by Ray Wench
Mark opted for the house. Once there, he decided to break in. Most farmers would have a gun. The large house probably dated back to the turn of the nineteenth century. It had a wrap-around porch and three stories. Three outbuildings behind the house would offer good cover when he moved on.
Stopping at the side door, he took out his knife. Mark fitted the blade under the latch. The door swung open and he stared down the double barrels of a shotgun.
“You best get away from this house now,” a man said. He was tall and had a head of wild black hair and a full beard to go with it.
But just as Mark raised his hands and backed away from the door, he heard a car motor. He turned his head and saw the cones of light growing on the street. “Oh, shit.”
The farmer stepped forward to see what Mark was looking at. Without hesitation, Mark pushed up the barrels, twisted, and yanked the gun forward, out of the unsuspecting man’s hands. Mark stepped into the house and placed the knife under the man’s chin. With his foot, he reached back and closed the door.
They were on a small landing with steps going in both directions. Headlights turned up the gravel driveway.
“Damn! Look, you’re going to have to trust me on this,” Mark whispered. “If you make a sound we’re both gonna die. Move down the stairs away from the window.” Hoping it wasn’t a mistake, he removed the knife from the man’s chin.
As the man moved, Mark flipped the lock on the door. A car door shut. Someone approached to check the house. He stepped down the steps and pressed himself against the block wall.
“These people are killers. You don’t want them to see you.”
“How do I know you’re not the killer and they’re hunting you?”
“Because, if I were, I would have cut your throat with the knife.”
Someone tried the doorknob. A face pressed up against the pane.
“Looks deserted,” Mark heard someone say. Shoes crunching on the gravel announced the man working his way around the house.
“Is there any other way in other than the front porch?” Mark whispered.
“There’s a back door off the kitchen.”
“Is it locked?”
“Should be.”
“All right, just hold on a little bit longer. When they go, I’ll leave too.”
A few long minutes later, the car backed down the driveway and Mark let his breath out in relief. The man eyed him warily.
“Okay, I’ll get out of your hair now. Back all the way down the stairs.”
“Why?”
“Oh, geez, just do it, would you?”
“You’re gonna shoot me when I get down there, ain’t you?”
“Look, I’m gonna set your shotgun down and leave. I just want to make sure you’re far enough away from it that you don’t shoot me in the back while I’m leaving.”
The man hesitated.
Mark sighed. “All right, forget it. I’ll do it this way.” He cracked the shotgun open and pulled out the shells. Then he set it down on the stairs on the far side of the door.
“I’ll take these with me,” Mark said, putting them in his pocket.
“But them’s the only two shells I got,” the man complained.
“What? How do you have a shotgun and only have two shells?”
“Well, I kept meaning to go get me another box but I just never done it. Who knew the world was gonna get so crazy?”
Mark sighed again. “When I leave I’ll pitch them back inside.”
“You really ain’t gonna shoot me?”
“No, but those others wouldn’t have hesitated.”
“Who were those fellas?”
“A very nasty gang of scavengers and killers you never want to meet.”
“Why they chasing you?”
“They were trying to kill a couple of families who drove through their territory. I stepped in and stopped them.”
“What happened to the families?”
“Well, some were killed before I got there. The others, I hope, are safely hidden at my house. I led the killers away and now I’m trying to get back home.”
“Huh, well, come on up and sit a spell,” the farmer said, climbing the stairs past Mark. “You want a beer?”
Mark didn’t know what to do. The man picked up the shotgun and pushed open the door at the top of the stairs. “Well, come on. I ain’t had no one to talk to since my wife passed.”
Mark followed him into a large country kitchen. The man set the shotgun down on a counter and walked to a refrigerator. What Mark noticed, though, was the light inside.
“You have electricity?”
“Yep. Got me a windmill. Keeps things running pretty good. Got water too. There’s a pump and a well and it’s all hooked to the septic system.”
“No shit.”
The man laughed as he popped open a beer, setting it down on the table. “Got plenty of that too. Got some cows, pigs, and chickens so the shit does tend to pile up.”
“Sounds like you’re doing all right out here then.”
“I guess, ’ceptin my wife, a’course.” He sat down and took a swallow of his beer. “Well, go ahead, take a load off. I ain’t gonna bite you, leastways not now that I know you ain’t here to kill me.”
Mark drank from his beer. It was nice and cold.
The farmer asked, “So, can you tell me what’s going on out there?”
“I’m not sure myself. Something happened that caused people to die. Everyone thought they had the flu. Whatever it was, it killed them pretty quick. Until a couple of days ago I was beginning to think I was one of the last ones alive. Now I’m meeting all kinds of people, although most of them seem to want to kill me. I think I liked it better when I was alone.”
“Well, there’s something to be said for that, but every once in a while it’s nice to hear another person’s voice.”
“Yeah, I agree.”
“So how many others have you found?”
“Just a handful. Right now, they’re staying with me. It’d be nice to find enough people to create our own little community. You know, to look out for each other and share the work. The only large group of people I’ve seen so far has been this group of killers. Other than looking for women, they don’t seem to be interested in adding to their ranks.”
“How many you think there are in this group?”
“Don’t know for sure. I’ve shot a bunch, but they still have a lot more. A whole convoy of vehicles chased after me. I figure even with just two in each vehicle there had to be thirty or so.”
“Huh, most likely crazy city folk. They tend to be a little more aggressive than us laid-back country folk.”
Mark finished his beer. “Well, I guess I should be going. It’s safer to travel at night. Funny, I used to fear what came out at night. Now it’s the best time to move.”
“How far you gotta go?”
“Guess about three miles. I need to get there before first light. I want to thank you for your hospitality.”
“No problem. Stop by anytime. Just leave all the bad guys behind.”
“Yeah, believe me, I’d like to.”
Mark opened the side door and looked out.
“By the way, the name’s Jarrod.” The farmer stuck out his big hand.
Mark smiled and took it, putting the two shotgun shells in Jarrod’s hand as he did. “Mark.”
“Safe journey to you.”
“Thanks. Maybe I’ll see you again.”
Mark trotted to the far side of the barn. The sounds and smells of animals hit him. The thought of fresh meat made him smile and his mouth water. Perhaps, if he survived, he could find something to trade the farmer for one of his livestock.
Working his way along the buildings, he stopped at the last one. There, he took out his binoculars and scanned the fields in front of him and the road to the right. A lone car traveled the road at a slow pace. Evidently they hadn’t given up. If they were searching houses and roads, they must have found the car. Otherwise, they’d
still be looking for it.
He waited until they were well past him, then took off at a fast jog toward the far side of the field. On the other side was another subdivision, the houses larger and more expensive than his had been. For the most part, the rest of the way would be one development after another. Along the road, headlights appeared. He threw himself to the ground and watched. This one had a hand-held spotlight. Maybe the same car as before. The beam played along the ground. However, it wasn’t powerful enough to reach him.
But it did emphasize how important he seemed to be to them. Even if he made it back tonight, he would be looking over his shoulder the rest of his life.
Eleven
It took the rest of the night to work his way to the main cross streets. Erie, the street he’d fled on, ran east and west. Walden went north and south, a quarter mile behind his house. His house sat south and east of his current location. He was in a yard that backed up to a big chain pharmacy. The building sat on the corner across from where he needed to go. The Horde had busted into the pharmacy, evidently in the process of rummaging for anything of value that might still be left.
At least ten men went in and out of the store, and two cars blocked the intersection. To get across, he would have to go around. By his estimation and the halo of light over the eastern horizon, it was close to six in the morning. He needed to find someplace to hole up. It was too dangerous to move anymore.
Mark hopped the fence, heading north along the back of the pharmacy. He continued past a line of houses until he reached a creek. Sliding down the bank put him below street level, which gave him an idea. He kept to the creek and crossed under Walden Street through the drainage tunnel below. The creek bordered the back of the subdivision that was directly across Erie Street from his. Staying close to the creek bed, he made his way to a spot he thought aligned with the middle of his development and climbed the bank.
He hopped another fence and ran from one house to the next until he hit Erie, placing him about a quarter mile past the blockade at the intersection and two long blocks from his house. He just needed to cross Erie. However, from his current position and with the sun peeking over the horizon, he could see the people and cars down the street. If he could see them, they would be able to see him if he tried to cross.
Even moving farther from the intersection, crossing Erie would still be difficult. It was getting lighter. As he tried to decide what to do, a car turned out of his subdivision. He now knew they were patrolling there too. Could they be waiting for him? Did they know where he lived? And, more importantly, had they found Lynn and the kids? The smartest thing for him to do would be to hide in one of the houses until dark. However, Mark was hit by sudden fear for Darren and their guests.
Mark had to know for sure they were safe. He felt responsible for them now, as though they were his new family. He wasn’t going to lose this family too. Smart or not, he moved.
Mark backed up and cut through another yard, hopping the fence. He would have to get farther away from the roadblock until he was sure no one could see him cross. His mind preoccupied with thoughts of his new family, exhausted from his night’s journey, and his aching body, Mark didn’t pay enough attention to what he was doing. As he ran out into the next street, a bullet ricocheted off the concrete in front of him.
Startled, he jumped, then dove behind a small tree. Two men got out of a parked car and ran toward him. Mark cursed; he was getting careless. As more gunshots followed, Mark knew the sound would summon others. He had to move before he was trapped.
Trying to save his last bullets, he made a mad dash for the driveway of the house he was in front of. Bullets flew all around him, but they were shooting on the run. Mark ran around the attached garage and turned behind the house, running as hard as he could to the far side. Glancing around the corner to make sure his pursuers had passed, he jumped the fence and ran back out front. The two men had followed him up the driveway, disappearing around the house. Before they could figure out he had doubled back, Mark sprinted toward their car.
His heart fell as he pulled open the door and the keys were not there. However, in the back seat, he found two handguns. He reached over the front seat and grabbed both. Next, he ran to the side of the nearest house, which was two down from where he had been. There, he stopped to listen for his pursuers. He didn’t want to run into them. While he listened, he pulled out the magazines of both guns. One only had one bullet in it; the other was half full. They were both 9mms, so he slid the single bullet out and placed it in the half-full magazine, then dropped the empty gun in the bushes. Mark slung the rifle diagonally across his back and moved to the back of the house. Now that he had a weapon, it was his turn to hunt.
He steadied his breathing and glanced around the corner. Neither man was in sight. He waited, listening for any sound that would give him a direction to follow. Creeping along the back of the house, he moved closer to where he thought they might be. What he heard startled him. The two voices were behind him, back on the street.
“We know he’s here someplace. Let’s drive back and gather everyone up. That way we can search the entire section.”
They were back at the car, but Mark could not afford for them to get away. He crept along the side of the house until he had them in sight. When the driver had his back to him, Mark ran at him. Keeping low, with the gun in his right hand and the knife in the left, he tried to keep the man’s body between him and the second man, who was on the passenger side. Mark had just hit the street when the soft scraping of his shoe drew their attention. The driver, with the car door open, turned in his direction. Mark took two more steps and lunged, the knife like a spear, out in front of him. The man, unprepared for an attack, had placed the gun in his belt at his back. He fumbled for it and tried to fall away, but Mark got there too fast. The knife sliced into the man’s belly, doubling him over. Mark’s momentum pushed the man inside the car into a sitting position. Mark landed on the door frame and banged both knees. A sound of pain escaped his lips. He pushed it from his mind and focused on the second man.
The driver was still alive and struggling to hold the knife still. The second man had pulled out his gun and leaned in the passenger’s door trying to line up a shot. Keeping the knifed man between them, Mark shot the outside gunman before he got the chance to fire. While that man fell backward, Mark brought the gun down across the other man’s nose. He hit him three times before the man relaxed his grip and went still. Mark then finished the job with the knife.
Running through the man’s pockets, Mark found the key. He popped the trunk and dumped both bodies inside, relieving them of their guns first. He started the car and drove to the corner. This would be a very bold move, but he hoped anyone seeing the car cross the street would recognize it and pay it no attention. He pushed the pedal down and raced across the street entering the subdivision to the east of his. Glancing out the passenger side window, he noticed a car from the blockade moving in his direction. Someone had heard the shots and was responding. He had to hide before the chase car got there.
The street wound to the left, then back to the right, before coming to an intersection. He turned left because that direction would take him farther away from where his house was. If the car was discovered, he didn’t want it to be obvious where he was going.
The houses in this area had been stripped already, leaving many of them with open doors. He found one with the garage door up and drove in. Mark hopped out and yanked the door down. If he hadn’t been seen, the car and bodies should remain hidden for quite a while.
It was daylight now, but he wanted to keep moving. That meant being extremely cautious. Mark knew at least one car had seen him and most likely there was another patrolling the area. He didn’t want to stay in the house for very long. If he had to hide somewhere, he didn’t want it to be where the car was hidden.
First, Mark went to the window to make sure no one was in front of the house. The streets looked clear. Next, he went out the back door and
crept along the rear wall. Almost too late, he saw a car and jumped behind the exterior chimney. It didn’t offer complete cover; it only stuck out from the house about a foot. He held his breath, sucking in his gut to make himself as small as possible. Anticipating an alarm being sounded at any second, he held the gun ready.
The car drove past. If they’d been looking harder or in the right direction, they would’ve seen him. As soon as the car was out of sight, Mark turned and fled to the backyard. It was easier to stay hidden behind the house. Between the two houses facing the next street, he watched another car go by. He had to move before he was trapped.
Mark bolted for the houses across from him. He ran between them, opened the gate to the yard, ran to the rear fence, leaped it, and sprinted to the back of that house. Mark squatted, leaning against the vinyl siding, and waited while he caught his breath.
By his estimation, he had to go four or five more blocks before he got to the street that bordered his subdivision. Although he should lie low until darkness fell again, Mark was feeling a strange sense of urgency about getting back to his house.
Have I already lost my new family?
Once again, he moved to the side of the house, scanned both directions, then sprinted across the street.
Mark moved up between the houses and stopped behind a bush. The coast was clear so he ran once more and his luck ran out. One of the cars came to the corner as he dodged between two houses. The tires squealed as they braked hard.
With one hand on the top cross beam, he hurdled the split rail gate and dashed toward the rear fence. There were voices behind him. The next fence passed easily under him. As he ran for the house, shots landed around him. He made it to the side of the house and stopped. Waiting until he heard the fence creaking, Mark stepped out and shot the first man while he still perched on top of the fence.
The second man dropped to one knee and hammered shots into the vinyl siding, forcing Mark to duck back. Another car screeched to a stop on the street in front of him. He was about to be surrounded. Trying to find any advantage, he moved to the front of the house and saw one man head toward the far side. A second stepped out of the car. Mark aimed and took the second man down. Everything was happening so fast. Even though his heart was pounding, he felt calm when he needed to kill.