This Would Be Paradise (Book 2) (10 page)

I wiped away the happy tears dripping on the note. Ethan was alive and had thrown us a lifeline. I tucked the note in the back pocket of my shorts and unfolded the map. Ethan had outlined the route to Hargrove, starting from the gun shop. Even I could follow these directions.

I released the Beretta’s magazine to check it was loaded. With my hands full, I practically ran outside, excited to share the news. On the gravel lot, Roy was defending the car from a few roaming infected with his wrench. He bashed in the head of one as it lunged at him but wasn’t paying attention to the second one coming up behind him. I dropped everything I was carrying except for the Beretta. I lined up the shot and fired, dropping the body before it could get its hands on Roy.

Roy whirled around, taking in the dead infected, and then looked at me wide-eyed. I spotted another one coming out of the tall grass and took it out with a single shot. When it fell back, its body flattened the tall grass, revealing a good ten or more infected creeping toward us like a lion stalking its prey.

I gathered my things from the ground and bolted for the car.

“We have to move—now,” I said as I ran around to the driver’s side.

I threw my stuff onto Roy’s lap and started the car, rushing out of the parking lot.

Once we were back on the street, I said, “Looks like you were the one who needed the whistle.”

Roy grunted as he rifled through everything I’d dumped on him. “What’s this?”

He held up the map.

I looked in the rearview mirror at Chloe. “Ethan left us a present and a map.”

“What?!” Chloe squealed and launched herself over the center console.

I reached into my pocket and handed her the note Ethan had left. She tore it from my grasp and slunk into the backseat to read it. Her eyes lit up as she read.

“He’s alive!” she screamed, bouncing as much as she could in the backseat.

I pointed to the map Roy was unfurling. “That’s the way to Hargrove.”

His mouth fell open. “Wow, talk about a lucky break.”

“About time we got one,” I muttered.

“We’re heading the wrong way,” Roy pointed out.

Of course we were. I did a U-turn at the next intersection and headed back, almost taking out the “no U-turn” sign in the process.
We passed the gun shop again, where the infected were struggling to get out of the tall grass.

“Looks like we keep on this road for a bit,” Roy said, studying the map.

“Aren’t we heading farther into the city?” I asked. I’d only glanced at the map back in John’s office.

“Mm-hmm, but we gotta take this road before we start heading north-east.”

“Dad, I’m hungry,” Amanda said from the back.

Chloe rummaged through the bags and produced a box of granola bars, passing one out to everybody. We devoured the entire box, and then moved on to the lunch Mac had packed us—one of his famous canned food and spices concoctions. I kind of already missed him, but the sooner we found Hargrove, the sooner we could go back and get them.

After a while, Roy asked. “How’s your head?”

“Good.” The headache hadn’t returned since I’d taken the painkillers.

“If these directions are accurate, we should be there by evening.”

“I can’t wait! Can you drive faster?” Chloe asked, shaking my seat from behind.

“I’m as happy as you to finally find our group, but we need to conserve gas, you know that.”

“Okay,” she said, but continued to fidget.

I was glad for the bone Ethan had thrown us, but that nagging voice in the back of my head was asserting itself. The note wasn’t dated, though I didn’t have any idea what day it was anyway, but something could have happened between now and when Ethan had left the stuff for us to find. All this hope could be for naught. And the note hadn’t mentioned who else made it. Was Zoe there? John? Darren? I didn’t want to go down this road of paranoia until I had to, so I tried to put my suspicions out of my mind.

I looked over at Roy. “So, CCR work for you?”

“Sounds good to me.”

I took out the CD from the center console and jammed it into the player. Classic rock filled the silence, making the trip a little bit better. I was relieved John hadn’t only kept country music CDs in the car.

Chloe was belting out the chorus to “Have You Ever Seen the Rain.” I think those were the only lyrics she knew.

“You only found the handgun and note in there?” Roy asked and laid his head against the passenger window.

“It was picked clean. I was lucky the Beretta was still there, although it was locked up in John’s office.”

Roy pulled his attention from his window. “Tell me about your group. I only met Ethan briefly.”

I wasn’t sure where to start, but I was fortunate that Chloe launched into an explanation, describing everybody from the cabin. I had to school my face when she mentioned Taylor and how he was no longer with us.

“Sounds like a good bunch you got there,” Roy said, finally managing to get a word in. “You were here for Mardi Gras when all this happened?”

I bobbed my head in response. “Crappy timing. Otherwise, I’d be in Canada with my family.”

“Never been, but I hear it’s beautiful.”

“Well, like most places, it depends where you are, but B.C. really is something. Lots of mountain ranges, greenery, and the coast is beautiful in the summer.”

I was making myself homesick. As bad as it sounded, I tried not to think of home; all it brought me were pangs of sadness and regret. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I held on to the notion that one day I would travel home and find my family.

“How about you? You from New Orleans?” I asked, turning the attention onto Roy.

His mouth opened and then closed as if he were deciding what to say.

“Not originally. I moved here with—” He swallowed. “—with my wife just before we had Amanda. More work out here than the small northern town we came from.”

He reached back and patted Amanda’s knee with a sad smile. I felt like an ass for asking.

“I’m sorry for everything you had to go through. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s all right. You have to deal with the hand you’re given. Can’t just take the good.” At that moment, he looked more lost than any person I’d ever seen.

Silence reigned, the only sound coming from the car speakers. The directions took us down another main road, this one heading back into the city limits. I wasn’t nervous—until we passed one of the mercenaries’ spray-painted symbols on the road. Roy sat a little straighter.

“I need to pee,” Chloe announced.

“Looks like we’re stopping for a bathroom break,” Roy said.

I slowed the car and brought it to the curb. More infected roamed within the city than around its outskirts. We would have to take them out to buy us time.

“How do you want to do this?” Roy asked. He counted off the infected with his fingers. “I count nine sick ones nearby and more in the distance.”

“We can pick off the nearest threats, then have a quick bathroom break one at a time. But stay close to the car,” I rattled off.

Chloe cast me a droll look. “I can’t go if ya’ll are watchin’.”

I groaned inwardly. This was going to be a pain. I remembered when stopping at a gas station bathroom during road trips had been enough to make me cringe.

“Do you have to go to the bathroom too?” Roy turned and asked Amanda.

She shook her head, brown eyes wide. Clearly she didn’t want to get out of the car, and I didn’t blame her. I looked around for any bushes or something else we could use. There was a small two-level house beside our spot on the curb, which gave me an idea.

“How about we break into the house and use their bathroom?” I suggested, pointing to the shack-like house. I was sure they wouldn’t mind. It wasn’t like the property value could fall any lower.

“How?” Roy asked. “Not like we have time to pick a lock.”

“Break the window. We don’t need the place intact. We just need to get in and out.”

“Okay, but first, you and I will have to take out the closest sick ones.”

I had Chloe hand me the duffle bag Mac had given us.

“Looks like you’ll be using your favorite,” I said and passed Roy the M4.

The intimidating weapon was out of place in the small car. I let out a small giggle at the ridiculousness of the situation—me, handing out giant guns like I was sharing Twizzlers.

Roy raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t mind her. She does that sometimes,” Chloe chimed in from the backseat.

Brat.

I looked back at the girls. “You stay put until we say it’s clear, got it?”

They nodded. I took a deep breath and got out of the car with my axe and old friend, the Beretta.

I broke the ice with the first shot, aiming for the infected two houses away. It flew onto its side and stayed down. Once I’d thinned out the incoming infected, I switched to my axe to conserve bullets. To make it easier, I swiped the axe around the legs of the infected and tripped them, sending them flying to the ground on their back. Then all it took was one hefty whack to their skulls, and they stopped moving. We soon took out all of the closest infected, though I’d mostly done all the work. Roy said he didn’t want to waste the bullets with his crappy aim.

We crept up to the porch and peered through the front window. I couldn’t see any movement behind the sheer curtains, so Roy used the butt of his M4 to smash the glass. Before we went inside, he used his gun to clear the jagged shards from the window frame.

An infected in a tattered, yellow cardigan stumbled from between the two houses. Roy hastily pointed his automatic rifle toward the infected not bothering to take the time to properly aim. Bullet holes soon adorned the paneling of the house we were breaking into. On the bright side, he at least hit the zombie version of Mr. Rogers.
It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood!

I lifted a leg over the windowsill and dropped inside the house. The smell of rot hit my nose, and I cringed, not the least bit enthused about what we would find.

“Ugh,” Roy groaned and lifted the neck of his shirt over his nose.

We started to search the house. The whole place couldn’t have been more than nine hundred square feet. We walked through the small living room and kitchen area to get to the stairs that led up to the next level. Two bedrooms occupied the second floor, with a bathroom between them—all clear of infected. On my way back to the front of the house, I spotted a door in the kitchen, which I assumed led to a basement, so I went over to investigate.

The smell got stronger the closer I got to the paint-chipped door. Why was it always the basement? I could see a tuff of fur sticking out from under the door and decided against opening the door this time. I rattled the handle to make sure it was locked. Grabbing a chair from the dining table, I wedged it under the handle to be on the safe side. Last thing we needed was a rabid dog chasing after us.

“Something down there?” Roy asked, appearing right behind me. He moved like he weighed nothing at all.

“Something dead, but this should be fine for now.”

We headed back outside into the fresh air. More infected had gathered. I could just picture them as a bunch of nosy neighbors drawn outside by some kind of domestic drama playing out on the front lawn.

Roy rushed to the car.

“You take Chloe inside while I take out these ones,” I shouted at him.

He gathered Chloe from the car, grabbing her hand, and ran back to the house. As he placed her through the broken window, I heard her say, “Eww, what’s that smell?”

It was weird, but I’d almost missed my Beretta like it was a person; I much preferred the heavier, but well-balanced weapon. The infected I was aiming at a few yards away turned just as I pulled the trigger, messing up my aim and the bullet ripped off its upper lip. The infected turned back to me, its face now set in a permanent scowl.

My next shot hit home, and it dropped to the ground next to the rest of its face. I spun in a circle, seeing that even more sick ones had come out from their hiding places like a swarm of wasps out of their nest.

I shot until the slide of the gun popped back, but I’d hardly made a dent in the new wave of infected. Why were there so many of them? Was it because we were technically in New Orleans?

“Shit!”

Roy lifted Chloe out of the window, their bathroom break over. We all met back at the car, and I shoved Chloe in. I grabbed the AR-15 from the bag, but the crowd was still too big.

“We need to get moving. I hope you didn’t have to use the bathroom too, because it’s too late,” Roy said.

“We’ll never get through them with just the car. They’ll bog us down,” I said.

“Time to use these then.” Roy lifted his rifle.

Leaving the driver’s door open, I used the roof of the Mazda to steady the AR-15; I was still too green to use the M4. Together, we shot as many as we could, but the incoming infected were relentless.

“I’m out!” Roy yelled first. No surprise there, since he never let go of the trigger.

I finished off my magazine and got back into the driver’s seat. Roy joined me inside the car, taking the empty rifle from me. I hit the gas. The remaining bodies drew closer, and I had to slow to maneuver around them. More and more were pouring onto the street, clogging our escape route.

“Hold on,” I said and
gently
eased the car over the curb.

The yards and driveways must have been sloped, because the infected were somehow herded toward the road. The front lawns were less populated. Taking advantage of this, I sped up. The back tires spat up chunks of grass and dirt, leaving the destruction behind us.

“Look out!” Roy yelled.

I yanked the steering wheel, narrowly avoiding a family of plastic deer lawn ornaments. Not that I was concerned about hitting fake Bambi, but they could have damaged the car. The Mazda bounced up and down as my over-steering landed us back on the crowded road. A wall of bodies hit the front end, but I pushed on. The infected body of an old woman flopped over the hood and slowly rolled off. At least it was a skinny grandma.

I ran over a limb or two—judging by the crunching sound—and then the car gave a single jerk forward and stopped. I hit the gas and the wheels spun, but the car must have bottomed out on a stack of infected. The Mazda had practically no clearance; even the curb I’d tackled had almost been too high. I looked at Roy, unsure how to get us going again, especially since we were in the middle of an infestation.

“Everybody start rocking,” Roy said.

Even with the four of us rocking forward and backward, we hardly made the car move. I tried to swallow, but panic tightened my throat.

So many bodies surrounded us that the inside of the car went dark. Banging hands scraped at the windows and doors. I had no idea how much pressure a side window could take before it shattered, but I was sure we were about to find out.

The sound of loud gunfire seeped into the vehicle. We all stared at each other, confused. Shot by shot, light started to infuse the cabin of the car, like holes being poked into a blind, as the infected dropped outside.

“What the hell…?” Roy trailed off. 

Once enough bodies had hit the ground, I finally saw who our savior was—saviors, actually. All with their own automatic guns. Were they the mercenaries? Judging from his worried expression, Roy was probably thinking the same thing.

“We need to refill these magazines!” I said.

We fumbled for the ammo, our shaking hands making it hard to put the bullets in properly.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” Roy muttered as he dropped a handful of bullets onto the car floor.

“They’re comin’ over here!” Chloe screamed.

Two men were heading toward us. The rest were picking off the wandering infected. I couldn’t even open the door because there were so many bodies piled up outside like they were protesting something, and the vehicle was suspended in limbo. We were trapped.