Sanctuary (3 page)

She knew she wouldn't be so lucky in town.

Before long, they'd reached the town center. Commercial and residential buildings sprung up to meet them, like movie props that had been constructed for the occasion. She perused the doorways and signs, comparing her memories of the town with the ghost town before her.
 

Gone were the quaint activities of the townspeople—the farmers selling produce, the store owners cleaning windows, the patrons strolling the sidewalks. The streets were a mix of dead bodies and the roaming infected, and the scene made her nauseous.

Despite the chaos, there were fewer infected than Meredith remembered. Upon entering the town, she'd expected to be surrounded. But the infected were more spread out. A few of the creatures wandered into the vicinity, but most remained in place, glaring at the SUV with empty eyes, as if they knew the end was near.

After navigating a few more streets, Meredith sighted the pharmacy in the distance. The front windows had been busted; bottles and merchandise were flung on the sidewalk and street.

"I'll pull around back," she said.

John sat rigid in his seat, his gun raised, as if the cold reality of leaving the vehicle had just hit him. Whether the creatures were slow or not, walking among them was dangerous.

Meredith swerved down a narrow alley between two buildings. She veered around behind the pharmacy. The back door hung open, as if the employees were waiting inside, ready to assist with whatever they needed. But she knew that was far from the case. She parked so that John's door was parallel to the entrance, about fifteen feet away—enough space to provide a buffer zone if something was lurking inside, but close enough to make a hasty retreat if needed.

She surveyed the open building. The store seemed empty. She reached for the driver's door, but John grabbed her arm.

"If it looks bad, we leave," he said. "Agreed?"

She nodded. As slow as the creatures seemed, she knew it was easy to be swarmed. Their eyes met for a brief second—the possibility of death passing between them unspoken—and then the two of them exited the vehicle.

Tim Keller ignored the girl's screams.
 

He'd heard plenty of screams before, and the sound was nothing new. It was as commonplace as the rustle of the wind or birds chirping overhead. His victims were always screaming, trying to change their circumstances, trying to change his mind.

None of them ever succeeded.

He'd found the girl in the back of a pickup truck, lodged between several bags of clothing and a mattress. She'd been in rough shape—half-starved and dehydrated, nursing several wounds. He'd coaxed her from hiding, offering assistance and a safer place to stay.

As soon as he'd gained her trust, he'd attacked her and tied her up. Now it was time for the real fun to begin.

He watched with a smile as she struggled against her bonds. He'd secured her to a bike rack in the center of town, tying her hands to one of the metal poles, but he'd left her feet free. Then he'd climbed onto a nearby rooftop—close enough to watch, but far enough away to avoid danger.

At the end of the street, a dozen infected milled in her direction. The girl screamed at Keller to release her. She strained against the bike rack, pulling so hard that it scraped across the ground, moving an inch at a time.
 

That was the beauty of it.

With every scrape, every scream, she was drawing the things to her, and yet she was powerless to keep quiet. She was so close to freedom and yet so far. Panic had taken over, and she was fighting with everything she had to break free.

Keller laughed. He withdrew a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one up, drawing a deep breath. He'd never bought into the agents' philosophies.

He'd called bullshit from the beginning.
 

A few days ago, he'd been stationed in Oklahoma City with a group of other agents when they'd received word that their compound had been breached. In just a few days, the entire plan had been compromised, and the majority of the leaders had been killed or taken into custody. From what he'd heard, the government was working to restore order.
 

He didn't give a shit about the agents' plan.

Sure, he agreed with the basic premise of what the agents were trying to accomplish. But he didn't care about the details. His motivations were simple and selfish.

He wanted civilization to fall so he could play in the remains.

And that time had come.

As soon as Tim had received word that the compound had been attacked, he'd jumped at the opportunity, picking off his group of agents one by one. He'd waited until they were in close quarters, and then he'd slit their throats. As fun as that sounded, it hadn't been enjoyable. He'd rather have taken his time.

But he'd done what he had to do. He'd made sacrifices to ensure he'd have this time to himself.

Half the thrill was in the anticipation.
 

Like the anticipation of watching the girl in front of him struggle.
 

Sooner or later, the infected would reach her, drawn by her screams. And when they did, they'd tear her apart. And Tim would be there, waiting for that moment, savoring every second.
 

What good was bloodshed if it couldn't be enjoyed?

Meredith left the keys in the vehicle, the engine running.
 

Other than the hum of the SUV's engine, the area was quiet. She shut the door quietly, trying to preserve the calm. Even so, the hinges creaked, and the noise felt like an alarm. Her footsteps sounded like a stampede.

John walked a few steps ahead of her. She raised her pistol and advanced toward the door of the pharmacy, falling in line behind him. She noticed he was still favoring his left leg. A few days prior, he'd been injured in a battle with the creatures, and though he was healing well, he hadn't fully recovered.

The thought of his injury gave her a shiver of unease. It was a sordid reminder of their mortality. But she didn't want to think about that. Not now.
 

She followed John through the door.
 

The pharmacy was a maze of overturned shelves and prescription bottles. Meredith stepped carefully, knowing one misplaced foot could bring the attention of the creatures. She scanned the store with nervous eyes. Sports drinks littered the floor, their caps torn off, the liquid spilled and puddled. Several packages of chips had been opened and scattered, as if someone had been interrupted while trying to consume them. The air was thick with blood.

In spite of that, she saw no bodies. She continued forward, grateful to be spared the carnage for a change.

John was already on his knees, digging quietly through the bottles and debris.
 

"Cover me," he whispered, nodding to the front window.

Through the smashed panes, she saw several creatures meandering on the street, about fifty yards away. Their mouths hung open, tongues darting between missing teeth. Their bodies were pale and scabbed. A week ago, the sight would have been frightening and unreal, and Meredith would have found herself questioning both her vision and her sanity. Now the creatures were as commonplace as the buzzards flying overhead.
 

It was as if she and John were the intruders, not the other way around. They were outnumbered, and the best course of action was to avoid confrontation.

John was still scavenging the floor when one of the infected glanced at them through the broken storefront window. Meredith went stock-still, hoping its gaze wouldn't linger. The creature had short gray hair and wore a construction cap. Two others shuffled behind it.
 

The pistol felt slippery in her palms.

She opened her mouth to alert John, but her fear kept her quiet. The thing's eyes penetrated the store. She watched its head cock to the side, as if it were an animal rather than a man, a predator in human's clothing.

"John," she whispered.

"I've got something," John hissed from the ground.

She let her attention fall for a second—just long enough to see John holding up several small boxes—and then flicked her eyes back to the window. The creature was moving toward the pharmacy. Faster than expected.

"We have to go," she urged.

John took to his feet. At the same time, the creature broke into a run. It groaned as it advanced, the construction cap wobbling on its head. A crash sounded from elsewhere in the room.

"Come on!" Meredith shouted, no longer concerned with the noise.

She tugged John's arm, and they darted back through the pharmacy. Meredith raced through the open back door and toward the vehicle, as if the SUV were a magnet, her body a charged piece of metal.
 

She maneuvered around the driver's side and ripped open the door. She was about to jump in when she heard a cry from behind her. She halted and spun.

"John!"

Somehow, the creature with the construction cap had caught up to him, and it had latched onto his shirt. He struggled to knock it off. Meredith's fingers slid off the door handle. She dashed to help him, raising her gun.

Before she could assist, John raised his gun and fired, and the thing tumbled off. The boxes he'd grabbed fell to the ground. Through the open door, Meredith saw several more things careening through the store, clambering over debris and prescription bottles to get to them.

"Leave the medicine, John!" she screamed.

But John ignored her. He hunched to the ground, recovering the boxes.

"Come on!" Meredith screamed.

John scooped up the medicine just as a handful of creatures spilled through the opening. Meredith aimed her gun.

"Look out!"

She squeezed the trigger. The blast rippled through the air, overpowering the creatures' cries. One of the creatures fell to its knees, tripping up another. But more were coming. The gunfire had bought them time. That was all. John scrambled for the passenger door and threw it open. Meredith raced for the driver's side. They jumped inside and locked the vehicle, listening to hands pound the exterior.

The creatures piled out from doorways and alleys.

It was as if the things had been in hibernation, waiting for the chance to strike. But there was no time to reflect, no time to decipher where they'd come from. Meredith hit the gas and peeled down the street. A few of the creatures clung to the vehicle—one on the passenger-side mirror and another on the hood—but she swerved until they fell off.

She watched the creatures tumble to the pavement in the rearview. Several more trickled from nearby buildings, as if they were multiplying rather than emerging. Meredith sped past them, relieved to have gotten away.
 

"That was close," John breathed.
 

His eyes met hers, and she felt a flood of relief. Just seconds ago, she'd been in danger of losing John—again. The world was an endless cycle of adrenaline and danger, each day another dodge from death.

John opened the boxes, perusing the inhalers and canisters.

"I hope this is the right stuff," he said.
 

"Me, too."

She focused on the road, maintaining an even speed. There were a few creatures around them, but none in immediate proximity. She took another turn and rejoined the main thoroughfare.
 

Her heart knocked in frantic rhythm. It'd been another dangerous encounter, but at least they'd gotten Quinn's medicine.

Her breathing leveled out as she passed the next few blocks. The emerging sun was bright and warm. Aside from the danger they'd just put themselves in, despite the fact that the world had ended, it was a beautiful day. She hoped Quinn was holding up all right. Meredith concentrated on the road, looking forward to putting the trip behind them and getting back to the Sanders'.
 

Her trance was shattered by a scream.

"What was that?" John bolted upright in his seat.

Meredith glanced in the rearview mirror, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise, but saw only a few roaming creatures.

"Was that one of
them
?"

John shook his head. "I don't think so. It sounded human."

The scream came again.

"Someone else is out there," John confirmed.
 

They looked at each other for a split second. The screaming had stopped, but Meredith could still hear it echoing in her head.
 

"Maybe it was—"

The scream turned into a bloodcurdling shriek. It was coming from one of the adjacent streets. Meredith hit the brake and pulled to the side of the road. They couldn't leave another survivor behind. Not while the person was within earshot, not while Meredith and John were in a position to help.

She looked at John and swallowed. He nodded.
 

Meredith did a U-turn in the road.

Keller took one last swig of his soda before heaving it from the rooftop. He watched the can plummet, then bounce off the pavement below. The hollow
clink
drew the attention of several of the creatures, but only for a second—after a brief pause, they returned to devouring the girl.

It was a beautiful morning, indeed.

The girl had just stopped screaming, and already Keller missed the noise. Even though she'd gone silent, he could still hear the sound repeating in his ears—a chorus of anguish that he'd cherish forever. Now he contented himself with watching the creatures tear at her remains.

He smiled at the scene, wiping a thin line of soda from his upper lip. It was still hard to believe he was a free man—free from the agents, free from the rules and constraints of society.

Even so, it wouldn't last forever. Sooner or later, someone would restore order. But the infection had bought him some time, that was for sure. And he planned to take full advantage.
 

He swung his legs in the air, feeling a tingle of excitement course through him. It was the same feeling he remembered from his childhood—the surge of endorphins that accompanied getting away with something he shouldn't be doing.