Miriam’s stern voice cut in. “Young lady, don’t you dare fool around with that. Is that clear?”
“Oh, mom. You’re the reason why we can’t have nice things during the apocalypse.”
Alissa shook her head.
Chapter Seven
Little Stevie sat at the dining room table with his Nintendo Game Boy when Steve came from downstairs. Archer lay curled up by the patio door, napping in the sunshine.
“What are you doing?”
Little Stevie didn’t look up from his system. “Playing video games.”
“Why don’t you go outside and play with Connie.”
The boy grimaced. “She’s a girl.”
Steve stepped over to the table. “I know, but she’s part of the family now.”
“Great. I have another sister.”
Steve folded his arms across his chest. “Connie is lonely and scared, and she’s worried about her brother. If you make friends with her and take her outside to play, it might take her mind off things for a while.”
“Do I have to?”
“Do you want me take away your video games?”
“Fine.” Little Stevie saved his progress and shut down his Nintendo. “You owe me.”
“I don’t owe you anything for doing what’s right.”
With a huff, Little Stevie pushed himself out of the chair and trudged upstairs.
He found Connie with her mother and brother.
“Can I help you?” Diana asked.
“Yes, Mrs. Taylor.”
“Please, call me Diana.”
“Okay, Aunt Diana. I wanted to see if Connie wanted to go outside and play.”
“That’s so sweet of you.” Diana turned to Connie, who sat on the edge of the bed reading. “Why don’t you go with Stevie.”
“What about Brian?” she asked.
“He’ll be fine. He’s resting.”
“Come on,” urged Little Stevie. “I’ll show you the ATV and snowmobile in the garage.”
“Really?”
“Sure.”
Connie put down the book and ran off with Little Stevie.
Diana called after them. “Make sure you stay close to the cabin. And no going into the woods.”
“All right,” Connie yelled up, already halfway down the stairs.
The two kids ran outside to play, both so excited they left the front door open.
From his resting place in front of the patio, Archer noticed the open door. He stood, stretched, and went over to investigate. He had never gone outside on his own before. Stopping by the jamb, he cautiously peered around the corner, his head jerking back and forth as he studied the area. The two kids had run off somewhere, so no one was around to yell at him. Being an animal, he had never heard the phrase curiosity killed the cat. Even if he had, it wouldn’t have made a difference. An opportunity presented itself that he could not pass up.
Making his way onto the porch, Archer jumped off the side and set off to explore this exciting new world.
Chapter Eight
The trip had been going well for Brad and the others. They had traveled through New Hampshire without running into deaders, or at least not enough to pose a significant threat. So far, they had stumbled across enough supplies to keep them alive. The biggest break of all had been finding the horses, which would cut their travel time to Nova Scotia in half. The group had a lot to be thankful for, which is why he felt nervous. He waited for something to go wrong.
Brad tried to convince himself he wasn’t a pessimist but a realist. To get to Nova Scotia, they had one major obstacle to cross: I-93, which ran through the center of the New Hampshire. From what he had seen on the news during the early days of the outbreak, all major highways and thoroughfares had been jammed with traffic from those escaping the outbreak and, when the first of the deaders reached these, the rate of infection skyrocketed, turning these roads into arteries that allowed the living dead to rapidly spread across the state. Now they had to cross it.
They had been heading north along the west side of I-93 since morning, staying far enough away from the highway to not attract attention, searching for a good crossing point. Exit and entry ramps were out of the question because they were in populated areas overrun by deaders. Crossing in between these ramps also entailed considerable risk due to the number of living dead roaming the highway and the number of obstacles—abandoned vehicles, guardrails, median dividers—that would slow them down enough to be taken out.
Brad prepared to take a chance and cross the highway, hoping for the best, when he spotted an overpass ahead of him. He ordered the others to stop while he studied the road crossing over I-93 for deader activity.
John and Sheri joined him.
“What’s up?” asked John.
“That.” Brad pointed to the structure. “Or more appropriately, over. I don’t see any living dead and there are no clusters of buildings. I think we found our way across.”
“The last road sign we passed said we’re near Bethlehem,” said John.
Sheri crossed herself. “That sounds to me like a sign from God.”
“Then let’s do this.”
Brad spurred his horse ahead, veering to the left so they could approach the accompanying road from level ground. He paused, checking for deaders and, spotting none, led the group in a gallop onto the overpass. A few of the living dead on the highway noticed them race past, glanced up, and snarled. One tried to follow, tripping over the guardrail and rolling down the embankment. In less than a minute, the group had cleared I-93 and were moving along a back road past an abandoned estate.
John rode up alongside him. “That was easier than I thought.”
“Don’t jinx us.”
“Calm down.” John leaned over and squeezed Brad’s hand. “We’ve gotten this far because of you.”
“Don’t say that!” Brad snapped.
John quickly withdrew his hand. “What’s bugging you?”
“Sorry.” Brad calmed down. “I can’t shake this nagging feeling that everything is about to go to shit.”
“That I can understand.”
“Thanks. It’s still no reason for me to be bitchy.”
“Maybe we should find a place to stay for the night.” John motioned over his shoulder. “How about that estate over there. It looks comfortable.”
“Too close to the highway. I’d rather we get a few miles farther away first.”
“You’re the boss.”
A few minutes later, they turned onto Route 302 and followed it for several miles until reaching the outskirts of Bethlehem. Brad studied the area. Other than a squirrel that darted across the asphalt and bolted up a tree, he saw no activity. He still had a bad feeling, the same one he had all day. However, the horses didn’t seem spooked. If he had to choose between his own paranoia or animal instinct, the choice was obvious. Brad led the group into town.
The town had been looted. Not really looted, Brad corrected himself. Whoever had passed through only took what they needed. The convenience stores and restaurants had been picked clean of food and drink, and the only gas station in town had been drained of fuel, at least judging by the nozzles sprawled across the ground. A few vehicles sat on the shoulders, some with their doors open, a few with luggage around them, opened and picked through, more than likely broken down and left behind rather than abandoned in a panic. The citizens here seemed to have been lucky. Brad wondered what happened to them.
Leaving town, the group came upon the Maplewood Golf Course, the once pristine lawn standing over two feet tall and overrun with crabgrass and weeds. The club members would be pissed to see it this way. Not the horses. They saw the lawn as dinner. Brad’s horse moved off the road and into the grass, leading the others with it.
“What’s going on?” David asked from the back.
“The horses are telling us they want a break,” Tina answered.
“That’s fine with me.” David shifted in his saddle. “I could use one myself.”
> The group dismounted and sat or laid down on the shoulder while the horses waded into the grass and indulged themselves. David stepped over to Tina.
“Do you still have that toilet paper?”
“Not much left.” She opened her backpack and gave it to him. Three quarters had already been used. “Use it sparingly.”
“Gotcha.” David walked away a few steps and began to unbuckle himself.
Brad waved his hands. “Whoa. Not cool, dude.”
“What?”
“Doing your business right here.”
“Everybody shits,” David protested.
“We don’t want to watch,” complained Sheri, pointing toward the golf course. “Go farther in there and do it.”
“There’s bugs in there.”
“Do as I tell you.” Sheri spoke firmly, like a mother talking to a bratty child.
“Fine.” Clutching the top of his pants in his right hand, David moved farther into the overgrown grass before dropping them around his ankles and crouching.
Sheri removed her Red Sox cap and wiped her forehead “How far are we from Nova Scotia?”
Brad shrugged. “Three weeks, maybe four. At least.”
“Shit,” mumbled Tina.
“Look on the bright side.” John gestured to the horses. “We don’t have to walk the entire way. And the weather is getting warmer.”
“That’s what I like about you,” Sheri said with all sincerity. “You try to look on the bright side of everything.”
“Thanks. Having a positive attitude had gotten me through a lot of tough times. If I didn’t think things would get better, I’d have taken my own life months ago.”
“God forbid.” Sheri crossed herself.
As if to emphasize the beauty of the day, a wind blew in from the north, rustling the tall grass.
And bringing with it the stench of decayed flesh.
The horses became frightened and whinnied. Brad and the others jumped and grabbed their bridles, preventing them from running off. Tina held onto David’s horse.
Brad moved closer to the grass. “David, come on. There are deaders nearby.”
David had ripped off several pieces of toilet paper and reached behind him, pausing when he heard Brad. “I can’t hear you.”
“Move your ass.”
“I’m wiping now. Hang on.”
“Deaders!” Tina yelled.
David heard that. He finished quickly and stood, pulling up his pants.
A deader rose from the grass where it had been laying a yard to David’s left. Sensing food, it crawled over and grabbed his leg, pulling itself closer. David jumped to the side, tripping over his pants still around his knees and falling into the grass. He tried kicking it away but his legs had limited mobility. The deader pulled itself onto him, pinning him to the round. Bending over, it sunk its teeth into David’s neck.
No one saw what happened because of the grass. They all heard David scream.
John ran into the lawn to help his friend.
“John, come back.” Brad wanted to go after him but needed to keep the horses calm.
John raced across the lawn, scanning ahead of him so he didn’t step on any deaders. Upon hearing him approach, the deader rose to its feet, preparing for its next meal. As John got closer, he dodged to the left and swung the axe, catching the deader in the face. Teeth and congealed blood flew across the lawn as it fell backwards. John pummeled its head until the skull cracked, splattering its brain across the lawn. John continued smashing at the thing until it stopped convulsing then checked on David.
John knelt by the body, immediately knowing David was dead. The deader had torn a chunk out of his neck the size of a fist. Blood from the severed artery spurt onto the dirt, leaving David pale. John raised the axe above his head, ready to put his friend out of his misery and prevent him from reanimating.
David’s eyes opened. The orbs were milky white. It snarled and sat up, grabbing John on both sides of his hips and pulling him in. Before the man could react, the deader that was once David plunged its mouth into his groin. The teeth tore off a chunk of John’s skin and severed his artery. John screamed.
“No!”
Brad rushed into the grass to help John. Sheri surged forward and yanked him by the arm, stopping him.
“Let go of me! I have to save John!”
“He’s been bitten. He’s already dead.”
Brad stopped struggling. Tears poured down his face. Anguish filled his heart as he watched John staggering around the lawn. The thing that was once David climbed to its feet and went after John, still chewing the flesh from his thigh. It attacked John, sinking its teeth into his face until they touched bone. It tore of his face, ripping off his nose and exposing the muscles around his jaw. The two fell forward, the tall grass hiding the feeding. John tried to call out to Brad, his cry becoming a gurgle as blood poured down his throat.
“I… I can’t leave him like this,” Brad cried.
“If you go in there, you’ll only get yourself killed.”
“Good.” Brad sobbed. “I don’t want to live without John.”
“Stop that.” Sheri slapped Brad, snapping him back to reality. “The rest of us need you.”
“John….”
“John would want you to go on.”
Brad said nothing, clearly in shock. Sheri helped him into his saddle and then said to Tina, “Get him out of here.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll catch up in a minute.”
Tina mounted her horse and then led Brad away along Route 302.
Sheri mounted hers, taking the reins of the other two in her left hand. She checked the golf course one final time. David and John, or what used to be them, stumbled through the grass toward her, snarling, intent on feasting.
“Peace be with you both. Go with God.”
Sheri spurred her horse and followed the others.
Chapter Nine
The pack had sauntered through the charred remains of the town all night and, by morning, had not found a single thing to eat, living or dead, human or animal. Frustration built up inside of Alpha, though it did not recognize the sensation. Days had passed since the pack had a decent meal, allowing the insatiable hunger to intensify. Alpha knew from experience that at a certain point the urge to feed would override their sense of cohesion. Though Alpha could no longer comprehend time, it remembered an earlier occasion when hunger broke down their structure and the lesser ones attacked the leaders. Two Betas had been devoured before Alpha regained control.
That was the reason it had taken so long to pass through town. Alpha had commanded the pack to search every vehicle they came upon for food, remembering that they had stumbled across many meals this way. Nothing lived in this wasteland. Even the bodies they found, which usually provided some form of sustenance, were charred and inedible. The pack groaned from hunger and moaned its complaints with increasing frequency.
The burnt wasteland ended at a break in the road. Alpha stopped the pack and studied the situation. The road leading to the left contained blackened trees and seared bodies. Plush, green vegetation covered the road branching off to the right, like the woods the pack normally hunted in. A chipmunk raced across the road, ignorant of the swarm of living dead. Even with its limited intelligence, Alpha realized the path to the right offered greater opportunity to find food.
Grunting out a command to follow, Alpha led the pack to the that way.
Without realizing it, they passed a sign, its edges singed and some of the paint peeled away, that read:
Route 302 to I-93
Bethlehem 41 miles
Chapter Ten
Alissa and the others returned from Gorham. She felt the tension drain from her now that they were home. Today had been a close call, mostly because they had let their guard down in the storage area. She chastised herself for not having Rebecca tap on the door first to determine if any deaders were on the other side. If she had, they could have avoided that near t
ragedy. The group had grown complacent after dealing with so many deaders for so long. Alissa would have to reinforce to everyone, including herself, the need to be more cautious if they wanted to stay alive.
If that wasn’t bad enough, Alissa fully expected to be read the riot act by Miriam for putting Kiera in harm’s way, even though her daughter had not been in any danger. She would advise Kiera to keep a low profile until Alissa could talk down Miriam and convince her Kiera was a vital part of the group.
As they pulled up in front of the cabin, Diana stepped onto the porch. Little Stevie and Connie joined her, although they stayed in the background. Diana seemed anguished.
Alissa jumped out of the Land Rover and rushed up to them. Diana met her at the bottom of the steps.
“I have bad news.”
“Is Brian okay?” Alissa feared he had taken a turn for the worst.
“Brian’s fine.” Diana paused. “Archer snuck out of the cabin while you were gone.”
Panic turned to dread. “A-are you sure?”
“We searched the entire cabin for him. I’m—”
“Did you look for him?”
Diana nodded. “The minute I realized he was missing I searched the entire area but couldn’t find him.”
Alissa’s legs went weak. She sat on the stairs. An empty void formed in her heart, sucking away all emotions. She could not believe it. Her beloved Archer was gone. Dozens of scenarios played out in her mind. Archer getting lost and not being able to find his way home. Or injuring himself and hiding somewhere, scared and alone, calling to her. Or being eaten by a bear or coyote… or, God forbid, a stray deader. Despite her best efforts to remain strong, Alissa cradled her face in her hands and sobbed. Tears flowed down her face.
“H-how did it happen?”
Little Stevie stepped forward. “It’s… it’s my fault.”
“And mine,” added Connie.
“We left the door open when we went out to play and we think he snuck out then.” Little Stevie broke down and cried. “I’m so sorry. Please, don’t hate me.”
Nurse Alissa vs. the Zombies | Book 4 | Hunters Page 4