The Infected (Book 3): Nightfall (10 page)

That was almost
perfect.

“Let’s try the next house.”
Karen stepped away from the window and made straight for the next house on the
block.

“Didn’t you want to look
for the booze?” Leon followed after her.

“Not until we have a ride
to load it into,” she called over her shoulder at him. Karen hustled across the
lawn and hit the next house down. The garage was empty.

Hells bells!

 “Keep going. It’s
empty,” Karen leaped over a shrub. The sun was no longer directly above them.
The air had cooled by ten degrees and the breeze felt wonderful on her skin. The
sun was now dropping out in the west and it cast creepy shadows that played
with Karen’s mind. It looked as if there was an infected around every corner
and one hiding behind every tree.  

The next house had its
garage door raised a foot. Karen dropped to the ground and laid herself flat in
front of the opening. A set of tires greeted her, but she couldn’t make out
what kind of car it was at first.

BOOM BOOM! Leon cycled
through a set of shells. Infected bodies fell and slid across the asphalt.
Karen looked back to check out the action. Two teenage girls laid at the foot
of the driveway.

“What’s in there?” Leon
asked as he pulled a shell from the bandolier. Karen inched a little closer to
the door to see the front of the car.

“Subaru, looks like a
wagon, I think I can fit in here. Should we see if anyone’s home?”

“Yep, let’s see if Sue and
Bobby can come out and play.” Leon reached down and helped Karen to her feet.
They headed for the front door. Karen peeked through a diamond shaped window
decoratively placed in the door.

Nothing.

“Looks clear,” she
whispered.

Leon took a look for
himself and he agreed, “Step aside.” He whispered and Karen moved to the edge
of the door. He crashed the butt of the shotgun down on the knob, but the brass
fixture held firm. “Damn!” he clobbered it again and it left a dent, but didn’t
break the seal on it.

“Just shoot it!” Karen was
getting anxious and ready to be back home.

BOOM!

Leon wrecked the knob and
the door swung open. Karen stepped slowly through the doorway. She didn’t
bother to call out a hello or anyone here? She felt like the knocking and
shooting of the front door was enough. The living room was clean. No signs of a
struggle or turned family member that needed to be snuffed out.

Leon sped past her and
headed for the garage, “Check the kitchen cabinets,” he said as he exited the
living room. Karen inched her way through the strange house. The smiling faces
in the family photos haunted her. It was a young family with children close to
the same age as Valerie.

If they weren’t home
then where were they?

Dead? Just like so many
others in this neighborhood.

The place was so clean.
That’s what really stood out for Karen. They must have had a professional maid
come by weekly and give this place a solid once over. No way could a mom with
young children keep a home this clean all by herself. It would have taken an
army of Karens to do this level of work and her place was half the size of this
home. The kitchen was immaculate. Every little thing had its perfect little
spot. She checked some of the cabinets and they looked like a magazine shoot of
someone’s fake kitchen.

Who would spend that
much time organizing every shelf in their kitchen?

They must have suffered
from O.C.D.

 
Karen opened a cupboard close to the refrigerator and
JACKPOT! It was the good stuff, not the shit on the bottom shelf at the liquor
store. It was mid to top shelf booze, baby! They had full bottles of Absolut
vodka, Beefeater gin, Johnny Walker Black scotch and a Patron tequila. Karen
needed to find a sturdy bag to carry all this in.

“How are you doing in
there?” She called to Leon as she searched the pantry for a bag.

His voice was muffled.
Leon’s head was still stuck under the steering column, “Almost got it!” he
grunted to her.

“We hit it big here! They
had a sweet stash. I’m bagging it all up now.” Karen found a heavy duty canvas bag
and carefully loaded out each bottle one at a time. It occurred to her that if
the world stayed on this course this stuff would become liquid gold.

It might be a good idea
to store one or two of these away for a rainy day.

They could use it to
barter for food, weapons or ammo. People will definitely be needing strong
drinks. So many loved ones lost today. That’s a lot of mourning. The Subaru’s
engine purred in the garage. Leon had it running and was ready to hit the road.

“Hurry up!” He called to
her as he pulled the driver’s side door shut.

“I’m almost done,” Karen
removed the last bottle off the shelf and slid it into the bag with the others.
She double checked the cabinets to make sure she got them all.

BOOM!

A bullet ripped passed
Karen’s head and punched a hole in the perfect cabinet door. Karen ducked down
behind the island in the center of the kitchen.

What the fuck was that?

Jim weaved the PT Cruiser
around a couple of destroyed cars blocking the street. He pulled back into the
parking lot of his apartment complex. On the ride back Sara and Frank kept
themselves busy loading the rifles and shotguns. Sara found a killer Glock 17
that she fell in love with. Frank walked her through a quick tutorial and she
pushed the fully loaded seventeen round magazine into the bottom of the gun.
Sara found the matching holster and strapped it to her hip as they entered the
parking lot.

Jim had begun to feel nauseous.
His face felt like it was about to explode from his throbbing sores. The wounds
on his forehead and nose radiated a heat he had never experienced before. Most
of the day he had suffered with the broken nose. The injury to his nose gave
him a sweet set of black eyes to complete the loser boxer image he had going.
Then a few hours ago he got the gash on his forehead from the car wreck. He
caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror. He looked like a monster.
His appearance and the way he reeked made him look and smell more like the
infected zombies roaming the streets than a normal human being. He longed for
an hour to himself. One hour where his life wasn’t in danger. One hour where he
didn’t have to kill an infected. Sixty minutes so he could eat a real meal and
clean the foulness that encrusted his body. More than anything he wished he
could be home with his wife and children. It felt like a lifetime ago when he
kissed his wife goodbye for the day.

Jim knew that giving Devon
a blood transfusion would lay him up for a few hours before he could try and
race across town to his mother-in-law’s house.

If I do leave for my
family how would I get Devon there?
One
job at a time he thought.

Job number one. Get back
upstairs to Cliff and Tina’s.

Job number two. Save
Devon.

Job number three. Get
home. It was two jobs away before he had to worry about how he would get home
with Devon in tow.

He slowed his ride down
and crept along. Peeking through the buildings he could see the converging
horde that had just finished off the young family in the SUV. The pack of monsters
were moving towards the noise made by the slowly rotating tires and engine. The
easy route up to Cliff and Tina’s place was cut off. Now the only way across
was through the horde of zombies.

There were too many for
Frank to take care of by himself. The grounds of the parking lot were wide
open. There wasn’t a good place to force them to funnel through so they could
easily pick them off without worry of being surrounded and attacked from
behind. There was definitely no time to set something up like that. Devon could
be on the brink and every second counted. Frank and Sara had come to the same
conclusion as Jim and were ready for a fight.

“Let’s see if you can
handle these,” Frank said as he readied an assault rifle for Jim. He forced the
newly loaded magazine into the bottom of the gun.

“Each pull of the trigger
will fire a round. Take your time, aim and squeeze. You get excited, fire
without aiming and you’ll empty the magazine without making a single kill.”

“Got it,” Jim said as he
crushed the brakes and put the PT into park, he took the gun from Frank and
popped open his door. The gun looked as deadly as it felt in Jim’s hands. He
copied every action movie he had ever seen and stood feet shoulder-width apart,
pulled the gun tight against his shoulder and aimed down range at the mass of dead
bodies on their way to feed. Frank and Sara exited on the passenger’s side. She
had the Stranger’s shotgun and Frank had his SKS. Frank led the barrage and
took down the infected that sprinted towards them.

Jim sighted in his first
zombie. It was a husky young adult with greasy hair. Well, husky was the nice
way to say the zombie was a chunky butted, basement dwelling, pizza faced,
gamer, but it wasn’t Jim’s style to speak ill of the dead. Jim squeezed the
trigger.

The rifle had some kick,
but it was deadly accurate. The husky zombie had its head tilted back and its
mouth was agape. Jim’s round hit it in the teeth and ripped out the back of its
skull. It fell to the ground and tripped up the creatures directly behind it.
Jim’s next six shots weren’t as lucky. He punctured a few shoulders, a chest,
one hand and a neck. Sara cycled through her six shots and the bullets
pulverized the front of the infected’s offensive line. Frank was spot on and
downed thirty in as many seconds.

Movement at the window of
Tina and Cliff’s apartment caught Jim’s attention. The couple pulled up the
blinds and watched as the three of them unloaded on the approaching horde. It
almost seemed unfair. The dead marched unfazed and headlong toward their doom.
It looked like Jim and his crew were cheating. As if they had somehow tricked
the army of the dead into walking straight into the wall of lead crashing into
them.

Sara’s shotgun clicked
empty so she tossed it into the backseat and pulled the Glock. The shotgun sledgehammered
her shoulder every time she fired it. The Glock was as smooth as silk in comparison.
Its light body felt amazing in her nimble hands. Half of her shots hit their
targets. The horde was thinning out. Down to stragglers and slow pokes. The
last of the zombies suffered from broken legs or were missing too much muscle
on their thighs and calves to move efficiently.

The crew’s guns clicked empty.
Jim set the rifle in the driver’s seat and grabbed his spear. He made a beeline
for the closest infected and had to jump over a two-foot high mountain of
mangled meat to get to them. He drove the blade of his spear through the
remaining zombies. Every thrust was a bullseye. Jim’s kill ratio was much
higher with this stick and knife than with the modern day weapon of war. He
danced light on his toes to avoid tripping on the splayed out arms and legs
that covered the ground. Sara joined him and splattered the last of the
infected with a punishing downward swing. The smell of gun smoke hung heavy in
the air. A light gray cloud of gunsmoke was carried away and caught up in the
breeze. It became so quiet that it was eerie. Jim turned three sixty and double
checked the dead freaks that laid at his feet.

“That wasn’t so bad. With
a little practice and a ton of ammo we could clear this area out. Just like
that church.” Sara spoke louder than normal. The gunshots had bombarded her
eardrums. Frank was being proactive and took a seat behind the wheel of the PT
and drove the vehicle over to a parking spot closest to the stairway. The
ringing in Jim’s ears faded with every passing second as he followed Sara back
to the car.

Jim knew that a little
encouragement went a long way to lift someone’s spirits, and it seemed as good
a time as any to pass some praise around. “Good job…” he said as he placed his
hand on Sara’s shoulder. “…and thank you for coming with us. I don’t think we
could have done it without you.”

Sara’s face went flush
immediately. It was such a small thing that he said to her, but it was exactly
what she needed to hear. The day’s events were compounding and had begun to pile
up. It was taking the form of a stress migraine. Jim’s gentle touch and sincere
tone helped soften the pounding behind her eyes. She prided herself on being
tougher than most, but the day had beaten her down. She tried to respond with
the same level of sincerity but her words got tongue tied and came out, “Yeah,
no. I mean you’re welcome.” She smiled at Jim. His five o’clock shadow added to
the rugged look his clothes and injuries had created. She tried to imagine how
he looked earlier when he was the clean cut appliance salesman that he claimed
to be, but she couldn’t picture it. She liked this manlier version better. The
leather jacket, spear and blood splatter made him look like an action hero
instead of the boring father of two that he really was.

They were halfway to the
car when they both heard the sounds of something scratching at a window. It was
coming from the SUV on the other side of the lot. It took Jim a second to
focus, but then it became clear that something was clawing at the blood soaked
windows.

“You go help Frank with
the guns. I’ll take care of it.” Jim gave Sara one last pat on the back before
he jogged over to the SUV. He didn’t know what to expect, but what he saw broke
his heart. He recognized the husband from the pool. He was dead, really dead,
maybe from the crash it was hard to tell. A chunk of white bone peeked out from
his skin just under his hairline. Something had crushed his skull and brain.
The children and wife had been turned. Their mangled bodies were twisted messes
trying to climb over the front seats. They wanted to get out the busted
driver’s window and rip Jim to shreds. Jim was sick of seeing women and
children like this. The scene was as horrific as any he had come across that
day.  

“Goddamn it!” Jim opened
the door so he could get a clear shot. There was no time to pay his respects.
The infected family were on their way to get him. When the deed was done and
the zombies were removed from their hell Jim thought that he was going to puke,
but there wasn’t anything in his stomach. His muscles flexed and he dry heaved.
He powered through the urge and redirected his focus. He had to get on to his
next job. He pulled himself from the zombies and jogged back to the PT Cruiser.

Jim met back up with Frank
and Sara as they unloaded the bags full of guns and ammo. He picked up his and
they stomped up the flight of stairs. Cliff and Tina were at the top of the
landing waiting to help them over the set of rails.

“Looks like it was a good
run. Did you get everything on the list?” Tina said as she reached for the
first bag.

“Yes, how’s Devon?” Sara
asked as she passed her bag.

“He’s asleep and stable.”
Tina grunted as the weight of the heavy bag strained her lower back.

“You guys run into any trouble?”
Cliff helped his wife pull Sara’s bag over the rail.

“A little,” Frank fought
the hundred pounds of gear up the last few steps. Sara flung her thin leg over
the rail and made the transition to the landing. Cliff and Tina helped the two
men with their bags and Frank made it onto the landing after Sara.

Jim unfastened his
backpack and handed it to Tina, “Here’s the medical supplies.” Tina took the
backpack and headed straight into the apartment to begin prepping for Devon’s
surgery.

“What’s in these?” Cliff asked
as he dragged two of the canvas duffle bags through his entryway.

“Guns and ammo,” Sara
answered and followed after Tina.

“Damn, did you knock over
a store?” he asked with excitement.

“Yep,” Frank trailed the
ladies and unzipped his bag to pull out the vials of medicine and get them into
the refrigerator until they were needed.

Cliff dropped the bags
inside the foyer and then returned to help Jim over the last rail. They clasped
hands and Cliff pulled Jim over onto the landing and helped steady his
exhausted body.

Tina emptied the contents
of Jim’s backpack, “We need to get him up onto the kitchen counter. I might be
at this for a while and can’t spend it squatting on the floor.” She placed the
surgical kit on the counter and opened it. She had already found a flashlight
and set it up on its end. Next to the kit she laid out the tapes and bandages
and the suture kit. She was as prepped as she could possibly be given the
current situation.  

Sara and the men took
position next to Devon and in unison they lifted him up off of the floor. The
sudden movement woke Devon, “What are you doing to me?” He looked to Jim for
answers.

“We got the supplies to
fix your leg.” Jim carried the bulk of Devon’s torso and laid him gently onto
the counter. Devon let out a string of whimpers and moans as the group released
him.

Tina stood in front of the
kitchen sink. She scrubbed her hands and forearms with antibacterial soap. The
reality of what she was about to do was hitting her like a punch to the stomach.

Jim grabbed a chair from
the dining room and placed it next to Devon’s head. He peeled off his leather
jacket and set it on the back of the chair. He still had a set of soccer shin
pads strapped to his forearm so he popped off the guard and rolled up the sleeve
of his shirt.

Tina pulled on a new set
of rubber gloves as Sara worked to open the transfusion kit. Sara held the open
box next to Jim. Tina looked over all of the tubing and equipment. Her hands
moved efficiently as she figured out the kit’s system. She attached a clean
needle. She quickly wiped his arm with an alcohol pad, found his vein and she gave
no warning as she plunged the tip of the needle into Jim’s arm.

“Guys, wash your hands too
and get on a set of gloves.” Tina nodded at Cliff and Sara. Then she placed a
chunk of tape onto the needle to secure it to Jim’s body. His O negative fluid
had begun its journey down the translucent tube and into a bag attached to the
system. “What was your name again?” She asked Frank.

“Frank,” he responded as
he pulled his duffle bag off of his shoulder.

“Well Frank can you help
your friend here and get him a big glass of water and something to eat from the
fridge? He’s going to need the energy and I bet he’s starving.” Tina searched
for Devon’s vein, found it and plunged away. Seconds later Jim’s blood hit the
injured young man’s arm.