Run: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (8 page)

11

The van skidded to a halt outside the convenience store. “Two minutes!” Rick said. Billy, Chris, and Anna slid the side door open, and rushed out of the vehicle and into the store. Billy smashed the glass in the front door, and the three of them headed in while Rick covered the area with the SPAS-12. He had left the AR-15 with his dad, and needed a cannon for close encounters. Sam sat on the edge of the van in the open side doorway, and Rick strode a few feet away from her , looking around. Sam called to him and they started talking. Sam giggled.

Sam had grabbed her father’s attention, and they didn’t see the infected shuffling up on them from the other side of the van. Rick turned back around to survey the area and the creature turned the corner around the vehicle. Seeing Sam, it sped up. It used to be a heavy man, and he was in boxer shorts and a bloody wife-beater undershirt. He must have been attacked in the early morning, as he was still wearing his slippers. His padded footfalls couldn’t be heard by Rick or his daughter, and the creature was almost on them when a caterwauling howl pierced the air. Rick spun and saw the thing almost on Sam. He brought the big shotgun to his shoulder and fired, hitting the infected square in the chest. It flew back three feet, with a gaping hole in its chest, leaving a slipper behind. It started to get up, dripping and leaking foul fluids, when Rick walked up and blew its head off. The creature slumped to the ground, twice dead. “Get back in, honey,” Rick said to Sam. 

Rick looked around for the source of the sound that had alerted him and he saw a small multi-colored cat slinking about behind a trash barrel. The animal came out and looked at Rick, but shrank back behind the barrel when the looters came out of the shop. They were laden with supplies: two cases of Mountain Dew, full sacks of groceries, and Chris had a big 5 gallon bottle of water for a water cooler on his shoulder.  

“What happened?” Billy asked. 

“Damn infected snuck up on us, I took care of it.” 

“Nice,” Billy said. 

The group hurried in and out of the shop twice more, each time coming out with more stuff in cases and bags. They were about to go back for a fourth trip when Rick said anxiously: “Time to go, that’s enough.” Everybody jumped in the van and Rick looked at the cat. He got down on his haunches, the shotgun across his legs, “You coming?” The animal hesitated for the briefest moment, then bolted over and jumped in the vehicle, sitting warily next to Sam. Rick slid the side door closed and the van took off back toward the docks. 

The boat was running when Rick’s group returned. The survivors loaded the supplies on to the boat without incident, and as soon as Chris shut the gate and put the pipe back to secure it, he heard the revealing moans of the infected. They had breached the gate, and were coming for dinner. 

Chris ran down the gangway announcing that the dead had arrived. He and Rick cast off the lines, and the Sea Ray headed into the bay. The hungry dead had indeed reached the docks, and they lined up behind the protective fences, reaching for their lost meal. 

“We got near two full tanks of fuel, and two spare five gallon emergency tanks by the engines,” Earl told Rick. “Boat’s in good shape, other than the control panel; Dallas had to take it off to get us started.” 

“We’ve got some food and water, but not enough for more than a few weeks,” said Rick, “We’ll have to ration it. I still can’t believe we made it.” 

“You made it happen, Rick,” Earl said. “I bet your pops over there is all kinds of proud, and your little girl is safe. You done good, sir.” Earl extended his hand and Rick shook it.

“Thanks,” Earl finished. 

Rick sat on a padded bench and looked at the sunny June sky. He let loose a tremendous sigh, and put his head in his hands. 

The Sea Ray took twenty minutes to cross the bay. On the way, they passed under the Bay Bridge, which was packed with abandoned and burning vehicles, and swarming with the dead. Treasure Island fared no better: it too teemed with lurching, bloody figures. The boat pulled up to the dock at Alcatraz, but they weren’t the first ones there. A fourteen foot Boston Whaler, and a twenty foot Bayliner sport boat were already tied up. Two men in black uniforms with Heckler and Koch HK G36 battle rifles stood on the far end of the dock. They approached the Sea Ray when they heard its engines. 

“Ok, Chris, you and Billy secure the boat. Dad, come with me.” Rick said. He and his father hopped off the boat and on to the dock, and started toward the advancing men. When the men got within ten feet, the one on the left spoke: “Piss off pal, this is our little slice of Heaven.” 

“Fuck you, Martinez,” challenged Rick smiling and shaking his head. “I’ve had a hell of a day. Where’s Meara?” 

“Glad you made it, buddy,” Martinez said and actually hugged Rick. “Meara’s setting up a command center in the barracks. Rick,” he added, “Rosalie didn’t make it…” 

Rosalie was Meara’s wife of almost 30 years. She was a wonderful woman, active in the church and in local charities. One more loss in a world of tragedy. Rick lowered his eyes. 

“Damn,”
 
was all he could say. 

Martinez pulled a radio from his utility belt as Rick shook hands with the other cop, Wizneski, and introduced his father. Martinez took a couple of steps away and talked for a second, then turned around and handed the walkie talkie to Rick. “Somebody wants to say hello.”  

“This is Barnes,” Rick said into the radio. 

“Rick!” Meara’s voice, “You made it! Are Sam and your dad OK?” 

“They are Mike. I’ve brought more company too.” 

“How many?” 

“Eight people and a damn good cat.” 

“A cat?” asked Mike. 

“I’ll tell you all about it soon.” 

“Come up to the Barracks and see me, we have a lot to talk about.” 

“Be there in a few, I want to get my people off the boat,” Rick told him. 

“Copy that. Out.” 

Rick handed the radio back to Martinez with a nod of thanks. “I could use some help unloading supplies.”

“Can do,” Martinez said. 

The four of them returned to the boat and they unloaded the survivors and the supplies. 

Rick grabbed Sam by the hand and they walked down the dock with the cat at Sam’s feet. 

“You know, we’re gonna have to give him a name,” he told her. 

“Already did,” she said, “Pickles!” 

“Pickles?” 

“Pickles!” 

12

The group of 26 survivors on Alcatraz was mixed. Race, social status, age, and gender didn’t matter. Everyone was happy to see everyone else, and they embraced each other like family. With the exception of Rick, Mike, and the two guards who had returned to the dock, the survivors gathered in the prison dining area and shared their stories. Each told of their escape from the mainland and the losses they had inevitably suffered on the way. Billy sat apart from the others, observing the stories and the sympathy alone, until Sam led Pickles away from the group to join him. Pickles greeted Billy by rubbing against his legs, and as he reached down to pet the cat, Sam sat down on the metal bench next to them.

“How come you’re way over here?” she asked him. “You look sad.” 

“I am.”

“How come?” 

“I have to leave Sam, and I finally feel like I have a family.” 

“Where are you going?” Sam asked him, sadness in her voice. 

“I don’t know, but I can’t stay here.” 

“But why? It’s safe here, and the bad people can’t get us.” 

“That’s exactly why, kiddo.” Billy pulled an empty pill bottle out of his pocket and let it drop to the floor. “It isn’t safe for me to be around people.” 

“That’s silly! You’re my best friend here, you can’t leave!” Sam looked about to cry. 

“Don’t be sad, you’ll flood the place with tears and wash us all into the bay! Just like when Bugs rode that surf board on the tidal wave, remember?”

She shook her head and smiled. 

Across the room, Rick and Meara appeared together through a heavy metal door. They had said their congratulations, and paid their respects to each other. Rick introduced Mike to his group of survivors, and Mike did the same for Rick.

“Where’s Sam?” Mike asked looking around. He spotted her with a blond guy sitting away from everyone else.

“Oh, there she is,” he said pointing. Rick and Mike crossed the room to join Sam and Billy. Sam crossed the last few feet in a blur, yelling “Uncle Mike!” as she jumped into his arms. Pickles trotted over and looked at Mike quizzically. 

“Good to see you, Sam!” Mike said smiling, “And this must be the critter that saved you.” He put her down, bent over and stroked the cat. “Good cat, doesn’t run with strangers, huh?” 

“Nope, he’s awesome!” Sam replied. “His name is Pickles.” 

“Pickles huh? Who’s your other friend?” Mike asked looking at Billy. 

“That’s Billy, c’mon, I’ll inter-duce you.” She grabbed Mike by the hand and dragged him to Billy. 

Mike stopped short a few feet from Billy and looked at him hard. Billy looked back for a second and dropped his head, nodding. Meara continued the last few feet and stuck his hand out offering a handshake. Billy stood up and, looking surprised, returned it. 

“You must be Billy, Sam tells me you’re her friend,” Meara said. 

“That’s true sir, we’re good friends now.” 

“Well, welcome, why don’t you get yourself settled? There’s food cooking and water to wash up with. We can get you a proper shirt too, it will get cold in here tonight. Nasty scar you have there, where did you get it?” 

“Childhood injury,” replied Billy. “Accident.” 

“OK then. Anyway, get some rest, you earned it.” Meara stuck his hand out one more time and shook Billy’s hand.  

“Thank you, sir,” said Billy, sounding a tad confused.

“Sam, would you come with us for a sec please?” Mike asked her.  

Sam took Mike’s hand as he led her and Rick back to the group of survivors in the middle of the room. Mike asked Sam to go sit with her grandfather for a few minutes and shook his head in response to Rick’s questioning expression. The two men ducked back out the entrance to the dining hall and Rick waited until the door was closed to finally ask, “Ok, what the hell is going on?” 

“That guy Billy, where did you pick him up?” Meara asked. 

“I didn’t, Dallas found him in the city when we got separated.” 

“And he’s been no trouble?” 

“No dammit, he actually saved our asses a couple of times. He’s, I don’t know, a little off I guess, but what is this about?” 

“That kid,” Meara said thumbing over his shoulder behind him, “is a Grade A psychopath. A murderer and torturer. Nasty stuff.” 

“What are you talking about? He’s a little weird, but he absolutely loves Sam!” 

“That guy,” Mike continued, “is Bill the Butcher.” 

Rick’s face paled. “The dentist guy?”

“He wasn’t a dentist, he murdered a dentist. I don’t think he knows I made him, but we need to do something now.” 

“I don’t want to take him down in front of Sam, and Mike, we can’t kill him, no matter what.” 

“Rick, this guy is fucking insane. Past that, he’s damn dangerous. I will do what I have to in order to make this island safe,” Mike stabbed a finger at Rick, “and dammit so will you.”

“You don’t get it, this guy can walk with the dead, and they don’t attack him!” 

It was Mike’s turn to look pale. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

“Like I said, the dead won’t touch him, we all saw him walk right past the infected and they ignored him. Dallas said it happened when he picked him up too. He’s important, and we need him. Some scientist somewhere will need to at least talk to him. This is a prison for Christ’s sake, let’s get him to come peacefully to a cell.” 

“Ok, but if he tries anything, I’ll drop him like a bad habit.”

“He won’t. He really loves Sam, and I think he would protect her.” 

“We’ll see. Let’s go get him and find out.” 

The two men strode back into the dining area. 

Billy was gone.

Book Two: The Rock

1

Billy had never been to Alcatraz before. He had lived in San Francisco his entire life, but had never gotten the chance to go on a tour. It was unfortunate that the end of the world was what finally got him to pay a visit.

Pity he couldn’t stay. He really liked this group of people. An odd assortment of folks, brought to an island refuge through the efforts of some of San Francisco’s finest. All were migrants from a city crawling with monsters.

There was a secret that Billy didn’t want to tell his new friends, but it looked like the cat was out of the bag.

The cop in charge had made him for sure, there was no denying it. Billy was famous! Next would come the inevitable. They would do what all authority figures did, either lock him up, or torture him with probes and questions and drugs, and then lock him up. Did they have probes or drugs? Either way he wasn’t sticking around. Then there was the little girl to consider. He couldn’t hurt Sam.

At least he didn’t think he could, and that was why he had to leave. He was willing to bet his
own
life on himself, but not
her
life. He was out of medication, which made him a danger to everybody. Where could he get his Clozapine now? He would have to raid an institution, someplace he really didn’t want to go. Too many memories, albeit mostly repressed, or hidden through drug therapy.

As soon as the boss cop had looked in his eyes, Billy knew he had to run. He wasted no time.

Billy made his escape quickly and quietly. He took off while the two cops were talking, slinking down the main cafeteria bay as the small band of refugees ate their beans and soup. He stuck close to the wall, and walked quickly, but not hurriedly. He was out the door and running for the beach in the opposite direction of the dock as fast as possible. The brilliant summer sun made him squint as he moved.

Now the only question that remained was how to get off the island. After all, it was a prison.

He was almost to the beach, on an overhanging piece of crumbling retaining wall near the former industries building, when he heard soft voices on the beach below him. He stayed low and listened, but he was still in a hurry.

“Damn G, you ain’t gonna dry off dat gat fo’ we git goin is you’?”

“Don’t dis the weps my brotha. You don’ clean em’ an’ you got Five-O drillin’ you wit’ no way to kill a bitch.”

“I’m wit’ you dog, but if we don’ git back to Doc Murda soon, he gon’ be pissed!”

“Yeah man, but if we call fo’ we scout this place, he gon’ kill us bof. He need to know how many folks is here, ‘specially cops and bitches. He got a plan fo’ da cops, an’ a even better plan fo’ da bitches.”

There was hushed laughter.

“True dat. Les’ go check shit out.”

Billy could hear the two men move along the scrub below him. They were moving to his left, and he was above them. He picked up a broken piece of concrete, and waited for them to pass by him just a little. He silently hopped up on the ledge of the broken retaining wall. The two men, dressed in gang colors, didn’t see him behind and above them. Billy hurled the concrete and jumped back without waiting to see what happened. He heard a meaty thump, and then a muffled shout. He moved quickly to his left, positioning himself in front of the two gang bangers, and looked over the edge. The banger in the back had been hit in the head, and the one in the front was kneeling over him checking out his unconscious buddy.

“Dog, dog you OK? Damn man what happened? Did somethin’ fall on…”

His question was punctuated by a vicious snap as Billy’s foot caught him on the back of the neck. Billy had jumped off of the retaining wall and landed on the man’s back after an eight foot fall. The banger’s neck had been broken, and the other man was not looking good either. Billy checked the man he had hit with the rubble, and he could see gray matter in the blood and grit on the man’s shoulder. While not dead, this guy would never shoot another old lady for her social security check. Billy stomped on the man’s Adam’s apple to make sure. The man started making a strangled gurgling noise, but Billy had already grabbed their weapons and moved on, satisfied that neither man would pose a threat to the folks on the island. He hadn’t made a sound the whole time.

He walked down the short beach and found a small six-seat aluminum boat with a motor on it. He pushed it out into the water until it began to float. Jumping in, he immediately started it up and made for the San Francisco shoreline.

Billy shook his head and snickered at the irony of everything. He was escaping the safety of an island fortress to enter a city of the cannibalistic living dead, so he could save the lives of people that were scared of him.

He was saving them from himself. He would have laughed if he didn’t think of Sam right then. He had known the little eight year old for less than a day, but he already loved her like a sister.

Billy was instantly morose, the murders of two people less than five minutes before forgotten.

His next thought was that he had actually escaped from Alcatraz, and that in itself was an accomplishment to be proud of. Torn between elation and sorrow, Billy chose indifference and shrugged his shoulders in silence.