A Little More Dead (10 page)

Chapter
Fourteen

Paul peered
through the crack in the backdoor, heart thumping in his chest. The cop car was
still there and in one piece. “It’s clear,” he whispered, curling a finger for
Sophia and Dan to follow. He stepped outside, pulse racing because here they go
again and the last thing he wanted to do was jump on this ghastly
merry-go-round and hang on for dear life but they had no choice. They were the
hunted now, reduced to prey in a blinding flash, the evolutionary tables
turned. His legs ached and cold sprinkles fell on his face.

“Wait!”

They turned to find Wendy standing in
front of the manager’s office with a case of liquor bottles in her hands. “Got
room for one more?”

Paul traded an
I told you so
look with Dan and, one by one, they filed out to the car
parked beneath a cold gray sky that wept for them and their plight. Before
climbing in, Paul took Sophia by the hand and pulled her against him, the rain
turning to sleet, tapping against their coats. “I love you.”

She smiled up at him, green eyes glowing
through the gray. “I love you too,” she said softly, planting a wet kiss on his
lips.

He held the door while she got in the
back with Wendy and then joined Dan up front. “Let’s get the hell out of here,”
Paul said, slamming the door shut.

Dan immediately hit the electric locks
and started the car, revving the engine block and turning on the heater while
Paul attached the shotgun to the dash.

Wendy sighed, peering out her blurry
window. “All I’ve been able to think about my whole life is getting out of this
dump and now…” The words crumbled on her lips and a lone tear spilled down her fair
cheek as Dan pulled away from Dancers and got back on the road.

Sophia took Wendy’s hand and gave her a
reassuring smile. “We’re going to be fine, trust me. We didn’t get this far on
luck. We just have to stick together.” Her eyes fell to the .38 sitting between
them on the seat. Wendy looked up from the gun and nodded her understanding.

The first few miles were slippery and
Dan nearly slid into the ditch during two different sweeping curves in the road.
An hour later, the sleet turned back to a sprinkle, the snow on the ground beginning
to fade with each passing mile. The conversation was surface level at best, the
windshield wipers running on lazy like them. Dead fields with skeletal trees
and hungry livestock zipped past. Paul exhaled a low breath, drawing Dan’s
eyes. Whatever it was, it wasn’t infecting the animals. They were still alive,
but with no one to feed them, not for much longer.

Dan slowed down, drawing everyone’s
attention to a horse and buggy a quarter mile up the road.

“Oh my God,” Wendy muttered, alarmed by
the dark figure slumped over inside the carriage.

The large horse shuffled along like it’d
been walking without water for days, its lethargic steps mimicking the infected.

Paul pointed up ahead. “Pull around and
cut it off.”

Sophia put her fingers through the cage
and pulled herself to the edge of the backseat.
“Paul, this
not a good idea.”

“They could be hurt.”

“Or one of those
things!”

When Dan blocked the road, the horse
came to a reluctant stop. The balding gray-haired man slumped over the reins
didn’t move. They sat inside the car and waited, watching to see what would happen
next. The thought that it might be a trap skated through Paul’s mind, fueling
the tension tightening his jaw. He grabbed the tactical shotgun and opened the
car door. The brown mount whinnied. Paul turned back to his wife. “Stay here.”

“Paul,” Sophia whispered, pinching his
coat through the cage as he got out.

He glanced into a nearby tree line to
make sure they were alone and grabbed the reigns, pulling them from the man’s
bloody hands. “Easy boy,” Paul said softly, stroking the horse’s face and studying
a deep gash on his hind quarter. He noticed a wide brimmed hat lying on the
ground between the horse and black buggy. Ignoring his heart’s audible
trepidation, his eyes rose to the man inside. “Hello?
Sir?”

The man remained slumped over the front
end of the buggy, his long black coat making him look like he just rode in from
the Salem witch trials in 1692.

Sophia rolled her window down when Paul
stepped closer. “Be careful,” she whispered.

Using the twelve
gauge
to push him back in the bench seat, Paul recoiled at the revulsion etched into
the man’s face. He looked like he died in pain and the horse whinnied again.
Paul glanced behind him and turned back to the man, finding no trace of blood around
his long gray beard or the bare spot above his upper lip. Paul’s gaze snagged
on a rip in the man’s coat, the blood there dried and dark.

“Is he dead?” Sophia whispered.

“I think so.”

“Be careful, he could still come back,”
Dan shouted.

Paul turned to the others in the car. “There’s
a bloody hole in his coat.”

Sophia screamed when the man grabbed the
shotgun barrel with arthritis twisted hands and pulled.

“Help me,” he wheezed, coughing blood
onto his denim shirt.

“Jesus Christ!” Paul fought him for
control of the gun and slipped in a thin patch of snow, falling to his ass and
taking the shotgun with him.

Mouth gaping, the man’s head rolled loosely
on his shoulders. When he spoke, he sounded half asleep. “They came last night,
these…
things
.” His lungs wheezed as
he struggled for breath. “They dragged my wife and boy screaming into the woods.
I tried to go after
em
but…” He winced with a flash
of pain slicing through his left side. He pulled his hand out from under his
coat, eyes widening at the fresh blood coating his fingers. Spitting to the
ground, he looked over his shoulder. “We have to go back.” The man turned to
Paul with pleading eyes. “Please.”

Paul got up and let the shotgun drop to
his side like it weighed a hundred pounds. “We can’t.”

The man tried sitting up. “But you’re
the police!”

“We’re not the police.”

“What?”

Another coughing fit overtook him and Sophia
rushed over with some water, helping him take small sips while Paul used his
boot to nudge her back a step. No one was to be trusted. He glanced in the
backseat at Wendy, who was busy staring at them like she was passing a thirteen
car pile-up.

“Thank you,
mam
,”
the man panted, looking Sophia over while catching his breath. “You’re not the
police?”

“We’re not the police,” she said.

The man’s eyes bounced from the tactical
shotgun in Paul’s hands to the state trooper’s patrol car.

“We stole all of this stuff.”

His thin gaze snapped back to Paul and
when he spoke, his words were low and quiet. “You’re criminals?”

Sophia frowned. “We’re not criminals. We
were running for our lives from the same things you were.”

“Then call for back-up.”

“The radio’s dead,” Dan said out the
window.

“Don’t you have a cellular telephone?”

Sophia’s eyebrows drew together, the
wind tugging at her ponytail. “The phones have been down for days,” she said,
grabbing the man’s black hat from the ground and pouring water into it. “You
must’ve heard about the attacks on TV.”

He watched her water his horse, eyes
wrinkling around the corners. “Don’t have a TV. And what attacks?” he asked,
leaning over and spitting blood to the road.

Paul exhaled slowly, forcing his
disbelief down and his heartbeat to calm. “He doesn’t know,” he whispered.

“When were you bitten?” Dan yelled out
the window, revving the engine.

For a moment, the man stared at Dan as
if he were out of his mind “I wasn’t. I caught a tree in the dark, speared a branch
clean into my ribs.” The man leaned forward and grimaced with the motion. “
Where’m
I anyway?
Benji
must’ve
walked all night.”

Sophia used her soft voice, the one that
always says everything is going to be okay. Like the time Paul threw a lamp
against the wall after she came out of the bathroom with another pregnancy
stick and that goddamn dejected look stamped into her face. “Sir, we don’t know
where we are,” she replied, setting the hat down in front of
Benji
. “We’re just passing through. Can you take your coat
off for me so I can take a quick peek?” She turned to Dan. “Pass me a first aid
kit.”

The man reeled back from her touch and
settled into his seat, letting out a heavy breath. “Tell me what the hell is
going on here first. I need to find my family!” He cringed and grabbed his side,
a teardrop disappearing into his beard.

Sophia shifted her weight. “Those
things
you saw last night are
everywhere, in every country. The power is out and there is no one to call for
help.”

His gaze followed hers to the bloody
tear in his coat. He clenched his teeth as another painful shock wave surged
through him, reminding Paul of his mother on her deathbed. The man took a
moment to collect his breath, catching fire lit glances of the night before. “It
all happened so fast,” he said dully. “We never saw
em
coming.”

Paul snorted. That’s what they all say.

“You think they’re dead?
Hannah and James.”

Paul wrinkled his brow.

“My wife and son; are they dead?”

Paul hung his head and sighed, watching
some dead leaves skitter past his boots. “I don’t know.”

Benji
whinnied again
and the man leaned his head back and shut his eyes, taking a steadying breath
that didn’t work. Gray clouds churned above as he turned it over in his mind. “And
what happens when they bite you?”

Paul shook his head. “It’s not good.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if you get bit you turn into
one of those things.”

He met Paul’s heavy stare head on, cold
blue eyes turning to steel. “I have month’s worth of food and water at my
house, plus guns and plenty of ammunition as well. We have animal traps, gasoline,
horses, a working well, and fifty acres of fertile land to plant crops.” His
lips settled into a thin, grim line. “If you come back with me and help me find
my family, it’s all yours – all of it. I swear by all that is holy.”

Paul studied the man, the truth stuck in
his throat. “They’re probably gone,” he finally said.

“Listen to me, if they’ve turned into
monsters like you say, I can’t let them live like that. It’s not right and, in
His name, I won’t have it! Not my family; not like that!” He clutched his side.
“If that’s the case, I want you to help me put them to rest. Their souls
deserve that much. They’re good people, Paul.”
 

Paul stared at him in a stunned silence
for a few seconds, indecision flickering in his eyes. A turkey vulture soared
above on outstretched wings, its shadow slipping across the roadway. Thunder
rolled off in the distance and the horse shifted its mighty weight.

Paul followed
Benji’s
glassy eyes to the trees. “I’m sorry, but we have to keep moving.”

“What kind of ammo?”

The man’s tight gaze jerked to Dan.
“Shotgun, nine millimeter, forty cal, nothing fancy but enough to
do the trick.”
He turned back to Paul. “If my wife and son aren’t there
when we get back you can still have it. All of it.”

Paul rubbed his forehead.

“We need more ammo, Paul,” Dan said,
resting a hand on the steering wheel. “What we have won’t last long, especially
between four people. And some food that isn’t snack food would be nice!”

“Paul,” Sophia said in her quiet voice –
the one that usually tells him it’s time to stop watching
Game of Thrones
and come to bed. “It won’t hurt to take a quick
look for his family.”

Paul opened his mouth, examining the
wound the man was covering with his hand. Matt and Mike slipped through his
mind. He fucked that up beyond all recognition and this was his chance to
redeem himself, but it was also another chance to die trying. If they went back
to his house, their odds would get worse.
Much worse.
He
looked back the way the buggy had come, peering past the naked trees and
endless fields. “Lift your shirt.”

The man stared at him with a flabbergasted
look smeared across his face.

“We have to be sure.”

With a bloody hand, he parted his long
coat and pulled his denim shirt up. Paul stepped closer, pinching his eyes
together as Sophia strapped on a surgical glove from the first aid kit.

“Told you.”

Paul looked up from the small wound.

“Tree branch,” the man said, the hint of
a smile brushing the corners of his mouth.