Affliction Z (Book 3): Descended in Blood (28 page)

“Hey, either way, he deserved it. Should’ve never got that close to us. We gotta defend ourselves out here. Dammit, we have a right to.”

Jenny turned around in her seat. Her gaze drifted out, focused on nothing at all.

Emerging from the narrow strip of woods, Addison had a decision to make. Simple in terms of choices, yet it might determine whether they live or die.

“Right or left,” she said.

“That a question?” Jenny said.

Addison looked at her. She tried to smile.

Jenny leaned forward, the rifle across her chest again. She turned her head left, then right, then settled with her gaze fixed straight ahead. “How much you suppose this thing weighs?”

“More than you and I are capable of lifting. I already thought that. Even if we could get it up, we’d end up getting it stuck.”

Jenny nodded as she considered this. “Guess you’re right. In that case, left is south, and that’s the direction we’re headed, so that’s where we should go.”

Simple reasoning worked best sometimes.

It felt wrong as Addison drove across the shoulder and turned left. A month ago she would have been driving in the wrong direction, most likely resulting in a head-on collision with another vehicle. Now the interstate was a modern day desert. Barren. Inhospitable. A place to avoid altogether.

While driving, Addison heard shrieks from the woods.

So much for a cleansing.

The afflicted had survived the storm. Some, at least. Impossible to tell how many were left. Hell, she had no idea how many there had been. She assumed most people had died. Nature and the afflicted would take care of the rest. She tried to avoid letting her mind wander like this. The next question that would present itself would be how much longer she had until one or the other caught up with her.

“Up ahead.” Jenny stood and pointed.

Addison tensed. Her right hand dropped from the steering wheel to the M40 at her side. She stared ahead, looking for that familiar shape that was now so alien.

“See it?” Jenny asked.

Addison slowed the ATV. With the screams they heard every few minutes, stopping was not an option.

“No, what?” Addison said.

“The guard wire comes to a break up there. Hard to tell, but there’s a gap there. We can cross.”

Addison dropped her foot on the gas and raced toward the spot. A minute later, they were on the other side of the interstate, looking for a suitable spot to exit. She figured as long as the highway was empty, they’d continue on. So they did, traveling four miles and exiting onto the first of a network of country and back roads that would lead them to Turk.

Chapter 31

“Turk.” Rhea slapped the water with her paddle. “What’s that?”

Turk escaped the trance he’d been in for the past half hour and looked away from shore. “What?”

She extended her paddle and pointed east. “Over there.”

The sun reflected off the shimmering water in a million bursts. Turk shielded his eyes with his blistered hand and squinted against the light. On the edge of the horizon, he saw it. Small, at least from where he sat, bobbing in the rolling waves.

“Is that a boat?” she asked.

“That or a large piece of driftwood,” Turk said. “Come on, let’s go check it out.”

Turk approached with apprehension. The storm had claimed his weapons, leaving him with nothing but the oars and his bare hands. If they came upon a group of armed survivors, post-world pirates, there would be no chance in a fight. They were too far out to swim, and the kayak could not out-pace a boat with a working engine or the ability to sail.

They paddled closer. It became clear they were looking at a decent size vessel. A sailboat. It looked to be battered. Perhaps in need of work to get moving. But it was there.

Dumb fucking luck.

“Listen,” Turk said. “If something happens, you paddle as hard as you can toward shore. Don’t worry about me.”

They pulled alongside the vessel. Turk reached out for a stray rope that trailed into the water. He tied it to an eyebolt on the rear of the kayak.

“I’m gonna check it out.” He stood and grabbed the side of the boat. “Just pull the end of the rope hanging in the water and the knot will come undone.”

He pulled himself up and over. The deck was empty except for a couple plastic cups, a shirt, and several water bottles that rolled back and forth as the craft swayed.

That was it though. No one was on deck.

The mast looked to be in good shape. Solid. The sail had been pulled down. But even wrapped and bundled, Turk spotted obvious damage. Elana could repair it. Might take a while, but she could do it.

The sailboat was equipped with an on-board motor. But with no source of fuel, that didn’t matter. Even if he could refuel it, the tank only held so much. Refilling would be impossible.

He pulled the hatch open and yelled into the cabin. “Hello?”

No one returned his call.

Turk walked back to the side and looked down at Rhea. “I’m going downstairs. If you don’t hear from me in three minutes, get out of here.”

It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting below. Sunlight spilled in from the open doorway, and a couple portholes along the wall. He called out again, in case someone was in one of the bunks. His attempt went unanswered.

He moved through the living area and checked the bunks. Two curtains were drawn shut. He pulled the first back. An unmade bed was empty. He pulled the second back, revealing a double size bed, also empty and unmade. The other beds looked untouched.

Looking around the space, Turk guessed he could fit ten people on board. Maybe more. Enough room for his family and a few others to live comfortably.

Couches lined the walls of the living area. He pulled back the cushions, revealing storage containers. One side contained two survival life rafts, life preservers, a first aid kit, MREs, bottled water, and other supplies.

He opened a bottle of water and took two pulls from it, waited a few seconds, then drank the rest.

On the other side he found more storage containers, holding three rifles and two 9mm handguns, and matching boxes of ammunition. Someone had departed prepared. He shoved a pistol in his waistband and pulled out a rifle and placed it on the tabletop along with the second pistol.

After clearing the cabin, he headed back to the deck and helped Rhea on board.

“No one here?”

He shook his head. “Guess the storm got them. Looks like only a couple of the bunks were used, so maybe only two or three people on board. They were probably working together to fight through the storm. Trying to prevent the boat from capsizing. Waves would have been monstrous at times. Probably swept them overboard. Or one of them went over, and whoever was left tried to help.”

“How come we’re not moving much?”

“Anchor.” He led her to the aft end and leaned over the railing. “They didn’t want the boat to move while helping the man overboard.”

“Should we look for them?”

Turk’s gaze swept the vast ocean. “They didn’t make it.”

She fell back into a chair and looked up at him. “You’ll take me with you?”

There was plenty of space. And the woman could come in handy when they reached their destination, considering he had far fewer survivors with him than he had planned.

“I will.” Turk sat next to her. “Here’s how I’m gonna work this. You stay here. Downstairs there’s a rifle and a pistol on the table. You ever shot before?”

She nodded. “Guess my family didn’t tell you I’m Army?”

“No, they didn’t. That’s perfect, Rhea. Now listen to me. You defend this boat like it’s your virginity and you’re surrounded by a pack of men who’ve been imprisoned for forty years. Got that?”

She smiled. “Where are you going?”

“To get my family. I’ll be back by nightfall. Don’t do anything stupid like pull up that anchor.”

Turk led her into the cabin. While there, he searched under the double bed in back and found another storage container. Inside were two handheld battery operated long-range radios.

“Perfect.”

He decided to add another leg to his journey. There were others. They were coming to meet him at the bunker. Turk didn’t know how long he would remain close to Charleston, but if anyone showed up during that time, he wanted them to have a chance. The radios might help.

He set one on the table in front of Rhea and switched it on. Then the other. They worked short range. He planned to test it once he reached the bunker.

Rhea helped Turk load the kayak with a couple life vests, one lifeboat, some water and MREs, and then he departed for shore.

To leave hope at the bunker.

And bring his family to their new home.

Chapter 32

Muted light filtered through grime-covered windows and splashed across the weathered wooden floor.

How many sunrises are left? For me? For humanity?

Sean had made it through another night. Perhaps the most impossible of them all. At least since his time in Nigeria.

He wondered how many survivors perished in the hurricane. Or was it a tropical storm? He supposed it didn’t matter. All one had to do was look at the devastation that occurred in countries the news didn’t report on when a hurricane went through. The United States was third world now. Hell, that might be an upgrade over what most faced since the outbreak.

What had happened to the men in the other two trucks? They had fallen behind the one piloted by Barton. Did the storm claim them? Or had they managed to power through?

He held no specific grudge against the men other than they belonged to a camp who felt it appropriate to open fire on a group of survivors taking refuge in an abandoned house while passing through.

For that reason, he didn’t give a shit if those guys survived the night, or had their hearts devoured by the same afflicted who tore Phil to shreds.

Light continued to fill the room. Sean looked around, glad to take a break from his thoughts.

The place was old, dusty and dirty. Cobwebs clogged the corners. Rodent waste scattered everywhere.

He got up and opened the cabinets, prepared for something to jump out at him.

Nothing did.

He found little of use in the cabinets. One can of chili, ten years past its expiration date.

It wasn’t until he made his way around the room a second time that he slid open a drawer and found a set of maps. He pulled them out and spread them on the counter top. The edges were frayed. Old creases threatened to split the paper into eight. They were local and regional. Street maps. Topographical. Marked up with pencil, blue ink, and yellow highlighter. He opened each up and placed them side by side. They all had roughly the same location circled in blue ink.

The cabin.

Sean realized he was further north and west than he had thought. More time had passed in the truck than he had realized. The men had beaten him after detaining him. Had he been unconscious for part of it? Concussed, perhaps? There was no other explanation other than time had simply slowed down in light of everything that had happened.

A long trail of events played through his mind. It led back to Emma. He felt hollow inside. He had no way of reaching her. The only way he’d know if she made it to Turk’s was for him to go there himself.

Sean looked down at his titanium capped stump.

How the hell was he supposed to make that journey on one leg? And if he did, what would he do once he arrived? He’d be a drag on the community. A dead weight others would have to fend for.

Sean placed his finger on the map and traced north. He was less than a hundred miles from his house. A week’s journey and he’d be inside his bunker, where he could communicate with Turk and Emma. In the refuge of the underground dwelling, he could prepare for the journey. He had two legs there. Food. Water. Medicine. Weapons. And with only him to worry about, he could make the trip to South Carolina and get there before winter hit.

Is it crazy I’m thinking of going home? Adding a couple hundred miles to the trip?

Sean knew everything hinged on mobility. Right now, he had none. That made getting anywhere difficult. But a hundred miles was shorter than two hundred and fifty no matter how he looked at it.

“I’m whole, or I’m nothing to them.”

He folded the maps and left them on the counter. What other secrets did the cabin hide? He pulled every drawer out. Opened the cabinets again and used the branch he’d carried as a crutch to sweep the top shelves.

In the end, he scavanged a roll of heavy tape, a square of foam padding, and a hunting knife.

A start, he figured.

Sean headed outside and scavenged the clearing and surrounding woods until he had another branch roughly the same size as the one he carried. Then he found four smaller hunks of wood. He attached the smaller pieces to the longer ones with the tape, forming a T with a short cross at the top and part of the way down. Then he cut the foam in half and wrapped the crossing portion with it. Again, he wrapped it all in tape.