Undead Rain (Book 2): Storm (11 page)

We reached the main road and looked both ways. The road wound between stone walls and hedges in both directions, following the coast. We crossed to the gap in the stone wall and looked into the field beyond.

The army truck bore the medical red cross symbol on its doors. It lay on its side in the long grass and judging by the skid marks on the road and the distance the truck had slid into the field, it had been moving quite fast when it crashed through the wall.

The rear of the truck was crumpled on one side and the windows and windscreen of the cab were smashed. I couldn’t see anyone inside either in the front or the rear.

“Do you think it’s been there long?” Jax asked.

“A while,” I said. “See how the grass behind the truck is standing up? That would have been flattened when the truck slid through here.”

“What do you think happened?” She leaned on the wall to get a closer look but neither of us suggested going into the field to investigate closer. Standing here in the dead quiet of a sunny afternoon with the silent village behind us and the crashed army truck lying in the grass seemed almost surreal.
 

“Maybe somebody in the truck turned, grabbed the driver, sent the vehicle skidding through this wall. Or they might have swerved to avoid hitting something in the road, overcorrected, and gone into the field. We’ll probably never know.”

“We should check it out,” Jax said. Her tone made me wonder if she was trying to convince herself.

“Yeah, we should,” I replied. I hated to admit it but there could be something valuable in the truck. Assuming the survivors of the crash hadn’t been evacuated by the army when they realised one of their trucks was missing and came to find it, there could be dead soldiers in there. Maybe even guns.

We stepped through the hole in the wall and into the long grass. It swished around our knees as we walked slowly towards the truck. I gripped my bat tightly. My breathing had quickened since stepping into the field and I felt a little queasy. Sometimes these trucks were used to transport soldiers. Any minute now, a dozen of them could come crawling over the tailgate, mottled blue hands reaching for us.

The back of the truck was dark. I knelt in the grass and peered into the blackness. I was sure there were no zombies in there waiting for us and the air here didn’t smell any worse than it did on the road.
 

Jax had gone around to the cab. “There’s nobody up here,” she said, “but there’s something you should see.”

“Okay, be there in a minute,” I replied. I didn’t want to go up front without first checking that the rear of the truck was empty. The tailgate was held shut by a metal pin on each side that had been dropped into a hole in the truck’s metal frame. I turned my bat over in my hand and used the handle to push first one pin out then the other. I hooked the lip of the bat’s handle over the tailgate and pulled.

The crumpled metal refused to move at first. I pulled harder and it opened with a metallic scream.

I stepped back so quickly, I nearly fell over in the grass.

My heart slowed slightly when I saw no zombies. There was a mess of papers, medical equipment and cardboard boxes in there but no bodies, either dead or undead.

I went around to the cab and joined Jax. She pointed at the shattered windscreen. Some of the shards of glass were blood-stained. There had probably been more blood but the rain had washed most of it away.
 

“I expected to see blood,” I said. “Somebody was driving the truck when it crashed.”

“So where are they now? There aren’t any bodies.”

“Maybe the army sent out a search party when this truck didn’t arrive wherever it was headed. They evacuated the casualties.” I thought about that for a moment then changed my mind. “No, I don’t think that’s what happened. There are medical supplies and papers in the back. They wouldn’t leave them behind.”

“What if the driver turned and crawled out?” Jax asked, scanning the long grass. “Or what if he’s still alive? He could be somewhere in this field. He could be watching us.”

We both stepped back instinctively.
 

I watched the grass for movement but if there was anyone out there, he was taking care to keep still. A line of trees marked the edge of the field a quarter of a mile away. Could an injured man crawl out of the truck and make it that far? I shielded my eyes from the sun with my hand and stared at the trees but I didn’t see anything resembling a man or a corpse…or a walking corpse.

“Let’s get some of the stuff out of the back of the truck then get out of here,” I suggested.
 

Jax agreed and we went around to the back. With the truck lying on its side, everything had fallen out of the metal racks that were fixed to the walls and ended up in a chaotic heap. Jax kept watch while I went into the truck on my hands and knees.
 

I grabbed handfuls of loose papers and tossed them out to Jax. “Take a look at these, they might be useful.” It was too dark inside the truck for me to read anything. I grabbed one of the cardboard boxes and threw that out the back too. I found a hardbound notebook and two first aid kits in green plastic boxes. I dragged them back outside and examined the notebook in daylight.

The cover was dark green with a white label that had the words, “Sgt. Wilder” written in it in black pen. I flicked through it. Inside there were dates and notes written in black ink. I stuffed it into one of the backpacks along with the first aid kits.
 

“These papers are useless,” Jax said, “They’re just lists of names and dates.” I looked at a few of the sheets. The names were printed onto the paper and next to each one was a handwritten date. Vaccination dates?

“What’s in the box?” I asked.

She reached into the box and pulled out a clear plastic packet that contained a small sealed glass bottle of amber coloured liquid. I took it from her and inspected the bottle. It was clear and unlabelled. The top of the bottle was sealed with a metal lid which had a rubber seal in the centre for inserting a hypodermic needle.

“The vaccine,” I said.

Jax nodded. “I’ll put it in my backpack.”

I went back into the truck and searched through the jumble of items until I found a box of needles still in their packages with hard plastic covers over the sharp tips. I grabbed a handful and brought them outside. I stuffed them into my backpack along with the first aid kits and notebook.
 

Jax had stopped looking at the papers and was staring at the trees on the edge of the field.
 

“What’s wrong?” I asked, getting up and adjusting the backpack straps.

She pointed at the trees. “There’s a man over there.”

I looked over at the area. Before I had gone into the truck, there had been nobody among the trees. Now, a man stood watching us. He was too far away to make out any details but something about him unnerved me.

“We need to go,” I said to Jax as I backed towards the hole in the wall.

“Definitely,” she whispered. “Why is he just standing there watching us?”

“I don’t know.”

We reached the road and again I was all too aware of the distance back to the safety of the Zodiac.

The man stepped forward out of the trees and into the sunlight. He didn’t move like a zombie. He was alive. I could make out his combat jacket and trousers. Was he the driver of the truck? Maybe he had staggered off to the trees after the crash. He might have suffered a concussion.
 

He began walking then picked up the pace and ran through the grass towards us. His arms and legs pumped in strong quick motions as he moved faster, seemingly fixed on us.

“Run!” Jax said, turning on her heels and sprinting for the village.

In a blind panic, my heart beating so hard I could feel it in my temples, I chased after her.

Behind me, I could hear the
swish, swish, swish
of the grass as the soldier ran through it to reach us. Then I heard his boots on the road, the soles pounding the tarmac relentlessly as he pursued us.
 

I wasn’t going to make it to the beach. Jax might have a chance; she ran with strong fluid strides and her petite frame flew along the street. But I wouldn’t reach the Zodiac before the soldier caught me.
 

Jax suddenly veered left, leapt a picket fence and veered between two houses. I followed, almost snagging my jeans and falling when I jumped the fence. I got a quick glimpse of the soldier behind me. He was fifty feet away, still moving like an Olympic sprinter. I fled down the side of the house around to the back door.

It was open. Jax had smashed the lock and was in the kitchen trying to drag a big wooden table over to block the door. I ran inside, closed the door, and helped her bring the table over. We got it behind the door and both of us dropped to the floor so we couldn’t be seen through the kitchen window.

The soldier’s boots pounded around the house and into the back yard, slowed, then stopped. Jax and I looked at each other. I saw my own fear reflected in her eyes. I dared not move a muscle in case the soldier in the yard would hear and come crashing through the door.

He was no ordinary man. I had no idea what he was but I knew he was not normal. I closed my eyes and tried to recall the glimpse I had of his face when I had stumbled on the fence. There had been something wrong with his skin, something strange about his eyes.

But he was not a zombie; zombies did not move like that. The virus controlled the host’s basic motor functions and the result was a slow shamble. The soldier outside had covered a quarter of a mile in less than two minutes.

I couldn’t hear any more sounds from the back yard. Was he out there listening for us? Waiting for us to make a move?

If I wasn’t breathing so hard from the run, I would have held my breath. The only sound in the kitchen was the low hum of the refrigerator.

We sat there for what seemed like five minutes before Jax whispered, “I think he’s gone.”

I nodded. We slowly got to our knees and peered out of the window. The back yard was empty. The overgrown grass had been stamped down in places but the soldier was gone. There was nothing out there but a child’s pink swing set. I wondered if the child who owned it would ever use it again.
 

twenty

We explored the house quickly and made sure it was safe. It looked like a typical family had lived here once. The family photos showed a couple in their thirties and a bright eyed blonde girl of eight or nine.
 

The upstairs consisted of a simply-furnished double bedroom, the little girl’s bedroom decorated in pink, and a spare room that was being used to store cardboard boxes full of books and DVDs. The bathroom was tidy and decorated in sea blue with plastic fish and crabs on the window sill.
 

Downstairs we found a utility room and a cozy living room.
 

A typical family house.

I wondered where they were now.

We found food in the kitchen cupboards and filled the backpacks with cans and jars. We wouldn’t be going hungry for a while.

As long as we could get this stuff back to the
Lucky Escape
.

We left the food-stuffed backpacks in the kitchen, went into the living room and sat on the sofa after shrugging off our backpacks full of medical supplies. The curtains in here were closed and I left them that way. If the soldier was out there roaming the street, there was no point risking him seeing us through the window.

“What the hell was he?” Jax asked. “He wasn’t an ordinary soldier. There was something about him…something strange.”

“I got a glimpse of him,” I replied. “His skin and his eyes were weird. I don’t know exactly what it was, I only got a quick look.”

“You mean he’s turned?”

I shrugged. “He can’t have. We know how the zombies move and it isn’t anything like that. It was like being chased by Usain Bolt.”

“You think he’s still out there?” she asked, looking at the curtains.

I nodded. “Somewhere.”

“He must have been the driver of the truck.”
 

I dug into my backpack and found the notebook. “If he is, he’s probably Sergeant Wilder. This is his notebook.” I laid it on the glass coffee table and opened it.
 

Flicking through the pages, we discovered that Wilder had been tasked with transporting the vaccine from a nearby army base to the medics who were vaccinating soldiers at the outlying military outposts. Reading the list of places he logged in the book, we learned that the army had men stationed at every major port, harbour and marina.
 

He hadn’t worked alone. Wilder was part of a team called Alpha 3 Victor. Along with Wilder, the other team members were Corporal Francis and Lance Corporal Jones.
 

Judging by the dates entered in the notebook, the vaccination program had been in operation for just over two weeks.
 

The final entry was dated two days ago and Wilder had written a simple note in the margin. “Cpl Francis was bitten four days ago. He has not turned but keeps saying he wants to be left alone. Tries to wander off at every opportunity. He doesn’t look well but at least he hasn’t become one of the nasties.”

There was nothing else in the book that could help us piece together why the truck was lying in a field and one of the team had chased us into the village. Where were the other two members? There were no bodies in the truck so either all three men survived the crash or they weren’t all in the vehicle when it went off the road.

I closed the notebook. “How are we going to get back to the beach with him still out there?”

Jax thought a moment then said, “Let’s take a look out of the upstairs windows. We might be able to come up with a plan if we know exactly where he is.”

We went upstairs. The double room and the spare room looked out over the street. We tried the double room first, parting the curtains and looking down onto the street.
 

He was there, pacing up and down along the row of houses like a tiger ready to pounce.