Sanctuary (4 page)

It was a feeling he was getting used to lately.

He wiped his hand on his jeans, cleaning off some of the dirt and grime that resided there. He'd switched into plain clothes a few days ago, ditching his agent's uniform in an abandoned apartment. He'd been lucky enough to find an outfit of comparable size. It hadn't taken much effort.
 

It was easy to find what you needed when there was no one else around.
 

Keller picked up his automatic rifle and stood. Below him, the creatures moaned in a frenzy. They toppled and fell over one another, each trying to secure a piece of the fresh carcass. In spite of what people might think, it wasn't much different from the world from a week ago. Everyone was always trying to get one step ahead, one more piece of whatever they were looking for. It was a rat race without an end, and one Keller was proud to no longer be a part of.

Long ago, he'd learned that it was useless to acquire. It was only worthwhile to destroy. Who needed things when they could so easily be stripped away? The only things that mattered were pleasure and pain. Those were worth striving for.

He'd heard it said once that the only things that stuck with a person—that really adhered to the
core of their being
—were memories based on trauma and pain. Everything else eventually slipped away, erased by the passage of time.

It was his goal to build a foundation of those memories. To forget everything that had led him to this point, and work on building a new beginning.

It was one he deserved, after all. And one that made him feel
alive
.

He took aim at the clambering horde below him. The groaning had increased to an uproar. Several of the things were holding up pieces of the girl, displaying their prizes to the world. He aimed at one of them and prepared to squeeze the trigger.

He was distracted by movement up the street.

He lowered the automatic rifle and peered off the rooftop. About a block away, a graffiti-covered SUV was hurtling forward, turning down the block where the girl had once been.
Who the hell is that?
Keller had been in town several days and had seen very few signs of life. Aside from the girl—or what was left of her—he'd only run into a few other survivors, and he'd already disposed of them.
 

It was possible these newcomers had arrived from somewhere else. Maybe they were from a surrounding city—perhaps the outskirts of town.
 

In any case, he'd make use of them.

He'd have to tread carefully, of course. There were others like him out there. He was smart enough to know that. He'd already run into a few nasty sons of bitches. Luckily, he'd been able to overpower them; in a few cases, he'd outwitted them.

He'd have to see which camp these newcomers fell into.

He kept his eyes on the approaching vehicle, watching it turn onto the block below. It looked like there were two people inside —a man and a woman. The woman was driving. He watched as the SUV screeched to a halt, suddenly faced by the mob of blood-crazed infected. The tires squealed as it went into reverse. He heard shouting from the vehicle's occupants, cries of panic. Perhaps they'd heard the screaming and had come to help. If so, they were exactly the type of people he was looking for.

Keller did his best to stifle his excitement.

He leaned down and placed the automatic rifle on the rooftop, then regained his stance. The vehicle was making a turn. The driver had cleared the block and was trying to turn the vehicle. The SUV was right below him.

Keller shouted frantically at the vehicle, waving his hands.

"Help! Please!"

The vehicle continued moving, as if the occupants hadn't heard him. He cupped his hands over his mouth and yelled louder. His voice echoed off the street below, bouncing off the buildings.

Finally, a man's head poked out from the passenger side of the vehicle.

"Help!" Keller yelled again, his voice hoarse from the strain.
 

He waved at the man in the SUV, trying to impress his panic upon him. The man ducked back inside for a second, then popped back out.

"Hold on!" the man yelled. "We'll swing around the other side of the building and get you! Can you get down?"

"I think so!" Keller shouted.
 

"We'll meet you out front!" the man said as he ducked back inside.

Keller nodded, trying to suppress his smile. He watched the SUV disappear around the block, then headed for the center of the rooftop. He removed the barricade, opened the door, and descended the stairwell.

Things were going perfectly already.

Dan was getting worried. It'd been over an hour since John and Meredith had left. In that time, the sun had crept over the horizon, the birds had filled the air with chatter, and the outside world had brightened. He paced the house, stealing glances from behind boarded windows, listening for the sound of the SUV's engine.

His eyes flitted around the rooms. In spite of the chaos outside, the house was clean and in order. Meredith had spent time organizing their belongings, making sure the rooms were neat and arranged. Having a system ensured they could get to everything at a moment's notice. It also made the house more livable.

If we're going to spend time here
,
we might as well enjoy it,
Meredith had suggested.

Dan perused the stacks of weapons on the kitchen counter. Instead of giving him comfort, they fueled his unease. They were a reminder that Meredith was still out there, that she and John were in harm's way.

At least they're together
.

Over the past few days, Dan had grown to like John. John had proven himself to be honest and dependable, and Dan was glad he'd offered to accompany Meredith. He just hoped the two of them would make it back safe.
 

He also hoped they'd gotten Quinn's medicine.

Dan slid his forefinger along his pistol. In some small, paranoid way, he'd expected the creatures to swarm the house when the others had left, as if they'd sense the building was less secure. Luckily, that hadn't happened.

The creatures were vicious and violent, but they weren't that cunning.

He padded down the hall to check on Quinn.

About twenty minutes ago, Quinn had fallen asleep. He peered in now, watching her. She seemed so calm and serene.

How long had she been having the asthma attack? He pictured Quinn lying in bed in discomfort, too respectful to rouse the others. Her asthma had grown worse lately. In spite of that, Quinn was growing more resilient by the day. Although he'd tried to shelter her, she'd seen and been through more than he cared to imagine.

He was grateful she'd held up as well as she had.

He mulled over the events of the past few days. Thanks to the agents' food, as well as the vegetables they'd procured from the Sanders' garden, they'd been able to eat and drink without worry, limiting their concerns to the wandering infected. At the same time, he knew their supplies wouldn't last. Sooner or later they'd run out of provisions.

Should they leave first?

Would it be better to set out for one of the surrounding states while they still had supplies? Head up north? As much as Dan appreciated the position they were in, he knew it wasn't permanent.

Each minute they stayed was a blessing, but also a gamble.
 

He walked back to the kitchen and perused the items on the counter, envisioning packing them in the SUV. Although they'd talked about departing, no one had felt comfortable committing to a timeline. Not with the infected still roaming the streets. Their tentative plan had been to wait out the virus, watching for signs that the infected had perished.

He peered out into the backyard, catching sight of the bodies of the infected he'd killed. A few birds picked at the remains, their beaks jabbing and spearing in unison. It was as if they were performing a mundane task rather than consuming something that had once been alive. He'd have to bury the bodies.

The stench of death was one Dan would never get used to.
 

He longed for the day when he'd never have to smell it again.

He pictured his daughter in the bedroom. Even from the kitchen, he could hear the faint sound of her breathing. A firm resolve took root in the pit of Dan's stomach.

One way or the other, they'd make it through this. He'd get Quinn to safety for good.
 

I promise you, honey.

Meredith flung her arm over the seat and went into reverse. In front of them, she could hear the roar of the infected, their cries filling the empty streets. The woman had ceased screaming. The only evidence left that she'd existed was her blood-covered remains wrapped around the hands of the creatures that had devoured her. They waved their arms at Meredith and John's vehicle as if trying to flag them down. Meredith and John were too late.

But there was another survivor. A man on the roof.
 

"Swing around to the other side of the building and we'll pick him up!" John yelled.
 

Having gained some clearance from the horde, Meredith attempted a U-turn. The power steering squeaked and groaned as she wrenched the wheel. Several of the creatures had finished their meal, and they broke away from the feast, staggering toward the vehicle.

A few of them lunged, but Meredith gunned the accelerator and took off down the road. John kept his eyes on the mirrors while she looked for an unobstructed place to turn. They'd ended up on Prospect Street, one of the main thoroughfares of the town. There were several cut-through roads nearby. Unfortunately, most of them were obstructed.

She finally found a turnoff a few blocks down, and she cut the wheel and tore down it. Even though they'd escaped the gruesome scene, the creatures were still following them. She could hear their groans in the distance. They didn't have much time.

She veered left and cut back onto a parallel street.

"Do you think he made it down from the roof?" she asked.

"I sure as hell hope so."

Meredith peered behind them. In just a few minutes, the car had become a moving target. As they passed by entrances and alleyways, several more infected sprung from the shadows, as if woken from sleep. Maybe they'd reserved their strength for one last run at the survivors.

The building the man had been standing on was a few blocks up. It was a factory, and the front contained a multitude of doors and docks. Although some of the doors were intact, others were smashed, and she could see inside through several gaping holes. From the looks of it, the building was far from secure. It was no wonder the man had ended up on the roof.

She pulled up along front, but there was no sign of the survivor.

"Shit," John muttered. He fingered his pistol, eyeing the street warily. The immediate vicinity was clear, but they could sense movement around them, a ripple that seemed to be spreading.
 

Meredith clenched the steering wheel, trying to stave off panic. Up until this moment, they'd been on the move, running on a constant stream of adrenaline, and now they were stagnant. Should they leave? Should they wait? She glanced at the horn, wondering if she should hit it to signal the man.

"What should we do?" she asked.

"Sit tight. Give him another minute."

"Okay."

The engine purred beneath them, as if they were nothing more than motorists at a red light, waiting for a signal. A crash sounded in the distance. Then an inhuman wail. The town was teeming with infected. Even though Meredith couldn't see them, she could feel them moving in the direction of the SUV, guided by some pheromone-driven instinct.

The instinct to kill and to consume.

She squinted, struggling to see inside the rows of smashed windows and doors. The building was shrouded in darkness. If the survivor was inside, there was no sign of him.
 

She glanced at the road ahead. She lowered the window.

"Hello?" she yelled.
 

Her voice bounced off the front of the buildings, and she heard several groans in response. Not quite the answer she was looking for.

"What if he's already dead?" she asked.
 

"I'll go inside," John suggested, already reaching for the door handle. "Just for a minute. If I don't see anything, I'll come right back out and we'll leave."
 

"John, no. I mean it."

"I'll be quick, Meredith."

He tugged the handle and jumped out into the street, robbing her of the chance to argue. She locked the doors behind him. Her heart thudded in her chest; her nerves prickled her insides.
 

John took off at a run, sprinting around several bodies to get to the nearest entrance. When he reached a partially opened garage door, he paused and peered into the darkness. Then he ducked underneath.

With John out of sight, Meredith's dread increased tenfold. Her eyes jumped from place to place. The street. The side-mirrors. The rearview. A few of the creatures scrambled down a neighboring street, making their way toward her.

Come on, John.

As awful as she felt for the other man, they couldn't wait forever. They'd be no help to anyone if they were dead.
 

Hurry up. Get out of there.

She repeated the words in her head like a mantra, as if saying them would coax her companion into appearing. But the building remained dark and lifeless, just as it'd been when he'd entered.
 

A few other creatures slunk from nearby buildings. They locked their sights on the SUV, approaching fast. She lifted the gun from her lap, aiming it at the driver's-side window. Her feet were shaking. Without realizing it, her foot slipped off the brake, and the car rolled forward.

"Dammit!"

The movement startled her, and she jolted in her seat. The creatures were getting close.
 

For a split second, she imagined throwing the car into park and hopping out, going in after John. But that'd be suicide. There'd be no way she'd make it back to the SUV in time.