Slow Burn (Book 5): Torrent (4 page)

Blood.

Body parts.

Shrieks of the dying.

Ripped torsos spilling intestines.

Shattered bones. White skin that ran with red.

Severed arteries spewing fountains of blood that made the ground slippery under our feet.

Murphy was the devil and I was a demon. Together we’d created a little Hell at the entrance of the bunker. Dazed from concussions, Whites limped through smoke that hadn’t yet been washed out of the air.

True to his word, Murphy shouldered the first White that crossed his path and she bounced face first into the mud.

Thirty feet out of the bunker, we made it through the gate in the chain-link fence, and still not a hand had touched me. To our right though, a group of Whites looked wide-eyed at the horror outside the bunker’s door, stunned. Unfortunately for them, too many of their eyes were watching Murphy and me run by. That earned them the first of my grenades as I shouted, “Faster!”

Like we could run any faster.

Murphy caught sight of the grenade flying toward the group and veered left.

The explosion thundered behind us, and I didn’t look back to see the damage I’d done. We were headed for a tree line with no Whites in front of us. My heartbeat was pounding in my ears and my bag of loose grenades was beating bruises all over my back, but I had a moment to hope.

Murphy crashed between the squat cedar trees, stopped and turned to assess the situation.

Whatever the Smart Ones were doing at that moment, they weren’t leading the charge after us. Whites were all over the clearing, most in a state of confusion, some looking at us and more than a few moving to follow.

Across from us, at the tree line from which we’d come into the clearing, two helices of Whites were exiting and making no move at all toward the fresh feast at the bunker doors. They were still on target.

Murphy tossed a grenade at a small cluster of disinterested Whites
not far from us. They’d be in the path of the helices coming out of the woods. A distraction for some of them, perhaps.

He dug another grenade out of my bag, pulled the pin and took off through the woods.

Just as the foliage grew thick enough to obscure any view of the clearing behind us, the sound of howling and crashing came from somewhere off to our right. And it was so damn close. Murphy stopped and looked at me, asking in urgent silence if I could pinpoint the direction.

With the shrieking Whites everywhere, I felt no compunction about yelling. “Throw them up high over the trees in the general direction
! We don’t have to come close to anything! The noise will disperse them for a moment!” I heaved a grenade with all the force I could put behind it.

Murphy lofted two grenades into high arcs in the same direction. Before the first explosion sounded, we both had more grenades in our hands and were pulling the pins as we barreled through the trees with no idea where we were heading. We were running for our lives. That’s all either of us were thinking in that moment.

When we broke out of the trees again, under a blanket of stink, we were back in another field covered with decaying carcasses. A large building lay off to our right with corpses piled high near the walls, probably the last stand of those who had died at Camp Mabry.

Several vehicles sat
about, some military, some civilian. One was an armored Humvee with the front doors swung open and a machine gun mounted on the top. Nothing in the world could have been a more beautiful sight.

On the far side of the clearing, several hundred Whites were coming at us, both organized and not. Behind us, in the trees, the infected were thrashing their way through. Off to our left, two long helices were inter-spiraling toward us.

Murphy said, “We’re so fucked.”

I shouted, “The Humvee
!” I ran, knowing without looking Murphy would be right behind.

It was another race we had to win. It was the only thought I could afford to entertain.

My legs carried me faster than I thought possible, and when I was just ten feet from the Humvee, with dozens of Whites closing in, I tossed both of my grenades in rapid succession. Murphy did the same and jumped in through the driver’s door. I hopped in the passenger side.

The infected were closing fast. We had to get moving.

The wet ground would compromise our traction. We’d be dead if they hemmed us in.

I slammed my door and set the battle lock just as a White bounced off the glass.

Murphy already had his door buttoned up and was waiting for the diesel’s glow plugs to warm up.

“Murphy, let’s trade places.”

“What? No time.”

“God dammit, just do it.”

Under the duress of my urgency, Murphy squirmed up out of the driver’s seat and tried to push into the back to let me get around, but the back of the Humvee was stacked full of boxes.

It was awkward getting past one another in the cramped space. We earned more bruises for doing it quickly. But we could afford the bruises. We could barely afford the dozen seconds it cost us. As soon as my butt hit the driver’s seat, the glow plug indicator flashed off and I cranked the engine. The Humvee rocked against the impact of several more Whites. The engine rumbled and I mashed the accelerator.

The Humvee lurched and started to roll.

Across the hood, I saw Whites coming toward us from all over the clearing. I plowed into them as I turned the wheel to angle away from the buildings. They thudded against the grill with crunching bones and desperate screams as I ran them down. The mob was thick enough to slow the Humvee and Whites were climbing on top. But it wasn’t thick enough to stall us.

“You know where we’re going?” Murphy hollered.

“Yeah.”

Rolling out of the muddy field, our tires finally grabbed asphalt and we accelerated down a long straight road.

“Where?”

“This way.”

One of the infected fell off Murphy’s side, rolled across pavement, and tumbled over the rocky grass.

As the mass of Whites receded behind us, up ahead a group of a dozen infected stepped out of the cedar forest on the left. I let my foot off of the accelerator and braced myself for the impact of the bunch as I guessed they’d all jump in front of the Humvee or charge it from the side. But they didn’t. They walked purposefully toward the road, stopped and stared. It was more than weird.

As we passed, the closest of the group was just two feet outside of my window, glaring at me with cold, cruel eyes.

It took a second for recognition to kick in, but as I looked at him over my shoulder, I was sure it was Mark.
Fucking Mark.

My toe touched the brake. Murphy felt the deceleration and shouted, “What the fuck, man
?”

“That was fucking Mark.”

“Mark? What the hell are you talking about?”

“That was Mark back there. The one right by the road.” I looked back and forth across the road and the grassy shoulders. I could make the turn and go back to run his ass down.

“Dude, it wasn’t Mark. Just keep going.”

The Humvee was slowing. Mark was standing in the center of the road by then, daring me to come back.

Oh, to feel his bones break on my bumper.

Breath
e.

Think
.

My experience at the hospital, trying to drive that Humvee through the mass of white bodies, was a lesson that screamed at me not to be tried a second time. It was by little more than luck I made it out of that one alive. If I did a U-turn to go back and run down Mark, and if there were Whites in the trees in sufficient numbers, they could trap us on the wet ground. We’d die.

Murphy was trying to look back to see what he could, but the crates and boxes in the back of the Humvee blocked most of his view. “All of those bald-headed motherfuckers look alike, man. Let’s be smart and get the fuck outta here.”

The Humvee shook against several impacts.

I looked forward and cursed myself for focusing so much on Mark that I never saw them. Whites were pouring out of the trees on our right, already climbing on top and trying to destabilize the Humvee with their weight.

The Humvee was picking up speed again.

“How many on the roof?”

“
More than one!” Murphy shouted. “How the fuck should I know?”

I mashed the brakes hard. Murphy hit the dashboard as three naked
, white bodies rolled down off the hood. I accelerated again and ran them over.

The Humvee picked up speed and we passed the
bulk of the ambushers.

Several were still clinging to Murphy’s
side of the Humvee. I swerved and scraped them off on an abandoned car.

And w
e were free.

Occasional Whites came out of the trees in front of us,
a stupidity that cost them their lives. Some tried to catch us from the side. We were moving too fast by then.

Murphy exclaimed, “Holy shit
!”

I tensed and jerked my head around to look.

Nothing.

Murphy was grinning.

“What the hell, Murphy?”

He nodded toward the back of the Humvee.

“What, the boxes?”

“Jesus must love us. It’s all ammo and shit.”

“No way.”

“Way. Do you know how to get back upriver from here?”

I laughed out loud. “Yeah, but you’re not gonna like it.”

We reached the base’s southern gate and turned onto 35th Street, headed west.

“This is the way to Sarah Mansfield’s house, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Man, don’t smile like that. You’re worrying me.”

“We’re not going to Sarah’s house.”

“Cool, man.”

The fork in the road was just ahead. Right led up the crest of Mount
Bonnell. Left led into the country club parking lot. It was time to commit. I cut the wheels left and entered the country club grounds.

Murphy was alarmed. “Dude, there’s nothing down here. We can’t get out this way.” He turned in his seat. Whites were coming out of their hiding places behind us.

I swerved around the driveway, ran down a few of the infected, got to the parking lot and lined the Humvee up with the boat ramp. “Hang on.”

That’s when Murphy figured out what I intended to do. “I can’t swim,” he said.

“I know.” The Humvee pitched forward as it rolled onto the ramp and I braked to slow it a little. I didn’t want to hit the water so fast that we’d be injured by the impact.  A giant white splash exploded in front of us and my chest hit the steering wheel as my body was thrown forward. I pressed my foot to the brake more firmly but not enough to stop us as we rolled down the boat ramp.

Before I knew it, the water was up to the bottom edge of the windows and running in through the floor drains and inadequate door seals.

Murphy was freaking out and trying to open the door, but it wouldn’t open.

I expected that. “Be calm. Be calm.”

“Goddammit, Zed! Goddammit!” He was panicking.

I lowered my voice and spoke slowly as I reached over to put a hand on Murphy’s shoulder. “Be cool, Murphy. Be cool.”

“I can’t get the Goddamned door open.”

“Be cool, Murphy. It won’t open.”

He spun around in his seat, near frantic. “What the fuck?”

The water was more than halfway up the windows outside, then only a few inches from the top edges of the doors. The six ton vehicle, still rolling slowly down the boat ramp, lurched to a halt when I pushed the brakes all the way down.

The water inside was up over our legs.

Murphy stood as much as he could and tried to get his face as close
as possible to the roof.

“Goddamn you, Zed.”

“Murphy,” I said calmly, “we’ve stopped. The Humvee isn’t going to roll any deeper into the water. We’re still on the ramp. We just need to wait a second before the doors will open.”

“They won’t open.”

“They will open. Just not yet.”

“We’re
gonna drown.”

“No, Murphy, we’ll still have air up by the ceiling when the water stops rising. Look at where it is near the tops of the windows. Once it’s level inside with the water outside, we’ll be able to open the doors.”

The water had risen to my chest at that point and I deliberately got up out of my seat to get my face near the ceiling.

“How do you know that?”

“I just do. Okay? Trust me.”

“You should have asked me to trust you before you drove the damn truck into the fucking river
, because I would have told you
hell, no!”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“I swear to God, Zed, if I don’t drown…”

The water was nearing the ceiling and Murphy was nearly hyperventilating.

“Be calm. It’ll be okay.”

The water stopped rising.

Moments passed before Murphy figured out I was right. The rising water had stopped. He looked at me, surprise etched into his face.

“Try the door. But be careful. You don’t want to fall out into the river. You can’t swim, remember?”

“Like I’m ever gonna forget that.”

Murphy turned away from me and reached down to pull on the handle of his door. It opened with ease. He stuck his head out and looked around. “I’ll be damned.”

“You gotta trust me sometimes, Murphy.”

“Okay, lucky charm, what’s next?” He pulled his head back in. “We’re in the middle of the marina and about a hundred Whites are back there on the ramp and more coming.”

“Okay. Listen, I’ve got to swim over and get the boat before they start coming up the docks and get on it. Are you going to be okay if I leave you here for a minute?”

“Whatever, man. I’m cool. Just get the boat. And just so you know, I’m going to punch you in the face when this is over.”