her car a few hundred yards down the road, hidden behind a copse of trees. They reached the storage tanks only a few minutes later and Chloe bounded out of the car to go to Jerry’s side. Kim was more cautious, surveying the situation, examining the surroundings before she approached the injured man carrying a small bag from the back seat. Jerry opened his eyes and smiled when he saw Chloe, then frowned.

  “You have to leave me, Chloe. You can’t help me.”

  “I brought help,” she told him and Jerry noticed Kim for the first time.

  “I have a car,” she said. “We’re going to get you to a doctor.”

  “Too late,” Jerry shook his head. “One of them bit me. There’s no helping me now.”

  “You’re wrong,” Kim assured him. “You aren’t going to turn. The infection has mutated; a bite is only a wound now.”

  Chloe laughed and hugged her ‘father’ sobbing with joy. Kim reached into her bag, took out a small bottle and poured its contents over Jerry’s wound. He drew his breath in sharply between clenched teeth. Kim applied a dressing to the wound and wrapped his shoulder in gauze.

  “I’ll bring my car right up to you and we’ll get you inside.”

  Not three hours later, Dr. Vargas had an IV in Jerry’s arm and was stitching the wound.

  “Chloe, this is Phil Carpenter. He’s the… director of this compound. This is Ted Marsh and Susan Auden.”

  “Hello, Chloe. What is your last name, by the way?” asked Phil.

  “Carter,” she answered shyly.

  “Hello, Chloe Carter. You and your father are welcome here. Uh, what is his name?”

  “Jerry Moran.”

  “The name sounds familiar. Is your mother…?”

  “My parents are dead. Jerry isn’t really my father, but he is now. Do you know what I mean?”

  “I think so. That’s enough questions for now. Susan will show you where you can wash up and get some clean clothes and something to eat. We’ll talk later.”

  Chloe turned to Kim and took her hand in both of hers.

  “Thank
you,” she said and let Susan lead her off.

  Chapter 20: Hollington’s Offer

  “So, there were just the two of them,” Jake asked Kim after her return to the farmhouse.

  “As far as I know. The poor girl was exhausted and frightened and all she wanted to do was sit by her father in the recovery room. He was still unconscious when I left, but Dr. Vargas says he’ll pull through. We thought it best to wait until tomorrow to ask her any more questions.”

  “I’d certainly like to know about any other people in the area. It doesn’t make sense, the two of them out there on their own. There’s something familiar about that name, too; Jerry Moran.”

  “Jerry Moran?” Carolyn walked into the room. “A few years back I did a commercial shoot with a singer named Jerry Moran. Nice voice; he was hoping to make it into the big-time. I wonder if it’s the same guy.”

  “It’s possible,” Jake said. “What kind of guy was he?”

  “He was nice enough, I guess,” Carolyn recalled. “It was a commercial for a big hot tub manufacturer. I was in a bikini most of the time, but he was very professional about the whole thing and treated me like a person instead of an object, I do remember that.”

  “How come it seems like everybody but me has seen you in a bikini?” Pete complained.

  “You’re the only one here who’s seen me naked,” she purred. Then she glanced at Vickie and added, “Well, almost the only one.”

  “Okay, let’s not get off-subject here,” Jake interrupted. “It’s almost unimaginable these two were out there all alone and on foot. They had nothing with them except one pistol; no food, no water, no supplies of any kind. They had to come from somewhere and that means there could be others out there, too. I want to find them, find out how many there are, check them out to see what kind of people they are and maybe convince them to move up here onto one of the neighboring farms. If we’re going to build a community, this may be where it starts.”