Infected Freaks (Book 2): The Echo of Decay (4 page)

“Who’s going to babysit the weird boy?” Sam reminded them, tugging at her borrowed cargo pants.

Hunter rolled his hazel eyes toward the Blazer. “What you think, Grandpa?”

“Let him sleep. Bob’s garage is only a few blocks away. It shouldn’t be that difficult once we get over this giant building.” Abraham let out a shallow grunt and placed his hands on his hips.

“What about the freaks?” Hunter asked. “The clouds are blocking the sun. Won’t they come out?”

“I don’t know. Everything I told you about Red Dead and the freaks is a theory.”

“Alright, I’m ready to scout,” Hunter whispered, touching the ladder. At that time, Abraham peel back his grandson’s fingers and growl.

“Let me take a look first and make sure it’s safe.” Abraham tugged at the ladder, relieved to see it was still secure. The muscles in his back twitched in protest as he strained in effort to climb. There was no question his body was weakened in his old age. Yet with a grumble, he managed to make it despite sweat dripping off his nose with an evil tickle.

***

Emme watched Hunter trace the offensive words painted over the brick of the building. “Somebody lives here,” Hunter told her.

“And they’re telling us to stay out,” Emme was quick to answer. “Perhaps we should continue to a friendlier-looking town.” She pulled up the hood on her hoodie and waited. In the low frequencies of her hearing aids, she heard the heavy breathing of the infected freaks somewhere inside the mess of dark buildings. “They’re inside the buildings.”
I need to show them.
She was sure nothing in her little black backpack was going to help convince them. Still, she rummaged through it anyway.

“Who is?” Sam asked.

“The infected freaks,” Emme answered as her smirk slipped away.

“You don’t know that,” Hunter argued.

“I do too.”

“Quiet.” Emme heard Abraham yell from the roof. She knew he was growing tired of the endless bickering so she stayed silent.

Hunter bent over and strained to lift the locked roll-down door again. He didn’t notice the wild boy creeping up behind him, but Emme did. The strange boy littered in filth was almost on top of Hunter when Emme screamed, “Watch out!”

Her brother jumped out of the way, landing in a puddle of murky water as the wild boy poked at him. “Dr. John,” the boy whispered over and over. Emme watched her brother pull himself back to his feet, pushing his arms in a futile attempt to rid himself of the advancing boy. “How did you get out of the restraints?”

“Calm down, man,” Samantha said, placing a firm hand on the peculiar boy’s shoulder.

The wild boy scurried away, screaming the only phrase he must have known. “Dr. John!”

Hunter pursued the boy, swearing revenge. Yet, the faster he moved, the quicker the odd boy circled the Blazer. The chase ensued with Sam joining in on the anxious fun. Hunter and Sam cornered the boy, and when they thought they had him, he ducked under the Blazer and curled up, repeating that same old name.

“Dammit, Sam, you let him get away,” Hunter said with passion in his hazel eyes. This made Emme smile as big as a child on Christmas morning. She had a feeling Sam wouldn’t put up with his shit.

“Me? Are you kidding? There is no way this is my fault. You had the boy in your hands.” Rolling to the right, Sam gave Hunter the cold shoulder.

“Because I was pushing him toward you,” Hunter argued, dropping to a knee.

Emme enjoyed the pinch of agony annoying her brother.

Sam knelt down and stared at the panicked, wild boy. “Oh shit, he wet himself,” she stammered, breaking into a contagious laugh.

“Go get him,” Hunter ordered, making a humorous expression.

“You let him get away,” Sam snapped back. She seemed to enjoy the playful tones.

Emme squinted and kept a nasty glare toward Hunter.
They’re only flirting
, Emme thought, pushing up her purple glasses. Emme felt disappointed.

Sam scooped her hand under the car in a feeble attempt to frighten the boy. However, he didn’t move a muscle.

As if remembering his manners, Hunter tilted his head towards Sam. “Fine, I’ll get him.”

Sam scoffed at the notion. “Please.”

“Don’t let him tell you what to do because you’re a girl,” Emme said. She wasn’t going to let Sam be outdone by her brother. Hunter needed a pretty girl to keep him in order.

Right as Hunter had his fingers on the boy’s clothing, he jerked back at his sister’s comment, bumping his head on the undercarriage.

Emme laughed as the wild boy wiggled out the front of the Blazer. The sounds leaving the wild boys lips came out funny, almost distorted. He dashed to the right, then danced around Hunter and Sam. He was leading them on a wild goose chase. His sudden movements and jerky steps brought both Hunter and Sam to the ground in a soft tumble.

It was like watching the fastest kid play tag on the playground. She giggled a little louder, sitting on a pile of crates and enjoying the show. “You’ll never catch him.”

“I’ll bet you the front seat, you can’t either,” said Hunter, raising his proud chin.

“Deal,” Emme agreed, vaulting to her feet. She lowered her hand and held out pieces of candy in her palm. The men in yellow had given her the candy right before she ran away. “It’s okay,” she whispered, batting her mocha-colored eyes behind her glasses. The strange boy stopped and sniffed. He looked back toward Hunter and Sam and then took a single step forward. His head jolted up and then down.

“Try it,” Emme said, and when she did, the small boy snatched the chocolate pieces from her hand. His tight face made a series of sour expressions and then he spit it out. He snarled at first, and then fell at Emme’s boots. “Are you okay?’’ she asked, touching the top of his oily head. The boy seemed to enjoy her touch. “He’s scared.”

“Emme, get away,” Hunter ordered, taking aim with his rifle.

With arms crossed in front of her chest and her head cocked to the side, she replied, “He’s not dangerous. And it seems I’ll be riding in the front seat from this point forward.” The way her lips curled into a smile made her brother boil.
I win,
she thought, watching him march off back toward the bay door to clear his head. Emme could still hear the moans of the infected. Though she didn’t feel like being called a liar again, so she kept the truth of it to herself.

“So many damn obstacles,” Abraham whispered. The surrounding buildings were strung together tight. He saw high walls, barbed wire, and a variety of makeshift barricades. However, he also noted well-placed ladders, ropes, and promising doors. The pathway appeared manageable.

Abraham hadn’t visited Bob’s garage in years. The place was a warehouse of considerable size. The iron doors and brick structure would keep Bob and his men safe. Abraham regarded the rest of the town from his vantage point. Nothing appeared the same. He remembered large, open spaces between the buildings and a wealth of greenery decorating the town. Now all he saw was crumbling walls and abandoned vehicles in devastated ruin. It reminded him of his time in Russia during the Winter War. Strategic bombing leveled hundreds of towns.

Cursing his memories, he tried to slow his heart and wandering mind. He didn’t want to remember the scorched bodies of all of the Russian children that became collateral damage. Bombs didn’t sort out the good from the bad. Bombs sucked the life out of everything within its reach. For a moment, he dwelt on the memories of the Winter War. Then he turned his attention toward the sky. He discovered a trace of rising smoke in the distance. His eyes followed it back down to a building several blocks away.

“Found you,” he said. It appeared as if using the buildings Bob had fashioned some sort of safe compound for his people.

By the time Abraham came back down, the abnormal boy had settled on top of Emme’s boots. The wild child lifted his head up for a second to watch the old man who punched him, and then lowered it back down and closed his eyes. “I see you’ve tamed the boy,” Abraham said.

“He’s just scared,” Emme replied. “I think I can get him to follow us over to Bob’s garage.”

“The boy is a risk,” Hunter blurted out.

“Right now the only risk is you and your loud mouth. If these buildings are stuffed with infected freaks, I don’t want to wake them. Do you understand?” Abraham gave his grandson a hard stare. He wanted to show the boy his place.

Hunter nodded and turned his back.

“So I can bring him?” Emme asked.

Abraham again thought of the innocent children who died during the Winter War. He wasn’t going to let this boy die on his watch. Sometimes he wondered why he bothered to show mercy. It always came back to bite him in the end. “Keep him quiet until I get this mess sorted out.”

Abraham caught a quick reflection of himself in an oily pool of water. Touching his wrinkled brow, he wondered if any of the dried blood on his skin was threatening to turn him into a savage beast.
If it’s going to happen, there’s nothing I can do.
Grunting, he realized he felt fine. He was just tired. But that was his age; at least that’s what he told himself.

“A storm is sweeping in fast. It might be best if we get inside. I don’t want to get stuck out here in a cruel storm without enough fuel to bring us to Denver.”

“Will Bob let us stay?” Hunter asked, hands holding up his stern face.

The real question was the price Bob would ask for gasoline. “He better,” he answered. Abraham begged Hunter to use one of his clean coats before they left, but his grandson had to wear his filthy denim coat. At least Hunter tried to wash it in the sink before they left.

“What if Bob’s dead?” Emme asked. “I can hear the infected inside the walls.”

Abraham had heard all her talk about hearing the dead.
Kid games
, he thought, trying to listen for the congested breaths of the infected. Judging by the amount of empty bullet shells, he thought Bob must have held the advantage.

“He’s alive. Lock up the Blazer and let’s get moving,” Abraham ordered. He didn’t like the approaching storm clouds. It looked like it was going to be a nasty storm. “Leave the big guns and supplies in the car. I don’t want Bob to know what we’ve got. And remember, let me do all the talking.”

Abraham climbed back up to the roof, and to his surprise, the wild boy followed Emme’s every step. The wild boy looked like a little monkey climbing the ladder. Abraham saw how this made Hunter’s stomach bitter and almost laughed. He hoped with time he could bring the wild boy out of his deep shock. Abraham believed it had to shock that left the boy dimwitted for the moment.

“Keep up,” he said, looking back. “And watch out for traps.”

“Traps?” Sam questioned, throwing up her hands.

Abraham pointed to a large metal grate with teeth. Inside the jaws was a hunk of infected meat. “Bob is one crazy man,” he said. “And traps were always something he fancied.”

It was growing colder as they climbed down a second ladder to a smashed balcony on the other side of the building. Abraham lifted his flashlight and led the way through the unlocked sliding glass door. A layer of empty bullet shells were spread across the tiled floor. The green couches in the center of the room were covered in foul stains and the smell almost floored him.

“Watch your step,” he whispered back to the kids, recognizing the throw carpet plugging up a gaping hole. “It’s another trap.” He pulled up the carpet and saw a series of sharp spikes ready to greet anyone foolish enough to walk without regard. The room below was stuffed with rotten bodies that assaulted his nose with every breath. Abraham thought about turning back as he laid the carpet back down. But they had to find fuel.

Pushing open a bedroom door, he realized the building was some sort of apartment or hotel. Through the soiled destruction, it was too hard to tell. He observed a queen-sized bed with tight hospital corners. Resting on top of the bed was a brainless corpse threaded in contagion. When Hunter tried to push past him to see, Abraham pulled the door closed. “You don’t need to see that.”

Hunter didn’t question him. He must have known whatever was behind the bedroom door was gruesome. Still, he knew his grandson wasn’t afraid of such sights. His grandson believed he was a man. But Abraham wasn’t so sure.

Abraham rushed across the space and exited out into the pitch-black hall. His pistol was already out and followed his flashlight down to the deep corners. He had no objection to shooting infected freaks, or regular people as long as they deserved it. He knew the bright light would call the infected. But then again, he didn’t think the inside of the compound would be infested. Plus he didn’t want to step on one of Bob’s traps. Each careful step came after searching for wires and gaping holes in the floorboards. When he reached a broken stairwell, he turned back and pointed down.

“The flashlight will attract them,” Emme reminded. “And believe me, they’re near.”

“At least this way I can see them coming.” Abraham grunted, accepting he had no choice in the matter. As the beam of light shone ahead, he noticed a small fishing wire stung across at the bottom of the stairs. His eyes followed it back to the swollen wall. “More traps,” he rasped, taking in the pipe bomb attached to the wire. “The whole place is probably booby-trapped. Stay behind me and look high and low.”

He took out a knife and cut at the string. Again he experienced a flashback of the Winter War. Abraham had been part of an advanced raiding party set to infiltrate a political fortress near Ukraine. He defused hundreds of similar-fashioned bombs strung throughout the vast sewer system. The Winter War turned men into savages and broke every rule of engagement. Bob was his partner during the deployment and an experienced soldier in explosive removal.

After studying the improvised pipe bomb, he plunked it off the cheap mount and held it in his hand. He was confident the thing would explode on impact. “This may come in handy,” he said, entering the next set of halls.

“Are you sure carrying that is safe?” Sam asked, buttoning up her borrowed coat.

“I’m not sure of anything.”

After a few more steps, Abraham saw the devastation of the hall. A taxing fire fight had riddled the walls with holes. The footsteps of his companions echoed down the blurred space.
Bob must have fought the infected.

Shadows shimmered as his flashlight stressed the warped timbers of the building. The wooden floors were bathed in crimson guts that bloomed up in moldy florets. He noticed the charred wood on one of the other door frames and recognized one of the traps had detonated long ago.

“Here they come,” Emme warned, cupping her hands over her hearing aids. Before Hunter could fully call her a lair, a gurgling buzzing sound erupted.

Abraham scrambled to the kill the flashlight. To his dismay, it fell out of his hand with a rolling bang. “Shit,” he whispered, pushing his grandchildren back into one of the nearby rooms.

The trudging of dead, infested feet tore into the hallway as Abraham inched the door closed. Quiet as possible, he turned the dead bolt. “Get to the window,” he whispered, running that direction. The mind-numbing wail blared louder and then stopped at the base of the warped door.

“More are coming,” Emme squeaked.

Could she really hear them? Abraham didn’t know.

In seconds, the front door handle jiggled. Then, something squishy slammed against the wood. Abraham heard the flashlight scatter across the floor as at least one of the plague-ridden creatures attacked the spinning light on the other side of the door. At that time, the heavy fists of a corpses beat against the door. Dozens of infected were screaming in hideous tones throughout the structure. Abraham saw the worry upon Hunter’s face. He was sure the boy saw it on his own.

“Be still,” he said soft and discreet. The pounding against the door increased with each icy breath he drew.

Then and there, in a moment of rage, the wild boy said, “Dr. John.”

“Quiet,” Emme warned. For a second, the wild boy simmered down. She wrapped her arms around him as if he were a teddy bear. The quick comfort worked.

Abraham was surprised to find the window easy to handle; he punched out the screen and dove out into a long parking lot sandwiched between three immense buildings. The hairs on his neck were standing on end. “Hurry up!” Dozens of rotten bodies littered the space. The ground shimmered in the empty shells of a thousand hollow casings. Abraham felt like he was running through another war zone.

An RV blocked one of the exits leading out of the chokepoint. On the other side, a large pile of furniture webbed in barbed wire jammed the path. Barriers on top must have been the last stand for those defending that stretch of the city. Upon seeing the spoiled carnage, he wondered if he was heading in the wrong direction. The last thing he wanted to do was lead his grandchildren into a perilous situation.
We have to keep moving
.

Panting through clenched teeth, he led them to the back door to the closest adjoining structure and whipped open the uneven frame. Hesitant, Abraham ran a hand though his thinning white hair.

“This way,” he ordered, dashing to the left. He turned his attention to the end of the hall. A great cluster of fungus bloomed like a huge flower. It covered the entire base of the back wall. It reminded him of decade-old wallpaper. “Is this what the fungus intends to do with the human race?” A dozen butchered bodies were woven into the tangle of soft, pulsating mushrooms.

“Come on,” Emme slurred, tugging at the frantic boy.

“Dr. John,” the boy whispered.

“I’ll kill him,” Hunter said, pointing his rifle.

Abraham knew his grandson would hurt the boy if he made one more stupid sound. “Shut up,” he muttered, trying to focus.

Emme covered the boy’s barren eyes and hummed. Had she not been toughened at the barn, she might have screamed herself or so Abraham believed. It couldn’t have been easy for a twelve-year-old to process.

The sound of something bulky approached the corner. Abraham didn’t wait to see the full shadow of the staggering corpse. He tossed the acquired pipe bomb and ran through another hallway, waiting for the next infected freak to come into his line of sight. The dramatic explosion hammered the swollen walls. Still, he navigated the twists and turns and came to a lobby in shambles.

An infected freak turned away from a set of doors boarded up with thick slabs of wood. The dead woman’s skirt swirled around her large hips as she regarded them. Her mouth was stained in blood and guts as she came forward.

Abraham stuffed his pistol in his pants and plunked out his trusty hammer. “You do not belong in this world,” he muttered, thumping the thing across the top of its soft skull.

At that moment, an unseen infected staggered over the grand oak desk and lashed out, knocking the pistol from his body and the hammer from his hand. The weapons crashed and slid against the marble floor in a thunderous snap.

Hunter had his back turned, aiming at another creature emerging from the dense smoke behind them. His rifle boomed.

Emme sunk to the ground and scrambled forward on her fists. “Stay away,” Abraham slurred.

He struggled against the diseased oddity by grabbing its shabby blazer. The thing’s dull teeth mashed mere inches away from his scrunched face.
It’s too strong
, he thought, losing grip. Squeezing his eyes shut, he screamed.

Boom!

Emme stood, shaking like a dog shitting razor blades. She fired the handgun and tore the back of the infected freak’s skull from its base. “Damn,” she whispered, shivering in what must have been an adrenaline rush.