Forsaken World (Book 1): Innocence Lost (11 page)

Holding up the object, Lance knew the emblem from the games he played. It was the Navy SEAL trident. “You were a SEAL?”

“Yes, and I think you two are now. Follow the instructions on the computer and—” Doug stopped as he wobbled on his feet. A low growl rumbled behind them. They turned to see Dino looking at Doug, baring his teeth as he growled lowly. “I know, Dino; I’m going,” Doug panted. “Take care of Dino for me. Both of you know his commands, and as you can see, he knows when someone is sick.”

Picking up the AR from the counter, Doug slung the tactical sling over his head. The AR looked like a pea shooter against his massive form. “I’m taking your dad’s truck and leading them away from your route. I love you two,” Doug said, walking out, and Dino’s gaze followed him. Doug stopped in the den and kissed the girls on the head, and Dino moved into the den, growling louder at Doug.

“I know you love the ladybugs, Dino, but I had to tell them bye because I love them too,” Doug said, reaching for the door. “Lock it, and close all the shutters as I leave.”

Opening the door, Doug stepped outside, and they heard a gunshot as the door closed. Lance and Ian took off running upstairs, and Jennifer and the girls followed as more gunshots sounded outside. Used to the suppressed shots, each one sounded like a sharp explosive to them.

They ran to the room where Doug had covered Lance from since the den shutters were closed. They saw Doug standing in the yard, shooting sick people around the neighborhood. The kids stared open-mouthed as an infected woman standing in the yard next door, twenty feet away from Doug, just turned and walked away from him. They jumped when her head exploded.

Looking around the area, they noticed any that got close to Doug just turned away. The only ones trotting toward him were far off. As Doug changed magazines, he stepped over to the truck and killed any that weren’t coming at him then climbed in.

Starting it up, he rolled down the windows, and music started blaring as he rolled down the street, running over infected in the road. Reaching the end of the road, Doug turned into the subdivision, and they heard gunshots as he left their sight.

Chapter 8

Turning deeper into the subdivision, Doug kept the radio blaring as he ran over any infected in the road. Since he was only going fifteen miles an hour, he wasn’t really worried about damaging the truck. The street Doug lived on was only two streets from the back of the subdivision, so he only had two streets to drive through.

Stopping on the first street, he held the AR out the window and shot ten infected then started to roll forward and noticed a large, familiar form walking across a yard. Bouncing over the curb, Doug drove toward the large form as it raised its arms and trotted over with its right leg bent at an unnatural angle.

Turning the wheel at the last instant, Doug pulled up beside the large form, extending his arm out the window as he slowed. What used to be Jason dropped its arms, sensing Doug would be like him soon. “I’m sorry, Jason,” Doug said, pulling the trigger of his 1911.

Doug’s ears started ringing from the shot as Jason’s head burst. Taking his foot off the brake, Doug continued through the neighborhood. He was going to go to Hawaii with the others, but his mother was in the hospital in Nashville, and the doctors had told him she didn’t have long. The cancer had taken over.

For the last week, he sat beside her, and when she was awake, they would talk. His whole life, his mother had given all for him. His father had left when he was only a month old. Not giving up their house, his mother took two jobs and made ends meet. Everything he wanted to do as a kid, his mom made sure he had the chance.

When he joined the Navy, she stood behind him. She didn’t like him becoming a SEAL, but she supported the decision. He was ten years into his service when his mom was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Knowing she didn’t have insurance and that was the only way to get her the care she deserved, Doug left the Navy and started an executive security business.

After five years of treatment, his mother was cleared, and that’s when he bought the house in this neighborhood and met everyone. Then last Christmas, his mother passed out while she was shopping. At the hospital, the doctors told them the cancer was back, and treatment wasn’t an option.

While Lance and Ian were testing for their brown belts, Doug was at his mother’s bedside as she took her last breath. He wiped his tears away as a nurse came in, turned off the machine then left him with his mother. As Doug sat there, he started smelling rotten eggs but ignored it as he got up and stood over his mom.

When Doug kissed his mother and hugged her for the last time, he heard a growl and pain on his chest. Jumping back, he felt warmth running down his chest as his mother looked at him with a bloody chunk of meat in her mouth. “Mom,” he said as she swallowed it and lunged forward, almost biting him again in the same spot.

Doug grabbed her and forced her back on the bed as he screamed for help. Nurses and doctors ran in, restraining his mother as Doug screamed for answers. They took him to the ER and cleaned his wounds but wouldn’t let him see his mom.

As he sat in the hall that night, he saw several other patients become violent in the ICU. Doug watched a man bite the throat out of one nurse. He watched her blood spray across the ICU as she collapsed to the floor.

Her co-workers put her on a stretcher, but Doug saw the last pump of her heart as the blood stopped shooting out of her neck. As the team hooked her up to monitors, the nurse sat up and bit one. Before they had her tied down, all seven at the bedside had bites; one on the floor was bleeding from the neck.

When the man on the floor stood up and started attacking people, Doug took off running. He got trapped on the third floor with a nurse that had a small bite to the arm. She looked healthy when she went to sleep right before dawn, but Doug found himself fighting her an hour later.

She had lunged at him, baring her teeth in a growl. He was able to get her in a choke hold and broke her neck. When he dropped the body to the floor, he jumped back, seeing the jaw open and close and her eyes follow him. Smelling the rotten eggs again, Doug made the connection.

He made it to the parking garage that morning and finally had a gun as he dove in his Escalade. Infected were running around everywhere now, and when he backed out, they started piling on his SUV. Fighting his way out, he heard the voice from the Escalade tell him, “Fuel level is low.”

All in the streets, he saw what everyone was calling “riots.” Pulling into a gas station, he shoved the hose in and turned on the pump. Seeing a large group of people trotting at him growling and covered in blood, Doug took off into the store and locked the door.

He found the owners, a husband and wife, and both had bites smaller than his. They sat in the store as the group outside pounded on the glass. None of their cellphones worked, and the phone just made a buzzing sound. The wife kept talking about how sleepy she was, and Doug had to admit he was ready to drop even with what was happening. Only his training kept him awake.

The wife was only asleep for a few minutes before she lunged, growling, at her husband. She was totally fine before she went to sleep, then—bam—she wanted to munch on people.

Doug and the husband tied her up, and the husband sat down beside her. Doug watched as he too went to sleep. Grabbing zip ties, Doug tied his hands and feet together, and thirty minutes later, he woke up growling.

Knowing he was over thirty hours, Doug found a phone book and found the address to a pharmaceutical warehouse he knew of. It didn’t advertise what it was, but he had assigned a security detail there once.

Drinking anything with massive amounts of caffeine, Doug made it out of the store and to his Escalade that afternoon. Stopping in front of a non-descript building, he found the warehouse locked up. It took some work, but he broke in and knew what he needed.

Pulling out his cellphone, he tried calling Bill and Johnathan but couldn’t connect. Since he changed cellphones every month, they didn’t have his number. Calling his answering service, Doug got his messages. Filling a bag he found, he headed to his SUV and drove off.

He was ambushed the first time a block away. Gunfire tore his SUV up as they told him to get out with his hands up. A vehicle pulled behind him, blocking him in. Dropping the SUV in four-wheel drive, Doug hit the gas.

It was night before the group that ambushed him figured there was easier prey. Doug didn’t know how many he killed or the roving bands of infected that showed up killed, but he wasn’t one. As he drove his busted SUV down the road, he passed cop cars parked on the road with lights flashing but no one around.

Several blocks later, a big group of infected swarmed in, and he stomped the gas and plowed through. When he lost them, Doug turned toward the interstate only to find it was jammed with stalled cars.

Taking another route home, a woman holding a small child ran out, asking for help, saying a group of people chased her other kid up a tree and were growling at him. Checking his pistol, Doug got out and felt fire fill his belly.

The gunshot resonated around Doug as he looked up, seeing two men stand up behind parked cars, aiming pistols at him. Snapping his pistol up, Doug hit both in the chest. The woman screamed at him, and Doug swung his aim to her chest. Dropping his aim, Doug squeezed the trigger as the woman grabbed her belly. Climbing in his SUV, Doug pulled past the screaming toddler.

He didn’t know how far he traveled when he saw an ambulance that was crashed into a telephone pole. Parking beside it, Doug looked in the back and saw blood everywhere. Knowing what he needed, Doug foraged through the mess until he found them.

Walking over to an abandoned building, Doug crawled in the bushes around it and started tending his wounds. As he went to work, a running gun battle between two gangs erupted on the street in front of him. Setting his pistol on the ground beside him, Doug just continued to work on his wounds.

One gang was chasing the other down the street in front of him, firing guns wildly. When he finished, Doug just sat and watched the battle. He watched two men and a woman get shot before the battle moved further down the street. The three sat up and attacked the closest person to them.

Doug watched one teen they bit sit down next to his Escalade holding his arm. The groups were long gone but still shooting at each other several blocks away when the bit teen nodded off. Doug just sat and waited. In less than an hour, the teen jumped up and trotted toward the gunfire.

As the teen left, Doug looked at his destroyed SUV and figured that’s why no one bothered to check it. Pulling his shirt on and grabbing his pistol, Doug climbed in his Escalade and headed home.

He saw much worse horrors and had to fight past an ambush from rogue cops before he made it home.

Doug shook his head to stop his mind from wandering as he pulled out of the last street in the subdivision. Looking behind him in the rearview mirror, Doug was impressed with the crowd following him. He dropped his eyes. “Oh shit,” he yelled, yanking the steering wheel around a tight pack of infected.

The main street into the subdivision was packed with infected moving toward him. Weaving the truck around the more packed areas in the road, Doug hit the four-wheel drive button. Feeling his eyes getting heavy, Doug started pounding his belly wound.

“I’m not dead yet, fuckers!” he screamed, pushed the pedal down, and plowed through the mass of bodies.

Hands tried to reach in and grab him, but even when one did, it let Doug go. He was almost one of them. Almost to the entrance to the subdivision, one managed to climb up enough to stick its head in the passenger window. It looked at Doug and was backing out as Doug raised his pistol and shot it in the face.

“I’m not one yet, bitch,” he growled, looking at the mass of bodies behind him as he pulled out on the road and headed toward town. Driving slowly, he led the pack several miles from the subdivision and sped up and stopped on the side of the road.

Feeling lightheaded, Doug climbed out and staggered to the bed of the truck and climbed up. Bringing his rifle to his shoulder, he grinned. “Last stand of the Alamo.” He squeezed the trigger as the first gunshot of his stand roared across the countryside.

With his barrel smoking, Doug patted his vest and didn’t feel any magazines. Looking down at his feet, he saw a dozen empty ones. “Time flies when you’re having fun,” he said, pulling his pistol out and looking at the mass of bodies lying on the road and more walking toward him. “I just wanted to go home, drink, and eat a bullet, but my team needed me.”

Having a mission, he pulled one magazine out and held it in his mouth and went to work as the 1911 roared, spitting out .45 caliber rounds. He didn’t know how long he squeezed the trigger before he realized nothing was happening. Looking down at his vest, he saw it was empty, and all his pistol magazines were in the bed of the truck.

“Been fun, guys,” he said, taking the magazine out of his mouth. He crawled over the side of the truck and slipped, landing face first on the pavement. He heard feet shuffling behind him as he fought to stand up. Doug watched the infected just walk past him.

Grabbing the door of the truck, Doug climbed inside. “I’m coming, Momma,” he said, pulling out a bottle of water, fighting to keep his eyes open. “Fucking zombies. Who knew?” he mumbled and turned the bottle of water up and held a mouthful. Releasing the slide and chambering a round, Doug put the pistol under his chin.
Hope this helps the boys,
he thought, pulling the trigger.

The bullet burrowed through his jaw and hit the mouthful of water. All the energy was transferred to the water as the bullet passed through, and Doug’s entire head disappeared in a pink mist.