You and Me against the World: The Creepers Saga Book 1 (17 page)

“Dr. Thorn, they need help,” Devin called. They took the two victims into the store, and the deceased woman they laid on the pavement and covered with a blanket.

“How did you know?” Brandon asked Adam.

“We were down the street picking out a van when they drove by. We decided to make a quiet entrance just in case. Seen enough movies to know how this shit can turn out.”

“Nice job, bro,” Brandon said, and they bumped knuckles.

“We’re not letting these fuckers go,” Nick said, and his voice wavered with barely contained rage.

Devin and Adam walked over to him.

“Hey, relax man, we’ll figure it out,” Devin said.

“Oh, I got it all figured out already,” Nick said, and the stress in his voice raised a notch. “I got the perfect plan for these fuckin’ scumbag rapists.”

“Easy does it, son,” William said. “You ain’t got it in you.”

“Fuck you! Don’t call me son, you piece of shit!”

“Hey, kid, we didn’t mean nothin’. Just havin’ some fun is all,” a red-haired man said.

“Yeah, good times,” Nick answered. “So here’s the deal. You guys are walking out of here without your guns.”

“That’s crazy.” It was Red again. “We’ll die out there without weapons.”

“More of a chance than those women had, though, so too fucking bad.”

Nick’s friends didn’t interject. Thorn returned and asked, “Nick, what are you doing?”

“Justice, Dr. Thorn. I’m givin’ this scum a choice—they can run and take their chances out there, or they can stay and I will kill every last one of them.”

“No, you won’t.” It was William again. “Don’t worry, guys, none of these lightweights have it in them to kill. They have no choice but to take us prisoners.” He smiled. “Isn’t that correct, Dr. Thorn?”

Thorn nodded his head.

“We aren’t murderers. Well, I’m not anyway. I’m sure these guys will do what’s best.” He turned to the group. “Another of their hostages died. I need some help bringing her outside.”

Thorn turned back to William.

“Good luck,” he said and walked away.

“I’m gonna count to ten,” Nick said. “Anyone still here at ten, I am going to shoot. One, two …”

“He’s not going to do it,” William repeated. “Look at him, he’s a kid. He’s shaking, for Christ’s sake.”

“Four … five …”

Two of the men stood up and ran.

“Six … seven …”

“Fuck this,” the third said and ran after his friends. Only William remained.

“You ain’t gonna do it, boy. Hell, I can see your vagina from here.” He laughed.

“Nine … ten.”

“See, I told you. You’re just not the killin’ type.”

Nick pointed his gun at William’s forehead. It shook a little, and he tried to steady it.

Adam stepped beside him and placed his hand on Nick’s arm.

“Nick, this isn’t you, and you know it,” Adam said in a calm voice.

“Screw that. I’m gonna kill this piece of garbage.”

“No, you’re not,” Adam said. “It’s not who you are. You’re better than that. Don’t let this piece of shit take the best part of you.”

“Yeah, listen to your friend, little boy,” William mocked.

Nick looked at Adam. He lowered his gun.

“So he just gets away with it?”

“Apparently so, you fuckin’ pussy,” William said.

Adam looked around at the group. They all nodded.

“Of course not, Nick,” Adam said. “It just shouldn’t be you, that’s all.”

William’s eyes grew wider.

“Oh, please stop with all the fake bravado. You kids don’t have the balls.”

Distant screams accented his final words.

“Oh shit,” Brandon said. “Doesn’t sound like your buddies did so well.”

“Fuck them and fuck you all,” William yelled.

Adam turned his gun on William. The barrel was just two inches from his forehead.

“Oh, another ten counts? This shit is getting old,” William said nervously.

“Ten,” Adam said and pulled the trigger.

Leaving home

The Cougar H that dead William and his friends had arrived in solved many issues. It was large enough to carry all of the children; it would reach a maximum speed of sixty-five, so it wouldn’t slow them down; and it was armor plated, which made it safer than anything else with wheels.

They buried the dead women. The third survived the night but passed the following day. She’d had too much physical trauma, and Thorn and Susan suspected internal bleeding. Thorn didn’t know what had been done with William’s body, and he didn’t ask. The status of the three runners was unknown, but most likely they had died during the night. They had run in the direction of the school, and that seemed to assure that they had not survived.

In addition to the military transport vehicle, they now had two nine-passenger vans and three SUVs, and the discussion was on how many of the vehicles they should take.

“I like the idea of the extra wheels and storage,” Devin said, “but it seems like the more we have, the more we have to worry about.”

“I agree,” said Brandon. “I think we stick with the SUVs and the Cougar. The vans aren’t good at high speeds.”

“The vans can carry a lot of supplies, though,” Caroline added. “I think we should take at least one.”

In the end, they opted for the transport, two SUV’s, and one of the vans. They loaded their supplies on their final night in Fort Myers.

“Still think this is the best plan?” Thorn asked Devin.

“No idea, Doc. But a part of me just wants to get the hell out of here.”

“Yeah, it’s been a rough week,” Thorn said.

“I’m tired of making the decision, though,” Devin sighed. “Maybe you should take over. Hell, I’m really just a kid anyway.”

“I realize it’s a lot of weight to carry, but you’re friends are helping.”

“I just don’t want to be responsible for getting everyone killed. I lost two friends this week already. And did you see Nick last night? He almost lost it. And hell, Adam killed a guy.”

“Would you have killed the guy?” Thorn asked.

Devin was silent for a moment.

“Truth?”

“No, lie to me.”

Devin laughed but it was short and without much energy.

“Yes, Dr. Thorn, I planned to if no one else pulled the trigger. Are we all crazy?”

“I don’t think so. I think we’re alive because we make decisions based on this world, not on the one we used to live in. There aren’t any police, any courts, or judges for people like William. We’re all in a very small cage now and that changes things. I don’t know if we did the right thing morally, but in terms of survival, I think we did.”

“So no chance you’ll just take over the decision-making around here?”

“None at all, my friend. You guys work well as a team. Your friends like that you make the decisions. They’re there to help when you can’t, as am I.”

Devin sighed again. “It’s a damn long way to Wyoming.”

“It is, but hey, if we find something better on the way, no reason we can’t change the plan.”

“Good point.”

They watched as the last supplies were loaded into the vehicles.

“I guess it’s time to go,” Devin said.

“Yep, it is.”

“Even though I want to get out of here, a part of me hurts over it.”

Thorn didn’t speak; instead, he let Devin finish.

“I know the old world is gone, but this town was an important part of my life. I grew up here. My parents and my home were here. It’s the place where all my best memories live. It’s hard to let that go. It feels like when we leave, then that old world really is gone forever.”

“I know,” Thorn said. “Same here.”

He thought about the pictures of Rebecca still on his dresser at home. He thought about the boxes of letters, pictures, and movie ticket stubs left collecting dust in a closet that he would never again open. It made him sad.

“Dr. Thorn, I never thought much about heaven or what happens after we die. And I know we’re all doing the best we can, but I wonder, do you think our parents would be proud of us? I know that’s kind of stupid considering everything else, but it also feels like the most important thing right now.”

Thorn put his hand on Devin’s shoulder.

“I didn’t know any of your parents, but I’d say they’d be damn proud.”

Devin nodded. “I just keep thinking of what my dad sacrificed for Golden, and I wonder if I have done enough—if maybe it should have been me instead of Webster who saved Annie.”

“Devin, your dad wasn’t being a hero that day. He was being a father. He did what he needed to do to save his daughter. You need to do what is necessary to save your friends, as do they. Don’t measure yourself by how your dad died. Measure yourself by the way he lived. I think if you do, you’ll find that you can honor him more by living than by dying.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

“None required. You’re a good guy, and you and your friends are more heroic than you’ll probably ever realize.”

They walked to the waiting vehicles. Looking at the group of faces, Thorn believed with certainty that these were the most heroic people he had ever known. They would die for each other without a second’s thought. He hoped they would not have to, but he knew that was just wishful thinking. He feared that ahead of them were things worse than what they had already seen. More of these kids would probably die; they might all die, but he would stand with them, and he would die trying to save them. He wondered if they would make Wyoming, or even Georgia for that matter. He wondered if they were inside the closet or outside of it.

Chapter 11

The Living and the Dead

P
art 2

We regret to inform you …

“Have a seat, son, and let’s talk.”

“That bad, Doc?”

“Connor, I realize you are over eighteen, but perhaps it would be best if your parents were here.”

“They’re all the way back in Fort Myers, Doc. I don’t want to bother them.”

“Son, I doubt they would consider it a bother.”

“Look, just tell me. How bad is the tumor?”

“It’s bad, Connor, and it has grown since your last visit.”

“Is it cancer?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

“Can’t you cut it out or something?”

“No, it’s deep and near the brain stem. It’s what we call inoperable. However, there is still hope. We can give you chemo, and we can insert chemo pads near the tumor and that may shrink it or at least slow the growth.”

“Can I be cured?”

“No, son, you can’t.”

“How much time do I have?”

“It’s hard to say.”

“Come on, Doc, estimate. What’s the best-case scenario?”

“Six months, maybe a year.”

“Okay.”

“Connor, I really think you should let me speak with your parents. There are some great treatment programs around the country and many show a lot of promise.”

Soft laughter.

“Thanks, Doc, I appreciate everything you’ve done. I’ll tell my parents in a few weeks. I just want some time to think it over, you understand?”

“Certainly, but I want you to schedule your hospital admission with Helen at the front desk. We’ll get you admitted in two weeks to start the treatments.”

“Sure, sure, Doc, and really, thanks for everything.”

“I’m sorry, Connor. I wish I had better news for you. How are the painkillers working? Are they helping with the headaches?”

“Yes, a little.”

“Here’s a prescription. These are stronger, so be careful with them. Don’t drive and don’t drink while taking them.”

“Yep, no problem and thanks. I have to get to work.”

Connor walked past Helen, who was busy with a patient. He didn’t stop, and he didn’t wait; instead, he walked out the door.

At the pharmacy, he filled the prescription of painkillers. The cute pharmacist tech smiled at him; her name tag read Angie. He almost asked her for her number, but then he was holding the little plastic amber bottle of pills and he remembered he just didn’t have that many Friday nights left, and it depressed him. He had no intention of taking treatment or even telling his parents. He wouldn’t spend his last days dying in a hospital. No, he would spend those days with his friends. He wanted to enjoy his last weeks with the people who had made his life worth the time that the universe had granted him. Still, the technician reminded him that he had never had a chance to fall in love, and that seemed so unfair. He wished he had someone now, someone who would spend these days with him, someone to tell him that he was loved, that he would be remembered. But he never really believed that life was fair; it had never shown him that it was fair. He had his friends, though, and they were good friends who had filled his life with good times. In a way, wherever they were, that was his home. He wished he could do something for each of them before he died. The least he could do was not force them to spend weeks visiting him in a hospital—no, not that. When the headaches became unbearable, he would take care of the inevitable himself.

He walked into the Bass Pro in Orlando and almost ran into a guy who looked a hell of a lot sicker than he felt.

Yep, he thought, just another shitty boring day in retail.

Nick and Webster’s day care

Things on the road were breaking bad. Webster weaved around traffic accidents and used the grassy median when necessary. Nick sat in the seat beside him and recovered from the narrow escape at the college. His hand gripped the dashboard as Webster sped between two wrecked cars, with just inches to spare on each side.

“Where are we gonna go?” Nick asked.

“No idea, but out of here seems like a good start.”

Nick nodded. They passed the Gulf Coast Mall, and he watched a group of infected attack several fleeing people.

Webster didn’t stop at the intersection’s red traffic light. He gunned the truck’s engine and sped through at a stomach-wrenching speed. There was a loud, deep bang of thunder, and Nick thought the engine had blown. Then he saw the smoke rising over the palm trees to the north.

“What the hell was that?”

Webster didn’t answer. Ahead, several cars and a bus blocked the road. There were people fighting, and he could not see a clear way through.

“Hang on, Nick. We’re going off-road for a minute.”

“Shit,” Nick said and grabbed the dashboard with both hands.

Webster angled the truck left and hit the median’s curb. The truck lurched and started to turn to the right. Webster yanked the wheel and corrected its course across the wet marshy grass. They jumped the far curb with a loud bang and then were driving the wrong way down the divided four-lane road. Nick was grateful there was no oncoming traffic.

As they passed the pile up, Nick saw children’s faces in the bus windows. They watched with horror as Creepers attacked the other motorists. Several of the Creepers were trying to enter the bus.

“Webster, we have to go back!”

“Back, back where?”

“To the accident, to the bus. There are a bunch of little kids on it.”

Webster looked in the rearview mirror and then glanced at his friend.

“You know we’ll die, right?”

“Possibly, but they’re just kids. I’m not leaving them to die either.”

“End of the world and you decide to open a daycare.” Webster laughed.

“You afraid of dying?”

“Oh, I don’t mind. I just wanted to make sure we were clear that it’s the most likely outcome.”

“Yeah, I’m crystal clear.”

He turned the wheel right, and once again, they made a dangerous uncontrolled drive across the median. On the other side, Webster turned back toward the accident and shot forward.

“Do you have anything we can use as a weapon?” Nick asked and craned his neck to look in the truck’s bed.

“I have a crowbar and a tire iron.”

Webster brought the truck to a screeching halt twenty yards from the bus. The Creepers paid no attention to the new arrivals … yet. Webster and Nick jumped out and each went to a side of the truck bed. Nick picked up the crowbar. It was about three feet long. He threw it to Webster and then picked up the smaller, lighter tire iron. It felt very inconsequential in his hand.

“Hey, Webster.”

“Yeah.”

They walked toward the chaos.

“I really wish I had kept my commitment to that weightlifting program.”

“Yeah. I really wish I had bought a gun.”

The first Creeper charged them, and Nick opened its skull with the tire iron.

Mrs. Wilkes’s badass solo

Mrs. Wilkes felt bad about threatening those nice kids with a gun, but she knew it was the only way to get them to leave. When that boy ran at the nasties, she realized that their time was up. It would have been suicide to try to move these sick folks into the bus. The task would have required the men to put down their guns, and that would have been the end of it for everyone.

S
he saw Golden and Brandon run through the gym, and she told them to hurry. She waited a few more seconds and prayed that she remembered the correct switch to turn on the music. She had listened close enough to know that the rock-and-roll music agitated the nasties. Now she just hoped it would draw enough of the things away to give the kids a chance. She didn’t plan to go down without a fight, however. She had secured a rather large caliber pistol a few days ago. It was loaded with six bullets, and she had no extras. It didn’t matter; she was too old to pretend she had the dexterity to reload the contraption. Besides, she only needed to use five bullets to buy enough time to draw the nasties inside. The sixth bullet was her special little surprise, courtesy of Mr. Paul and her career as a science teacher.

She turned the knob marked “Volume” to the full right position where a little white number read ten. The sound system was a monstrous thing that they had used for movie night. She had never heard it louder than a volume three, but that had been plenty loud during the action scenes. Ten, she imagined, would take what remained of her hearing. She said a little prayer and then flipped the switch. Nothing happened and she cursed. She was certain that Golden had done as she had asked; it wasn’t possible the quiet girl had failed her. She laughed when she remembered that the girl had loaded the CD and then pointed to the button with the little sideways triangle. That must be the Play button. Mrs. Wilkes pressed it, and she heard the CD motor whir inside. Then the music blared, and the singer screamed from the speakers. Mrs. Wilkes wanted to rock too.

She turned as the first Creepers poured in through the front door. The kids had closed the rear door, and it shook on its hinges as the nasties tried to tear it open. The nasties charged across the gym floor, and she leveled the big gun on the closest. Her first shot took it in the chest, and it fell back as others passed it. The recoil almost caused her to drop the gun, but she had had the foresight to hold it with both hands, so she was able to regain control. She fired three more shots and killed two of the nasties. They were close now, and she needed to save the last two bullets for her surprise ending. She hadn’t counted on the gun’s kick and feared she might miss her target. The gym had filled quickly and only the makeshift barricade of boxes and cots prevented them from immediately getting to her. One pulled poor Mrs. James from her bed. Mrs. Wilkes had felt guilty for spiking everyone’s dinner with oxycodone, but now it appeared a blessing.

She steadied her aim at the pile of cylinders in the corner of the triage. She had spent most of the day collecting both the full and empty ones and building her little pile. She had lost count, but there were a lot of oxygen tanks there, piled in with several five-gallon gas cans from the generators and a pile of fertilizer left over from the school’s ground-keeping area, the latter of which the triplets had been kind enough to carry for her when she told them she wanted to make an indoor garden. She had opened the valves on several tanks and had poured gasoline around the entire pile. Gasoline, oxygen, and nitrogen fertilizer was the cocktail of choice in homemade explosives. She had added a few of her own special ingredients from the chemistry lab to ensure a hot and fast acceleration. She just needed a little spark. There hadn’t been time to build a proper switch. The first bullet hit a gas can but nothing happened. If it came down to her lighter, she would use it, but she preferred a little distance even though her death was unavoidable. She prayed again and tried to see her target clearly. A Creeper had breached her little fort and was coming at her.

“Please, Lord, just a little bit of help for an old woman.”

She pulled the trigger, and the bullet found its mark and made a pretty blue spark. The explosion was epic.

Caroline makes a run

Caroline was an intelligent woman with a mind of her own, but when Devin called her and told her to stay put and wait for him, she didn’t question it. She saw enough on the news before the cable went out to know that something bad had happened to their world. She was afraid, but more than anything, she trusted Devin. He said he would come, and he would; and if he didn’t, well, then, it didn’t matter what happened to her anyway. The two of them were like those birds she had read about in psychology, the ones who imprinted on their mothers. She and Devin had imprinted on each other back in junior high school. She knew it was overly romantic to think of them as mated for life like wolves and orcas. Still, it had always felt that way, and he had never given her reason to think otherwise.

There was a crash in the kitchen, and she got off the sofa. The golf club in her hand didn’t provide much comfort. Her roommate, Samantha, crawled through the broken window. Caroline almost rushed over to her, and then Sam looked up and a sick, desperate scream came from her mouth. Sam’s eyes were blue, cloudy, and full of hate. They were so different from the warm brown eyes that had been there at breakfast.