Stage 3: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (9 page)

Mason was astounded by the sight. This tiny girl was as blind as the beasts around her, yet she was beating them at their own game. But then she made a mistake that might very well seal her fate. She raised a tiny fist and rapped gently on the side of the old sedan. It was only two soft knocks, but the creatures were stirred immediately into action. With a chorus of feral howls, they launched themselves at the sound, but still the girl made no move. Presently, the monsters came upon the opposite side of the car and took to snarling and growling and clawing across the barrier toward the girl, and only then did she move. Softly and quickly, she guided herself down the line of cars with an outstretched hand, using the clamor of the beasts thrashing against the vehicle to disguise her footsteps.

Mason could hardly believe what he was seeing. The girl wasn't just beating the creatures at their own game, she was kicking over the table, snatching up the game board, and beating them over the head with it. She was heading straight toward Mason, but when she drew to within a dozen feet, she came to an abrupt stop, and an expression of puzzlement came upon her delicate features. Her curly mop of fiery red hair flopped down over one eye, and her brows knit together as she turned one way, then the other, then she settled her sightless gaze directly upon Mason.

"Who are you?" She breathed in the barest hint of a whisper.

For a moment, Mason wondered if he'd been wrong about the girl being blind after all, but though her eyes were a brilliant green and sparkled with intelligence, they were obviously as dead as stones.

"I won't hurt you," he hushed back to the girl.

The girl's expression didn't change, but she raised a single eyebrow and whispered with some suspicion, "If you wanted to hurt me, you would have done it already."

Before Mason could respond, there was a crash
from somewhere off to the side, followed by a desperate scream. The girl flicked her gaze that way and drew in a short gasp of air, then the scream ended in a gurgle, and the girl turned calmly back to Mason.

"There's three behind you, you know," she said, almost indifferently.

Mason flipped a glance over his shoulder and saw three creatures fifty yards away, slowly wandering their way. Mason took two steps toward the girl, but when she backed away nervously, he stopped and whispered softly.

"Are you out here all alone? Where are your parents?"

Again, her expression remained unchanged. She held a tiny finger vertically against her lips, then pointed to the side.

"There's another one over there," she hushed.

Mason looked to where the girl pointed, and sure enough, a big male was stumbling awkwardly across the street, the sharp tip of a bone protruding from the man's shin, sawing through soft flesh with every step.

Despite the growing threat, the girl looked blindly to Mason and whispered as gently as a breeze, "Do you have any water?"

"No, I'm sorry," he hushed, "but I can find you some."

She turned her nose up suspiciously. "Can I trust you?"

"Do you have a choice?" Mason asked.

"Always," the girl replied with absolute conviction.

"You can trust me," Mason told her truthfully, one eye on the advancing creatures, "and you have about twenty seconds to decide whether or not I'm lying."

The girl nodded once, and it was decided. She held out her hand, Mason took it, and they both stepped into a side street, away from the gathering swarm.

CHAPTER VI

Two blocks further along, Mason spotted a coffee shop on the corner and headed for it. This street was quieter than most, but it was far from empty. Mason kept them on one side of a row of cars to trap two creatures on the far side, and used his diversion with the keys to get past two more, and at last he got them to their immediate destination. But then came a realization that nothing in this world was going to be easy. Getting them to the coffee shop was one thing; getting them
in
posed an entirely new set of problems.

He would have to break in, but how? Certainly, his length of rebar would make quick work of the glass fronting the place, but the sound was sure to attract any creature within earshot, and he would be turning a closed window into an open door. At last, it was the girl who spurred Mason to act.

"Better hurry," she said in a nervous hush.

Mason didn't have to look. Even if he couldn't hear the heavy footfalls behind him, he would have taken the girl at her word. With only seconds to act, he thrust the end of the rebar through the glass door to make as small a hole as he could, then reached in and flipped the lock. Quickly collecting the girl in his arms, he pushed the door open with his shoulder, deposited the girl on the ground, and threw himself bodily against  the door.

Barely had he thrown the bolt before a crazed female charged at the door, smacking her head hard against the glass. A frightening crack ran through the glass with the impact, but it held. And now that they were safely inside, both man and girl stood frozen in place, not making a noise. A full two minutes passed, then a blood-curdling scream echoed from far down the block, and the female charged away after it, oblivious to the blood coursing down her face.

At last, Mason could breathe. For the first time since setting foot outside of his apartment, he was out of harm's way. The girl sensed it, too, for she quickly found the counter and all but collapsed against it. A single tear gathered in the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek, but no others followed. She sniffed once, wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve, and took a deep breath.

"Thank you," she said sweetly.

"You're very welcome," Mason said, then a crash resounded from behind a closed door at the rear of the shop, and they both gave a startled jump. Mason tip-toed around the counter, pressed his ear against the door, and hushed back to the girl, "Wait there."

He paused long enough to raise his weapon, then he grabbed hold of the doorknob and threw the door open. A man stood slumped against a desk near the back of the room, his face screwed into an angry grimace and his hands red with blood. The room itself was in disarray, the floor littered with papers and the walls streaked with bloody handprints, and as Mason stepped into the room, the man swung around to face him with wild, sightless eyes. Suddenly, the creature threw itself away from the desk and tore across the room, but Mason was ready. He stabbed forward with the rebar, and with the combined force of the man's lunge and Mason's thrust, the weapon pierced the creature's chest, drove straight through his body, and emerged from his back. The man slumped, Mason planted a foot against his sternum to pull the weapon free, and the body collapsed to the floor in a pool of blood.

Mason closed the door behind him only to see an older male hovering outside the front door, peering in with dead, crazy eyes. Before he could caution the girl to retreat behind the counter, she was on her feet and guiding herself softly toward him. Once on the far side of the counter, she lowered herself cross-legged to the floor and leaned back against the side of a cooler. Mason dropped to his knees beside her, out of sight of the creature at the door, and gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. Staying low, he gently opened the cooler and gathered up two bottles of water, a few cans of soft drinks, and two muffins from under a glass dome. He put everything on the floor in front of the girl and pressed a water bottle into her hand. She accepted it gladly and unscrewed the lid, then she drained most of it in a furious series of gulps.

"My name's Mackenzie," she said, dragging a sleeve across her mouth and corralling an errant curl of hair from her face.

Mason popped open a can of Coke, "I'm Hank."

The girl grimaced, "You don't sound like a 'Hank'."

He allowed a soft chuckle, then popped his head up like a prairie dog to check the front door. The old man was gone, and he could see only vague blurs racing one way or another beyond. He dropped back to the floor, took a quick sip of Coke, and slid a muffin in front of the girl.

"I've never
felt
like a Hank," he said, "My last name's Mason, so most people call me 'Mace'."

The girl tried it on for size, "
Mace
…." then she nodded, "That sounds better. I like it." She sniffed the air, and her eyes grew wide. With unerring aim, she reached for the muffin on the floor and put it to her nose, inhaling deeply. "
Mmmm
…oatmeal raisin. I love oatmeal." She took a bite and washed it down with water. Mason offered her a Coke, and she accepted it with a mumbled, "Thanks," through a mouthful of muffin.

"Why are you alone, Mackenzie? Isn't there someone looking after you?"

"Nope," she said, simply.

Mason wondered briefly if he should abandon the line of questioning, but he had to know, one way or the other. "There must be someone. Where are your parents?"

"Dead," she replied almost dispassionately as she nibbled away at the muffin, "They died when I was little. I live with my aunt Sarah. She's a nurse."

"So, where's Aunt Sarah?"

"Work," Mackenzie took a sip of Coke and swallowed hard. "She got called in to work, so Mrs. Dobson was staying with me. Mrs. Dobson lives upstairs. She comes down to babysit when Sarah has to work." She took another bite and added almost as an afterthought, "That was two days ago."

"Two
days?
" Mason felt a cold chill of dread, but he kept his thoughts to himself. "That's a long shift, even for a nurse."

"She's never been gone that long before. She called yesterday to say that she couldn't leave the hospital because of so many people getting sick, but she'd be home as soon as she could. Then the power went out, and Mrs. Dobson ran upstairs to get some candles. She came back, but she was looking all scared. Then she started to stumble around and bump into things. She said it was just her 'old bones', ʽ'cause she didn't want to scare me, but I knew what it was ʽcause I'd seen it on TV. Sometime last night, I heard a loud noise and woke up. When I went out to the livingroom, she was different."

"She was sick," Mason sighed.

"Like the people on TV. All crazy. She ran after me and tried to hurt me, but I hid. Then when I could, I ran away."

"You're a very brave girl," Mason told her honestly.

She shrugged again. "Not really. But I thought if I could get to the hospital, Sarah would know what to do." Almost imperceptibly, her eyes sunk to the floor, and her voice lowered. "But then, all of a sudden, I couldn't see."

Mason had no idea what to say. As hard-hearted as he was at times, he could have wept for this  incredible girl. Finally, he managed an awkward," That doesn't mean….." but the girl held up a finger to stop him. She brought the finger to her pursed lips as a caution, and the great mop of fiery red hair fell over one side of her face as she tilted her head, listening. Mason heard heavy footfalls race by the broken front window, but they continued on and finally faded into the background din.

The girl turned back to her muffin as if nothing had happened and swept a handful of hair from her face. "I know what it means, Mace," she said coolly. "I'm not stupid."

Mason was dumbfounded. Here, this sightless girl was all alone in a world gone to hell, her parents were dead, her aunt, too, probably, and she shrugged off her fate as if she'd been given a bad grade in school. She should be inconsolable. She should be a weeping puddle of goo, curled into a fetal position on the floor. Yet here she sat, idly nibbling on the heel of a muffin and calmly describing events that would have brought the strongest man to his knees.

Mason's immediate reaction was,
Whatever you might be, my dear, you sure as
hell
aren't stupid
, but all he could offer the girl was a tepid, "It might not end like that."

Mackenzie scoffed and said nothing.

Desperate to change the subject, Mason asked, "So your aunt's a nurse? Where does she work? San Francisco General?"

"No, she works at Trident. Trident Urgent Care Center. I've been there a bunch of times. Everyone's
really
nice there."

Mason had lived in San Francisco most of his life, so he knew where the place was. He plotted the route on a map in his head.

"That's gotta be four or five miles away. What were you going to do, walk all that way?"

"Yup," Mackenzie nodded resolutely and swallowed the last bite of muffin with a grunt of delight.

They sat in silence for a while then, listening to the city rip itself to pieces. Mason forced himself to eat a muffin and gave another to Mackenzie. She ate most of it, then wrapped the rest in a paper napkin and set it aside. Finally, she drained her Coke and asked Mason casually, "Do you have kids?"

He shook his head, caught himself, and spoke aloud. "No, I don't."

"Why not?"

"Never got around to it, I guess," he shrugged.

"You sound like you'd be a good dad. You don't talk down to kids. Sarah's like that. Are you married?"

Now she was getting into uncomfortable territory, but Mason immediately chided himself. What did any of that matter now? They might both be dead today or tomorrow or in the next five minutes. For all he knew, he and Mackenzie were the last two people alive in the city. In fact, it was more than likely that this girl's face was the last human face he would ever see. And with that awareness came a new resolve; if this sweet young thing wanted to delve into his personal life, so be it. He would tell her whatever she wanted to know, and be grateful to have had the opportunity.

"I was planning on it," he admitted almost shyly, "but things changed."

"Is she dead?"

Hearing such unemotional dispatch coming from a tiny girl with the face of an angel was profoundly disconcerting to Mason, but he quickly came to terms with it. The girl had the right idea, after all. There was no more use in sentimentality now.

"No….well, I don't know…..maybe," Mason struggled to answer, "She was okay the last time I saw her, but that was a while ago."

"How long?"

Mason's chest tightened as he thought back to that final day with Becks. "Two weeks ago. I surprised her with airline tickets, and she surprised me by saying we were through."

"Wow….." the girl shook her tiny head, "That's cold!"

"I couldn't agree more," Mason released a beleaguered sigh.

Mackenzie reached out, found Mason's leg, and followed it to his knee, then she patted his knee gently and offered a sympathetic, "Well, it's her loss, Mace."

Mason chuckled and put his hand on hers. "You're wise beyond your years, Mackenzie. I'm glad our paths crossed."

She smiled sweetly and turned her hand into his, "I'm glad, too, Mace."

Just then, a dark shadow crossed her face, and her smile vanished as she uttered a whispered, "Uh oh…." and put a finger to her pursed lips. Mason tried to pick up was she was hearing, but the tumult from outside seemed unchanged to him. He popped up to look beyond the counter, but the front door was clear. He lowered himself back down, and was just about to ask what she'd heard when he picked it up at last. It wasn't coming from outside at all. It was coming from behind them. A soft but definite scrabbling against the closed door behind them.

"I thought you….." Mackenzie began in a whisper.

"I did!" Mason hushed back.

"For sure?" The girl's sightless eyes were as wide as saucers.

Mason recalled a crystal clear-clear image of seven feet of rebar skewering the man through the chest like a human shishkebob.

"For sure," he said without a shadow of doubt.

"Someone else hiding, maybe?"

"It's a small room. No way."

"Back door?" Mackenzie suggested.

Mason considered. He'd had other things on his mind, so he hadn't seen a back door, but there was bound to be one. Not open, though. He would have noticed
that
, certainly. He hadn't given the encounter another thought, but now his mind raced to do the math. The man was alone in the back room of a coffee shop during a blackout, so he was probably a manager or owner guarding his interests. He'd locked the front door, so if there was a back door, he would have locked that, too. Then he'd hunkered down to wait out the night, but the virus took him. So, there were only two possibilities. Either someone else was back there, or the weapon hadn't done as much damage as he'd thought.

"Dunno," he whispered close to Mackenzie's ear, "You wait here, and I'll check."

He gave her little hand a squeeze and released it, then he stood to a crouch behind the counter and had a quick look out front. Assured they were still undiscovered, he collected his length of rebar from the floor and padded softly up to the door to the back room. He pressed his ear against the door, and sure enough, a soft scratching and scrabbling came through from the other side. A rat, maybe? But just as he pondered the idea, a faint, gurgling growl arose from beyond the door that removed all doubt.
Damn!
  Someone else was back there, for sure. How could he have missed them? Well, no matter, he'd have to deal with the problem before the sounds drew others in. He took a few deep breaths to make himself ready, then he turned the knob slowly, raised his weapon to his chest, and threw the door open.