Escape (7 page)

Meredith could see the road from here. The asphalt was long, flat, and empty. Not a car going in either direction. If something widespread were happening, wouldn’t she see someone trying to escape? Wouldn’t someone eventually drive by?

The only thing she could think of was that they were all stuck in a situation like her. Either they were infected, or they were being attacked by someone who was.

The thought made her shudder.

Regardless of where everyone was, there must be police
somewhere
. And even if they were preoccupied, she needed to let them know what had happened.

She glanced over at the front door, which still hanging open from where Ben had crashed into it. A breeze had begun to blow over the fields, and the door creaked on its broken hinge, swaying back and forth in the gentle air.

She dug out her car key and walked toward it.

The center of town was a few miles away.

Her best option—her only option—was to head to Settler’s Creek and look for help. There were bound to be people there. There had to be. She’d find whomever she could, then locate the police and tell them what happened.

She’d made it halfway across the living room when she paused. If she were going into town, she’d need a weapon.

“The rifle,” she said aloud.

She doubled back outside and to the barn.

The rifle lay right where she had left it, and she picked it up, carried it with her. She’d only gotten as far as the door when she thought of something. In the time she’d collected the rifle and headed for the door, a name had crossed her mind.

John Parish.

Of all the phone numbers she’d dialed, his hadn’t been among them.

It’d been six months since they two had seen each other, and even longer since they’d spoken. Their breakup hadn’t exactly been on the best of terms.

Still, regardless of what had transpired between them, shouldn’t she at least try to call him?

What if John was there? What if he needed help?

She gripped the rifle in her hands, still wrestling with the idea, and strode toward the pickup. Even under these circumstances, the thought of phoning him had her stomach twisted in knots.

She pictured his chiseled face, his dark hair, the hint of stubble that seemed to be permanently affixed to his cheeks. She’d fallen for him. Hard.

And he’d done nothing but betray her.

She thrust the image of his face from her mind, continuing toward the vehicle. His store was located right on the edge of town, about fifteen minutes away. She’d have to pass by it on the way in. If he were there, she’d stop and make sure he was ok.

But what if he was in trouble now?

Meredith’s stopped mid-stride. Before she knew it, she’d detoured past the truck and ran the front door.

She would dial his number once. Make sure he was all right. He probably wouldn’t answer anyway. Nobody else had.

She snagged the receiver from the wall and punched the numbers by heart; surprised she still remembered them.

How could I forget?

The phone was silent for a minute as it connected.

The dead air felt like an eternity.

Finally, the other line rang, and she could feel her fingers shaking on the hard plastic, her heart thudding in her chest.

Would it be worse if John answered, or worse if he didn’t? What would she say to him?

She pressed the phone to her ear, afraid that she might miss his greeting. The phone rang and rang.

On the sixth ring—just as she was about to hang up—someone answered.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other end was hoarse, barely audible.

“John?”

“Meredith? Is that you?”

His voice wavered as he spoke, and she could hear banging and clattering in the background.

“Are you all right? What’s all that noise?”

“I tried calling you…” His voice trailed off.

“I’m not at home. I’m at Sheila Guthright’s house. Something happened to her, John. She’s been—“

A crash sounded from the other end of the phone, and Meredith jumped in surprise, almost dropping the receiver.

“John, what’s going on over there?”

“Meredith…there’s something I need to tell you…”

The noise had risen to a crescendo; John’s voice was barely audible. Meredith clutched the phone tight, suddenly terrified that she’d lose contact with him.

“John? What is it? Can you hear me? I need you to stay on the phone.”

A hiss washed over the other end, drowning out the man’s response. Meredith’s heart hammered, and she screamed his name into the mouthpiece.

“John! Don’t hang up!”

All at once the noise subsided. She strained her ears, waiting for the man to speak again, but all she could hear was the sound of him breathing on the other end. Finally he spoke.

“I’ve always loved you, Meredith,” he said.

There was a gunshot, and then the phone disconnected.

PART TWO – THE NORTH STAR

9

D
an, Quinn, and Sandy navigated the streets soundlessly, deadening their footsteps as they walked. The town contained an eerie calm, as if the three of them were on stage, an invisible audience watching from the shadows.

Aside from the pack of creatures they’d seen inside the bank, they’d yet to see any others, and the quietude was making Dan nervous. Every now and again he’d hear a distant crash or a footfall, but each time nothing appeared.

It was as if the creatures were biding their time, waiting for the right moment to strike.

The three of them were currently on Vanderbilt Street, an offshoot of the main road that ran through St. Matthews. All around them were brick commercial buildings and small service shops. Despite his ten years in the community, Dan realized he’d never paid much attention to them. Now it seemed like they were impossible to ignore.

To his right were a vacuum cleaner store, a woodworking company, and a jewelry maker. To his left a salon, an art gallery, and a historical museum.

It was as if these places hadn’t even existed before today, and had sprung to life only to complete the picture of the perfect town.

And St. Matthews
had
been the perfect town. Or pretty damn close to it.

Sure, the town had had its problems. But the good had usually outweighed the bad. Dan had never regretted his decision to move to St. Matthews, and he was sure Julie hadn’t, either.

Together they’d built a life here, providing a stable home for Quinn and working in professions that were satisfying and rewarding.

Now, the town was a grim reminder of a life torn apart. Not just for him, but for the several thousand other residents who once lived here.

It was time to get out. There was nothing left for them here.

Dan crept through the broken street, keeping a cautious eye on his surroundings. Each new block presented a host of dark hiding places, and he did his best to scrutinize every one. Behind him, Quinn and Sandy had linked hands, and he could hear their bated breath as they walked the pavement.

Ahead of him were cars spun sideways, signs bent and hanging over, and a slew of paperwork and discarded clothing. There were also bodies—some sitting upright in vehicles, as if they might fire the engines and drive away—others lying in the middle of the street. Unlike a few days prior, the bodies had started to decompose, their limbs picked at by the birds.

So far, the cars they’d seen had been crashed, but Dan kept his eyes peeled for a vehicle they could use. Being on foot made him feel open and exposed, and the feeling was unsettling.

They’d already travelled several blocks from the bank; the lumberyard was a few miles away. If they could reach it without incident, he’d persuade Reginald to return their car, either by conversation or by force.

Whatever it took.

Dan peered into a pickup truck on the side of the road. The windows were smashed and the airbag deflated. By the looks of it, the truck had crashed into an older-model Buick, and the Buick sat empty at the side of the road. Unlike the pickup, the Buick appeared intact, sporting only a dent in the rear bumper.

Dan crept to the driver’s side window and peered in. A set of keys dangled from the ignition. The only passenger was a body in the passenger’s seat.

The girls had stopped behind him, and they stared, awaiting direction.

He held up his pointer finger.

“Hold on,” he mouthed.

The window of the vehicle was rolled up. The driver’s door was locked, but he could see an open window on the other side. He made his way over.

Once on the other side, he reached over the sill into the passenger’s seat, avoiding the lifeless body that resided there. The corpse was a woman’s, and her bloodied, matted hair reminded him of the bristles of a broom. Her face was sunken in and gray, her features obscured by the onset of decay.

Dan hit a button and unlocked the doors.

The
click
made him jump, and he stared over his shoulder at the street, certain he’d have awoken something nearby. The coast was clear.

The girls stood at the trunk of the car, doe-eyed and nervous, and he gave them a nod for reassurance. Then he reached across the lap of the dead woman and turned the key.

The engine rumbled and fired.

“Let’s go, girls,” he said. “In the backseat.”

Given the noise of the vehicle, they had to leave. At the same time, he didn’t want to ride with a dead body. He ripped open the passenger’s side door and grabbed hold of the dead woman, intending to place her in the street.

To his dismay, the woman’s clothing snagged; despite his efforts, he was unable to move her. It took him a minute to realize she had her seatbelt on.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

The girls had already scooted into the rear of the vehicle and were watching him, hands clutching the seats. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Quinn glancing out the back window. He continued to tug at the body.

“Dad!” she yelled suddenly.

His fingers froze on the seatbelt latch, and he followed her gaze. It didn’t take him long to notice what she’d seen.

The street behind them had filled with creatures.

Moans and footfalls filled the air, a cavalcade of the things tumbling forward over cars and debris to get to them. There was no time to delay.

Dan clambered over the woman’s body and pulled the door shut behind him. When he reached the driver’s seat, he kicked away a pile of papers and trash underfoot and found the gas pedal.

Then he put the vehicle into drive.

The Buick hesitated, and for a split second, Dan feared that it was more damaged than he thought.
Come on, dammit.
He pushed the pedal to the floor. A second later the car lurched forward and out into the road, and he wrenched the steering wheel away from the curb.

In the rearview, he saw that the creatures had gained ground; a few had managed to grip the trunk, their fingernails sliding across the metal. Dan accelerated and swerved around an abandoned vehicle, effectively throwing them off, and proceeded up the road.

The streets had come alive.

Creatures sprang from the windows, emerged through alleyways, and crashed through doors. It was as if the Buick had become a signal, emitting an invisible beacon to the world around it. The clutter on the road thickened, and without warning, Dan’s speed fell to a crawl.

The things poured from all sides now, converging on the vehicle. One of them flung itself into the open passenger’s side window, dangling halfway over the sill.

Dan hit the automatic window lever, lifting the pane on its midsection. The window gears ground as they strained against the weight of the creature.

“Dad!”

Hands pounded the Buick on all sides, and despite his efforts, Dan struggled to keep his focus on driving. In spite of that, he knew he couldn’t give up. The girls in the backseat were depending on him.

The creature in the window snapped its jaws, trying to reach Dan. Raising the window had only trapped it; now it was stuck between the window and the doorframe.

“Is there anything you can use back there to hit it?” he shouted.

The girls dug under the seats behind him. Dan reached for the pistol tucked in his pants, but the creature had begun to swat at him, as if sensing what he had in store.

“I’ve got something!” Sandy yelled.

Dan’s eyes flicked to the rearview; the girl had found a crowbar. He watched as she leaned over the seat and started clubbing the thing. The creature spit and flailed.

“I’m going to roll down the window! When I do, hit it as hard as you can!”

“OK!” the girl cried.

He jabbed the button, lowering the window, and watched as Sandy swung at the thing’s skull. The crowbar connected with its forehead, and it fell limp into the passenger’s seat, resting on top of the dead woman.

Dan swerved left and then right, shaking it loose, and it toppled backward and fell out into the street. He rolled up the window, just in time to avoid another pair of lunging hands.

The creatures in the street had thickened—there were now several hordes approaching from the front. So far Dan had been able to drive unimpeded, but the road was getting worse. Up ahead, a minivan and a dump truck barred the majority of the street, and the sidewalk wasn’t looking much better.

Despite his practiced driving skills, there was only so much Dan could do.

He withdrew his gun and set it on his lap. If he’d counted correctly, there were five bullets left. The rest of their weapons had been stolen with the station wagon.

He glared at the grim path ahead of them, looking for options.

The sidewalk was covered in restaurant furniture, trees, and newspaper boxes. Even if he were to veer onto it, they wouldn’t make it more than a few feet. At the same time, the road ahead was completely blocked off.

He had to do something. The creatures had them surrounded.

“Hang on!” he shouted.

Eyeing the two tear-stained faces in the backseat, Dan swerved off the road, heading straight for the nearest building.

10

M
eredith bit back the tears. She clenched the phone in her hand, dialing John’s number over and over, but it was useless. There was no answer. After the fourth try she let the receiver drop and grabbed her rifle.