Affliction Z: Abandoned Hope (Post Apocalyptic Thriller) (21 page)

What the hell am I doing?

Sean continued to doubt himself. There had to be more men
than what he had seen on his property. And here he was, walking naked into a
lion’s den. In what world did this make sense?

“It’s not much further,” Derrick said.

“I can see the map too,” Sean said.

“Yeah, but, you don’t know that there’s checkpoints on the
road on either side of the camp now.”

“Won’t that give away your position?”

“We’re subtle. You come with us or we shoot you.”

Sean pictured a couple country boys sitting in the back of
their trucks on the lift-gate. Rifles placed across their legs. Beer in one
hand, ham sandwich in the other. He imagined the stretch of road ahead of them.
A five-mile trail that offered no alternate routes. And forget about parallel
roads. The thick trees throughout the countryside meant they’d have to travel
on foot for several miles.

“How many at each check point?” Sean asked.

“Two to eight.”

“That’s quite a range.”

“Just depends.”

“You ever work it?”

“Nah, Dad don’t trust me.”

“Dad?”

Derrick said nothing.

“Phil’s your father?”

Derrick looked away. Sean watched a bead of sweat trickle
along the edges of the guy’s sideburn.

“Yes or no, Derrick.”

“Yeah, he’s my dad.”

Sean nodded. Things had gotten interesting.

“I’m a bargaining chip now, ain’t I?” Derrick said.

“Kid for a kid, right?”

Derrick wiped the sweat from his brow. A damp line remained,
entwined in his eyebrows. “He won’t negotiate with you. More ‘n likely, he’ll
kill your little girl, and then dare you to kill me. He’s got the numbers. What
you got? A bum leg is all I can see.”

“And you.”

“Let me tell you something, Mister. I ain’t worth jack shit
to my old man. It’s all about the good of the community now. You want to get
your kid out alive, then you best fall in line with Phil. Offer your services
to the community. Get trusted. Then make your move.”

Sean said nothing. He mulled over the man’s words.

“But if you think he’s gonna cave when you hold that fancy
gun to my head, you’re crazy.” He turned his head and spit out the open window.
“And you’ll likely end up getting your head shot off.”

“Stop the truck.”

“What?” Derrick glanced between Sean and the road.

“You heard me.” Sean aimed the MP7 at the man’s head. “Stop.
Now.”

Derrick slowed the truck down and pulled onto the grass
shoulder. They rolled to a stop.

“Get out,” Sean said. “Move to the front of the truck.”

Derrick did as instructed.

Sean stepped down and met him there. “On your knees, hands
behind your head, legs crossed at the ankles.”

“What’re you gonna do?”

“Do it,” Sean commanded.

The young man eased himself down and positioned himself as
Sean had ordered. His nostrils flared wide and contracted rapidly. His cheeks
flushed. His eyes darted around, looking for escape routes, or perhaps help in
the form of someone he knew.

Sean walked around the man. The back of Derrick’s shirt was
soaked in sweat. Sean placed his prosthetic foot down on Derrick’s crossed ankles.
He touched the barrel of his gun to the top of Derrick’s skull.

The man began to cry. Sean didn’t blame him. In this new
world, dying at the hand of another man was the least of his worries. At the
same time, it should have been his greatest concern.

“Tell me everything I need to know,” Sean said.

“What do you mean?”

“About the setup, the structure. How many men? How many
women? How well armed you guys are? Types of weaponry? Patrols, guards,
whatever you call them, how many and where? How secure is the perimeter? Are
there traps?”

“I…I wouldn’t know most of that, man.”

Sean tapped against the top of his head with the barrel.
“I’ve killed before.”

“Okay, okay. About half the place is women. Everyone works,
building new houses and stuff. There are always four men on watch around the
main camp. They’re positioned north, south, east and west. Four more a bit
further out. Shift changes every ten hours.”

“Why ten?”

“Why not?”

Sean shrugged. “Okay. What about the perimeter? Traps and
such?”

“I don’t know about any of that. They don’t want most of us
leaving alone. And frankly, the danger of what’s out there is enough to keep
most people at the camp.”

“What if someone dies? These things smell death.”

“Huh?” Derrick leaned back and made eye contact with Sean.
“No one has died yet. At least, not that I know of.”

“And how’s the place set up?”

“The middle is mostly temporary structures for housing. This
happened quicker than we thought it would. Dad’s got his place, and a few
people stay there. There’s a couple other buildings, and lots more under
construction.”

“And what happens to people who dissent? Where do they go?”

“Pardon?”

“Come on, Derrick. No body is without its warts. What do you
do with the people that can’t hack it in the group?”

“Can I stand?”

Sean took the pressure off Derrick’s ankles and then took
three steps back. “Nice and easy.”

Derrick rose, turned and nodded. “Thank you.”

“Just answer the question.”

Derrick nodded again. He rubbed his wrists as if they’d been
shackled. “So there’s an underground, um, prison I guess you could call it.
Dark and dirty, carved into the earth. We got a tube thing running into each
cell and give them some light each day. Some people are permanent, others are
temporary.”

“How many people down there?”

Derrick shrugged. “Ain’t been down there but once, man.”

“How many then?”

“Thirty, maybe.”

“And how many cells?”

“Ten.”

“Size?”

“Eight by eight, I guess.”

“You guess.” Sean envisioned the conditions down there and
contemplated the fact that he could end up spending the rest of his life in one
of those cells if this mission failed.

“What do they do with new people?”

“You mean like your wife and daughter?”

“She’s not my wife.”

“Right, sorry.” Derrick looked away.

“They put them down there, don’t they?”

The man nodded.

“And you know where it’s located?”

“I do.”

“Guess where you’re taking me, Derrick?”

Turk stood in front of the hatch, prepared to break his
number one rule. He would leave alone and without telling anyone. At some point
his wife would realize he had gone through with it. She’d go to his computer
and look at the security feeds. Maybe she’d spot him outside. Maybe she
wouldn’t. Hell, maybe no one would even notice he was gone.

He unlocked the hatch and passed through, closing it behind
himself. The humidity took hold at once. Sweat dripped down his forehead, into
his eyes. He blinked at the burning sensation. He rubbed his nose after
inhaling the mold-laden air. How would the rest of his group react to the
outside world after six or seven weeks, maybe more, inside the
climate-controlled bunker?

Turk hesitated before emerging from the underground dugout.
The horde of afflicted had passed, and the men who’d killed Marcus were
unlikely to be around. They’d come back, he was sure of that. But not yet.

He slung is MK 14 EBR over his shoulder. His HK MP7 was
strapped tight to his chest and equipped with a suppressor. Finally, he secured
a Sig Sauer P226 in a compression holster behind his back. His cargo pants
pockets were filled with additional ammunition.

Turk unlocked the earthen hatch and lifted it enough to scan
the surrounding area. Muted sunlight attacked his eyes like an icepick. He
crawled through and rose to a crouching position. Turk dissected the area in
quarters. There were no immediate threats. He spun back around and stared at
his brother’s remains. Little was left of Marcus.

He turned his attention to the world around him. It looked
surreal. He hadn’t been sure what to expect. The feeds into the bunker appeared
normal enough, if not a little grainy. But the colors were toned down. Out
here, grays were grayer, green was greener. Fall showed traces of arriving. A
few trees had yellow and red and orange leaves. The sun hid behind gray clouds
that skated across the sky. Turk paused, as he recognized the low, fast moving
clouds as possibly being the precursor to a tropical storm or hurricane. That
could work to his advantage.

Or it could kill him.

Smoke rose above the trees. It looked distant. Charleston,
perhaps. He wondered how survivors within city limits had reacted. Had they
banded together to fight off those who had turned? Or did they take up arms
against one another? Turk had witnessed what happens when things break down.
Even among trained soldiers the possibility existed that chaos would ensue.

He headed toward the woods. The men couldn’t be that far
away. Marcus had found them not long after leaving. Turk scanned for trail
markers, trash, broken tree limbs, beaten paths. Anything that offered a clue.
He found a discarded water bottle, but determined it not valid, as it looked to
have been cast aside some time ago.

He found a couple cigarette butts on the ground. Promising.
He picked one up and smelled it. It had been stomped out recently. It wasn’t
definitive. Anyone passing through could have left it there.

That was it, though. Nothing else offered any clue as to
which direction the men had gone from that point. Turk kept moving away from
the bunker.

He paused every time he heard a sound, whether that of a
stick snapping, leaves rustling, or an animal scurrying. Using skills honed
over twenty years as a SEAL, Turk constantly reevaluated the surrounding woods.
One of those men, or worse, one of the afflicted, could be lurking behind any
of the thick trees he passed.

Both hands gripped the MP7 tightly. He had the weapon set to
three-round bursts. All he had to do was get close. The gun took care of the
rest.

His first break came when he smelled wood smoke. He followed
it, altering his path. It took a few adjustments to stay on track. The smell
intensified. He wondered if it attracted other beings as well. Perhaps it had
been left burning as a decoy. Or worse, a trap.

Turk slowed down, despite his excitement over coming face to
face with the man who killed his brother. Of course, he realized all he had to
do was look in a mirror to see the man ultimately responsible. Still, he hadn’t
expected it to go down the way it did. Marcus was tough enough and street smart
enough that he could have survived for quite some time.

What had the guy done to trigger that reaction from those
men?

A shadowy figure darted between two trees thirty or forty
yards ahead. Turk took cover. He leaned to the side and scanned the area. His
rifle was equipped with a scope. He slid it off his shoulder. Further into the
woods, he saw someone. A tree shielded most of their body. Turk had the shot,
but he didn’t take it. He didn’t know who was out there, or if they were even a
part of that group. It could have been someone lost and trying to find help.

Or it could have been one of them, in which case, he would
be presented with the opportunity to kill them soon enough.

For now he had to focus on whoever, or whatever, he saw
moments ago.

A twig snapped off to his left. Turk shifted his weight and
peered around the other side of the tree. He caught sight of the person again
as they moved between two thick trunks. He brought the MK 14’s stock to his
shoulder and waited. He kept his aim at the center of the tree. The woods were
silent. For a moment he considered firing a warning shot. That might attract
company, though, so he decided he would only shoot if necessary.

Seconds passed. Sweat dripped down his forehead and cheeks
and nose. It settled on his upper lip. Turk steadied his breath, and in turn,
his nerves.

The person appeared. They ran from one tree to the next,
providing Turk with a full view through the scope. It was a woman. And she was
unarmed by all appearances.

Was she stalking him? Or running from something?

Turk scanned the area the woman had come from. He’d seen one
man positioned a couple hundred yards away. There could be more close by.
Perhaps they had been tasked with watching the woman and she had escaped from
them. But why would she be hiding behind trees, leaving herself exposed to
them?

He watched as she stepped out from behind her hiding spot
and bolted forward. This time she bypassed several potential places she could
have taken cover. She saw something. What, though? Something good that she ran
toward? Or something bad that she ran from?

Turk couldn’t decide whether to follow her or push on
forward. His basic calling in life, that which pushed and propelled Turk, was
to help others, especially those weaker and in need.

Cursing himself, Turk headed in the woman’s direction.

He found her trail, and despite the fact that she had gained
separation, it didn’t take long for him to catch up. It seemed as if she did
everything in her power to be heard. This gave Turk reason to proceed with
caution. More than he might have otherwise. He didn’t only have her to worry
about, but also whatever she drew in closer to them.

She gave up her all-out run and took cover again. Turk
watched her from this new vantage point. He studied her movements.

She wore short jean shorts and a white button-up shirt
tucked into the waist of her shorts. One of the sleeves looked like it had been
ripped off. Her hair was long and dark. She wore hiking boots that came three
inches above her ankles. She held something in her hand. Not a gun, a device of
some kind. It looked like a handheld radio. She held it up. He saw the ambient
glow of a screen. It wasn’t a communication device. She held a GPS unit.

Thirty feet separated Turk from the woman. He could take her
out with any of his weapons if he wanted. He didn’t, though. He placed his
rifle on the ground and slid the strap of his MP7 off his body. He clenched the
gun tight. The woman took off. Turk sprinted toward her. By the time she heard
him and turned, he’d reached her.

Turk pulled up, aimed the MP7 at her and said, “Don’t
scream, don’t run, don’t even whisper. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

The woman breathed quickly and heavily. She bounced from
foot to foot, but didn’t try take off.

“That a girl,” Turk said. “Now, I want you to ease down to
your knees.”

She glanced over her shoulder.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Turk said. “I just need to ask
you a few questions. Now, I think that you’ll feel more comfortable answering
those questions if I don’t have a gun pointed at your head. But to do that, I
need to be sure that you aren’t going to try to hurt me or run away. Nod if you
understand.”

She nodded.

“All right. Now go ahead and kneel down.”

She did.

“What’s your name?”

“You tell me yours,” she said.

“Fair enough.” He lowered his weapon. “I’m Turk.”

“Sarah.”

“What are you doing out here, Sarah?”

“I’ve been wandering for days. Ever since this, whatever it
is, happened. A couple days ago, I found a group of men. Or, they found me, I
guess. I’d been with them up until a little bit ago.”

“You left or you escaped?”

She said nothing.

“I’m not going to turn you in to them.”

“Escaped.”

“These men, did they capture a guy earlier. About your age.
Black. Cocky, maybe.”

She nodded. “They told him they were going to kill him if he
didn’t lead them to this bunker. He was bragging about it, that he could get
them in there and they’d be underground with everything they needed.”

Turk took a deep breath, held it and exhaled through his
nose. His brother had sold him out because he had done the same to Marcus.

“Oh my God,” she said. “You’re from there, aren’t you?”

“What else can you tell me?”

“They took him away and never came back. Everyone was on
edge afterward. I heard talk of those
things
maybe on the prowl. I saw
my chance then and took it and got away.”

“Why’ve you been hiding on one side of the tree and running
toward the other?”

“What?”

“It looks like you’ve been hiding in plain view.”

She shook her head. “I’m lost.”

“You have a GPS.”

She held it up and shrugged. “I’m learning on the fly here.”

“Get up.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

She rose.

“Lift your shirt an inch and turn around.”

She did so without question.

Turk saw that she was unarmed. “Okay, good. Yes, I came from
the bunker. That man you saw was my brother. They killed him. I’m out for
revenge. That GPS, its left some kind of breadcrumb trail for you?”

“Uh, not sure. Here, take it.” She held her arm out.

Turk grabbed the GPS and panned out. As he studied the trail
that she’d left, he said, “You know how to shoot?”

“Kinda.”

“How do you kinda know how to shoot?”

“Video games.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Look, I’m gonna take you back to the bunker.
You’ll be safe there. My family is there, a few others as well. We have plenty
of space and supplies to last more than a few months. We also have a plan to
get out of here. Unless you want to keep taking your chances out here, we
should get moving.”

She studied him for a moment. He realized he likely appeared
to be no more trustworthy than those men. He couldn’t help that. It was her
choice. She could take it or leave it.

“Okay,” she said.

“Good,” Turk said, reaching behind his back for his Sig
Sauer P226. He retrieved it from the holster and held it out for her. “Take
this. I’ll show you how to—“

She stared wide-eyed to his right. Turk spun the gun in his
hand and took a step back.

“Drop it,” a man said.

Turk’s cheeks burned. He’d been conned. The girl played
innocent and led him into a trap. He knew it all along, too. She stuck to the
wrong side of the trees so those guys could keep track of her, not because she
had no idea what she was doing.

He glanced down at her. She stared at him with tears welling
in her eyes. She looked more frightened than she had when he caught up to her.
She mouthed the words, “Please do something.”

Perhaps he’d been wrong about her.

“I guess I should thank you for finding that bitch for us,”
the man said. “But I think we’re just as excited to have you in custody. I
guess I’ll make this simple, like I did for your brother. Take us to your
bunker or die.”