The Infected (Book 1): Jim's First Day (17 page)

Another
door opens and I am shoved outside. The warmth sun beats down on the black bag.
Bits of sun penetrate the fabric.  

“Stop
here,” a voice commands. The zip tie is cut, and my hands are freed. The bag is
ripped from my head. I squint my eyes as they adjust to the sun. My eyes focus.
Piles of bodies cover the ground outside the barricades. Two people are on
their knees by one of the piles, with black bags over their heads. A man stands
behind them and fires two shots into the back of both of their heads. The
bodies fall forward onto the pile of the dead. I quickly turn to face the
person that has released me. It’s the big guy with the toothpick.

“What
was that?” I point at the fresh kills.

“Them?”
he grunts.

“Yes,
them. Why kill them?” I am scared to ask. I don’t want it to happen to me, but
I don’t understand it.

“Were
they bit?” asks Sara.

“They
had violent criminal backgrounds. That is who Brother Paul was talking about,”
he shifts the pick from one side to the other.

“What
if you’re all wrong?” Frank spits.

“Wrong?”
Toothpick smirks.

“What
if they find a cure? What if this isn’t Revelations? You think God wants you
killing people?” Frank puffs out his chest.

“It
is not up to me. If Brother Paul says kill them, we kill them,” Toothpick pokes
his finger into Frank’s chest.

“You’re
okay with committing murder?” I ask with full sincerity. It catches Toothpick
off guard. I see it in his eyes. He is conflicted.

“God
tells Brother Paul who stays and who goes. There is no higher command than God,”
Toothpick rests his hand on the gun strapped to his body.

“Nothing
ridiculous about that,” Frank says sarcastically.

“Brother
Paul talks directly with The Almighty. God tells him who to trust,” Toothpick
points back at the church. “Every man, woman and child in there is alive
because of Brother Paul. We would do anything for that man. He will see us to
the Promise Land,” he gives me a wink. Great, I have a neighbor that talks
directly with God and has an army of gun wielding followers at his command. I
feel safer already. 

Another
man has our weapons and passes them back to each of us. He sports a short crewcut
that makes him look like
Forest Gump
. I slide all of the knives and
machetes back onto my belt. He hands me my spear. It feels wonderful in my
hands. I missed having it.

“Nice
spear,” Gump sneers. I look at the rifle hanging off his shoulder.     

“I
don’t have to reload it,” I retest the blade to check if it is solid, “How many
have you killed?”

Gump
gives me a nasty smile. “Plenty and the day has just started.”

“What
are you going to do if you run out of ammo?” Frank questions.

“We
have enough to kill everyone in Vancouver. Twice,” Toothpick says proudly.
Frank re-straps his shoulder holsters and takes his bag.

“Where’s
my SKS?” Frank grunts.

“In
the bag,” Toothpick grunts back.

“Here’s
the radio. It has a fresh set in it. Do not call us unless you really, really
need us,” Gump hands it over to me.

“We
got our own fucking problems so do not bug us,” Toothpick raises his rifle and
aims it behind us. He quickly fires a single shot. We spin around. The second
my head turns an infected falls to its face. The shot was a hundred yards away
and Toothpick nailed it right between the eyes. 

“See
you around,” says Gump as the two of them walk away.

“Holy
shit,” I say it under my breath. It was remarkable.

We
circle up and get ourselves sorted.

“You’re
bleeding,” says Sara as she wipes the tears away from her face.

“I
thought so,” I drag my hand over my forehead. “I’ll be fine. Is everyone okay?”
Devon’s eyes are drenched with tears. I grab him by his backpack and pull him
close to me.

“It’s
okay?” I say quietly.

“Yeah,”
he has the snubs.

“What
did they do to you?” Sara clears her throat.

“I
don’t know. They held something cold to my neck. I don’t know what it was. I
thought a knife. I don’t know.” he can’t look me in the eyes. I give him a
little shake with the backpack strap, like I am shaking off the bad vibes.

“Don’t
worry about it.” I tell him, Devon nods his head.

Our
powwow is broken up when another round of gunfire pierces our ears. Behind the
church is a giant field with trees surrounding the edges. A large pack of
infected storm out of the trees and are gunned down immediately. 

A
car full of people pulls into the back of the church. They get the same
greeting we did. It’s a lot better being on this side of it. I look back at the
tree line and focus on which way to go. 

“Take
139th. It is not too bad,” Gump yells back at us. I give him a halfhearted wave.
I really do not get them. They let us go and give us back all our weapons, but
totally screw us by taking our car. We need to get out of here before God
changes his mind.

“You
guys ready?” I look my crew over. Frank has his SKS locked and loaded. Devon
has his spear at the ready. Sara has her machete gripped tight in her hand. “Good.
Let’s go.”

I
take a sip of water. I am gassing out so I take another long drag. I take off
and jog past the barricade. The cut on my ankle kills with every step. We head
for a clearing in the trees. Back on foot. Marvelous.

One
mile. One more goddamn mile of pain before I get home to my family. On a
treadmill at the gym I can finish a mile in less than eight minutes. That is if
I am fresh, not suffering from a hangover or went too hard on leg day. That is
also on a rubber surface and in an air conditioned room. Out here on the hard,
hot, deadly streets we will be lucky to get a mile done in a half hour. We
creep up slowly to the tree line behind the church and pass by the infected
that Toothpick gunned down. The blood soaked letterman’s jacket tells me that
it is a local high school kid. He is only a few years younger than Devon and
Sara. It is quiet on the other side of the trees. I push through a set of
evergreens. Ahead of us is a little backyard. There is a dog house, a
trampoline and some outdoor kids’ toys, but no sign of movement. I take a knee
in the grass. The two trees give us a little hiding place to watch from. I turn
to face the team.

“Let’s
keep it quiet. Only shoot if you have to. Stay close,” I turn back around and
there is an infected sprinting out of the house. I was not ready and I miss it
with my spear. I catch it in its shoulder. The force knocks me to my butt.
Devon is ready and stabs it right up its nose. I pull out my spear and Frank
helps me up to my feet.

I
sneak out from the trees and head straight for the side of the house. There is
an old beat up truck in the driveway. It blocks the view of the street. Both
front tires are flat and it is covered in rust. This hunk of junk has been here
a long time. It is a tetanus shot waiting to happen so I steer clear of the
busted up grill. We have to squeeze between the house and the truck. It is so
close my shoulders grind on the wall and the quarter panel of the Ford. I stop
at the edge of the house and give the street a good look. It looks normal. By
that I mean there is not a horde of infected looking to tear us apart. There
are piles in the street. Good sized piles of human meat. It looks like World
War II footage. Behind the scenes of the concentration camps. The worst parts
of mankind on film. We can thank Brother Paul for this horrific scene. Must be
how Gump knew that 139th was not “too bad.”

I
take off across the driveway and into the next yard. It has a few large trees
and some shrubs to camouflage us. We squat down behind the foliage. I look out
to see if the next block is clear. Frank pulls at my sleeve.

“Are
we gonna red rover from tree to tree the whole way?” he grumbles. “If I lead
the way I can blast down close to sixty of them before I’d have to reload. We
sprint hard and go as far as we can. Then find a house to hole up in as I
reload and you three keep them off me.”

“That
sounds good,” Sara backs him. I am afraid to get caught out in the open,
surrounded with no escape, but I can’t wait to get home.

“How’s
your ankle?” Devon looks down at the dark red bandage wrapped around my ankle.

I
nod my head. “It kills, but I think you’re right. We need to move fast,” I pat
Frank on the back. “You lead.”

Frank
stands up, readjusts his bag, pulls out the clip on his SKS and checks to make
sure it is still full. He snaps it in and pulls back the bolt. He takes off
charging down the front yard and out into the street. We follow right behind.

I
hang to Frank’s left. Devon is on his right. Sara stays behind between Devon
and I. We form a flying V. I scan the west side of the street. We roll past
house after house and zig-zag past the dead. Brother Paul’s teams have been
very busy in the few hours since this started. The piles of ex-humans are so
foul. Each one has a solid foot of sour goop circled around it. Even out in the
open the smell of the sun soaked corpse wreaks havoc on my already suffering
nose. I thought I smelled bad. When I was a kid my Dad would make runs to the
dump. He would take my brother and me along to help empty the back of his
truck. The only part of it I remember is the smell. That almost sweet smell of
old junk getting tossed into one immense mountain.

One
of the houses on the block has boarded up its doors and windows. A set of eyes
watch us from the second story. I am glad to see that not every house has been
abandoned. Straight ahead of us is an apartment complex. That is the problem
with this area. Tons of people stacked on top of each other, apartment complex
after apartment complex. So many people to try and save. So many people to turn
into the infected. Frank fires a quick three shot burst. His gun is louder than
I thought it would be. He cut down an infected in the intersection. A caravan
of cars blast down the street and run right over the fresh kill. The body’s
crushed into paste. It is a couple of trucks and a sedan. They are filled to
the brim with people and supplies. 

We
enter the intersection quickly and the street to our left is overrun. The
infected are headed our way. We pick up the pace. Frank takes down those at the
head of the pack.

“Head
for the apartment!” I call out. There is a gap between each building. I point
for the gap. “That way!” This opening leads us to a parking lot. I look back
and the monsters are in hot pursuit. The opening between the buildings forces
them to funnel down. They come at us, stumbling over each other. They can only
fit three bodies at a time through the breach. Frank sees it too and he opens
fire. Some of the shots take down two at a time. It is fantastic to watch him.
He is not rushed. He takes his time. He empties his clip quickly and drops
fifteen of them.

“Watch
our back!” I tell Sara. The stack of bodies slows the rest down and the three
of us use our blades to hack and slash them to pieces. Two creatures charge out
of the parking lot behind us. Sara chops one of their heads in two like a
cantaloupe.

“Guys!”
She calls out and Devon whips around and finishes the last one. Frank pops the
banana clip out and flips it around. He has the second clip, locked and loaded,
in a matter of seconds.

“Get
back!” Frank growls. We drop back and he opens up on them. The man is a
surgeon. He cuts the ranks of this diseased army down by half. The one or two
that get passed his kill zone are taken out quickly by one of the three of us.
The heap of bodies stands four feet tall. His SKS clicks empty. The last couple
of stragglers climb over the hill of bodies. Our three blades finish them off.
As soon as I can, I have to make Sara a spear. She gets so close with the
machete that it sprays her with blood. Every other kill splatters her with
sticky goo. If I could figure out a way to bolt a machete to a walking stick, that
would be a killer weapon. Frank has his SKS slung back on his shoulder and both
Berettas out. He caps the last two.

“Wow!”
Devon jumps with excitement.

“I
need to reload,” Frank holsters one of the guns.

“I
need to wash off,” Sara wipes her face. I look over the parking lot. Most of
the spots are empty. There should be a lot of empty apartments to choose from.

I
run diagonally across the lot. We head for an apartment on the west side of the
complex. I spot a door that looks good. No car out front. No blood on the
window. It is a first floor unit. These apartments are built into the ground so
the first floor is more of a day light basement.

I
get face to face with the door, give it a tap, press my ear to the wood and
listen for any movement. I tap it a little harder. I shrug my shoulders back to
the group.

“I
think it’s empty.”

“Let’s
give it a try,” Sara gets her machete up and ready. I step back from the door.

“I’ve
always wanted to do this,” I throw a brutal front kick. One of the best legged
kicks I have ever thrown. My foot makes contact with the door and I am stopped cold.
I nailed it but the door won this round. My left knee takes most of the
punishment. “Shit,” I grab my knee.

“I
thought that would have like, worked,” Devon is disappointed. Frank steps up
and blasts the knob with his gun. The door swings open.

“You
loosened it for me,” Frank jokes as he enters the apartment.

The
place smells of stale cigarette smoke. There is a lot of clutter around the
front door and all of the lights are out. I turn the bolt lock and put on the
chain on.

“Hello?”
Devon calls.

“Gunshot
would have alerted them. No one’s here,” Sara walks over to the kitchen sink
and turns on the faucet. She finds a washcloth and goes to work cleaning
herself. The place is messy but it does not look like someone was packing to
leave.

“Let’s
hurry,” Frank drops his bag down onto the kitchen table and unzips it. He pops
the clip out of the SKS and pulls out a box of ammo. He quickly goes to work
filling them. Propped up in the corner by the front door is a Louisville
Slugger.

“Devon,
give Sara the sheath to the machete,” I grab up the bat and take it into the
kitchen. I pull open the drawers around the sink and find the knife drawer. I
find a set of long and sturdy cooking knives. They are thick in the spine and have
a full tang blade. I search the cupboards until I find a roll of Duct Tape. I
use half the roll of tape, but I put both blades at the head of the bat. I test
it to make sure they are sturdy. I swing it into the back of a chair at the
kitchen table. It snaps right through the back of the chair and the blades hold
firm. I hand the bat to Sara.

“That
should give you a little more distance.”

She
takes it and gives it a swing, “Thanks.”

I
take a long drag of water. The bladder goes empty. I need to refill my water. I
pull off my backpack and pop it open. I pull out a couple bags of jerky and a
Snickers bar. I toss a bag of jerky to Devon. I tear into my Snickers. I am
going to have to find a big box of these at a store before they are all gone. I
know that most grocery stores have only what is on the shelf and when it is
gone, it is gone. I pull out the water bladder of my pack and it hits me I have
to take a piss.

“We
should use the bathroom,” I put down my bag and spear.

I
head to the back of the apartment looking for the bathroom. Two doors are open
and they are the bedrooms, but the third door is shut. I open the door and
smell it. Death. I have it only open a few inches when the set of teeth smashes
into the door frame.

“Shit!”
I gasp. It is a woman in her thirties. She has turned. Her fingers are wrapped
around the edge of the door. I quickly grab the knob with both hands to keep it
from swinging open. Her hands are covered in blood and she fights like a wild
animal to get out of the bathroom.

“Guys!”
I call them. Devon is first to show up.

“Whoa!”
he blurts out.

“Get
her!” I tell him. He pulls his knife and steps up to the door. He stabs down
into her skull and the body drops. I push hard on the door to get it to move
her body. I get the door open and I back away from the bathroom. My hand
automatically goes up to my mouth.

“Oh
no,” Devon whispers. Sara and Frank have joined us and they see the horror that
is this bathroom.

“What?”
Sara whimpers.

“Mother
of God!” Frank says in disgust. Every inch of the bathroom looks like it is
covered in blood. On the mirror are the words “I’m sorry”. The message is
written in blood. In the bathtub are two small children. Their heads have been
crushed in by the lid off the back of a toilet. There is a razor blade on the
counter. It is soaked in blood. I look back at the woman’s body and there are deep
red slits across both wrists.

I
am going to lose it. The thought of my wife doing this is enough to send me to
the nuthouse.

“I’m
almost loaded,” Frank turns away and heads back to the kitchen. I pull the door
closed.

Back
in the kitchen I dig under the kitchen sink. There has to be a bucket around
here somewhere.

“Go
in the sink,” Frank clicks the last few rounds into the banana clip.

“I
can’t piss in a sink,” Anger builds. I can feel it. My face is flush. I am
hungry, dehydrated and every part of my body aches. I smash around the contents
of the cabinet.

“Piss
in the sink,” he says again.

“Fuck
off.” I have never ever told someone to “fuck off.” I can’t believe I said it.
Frank drops his gun on the table. I quickly turn and he has got a hold of my
collar. His face is inches from mine. I am pinned up against the sink.

“Are
you angry?”

“Let
go of me!” I push him back.

“Are
you pissed off?” he pushes against me even harder.

“Guys,”
Sara grabs us both by our shoulders. She pushes and pulls to separate us.

“You
think your wife’s dead? And your kids? They’re all gone. Eaten by some monster
and you didn’t save them.” Frank’s words cut me to my soul.

“Shut
up!” I slam my forearm against his and break his hold on my collar. Then I push
him back and throw a right cross. My fist mangles his lips. I am such an idiot.
Why risk breaking my hand? Why punch this man who has done everything to try to
help me get home? Frank falls back against the kitchen table. My hand kills but
I did not break it. I know I hurt him, but he is not showing any pain. Frank
rubs his mouth and spits out a glob of blood on the floor.