Sanctuary (8 page)

"A chopper just passed by us." He pointed to the distant skyline. "Meredith said it looked like the military. They were headed toward Abbotsville. Did you see it?"
 

"No, we didn't," Dan said. John watched his face, which radiated a glimmer of hope. "This is good news. We should probably head out. Try to follow it."

Tim walked up beside them. He looked worried.

"Do you think that's a good idea?" Tim asked. "What if it keeps going? What if it doesn't stop?"

"It's worth the risk," John said.

"I agree," said Dan.

Meredith was grinning. It was the happiest she'd looked in days.

"I don't mean to be pessimistic," Tim said, "but what if it's somebody besides the military? If it turns out to be nothing, we'll all be risking our lives. Maybe a few of us should go and send back help."

"You're welcome to hang here, Tim. But as far as the group goes, we're going together," Dan said. His eyes were filled with resolve.

The others nodded in unison.

Tim looked at the others, then back at Dan.

"If that's the case, I'm coming, too."

Dan placed the last bag of food in the trunk. "Is that everything?"

"Yep," Meredith answered.

The others hovered near the vehicle, keeping a close eye on the property. The sky had turned a rust-colored red, the sun hidden by a swell of clouds. Since the others had sighted the helicopter, they'd seen no further signs of humanity.

If Dan had seen the chopper himself, he might've questioned his sanity, perhaps chalking it up to exhaustion. But John, Quinn, and Meredith had all laid eyes on it.

He reminded himself of that fact as they prepped the vehicle, stashing the last of their belongings into the cargo area in back. He just hoped they'd make it before dark. Being outside after nightfall was a circumstance he'd rather avoid.
 

Meredith insisted on Ernie riding up front, though they'd taken a crate just in case. They'd also taken their remaining food, their weapons cache, and spare clothing.

If things went well, they'd never return.

With the SUV packed, the group got into the vehicle. Meredith offered to drive, as she was most familiar with the area, and Dan sat in the passenger seat with Ernie. John, Quinn, and Tim rode in back.

Once they were all in the car, Meredith cranked the engine. The SUV roared to life, breaking the silence that had settled over the farm.

Meredith glanced at the Sanders'. "I'm going to miss this place."

"It's been nice," Dan agreed.
 

Meredith sighed and backed down the driveway. Dan watched the building recede, his mind skipping ahead to the journey. No longer would they have the four walls of the building to protect them.
 

They were on their own.
 

The drive began peacefully—rolling fields dominated the landscape, with an occasional farmhouse dotting the areas between. Abbotsville was west of Settler's Creek, opposite the way Dan had driven with Tim for gas. Dan recalled traveling the same road when he'd come in from Arizona. He picked out several landmarks he recognized: several houses and some cars that had been abandoned.

Meredith glanced at the scenery, probably immersed in memories of her own. He could sympathize with her. Dan had been sentimental leaving St. Matthews, too. It had been difficult knowing he'd probably never return.
 

"How were the roads in Abbotsville? Do you remember, Tim?"

Tim leaned between the seats.
 

"They were pretty clogged," he replied. "But that was a few days ago. I'm not sure what they're like now."

Dan nodded and glanced out the window. Several infected emerged from the tall grass, as if they'd been summoned. They stared at the passing vehicle, their heads turning like swivels on a stick. Dan tried to recall what Abbotsville looked like, but it was just another faded memory, another dead town in a slew of dead towns he'd passed.

Ernie whined. Meredith reached over and scratched his ears. "It's all right, Ernie," she consoled.

"How big is Abbotsville?" Dan asked her.

"Larger than Settler's Creek. We should have a few options to get in if some of the roads are blocked."

Dan fell silent. Although they'd settled on getting to Abbotsville, he had no idea what would happen when they arrived. In the ideal scenario, they'd find help waiting, ready to assist with food, shelter, and provisions. He had no idea what to do if that wasn't the case. They'd be back where they started.

The last thing he wanted to do was turn around.

For days, Dan had planned their departure, envisioning what it'd be like to leave Settler's Creek. As secluded as the town seemed, danger lurked in all directions—there was no true safety in a lawless land. Even if the infected were to die out, there'd still be the matter of looters, lunatics, or worse.
 

He owed it to his companions to get them to safety.

Meredith took the turns with practiced ease, leading them through the rural roads. Dan was already accustomed to the scenery. The endless fields were as commonplace to him as the desert shrubs or the White Mountains had once been. It seemed like months ago that he'd left St. Matthews, though it'd only been a week.

He still recalled moving to St. Matthews a decade ago. At the time, Dan had been a fresh-faced cop, a young father building his family and his career. St. Matthews had been small and quaint, and he'd enjoyed getting to know the town and its residents. His dream had been to move up the ranks, to provide a stable life for his Julie and Quinn. He'd never imagined it all being stripped away.

His definition of stability had changed since then, in addition to the scenery. Now a secure life was as simple—and as fragile—as breathing, eating, and surviving.

They'd just taken a turn when Dan saw a water tower in the distance. The bulbous white structure loomed over the landscape. There was a small building next to it. He recalled passing it on the way from Arizona.

"Daddy, didn't we drive by that on the way to Meredith's?"

He glanced in the backseat to find Quinn watching it in awe. "Yep, we did, honey."

"It looks different."

"What do you mean?"

Dan leaned forward, peering out the windshield, trying to determine what his daughter saw. He cupped his hand over his eyes to reduce the glare. The tower rose several hundred feet in the air and was supported by a pole in the center. Four ladders led to a railed, circular area where people could stand. A black logo was emblazoned on the side. Dan hadn't recognized the company name.
 

Now, the logo was covered by a message in red paint. Dan squinted as they approached. He stiffened when he read the word.

"Help," he said aloud, as if he was interpreting for the others.

Dan tightened his grip on the pistol. He glanced around the roadway, empty except for the tower hovering in the distance. Either someone was here, or they had been in the past few days. He studied the water tower, but saw no sign of life. It wasn't until they got closer that he saw movement. Something was on the ground at the base of the tower.

"Stop the car," he said suddenly.
 

Surprised, Meredith coasted to the side of the road and parked. The water tower was about a hundred feet from the road. A cluster of infected were stationed at the bottom, tearing into a body. Their movements were slow and laborious. A pair of shoes wiggled at the center of the commotion.
 

The victim was moving.

"Stay here," Dan ordered, getting out of the vehicle. He grabbed a rifle to complement his pistol. Then he shut the door.

Dan crept onto the road's shoulder, his shoes crunching pebbles and sand. He kept his eye on the grisly scene, ready to flee at the first sign of trouble. The infected were moving slowly—there were only five, and he wasn't worried about outrunning them. But he'd have to be careful just the same. When he got closer, he caught a glimpse of the victim. Judging by the build, the person underneath them was male.

"Hello?" Dan called.

The victim—if he was still alive—was silent. The only sounds were the wind whipping through the grass and the guttural moans of the chewing infected.
 

They turned their heads and looked at him, starting to stand. One of the creatures let go of the victim's leg. It stopped moving. The man hadn't been moving, after all.
 

He'd been dead for a while.
 

Dan grimaced at the gory scene. The man's features had been torn off and eaten, his stomach eviscerated. His neck and arms were bent at irregular angles. Dan gazed up at the water tower, then back at the ground. The man had either jumped or fallen.

Either that, or the creatures had somehow gotten up and torn him down.

Dan noticed a larger horde in the distance. It looked like this group had broken off from the pack. He envisioned them surrounding the base of the water tower, pawing at the rungs of the ladder. He could only imagine the victim's terror.
 

The infected had broken away from their meal and were starting toward him. Dan covered his mouth, giving the scene one last glance, then jogged back to the car. The red letters on the water tower were seared into his mind.
Help.
Another person had needlessly died.
 

If they'd happened by earlier, perhaps the man would still be alive.

Keller watched out the window as Dan surveyed the scene. He contained a smile. He didn't need to see the details of what had happened, because he'd already been here. He'd been meaning to check back on the man at the water tower.
 

He'd wondered how he'd fared.

A few days prior, Keller had passed the man on the way to town. The man had waved frantically for help. Keller had stopped the car he'd been driving and gotten out. A handful of creatures had been groping at the base of the tower, shrieking up at the man who was several hundred feet out of reach. Every so often, they'd found footing on one of the ladders, but they were unable to find the proper coordination to climb the rungs. The man had been frantic, tear-stricken. He'd begged Keller to dispose of the creatures. He'd begged Keller to rescue him. On the horizon, another horde of creatures had been advancing toward the commotion.

Keller had only laughed.

Keller had spoken with the man, verifying he had no weapons, food, or drink. Then he'd gotten back into his car and hit the horn. He'd blared it for a full minute before whooping into the air and driving off, leaving the frenzied creatures behind, drawing more of them to the area. Over the next day, he'd checked on the man several times, verifying the creatures were still holding the man at bay, laughing at the victim's plight. The man had pleaded for help, but Keller had only taunted him, watching from afar.
 

After a while, Keller had gotten bored and left.

He'd been meaning to make it back. He'd made bets on how long the man would last. Would the man die of thirst before the creatures got to him? Or would he try to get down? Keller smirked as he surveyed the results of his experiment. He'd never considered the man might jump.
 

Perhaps he'd fallen or been pulled down.
 

In any case, the outcome was the same. He'd died, just like Dan, Quinn, Meredith, and John eventually would.
 

The only question was how Keller would dispose of his new companions.

Dan watched the water tower recede in the mirror, reflecting gravely on what he'd seen. A few minutes ago, he'd been hopeful but nervous. His mood had since darkened. They were only miles from the Sanders farm, but already it felt like they were stranded without safety.

He was still staring out the window when Ernie began to bark.

"What is it, Ernie?" Meredith asked, as if the animal might answer.

The dog's stubbed tail crept between his legs, his ears reared back. They'd been driving for several minutes, and Meredith had taken a turn onto another road. The road was empty, but on their right, Dan noticed a barn set far back in the distance. The dog continued to bark.

"Keep driving," Dan told Meredith, his eyes locked on the landscape. Thoughts of the man on the water tower were still fresh in his mind.

He leaned his gun on the windowsill, searching for the source of the dog's irritation. The barn's paint was red and faded; several of the wood panels were cracked and hanging loose. A few hundred feet to the left of it was a house.
 

"Any idea who lives there?" Dan asked.

"I think the house is vacant. It used to belong to Bobby Adamson, but he died a few years back. His children were going to sell the farm, last I heard."

Dan nodded and kept looking, but he didn't see anyone on the property.

They were almost past the house when Ernie leapt up against the windowpane, whining. It took Dan a moment to see what the dog was looking at. A child had emerged from the barn—a boy about Quinn's age. The boy sprinted toward the car.

"Meredith! Stop!" Dan shouted.

Meredith ground to a halt, pulling to the road's shoulder. The boy dashed toward them, his arms swinging wildly at his sides. His shirt and pants were torn, his face smudged with dirt.

"Don't leave!" he screamed.

Dan surveyed the newcomer, looking for weapons or injuries, but found neither. He rolled down the window and greeted the boy, who was still catching his breath.

"Thank God you stopped," the boy said.
 

"Are you all right?" Dan asked.

"I'm fine, but my mother's been hurt. Please, mister, you've got to help us!"

"Where is she?"

"In the barn. Her leg is broken. We were trying to get away from those things…"

The boy's face was streaked with tears. He ran his fingers through mussed, dirty hair.
 

"Get in," Dan said.
 

Dan opened the passenger-side door, letting the boy scoot into the seat with him. Then he pointed down a long, overgrown driveway. Meredith started driving toward the barn. Ernie circled on Dan's lap, licking the newcomer, excited that his companions had listened to him.