Escape (14 page)

If something happened to him she’d never forgive herself.

“Meredith! Watch out!”

One of the creatures careened toward her. She felt for the trigger of the rifle, but at the last second, she decided better of it.

She needed to preserve her ammunition.

Meredith rotated the rifle in her hands and swung it like a bat. Her weapon connected with the thing’s head, sending it reeling to the pavement.

Before she could catch her breath, another had taken its place. She reared the rifle back for another blow and swung, catching it with the wooden stock.

The doctor had paused behind her, and she spun to ensure he was uninjured. He gave her a hurried nod to proceed.

A few steps later the truck was in full view. To Meredith’s relief, the bulk of the creatures had congregated at the office doors, and though a few were lurking near the pickup, none had found their way inside. John’s slumped figure remained in the passenger’s seat, oblivious to the chaos around him.

“Hurry, doc!” she cried.

Having taken care of the two closest creatures, Meredith had created an opening to the truck. If they ran fast enough, there was a chance they’d make it to the pickup without another encounter.

She increased her speed. They’d almost reached the bed of the truck when she heard the man behind her falter. She spun in time to see his legs go out from under him, his face crack the pavement. His glasses burst on his face, scattering shards on the ground around him. He’d lost the bag he was carrying and it skittered to a stop next to Meredith’s feet.

“Get up!” she shrieked.

The doctor groaned, but his cries were quickly drowned out by the moans of the creatures.

When Meredith looked left, she saw that the swarm at the front door had broken formation. One by one the things were plowing toward the doctor. It was as if they’d been waiting for the right moment to strike, and they’d chosen this exact moment to do so.

Meredith lunged for the man’s arm, hoping to pull him up, but one of the things had already reached his lower half, and it tugged on his legs and pulled him out of her grasp. She raised her rifle and fired a round. The bullet found its mark, but she was too late—others had already flooded the scene; within seconds the doctor was overwhelmed.

The man screamed in agony as his body was torn apart, blood oozing from tears and lacerations in his midsection. Meredith bit back her tears and cast a look back at the truck.

There was nothing she could do to help the man, but John still needed her. And if she were to give up now, everything she’d done would have been in vain.

The leather bag sat at her feet. She snagged it from the ground, swung it over her shoulder, and weaved around several of the lunging creatures, working her way toward the truck.

When she reached it, she flung open the door and jumped inside.

As she backed the pickup out of the parking lot, a landscape now filled with the infected, she tried to locate out the body of Dr. Steadman. The place where he’d fallen was covered in moving limbs; his body swallowed whole in the wake of the creatures.

It was as if he’d never existed at all.

“Where are we?” John asked.

He blinked his eyes slowly at Meredith, as if he were seeing her for the first time. All around them were numbered wooden posts, with grass creeping up to fill the spaces between. Directly in front of the pickup was a gigantic rectangular screen. The sides were curled and cracked, the surface marred with age.

“We’re at the drive in,” Meredith said.

John wrinkled his brow, confused. Given what he’d just been through, Meredith was glad to see him awake. It was no wonder that he couldn’t remember.

In Meredith’s hands was the black leather bag from the doctor’s office. The contents were spread over her lap, and her gloved fingers were still covered in John’s blood. She’d never stitched a wound before, but she
did
know how to sew, and after looking over the contents of the doctor’s bag, she’d done her best to clean and suture the wound.

A few minutes into the procedure John had passed out from the pain. Now, fifteen minutes after she’d finished, he’d regained consciousness.

She slipped off the rubber gloves and tossed them out the open window. Then she set the bag down on the floor below her and reached for his hand. He took it, locking her fingers into his.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” he said, inspecting the bandage on his leg.

“Me neither. I just hope it holds. How are you feeling?”

She could see that John was wincing.

“I’ve been better,” he admitted, fiddling with the bandage on his leg.

“Leave it alone. It’ll need time to heal.”

Although she wasn’t a doctor, Meredith impressed by the job she’d done. At the same time, she wanted to have John inspected by a professional. That was the only way to ensure he’d been treated properly.

Still, the bleeding had stopped and John was alive. And for that she was grateful.

She gazed up at the screen, recalling the many times she’d been here during childhood. The drive-in had been closed for almost fifteen years, but she’d had plenty of good memories here. At one time, the Settler’s Creek Theater had been the largest attraction for miles, drawing in crowds from all the neighboring towns.

Now the area was overgrown, lifeless.

She let her eyes wander to the sky. In the time they’d been there, dusk had settled over the field and the stars had started to emerge. She followed the spatter of lights, her eyes settling on the largest. As a child, she’d always had an interest in astronomy, and she recognized it as the North Star. Regardless of how the earth was spinning, it was the one light in the sky that never seemed to move.

Despite the horrors that were happening to the world below it, the star remained untouched. The sight of it gave her a feeling of warmth that she hadn’t felt in a while.

“I’ve never been to the drive-in,” John said. “Can you believe that?”

“You have now.”

Meredith smiled at him, squeezing his hand.

“I’m not sure this qualifies,” he said. “Something’s missing.”

“Popcorn?”

“That must be it.”

“I thought you were going to ask where the movie was.”

“I don’t need a movie, Meredith,” he said. “All I need is you.”

John leaned over, still grimacing, and kissed her on the lips.

“I missed you, Meredith.”

She smiled. Although circumstances had uncovered buried feelings, she couldn’t forget the hurt that John had put her though.

But there would be time for that later. Or so she hoped.

“I missed you too,” she said.

The two gazed up into the sky, and for the next few minutes, the rest of the world was forgotten.

18

“T
he people responsible call themselves the agents,” Dan said.

The three men sat in front of him in wooden chairs, their eyes glued to his, all giving their undivided attention. Although it was unclear whether they believe him, it was obvious that Dan had captured their attention. The men listened without a word as he recounted his story.

He spoke of the attack by his former partner Howard, the raid at the salvage yard, and the information they’d gleaned from the fallen agent. He also told them about how he thought they might be immune, though he couldn’t be sure.

While he was talking, Dan took the opportunity to size up his captors. Aside from Reginald, it was the first time he’d gotten a look at the others, and he noted that the other two men were considerably larger than the first.

The man to Reginald’s left was bald and heavy set, wearing a simple blue button-up shirt, jeans, and a pair of work boots. Dan pegged him as a tradesman of some sort, perhaps a construction worker. The man to Reginald’s right was tall and rugged, with toned arms, dark hair, and a sleeve of tattoos. His eyes were dark and brooding, and he pierced Dan with his stare.

The girls had been left in the shack, and Dan had been taken alone to a far corner of the lumberyard, in a small building with a cement floor and a high ceiling. He hadn’t noticed the building before, but when he saw it, he had a sinking feeling that it might be his final resting place.

On the way over, he’d glimpsed the warehouse and the main buildings, and he’d seen several faces peeking out at him from dust-covered windows. Although he was unable to discern any of their features, he thought he noticed several women, perhaps even a young child.

He could only imagine what Reginald had told them. At the very least, they must have been instructed to stay indoors.

Throughout the conversation, Dan had been struggling with his bonds, but so far he’d been unable to loosen them. He’d been propped up on a chair, and the men were between him and the single exit. When he finished speaking, he sucked in a breath, waiting for whatever was to happen next.

The men exchanged glances, as if they were suddenly unsure. After a long pause, the bald man on the left opened his mouth to speak.

“I believe him.”

Reginald shifted his gaze to the other man. The man with the tattoos pulled at his chin and his eyes fell to the ground.

“I do, too.”

Reginald’s face grew dark. Without warning, he flew up from his chair, knocking it over.

“This man is a fucking liar!” he yelled, pointing his finger in Dan’s face. “You believe all that shit he’s telling you? He’s part of it! He’s the one who did this!”

The other men remained silent, eyes averted.

“If you aren’t going to take care of him, I will!”

Reginald pulled out a pistol and leveled it at Dan’s head.

“Any last words, you piece of shit?”

“Promise me that my daughter will be safe,” Dan said.

Reginald’s face remained tense, angry. Instead of responding, he moved several inches closer to his target.

Before he could pull the trigger, the tattooed man stood abruptly. Reginald looked back, startled.

“This isn’t right, Reginald. He’s a goddamn cop, for fuck’s sake. If you’re going to do this, I don’t want any part in it.”

“Me neither,” the bald man said, taking to his feet.

Reginald’s face fell and he lowered the gun.

“Where are you going?” he asked them.

The men ignored him. Reginald took a step toward them, but they’d already exited the room, and the door slapped closed behind them. Dan heard their footsteps scuff the dirt as they walked across the lot. A few seconds later, the noises faded and Reginald turned back to face him.

“I guess it’s just me and you, officer shit bag.”

“I wouldn’t do this if I were you,” Dan said. “You know that I’m telling the truth, and your friends do, too. If you do this you’ll drive a wedge between the group, and that’s the last thing you need at a time like this.”

Reginald glared at him with disgust.

“Talk it over first. Make sure everyone is in agreement before you pull that trigger.”

“I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks. I don’t answer to anyone but myself.”

The man raised the pistol to Dan’s forehead again, gritting his teeth. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead, and his hand shook. Dan closed his eyes and steeled himself on the chair, waiting for the bullet that would signify the end.

Seconds passed. He heard the other man breathing; heard his own breath accelerate. He strained at the ropes, giving one last-ditch effort to break free, but his hands and feet wouldn’t move. At any second he was sure that a wave of pain would wash over him.

Goodbye, Quinn.

Only the gunshot never came.

When Dan opened his eyes he saw that Reginald had tucked the gun in his pants. The man was shaking his head.

“Don’t get comfortable, pig,” he said. “I’ll be right back as soon as I talk to the others. I doubt it’ll take long.”

Without another word, he stalked off through the door and into the cool desert night, taking the lantern with him.

Dan strained in the dark for what felt like hours, until his wrists and ankles were raw from the rope. The chair he was in had been lashed to a single beam in the room—no matter how hard he tried, he was unable to tip it.

As he fought to break free, he thought of his daughter. Was she still in the same place, and was she safe?