Fallback (14 page)

Patrick was alternately swearing and receiving instructions on the walkie-talkie, and Melissa and Faith had their arms around each other, their faces hidden.

“That concentration of dead, way out here, somebody’s been there. And recently,” Cody observed.

It was the only explanation, and it was not welcome news.

We traveled several miles further down the road in the direction we’d been headed, then Marcus’ vehicle came to a stop. I noted it was on a long, straight stretch of road with decent sightlines, and no dead currently in sight. With the hills of this part of the state, opportunities like this were few and far between, and I was sure Marcus needed to confer with the drivers and the escorts.

Marcus ran past our van, carrying the page from the AAA road atlas, and back by a few minutes later. The drivers and escorts all hastily re-boarded, and I noticed Monte had gotten inside the SUV rather than returning to the turret. It was a good bet Phil had done the same.

“Got a backup location,” Patrick informed us. “About thirty or forty-five minutes farther.”

Jocelyn fluttered a hand over her chest before opening a bottle of water and taking a deep drink. “Lord have mercy. Maybe if something drew that many dead to that mansion, there won’t be too many left out wandering around.”

The general consensus was we all sure as hell hoped so.

As we went along, though, that didn’t seem to be the case. There were none at first, but after about fifteen minutes we began seeing the same small groups and random patterns we’d observed all day. We were short on options, though. The sun was sinking, and it was far too dangerous to continue to drive the narrow, twisty, hilly roads in this region after dark. We’d do that only if there were truly no other options, no potential safe havens.

We’d gone about five minutes without seeing any clusters when we turned abruptly onto an intersecting road. The sign pointing the direction we were going said five miles to some small town I’d never heard of, and which likely didn’t exist anymore. A couple of miles later, our apparent destination came into view.

It was a motel, circa the 1960s. I noted a cracked and crumbly stucco exterior, two stories, a flat roof, and an exterior walkway encircling the upper level. Our caravan rolled around to the back, out of sight of the road, and came to a halt.

The building was constructed in a square, around a central courtyard. An open breezeway bisected the center of the front and back sides of the square, giving guests in exterior rooms access to the pool I could see in the enclosed area. Above those, smaller walkways allowed courtyard access for the upper outside rooms, and I assumed that was where you’d find an alcove with ice and vending machines.

The first floor windows all appeared to be boarded up. If the breezeways could be blocked, and we all took interior rooms on the second floor and secured the stairways, we should be relatively safe, despite the lack of any sort of perimeter fencing.

Marcus and John ran from vehicle to vehicle, issuing instructions. The SUVs and vans were parked at the bottom of the exterior stairways. The livestock truck was backed up against the rear breezeway, where it fit perfectly, with only a couple of inches of clearance on either side. I thought this was clever. The animals would be accessible to us from the courtyard, enabling us to care for them, but there would be no easy access to them from the exterior of the building. Despite the risk of theft, the cargo truck was parked across the front breezeway. While a person—alive or dead—could crawl under the trucks to get inside, this configuration would be much easier to defend, especially if we were able to block the underside with furniture or something we found inside.

It wasn’t great, but given the situation, it would have to do.

The vehicles all situated, we gathered in the courtyard to discuss further preparations. It was already getting dark, so we needed to organize quickly. The outbreak had hit in early March two years earlier, so the pool was not filled with stagnant, slimy water. Two small trees, scraggly weeds, and a withered flowerbed were the only other amenities.

Marcus stood at the foot of one of the staircases and called for attention. “I know we have plenty of rooms here, but don’t think you’re gonna claim your own private suite.” He did not smile when he said this. “I want two to four to a room, assuming they mostly have two double beds.” He pointed to the upper level, which would be to the left if you were standing at the front entrance to the building. “I want us all together, consecutive rooms, on that side there. We’ll post a guard on the roof, probably two, to keep an eye on the vehicles and any activity that might come along. Questions?”

Neil stepped forward. “Two. Stairways and animals.”

Marcus jerked his chin up in acknowledgment. “I say we block the stairs behind us when we go up for the night, mattresses or tables, chairs, whatever you find. As for the animals, I think we…”

“Wait,” Rebecca interrupted. “Leave ’em loaded.”

“Why?” Melissa asked, her voice a tad shrill.

Marcus gave Rebecca a questioning look, and she explained. “I got a bad feeling. I think we need to be prepared to evacuate, like in minutes, and loading them would take too long.”

Most of us knew Rebecca well enough to trust her zombie radar. It was sometimes uncanny the way she sensed when and where they would turn up.

Marcus turned and conferred with Theo in a low voice. Then he said, “Compromise. Cats come inside, in one of the bathrooms, and the chicken cage can sit on the ground right outside the back of the truck. The ventilation in the truck ain’t ideal when it’s sitting still, and we can’t afford to lose the chickens. Worst case, we toss the chicken cage back in, and open the doors of the room and let the cats go.”

Melissa wasn’t thrilled, but I knew it was a decent solution. The cats were semi-feral and used to roaming. These four were just the ones lucky—or unlucky—enough to be rounded up in our pre-departure kitty rodeo. This whole ‘living in a crate’ thing was new to them, and they were definitely not fans of the arrangement. If need be, they’d do just fine in the surrounding countryside.

We started to head upstairs when someone had the brilliant thought that accessing the rooms would be much easier if we had keys. Duh. Had we thought they’d be open, or were we going to pick the locks or kick in the doors? It took only a couple of minutes for Davey and Cooper to find the office and the old-fashioned metal keys on faded, oval plastic fobs.

Once the rooms were claimed, the camp stove was set up on a splintery picnic table in the courtyard, and two pots of water were on to boil. Jocelyn ladled hot water into series of foil freeze-dried meal pouches. There was no time, and frankly no desire, for anything more elaborate. I got chicken and noodles. I really wanted beef stroganoff, but Melissa grabbed the last one. Brat.

The horses and goats were brought out and given food and water, the truck shoveled out, and the disgruntled animals were put right back inside with some buckets of water and secured for the night. The chickens scratched the dry ground and pecked at some grain, while the cats were taken up and secured in the bathroom in the unit Melissa and I were sharing with Jocelyn and Faith.

Someone had the bright idea that most of the toilets probably had water in the tank, enough for one flush, so keys were borrowed for some of the unused rooms and everyone got a bit of privacy and luxury for once. Any remaining toilet paper was tucked away in backpacks and duffel bags, because one thing you did not pass up was a chance to stock up on toilet paper.

Javier came down from the roof, where he’d been scouting the vicinity. He reported he’d seen two small bands of zombies pass by on the road, moving toward the estate where we’d initially planned to spend the night, but they hadn’t taken any notice of the motel.

“But,” he continued, “I did see some activity in the woods. Just stragglers or pairs here and there, but they’re out there.” Not the best news, but as long as they didn’t take note of us, there was nothing to do but proceed with our duties.

Finally, chores complete, we called the dogs from where they were chasing each other around the empty pool and headed upstairs, securing the stairways behind us.

As I was about to enter my room, Ty caught up to me. “I’m next door,” he said, looking into my eyes. Was that some sort of invitation? Since he had a roommate, I assumed not, and I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed. My thoughts must have shown on my face, because he flashed a crooked smile before continuing. “If anything goes down tonight, I want you to find me, okay?”

“Of course.” I’d always intended to do exactly that, but he didn’t need to know it. He was clearly used to being an alpha male, and he might chafe at the idea of a former librarian thinking he needed looking after. I leaned against my door, and he moved closer. He placed one palm on the wall beside me and bent down. I smelled a hint of whatever he’d used when he trimmed his beard that morning, and a bit of the dried peaches we’d had for dessert a short while ago. His eyes drew me in, and I couldn’t look away. His lashes were long and thick, and I tensed as his gaze moved over my face. His other hand trailed across my jaw, followed by his lips. He barely grazed the corner of my mouth, and brushed across my cheek. Not a kiss, not really, but enough to set my heart racing. It had been a long time since I’d been even almost-kissed, since Quinn, and for the first time, I thought I might not only want a kiss. I might want…more.

Ty straightened slowly, a soft smile spreading on his face. “I mean it, Ellen. If you leave this room, I go with you. Deal?”

I somehow got enough air into my lungs to say, “I said of course. Do you have guard duty?” The way my head was spinning, I congratulated myself for posing a question that actually had some relevance.

He shook his head. “Not tonight. Guard changes at one o’clock, though. If I’m still up, who knows? Might as well be useful.”

“If we get where we’re going tomorrow, there’ll be tons to do. You should get some sleep.” Was that my hand splayed on his broad chest, right over his heart? Yes, it was. Damn. I hadn’t realized I’d even moved. I withdrew it slowly, but Ty grasped it in his for a moment before he returned it, and I found myself resting it on the handle of my machete.

Ty gave another crooked smile. “Somehow I don’t think I’ll be getting a lot of sleep tonight.”

He turned, unlocked his door, and disappeared into his room. My trembling fingers finally opened my own door, and I stepped inside, blissfully clueless as to how prophetic those last words he said would prove to be.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I surged awake in the pitch-dark room, and felt Melissa sit up beside me. Had that been an explosion? As if in answer to my unspoken question, another sharp crack and rumble resounded, and I leapt to my feet. I had slept in my jeans, and groped blindly for my machete on the floor beside the bed, tripping over my shoes in the process.

Jocelyn flicked on the battery powered lantern on the stand between our beds, and I blinked as my eyes adjusted. “What time is it?” I asked her, jamming the machete in its sheath.

Never without a watch, so meal times could be planned in more predictable times she glanced at her wrist. “Couple of minutes before one.”

Right at shift change.

I turned to Melissa and opened my mouth, but she spoke first. “I know. Stay put.”

“Exactly,” I said as I headed for the door.

On the walkway outside our rooms, I ran into Ty immediately. “Going somewhere?” he asked.

“Not without you.”

“Damn straight.”

Marcus and Theo came out of their room. “Wait here,” Marcus called to us as he raced for the small passage leading to the outside perimeter of the building.

Along the walkway, the team poured from their rooms, heavily armed and ready for whatever we were about to face.

Marcus barreled around the corner from the passage and shouted, “Swarm, on the side opposite here. We need all hands, people!”

Hearing his call, the team members who would usually stay securely behind closed doors emerged from their rooms, including Jocelyn and the girls. They wouldn’t go down into the battle, but Marcus handed Jocelyn his bow—she was a very good, if not great, shot—and Melissa and Faith were issued guns and spare ammunition. They’d fight from the relative safety of the second level walkway. I heard Skip barking frantically and clawing at the inside of our door. He’d be safe there, at least.

Vincent Mills stood with his girlfriend Sheryl—our horticulture and herbal medicine asset—and asked Marcus, “Where do you want me?”

As our doctor, he was usually kept out of harm’s way as much as possible. When Marcus told him to grab his weapons and follow him, I knew we were in trouble.

The team ran through the passage to the exterior walkway and around to the opposite side of the building. As we rounded the corner, I almost stumbled, shocked by the sight. At least fifty or sixty zombies were in the parking lot on that side, and more emerging from the trees every second. Those closest were already beneath us, clawing and pounding on doors and the boards covering the windows.

“They can’t get inside, right?” Melissa asked, clutching my arm.

I tore my gaze from the horror in front of me and turned to Melissa. Her face was white and her eyes wide. “No. They can’t.” I hoped. “Even if they broke inside one of the rooms, there’s no interior hall. They’d be stuck in the room.” I tried to draw a mental floorplan. The rooms backed onto each other, didn’t they? Was there some sort of maintenance corridor between them, and if so, how was it accessed? I’d been so tired when I got to my room, I hadn’t done much exploring.

Marcus turned from where he’d been watching the swarm, and I didn’t care for the look on his face. “Not likely, but it’s possible, I think.” Shit. “In my room, instead of the door for an adjoining room going to the one next door, it went to the one behind mine, facing the outside of the building.”

Ty addressed Marcus. “Mine was the same way. I don’t know if they all are, or just some. But even if they got in an outside room, the adjoining door leading to the inside room should be closed, shouldn’t it?”

Marcus went on a short tirade about stupid fucking old buildings and how that layout couldn’t possibly be up to code, and what the hell had they been thinking. Ty was reassuring him that code or not, at least the connecting door should be secure, when they were interrupted.

“Marcus,” Davey called, “should we start shooting?”

Our team leader hesitated, weighing the need to kill these things and the noise drawing even more. “Top marksmen, see if you can thin the ones closest to us. Keep ammo in reserve, though. I don’t think this is anywhere near over.”

Theo ran up to us, his face at least as white as Melissa’s, which scared me more than anything. “Marcus, you gotta see this.”

Marcus’ brows drew together and his jaw clenched, but he followed Theo about thirty feet along the railing, where they leaned out and peered over the edge. The inventive tirade of curses that followed could probably be heard for miles, even over the sporadic gunfire that started from positions along the rail. We all raced to see what had our leader so enraged.

It took me a moment to make sense of what I saw. One door stood wide open, and zombies were massed around it. I caught a white flutter of movement at the top of the door as a skeletal hand swiped at it.

“Is that…a chicken?” Ty asked.

Goddamn, that was exactly what it was. One of our chickens, tied by the feet and attached to the top of the doorframe, drawing the zombies right to the open door. Why hadn’t I heard it squawking? With another glance, I saw the chicken appeared to end somewhere around the wings, so it had probably stopped squawking shortly after the explosions stirred up the dead.

Son of a traitorous bitch.

Rebecca grabbed Marcus and got in his face. “We have to go down there, right now!” She gestured toward another open door, with a similarly bloody chicken above it, and more zombies converging. “If I went to the trouble to open a door and bait it with chickens, you can bet your ass I’d open up the adjoining door and the door to the other room leading right into the courtyard.”

At that, Marcus shifted gears and became our calm, cool commander. He assigned marksmen to keep shooting from the walkway, a team to head to the courtyard and eliminate any zombies that had gotten inside, and, “Secure those fucking doors!”

The rest of us, the melee fighters, headed down to the lot and into the thick of the battle. Ty, Rebecca, Theo, and I teamed up again, and started fighting. We forced our way through the zombies massed near the building, leaving those for the marksmen and archers above. We needed room to maneuver. Rebecca had on a black motorcycle jacket, despite the warm night, and I wished I’d thought to don something with long sleeves; my bare arms were vulnerable to scratches.

We finally got to a point where we could spread out and formed a rough square facing out, protecting each other’s backs as we took down zombie after zombie, edging our way across the lot. The battle was so intense I had no idea where the rest of our team was, and hoped they were holding their own. We had our hands full. All I saw was an endless collage of ruined faces, missing limbs, and ragged, blackened wounds. Young and old, every shape and size, some clothed, some less so, I swung again and again, switching my machete and dagger from one hand to the other, depending on the attack style needed.

Beside me, Rebecca sent heads rolling and punctured eye sockets. If she loved combat as much as I always suspected, she was truly in her element.

Theo was behind me, so I couldn’t see what he was doing, and I didn’t dare turn to look. On my other side, Ty was wielding his spear like a bo to set his shots, then plunging the deadly point into his targets. His hammer swung heavily at his side, ready to hand if needed.

Behind us, shots continued to ring out and arrows sang as they cut through the air. “We need another weapon,” Ty wheezed. “Molotovs?”

“No,” Rebecca grunted, taking down a zombie with a backstroke of her sword. “Flaming corpse gets inside the building, we got a whole new problem.”

That was one cheery damned thought.

My arms were tiring. I needed a second. Just a second. I whirled to find my next target and was surprised to discover nothing lunging at me. Suddenly we had those few precious moments to regroup and reposition to take on another group emerging from the forest.

From the walkway, Marcus shouted, “Sweep!”

I looked up and saw him, his bow back in his hand, pointing toward the woods.

“Inside is secure for now, we’ve got the ones in the lot. Melee fighters split and sweep, find out where those fuckers are coming from!”

Oh. Do battle in the dark, treacherous woods. That was…well, pretty much as terrifying as it sounded. But I knew he was right. If they were coming through one ravine or a maintenance road somewhere nearby, and we could block it or at least limit the number coming through, the area around the motel would eventually be cut off from a new flood of dead.

The four of us exchanged glances, decisions being made without a word. A quick scan of the perimeter of the lot showed other fighters doing the same.

Ty and I peeled off and ran along the tree line, eventually darting into the woods near one corner of the motel, while Rebecca and Theo chose their own route and did the same. I wanted to find a nice brush pile and crawl underneath it and hide, but I knew I couldn’t. I wasn’t a hider anymore; I was a fighter. I would not let my team down if I could help it, and I wouldn’t be the reason another person died. No more.

I pulled a small flashlight from the back of my belt, then swung Quinn’s machete and removed the top of the skull of a cadaverous creature. That could’ve been me. I could’ve been one of those if I hadn’t been captured and then rescued by the residents of the Compound. But it wasn’t me, and I had to end these things. I had to stop them from taking any more of us, and maybe I was even giving them peace.

But right now we just had to fight.

We continued, our lights crisscrossing the forest, catching zombies in ones and twos, but it soon became clear that if there was a floodgate somewhere, it wasn’t here.

I was about to say so to Ty, when another explosion sounded. It wasn’t too far from us. We had entered the woods from a point further from the hotel than the other teams, and they likely had their hands full, so it was on us to check it out. I caught a rush of movement off to my left, but when I focused on the area, I saw nothing. It was too fast to be a zombie, though. Maybe a deer.

I caught my foot on a root, and Ty grabbed my arm, preventing me from falling. I gave him a grateful glance as we moved forward, toward the source of the sound.

We broke through a stand of brush and found ourselves in a small clearing, and an anguished wail escaped my throat.

On the other side of the clearing, sitting with his back against a tree and a zombie chewing on his arm, was Cody. Another zombie lay beside him, a grapefruit sized rock beside its caved-in head. Holy fucking hell, how had Cody gotten here? I hadn’t seen him since just before the start of the battle, up on the walkway.

Before I knew it, I was halfway across the clearing, my dagger in my right hand. In a move eerily reminiscent of the one I’d used yesterday to take down the dead bastard trying to get to Ty, I sank the blade deep into the base of its skull. It dropped like a stone, and Cody pushed it off him.

The only difference was this time it was too late.

Cody was so pale his lips were a faint blue. I struggled not to cry at the sight. Ty ran past me and knelt beside Cody.

“Cody, man, what happened? What’s wrong with your legs?” he asked.

In the rush of stopping the zombie from eating any more of Cody’s flesh—an act that didn’t really change anything but seemed of monumental importance at the time—I hadn’t noticed his legs. They were stretched in front of him, but bloody and bent at unnatural angles.

“Broke,” Cody gasped. “Gil. Gil broke ’em. With a hammer.”

So. It was Gil. He was our traitor. And judging by the shoeprints on Cody’s knees, the asshole had not only broken them with a hammer, he’d then stomped on them a few times for good measure.

I quickly scanned the edge of the clearing for additional threats. Not finding any, I turned back to Ty and Cody. There was nothing we could do for him, aside from the obvious. My gut wrenched and heaved at the thought. This was like Quinn. Too much like Quinn. Bitten, leaning against a tree…dying. I had to hold it together. We needed to know what happened, before it was too late, and we had to offer him some final moments of comfort before we…

I couldn’t do it. Not again. But we’d cross that bridge later.

“Cody, we’re going to help you, but first, tell us what you can.” I hated myself even as I spoke the words, but it had to be done. I clasped his hand on the uninjured side and settled beside him.

He drew a ragged breath, taking care to form his words. “Right before the battle, I saw Marcus was gonna need more arrows. He lost a bunch yesterday, no time to pull ’em before we had to get away. So I…I saw his quiver was almost empty and went to his room to get more.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head, as if trying to clear his mind. I remembered from Quinn, the virus or whatever made us zombies started to take hold as death approached, so if Cody had more to say, he had to say it now. I waited until he gathered himself and went on.

“I found Gil messing with the radio. He was trying to catch a frequency, calling for base…something. Some base. And bluetick. Bluetick to base.”