No Easy Hope - 01 (14 page)

The road was clear during the drive. I saw no other cars, or any other type of movement, living or dead. I slowed as I neared the entrance to the neighborhood, not wanting to attract any attention. I pulled off to the side of the road to consult my street map.  I didn’t want to just drive straight in, as I had no idea what I would be walking into and I didn’t want noise from the truck attracting the undead. After studying the layout of the streets surrounding the development, I decided to circle through the woods to the south on foot, and approach through the back yards at a cul-de-sac.

I strapped on the load bearing harness with my pistol and spare ammo, and looped the carbine’s tactical sling across my chest for quick access. Both the pistol and the rifle had silencers fitted to them, but I hoped I would not need to use them. My goal was to get in and get out, quick and quiet. I strapped a hiking pack that was empty except for a few items I thought I might need, and set out through the forest.

I had a small compass that I used to stay oriented southward. Every twenty yards or so I would stop and check my surroundings, ears straining, looking for any sign of movement. I hiked about half a mile toward my destination when I saw the first of the undead. It was staggering in my direction, occasionally cocking its head to the side as though trying to listen, and sniffing the air. It reminded me of my Uncle Roger’s terrier when he was out hunting rodents.

I was fortunate to spot it before it homed in on me.  It must have heard me walking through the thick carpet of dead leaves and pine needles on the ground. As quietly as I could, I crouched beside a tree in a shooting position. I peered through the rifle’s reflex sights and waited for a clean shot. It took about two minutes before the ghoul rounded a thick stand of pines, presenting an unobstructed shot. The undead was a petite blond woman wearing a large t-shirt that hung halfway down her bare, filthy legs. Dried blood had turned the entire front of the shirt a dull rust color, and she was missing large chunks of flesh from her shoulders, face, and arms. Her left eye dangled from its optic nerve, swaying like a grotesque pendulum down her face. It took everything I had to resist the urge to cut and run. My heart pounded in my chest, and I struggled to fight off the panic that the sight of the undead roused in me.

Get it together.
I thought.
The world is crawling with these things. I have to learn to face them. I have to stay calm. I have to think.

After a few deep breaths, I took careful aim and fired. The round struck her in the forehead and she collapsed, shuddering as she fell. I knew that if one revenant was tracking me, then there could be more on the way. Even with the silencer, the assault rifles report was audible from several yards away. I didn’t want more undead to show up, and set off at a faster pace.

It took another ten minutes of trekking through the woods to reach the development. Just before emerging into the back yard of a large two-story house, I paused behind a bush at the edge of the tree line, and pulled a small pair of binoculars from my cargo pocket. I scanned the yards of the houses in front of me for movement.

The back yards were empty, but I could see at least a dozen infected, wandering aimlessly around the front yards. Some of them simply stood still, a dull, vacant expression on their pale gray faces. I would need to be fast and quiet, or this could go very bad, very quickly. I slid the rifle backward and used a Velcro strap on the load bearing harness to secure the barrel in place, and then drew the Kel-Tec from its holster. I had loaded the pistol’s magazines with sub-sonic rounds to reduce noise if I had to shoot it. I attached a suppressor to the barrel and made ready to exit cover. I emerged from the woods in a crouch, pistol at the ready. I moved quickly toward the house closest to me, rolling my steps from the sides of my boots to reduce noise. Loud buzzing from thousands of cicadas in the surrounding pines drowned out the sound of my feet crossing the thick, overgrown lawn.

The house I approached had a tall wood-slat fence that surrounded the back yard. The gate stood open, and I paused for a moment as I stepped through it and crouched just inside the fence line. I listened for a minute or two, and didn’t hear anything approaching. I got up and slowly crept toward the back door.  It had a large multi-paned window on its upper half, and I peered through it looking for movement inside the house. Seeing none, I tried the doorknob. Locked. Awesome.

I took off my backpack and retrieved a roll of duct tape. I covered the glass in the windowpane closest to the door handle with tape and struck it sharply with the butt of the pistol. The glass broke with a dull crunch, and I cringed at the noise. I pulled aside the glass as quietly as I could and then reached through to unlock the door. I avoided the broken glass on the floor as I stepped through. The house was dark, with heavy shades drawn over the windows. The room I walked into was furnished with plush, comfortable looking sofas and chairs and a massive coffee table. I guessed it was some kind of sitting room, probably used for entertaining neighbors and friends.

Steeling myself to continue, I took in a deep breath and immediately regretted it. The reek of death filled my sinuses, making my eyes water. I swallowed hard to avoid gagging, and raised my weapon. Gabe’s manual said that the undead reek to high heaven, and one could often smell them before they could be seen or heard. Again, I had to fight the urge to turn and run.

If there are any undead in here, I have to deal with them.
I thought.
I’ve done it before, and I can do it again. I’ve come too far to turn back empty handed.

I walked through the doorway and scanned the room beyond. The lower section of the house was open, a TV and couches on the right, and the kitchen on the left. A staircase near the front entrance led to the upper portion of the house. A long counter separated the kitchen from the living room. The house was spacious and richly decorated, with hardwood floors, granite counter-tops, and stainless steel appliances. The kitchen was my goal, but the smell of death grew stronger as I continued inside. I briefly considered going back out and trying another house, but decided against it. Everything had gone well so far, I might as well see it though.

I didn’t want to be blindsided while stuffing cans in my pack, and I knew I was going to have to make some noise to get supplies from the kitchen. I needed to clear the house. I checked my pistol to make sure the safety was off and a round was in the chamber, then took a small flashlight from my pack and shined it up the staircase. I didn’t see any movement, and slowly proceeded upward, leaving the pack behind at the foot of the stairs. I turned the corner on a landing, climbed a few more stairs, and reached the top facing a long hallway. There were several closed doors on either side of the hall, behind which anything could be waiting. Fucking fantastic. I slowly crept down the hall, finger on the trigger and ready to fire. I remembered something Gabe had taught me, and shifted my stance so that I could quickly launch a front kick if needed.

I came to the first door and twisted the handle, pushed the door open, and took a step back, waiting. I listened to my heart hammer in my ears ten times, then edged my way in front of the door. Beyond the doorway was a tastefully decorated bedroom, probably a guest room. I stepped inside and checked the closet and under the bed. Nothing. I proceeded down the hall checking rooms as I went. I cleared an empty home office, a bathroom, a linen closet, and a bedroom converted into a home gym, complete with adjustable weight dumbbells, a treadmill, and a yoga mat. Evidently, the former residents were health conscious. The last doorway loomed before me, and the smell of death was strong enough to make me want to gag with every breath. I held my pistol at the ready, and threw the door open. The smell was nearly overwhelming. I had to take a few steps back and clench my jaw to keep from throwing up. I pulled the collar of my shirt over my nose and walked through the door, breathing as shallow as I could.

The smell emanated from two dead bodies lying on a king sized bed in the center of the room. They had obviously been dead for quite a while, and their bodies were crawling with maggots. Body fluids spread out in stinking pools that soaked the mattress beneath them. I reached out a hand and knocked twice on the door, figuring that if they were not completely dead then the noise would rouse them. When they didn’t respond, I stepped further inside. The two bodies on the bed had been holding each other when they died. A large empty pill container stood on one of the night stands, next to a half empty glass of water. I picked up the pill bottle and read the label. Sleeping pills, and strong ones at that. They must have seen what was happing during the outbreak, and decided to check out rather than stick around for the show. I didn’t blame them. Satisfied that the house was safe for the time being, I turned to go back downstairs. On my way out, I noticed a note on a small desk. I picked up the note and read it:

Brian and Cathy,

If you find this letter, please forgive us. We couldn’t stand to watch the world die anymore. We love you, and we will see you again in a better place.

Love always,

Mom and Dad.

Tears stung my eyes as I placed the letter back on the table. I thought about my own parents, and was glad that fate had spared them from the horror of watching the world fall apart. I closed the door behind me as I left the room.

 I went back downstairs to search the kitchen, but didn’t bother with the refrigerator. Anything in there would be rotten, and the house smelled bad enough as it was. I searched the cupboard and a small pantry. They were both full of canned goods, dried pasta, and various other things. I picked out the food with the most nutritional value and stuffed as much of it as I could into my pack.

The pack was heavy, probably weighing over fifty pounds once it was full. I didn’t expect to have much trouble carrying it. I am a shade over six feet tall, and back then I was a solid two-hundred and ten pounds. I was used to carrying heavy packs from all the hiking trips that Gabriel and I had taken over the years.

I went out the back door and crossed the lawn as quietly as I could. As I stepped through the back gate, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned to my left and saw an undead come around the corner of the fence line. I didn’t wait for him to react, I raised my pistol and fired two rounds at his head. The first round skipped off the side of his skull, but the second caught him just above the eye, and he dropped.

I hurried to the tree line, and after a quick look at my compass, I headed back north toward my truck. I got about halfway there when I started seeing staggering figures roaming through the trees. They must have been in the forest when I came through before, and followed the sound of my boots crunching on the dry undergrowth. As I approached them, I saw several heads swivel in my direction. That damned horrible, hungry moan began to drift through the forest like an evil, intangible fog.

I knew that turning back was a bad idea, as the moaning would no doubt attract the ghouls wandering around in the housing development. I figured my only chance was to keep heading for the truck, maintain a fast pace, and drop any undead that got in my way. I had learned from Gabe’s manual that a person’s best ally against the undead, once detected by them, was speed. I broke into a slow trot, abandoning any pretense of stealth. I holstered my pistol and unfastened the barrel of my assault rifle. I flipped off the safety, and made sure the fire selector was set to semi-auto. No sense in wasting bullets on full auto when one shot will get the job done.

I kept up my pace until I got to within five yards of the nearest undead. I stopped long enough to level my rifle and fire. I missed it on the first shot, and dropped it on the second. I continued on this way, pausing only to reload or kill the undead that I couldn’t avoid until I made it back to the road. As I emerged into the ankle high grass bordering the highway, I looked toward my truck and stopped short. At least a dozen undead surrounded it. I swore vehemently, and debated what to do. The moaning of the undead slowly pursuing me through the woods was getting louder. The ghouls surrounding my truck noticed me, and began to stagger in my direction. I knew I didn’t have much time before being surrounded. I had no choice but to clear the undead away from my truck. I stepped onto the pavement, dropped my pack and kneeled down into a steady shooting position. I started with the nearest ones, and dropped the ghouls one by one. The last one was only about ten feet away when I put a bullet through his head. Just as I grabbed my pack to put it back on, several undead emerged from the tree line, and lurched towards me.

I dropped my rifle and let it hang from its tactical sling. I grabbed the pack with both hands and ran for the truck. I managed to put about thirty feet between me and the nearest corpse by the time I made it to the driver side door. I chucked the heavy pack into the bed of the truck and climbed into the cab. Thankfully, I left the keys in the ignition just in case I had to beat a hasty retreat. I cranked up the truck and did a wide u-turn, heading back the way I came from. My instincts screamed for me to floor it, but I knew that wasn’t necessary. Even at low speed, the truck would quickly outdistance the undead. I kept my speed below thirty miles an hour and easily dodged a few ghouls that wandered out in front of me. I looked behind me and saw at least forty or fifty corpses shambling after me as I pulled away.