Sunrise (10 page)

“LOOK OUT!” Dakota screamed.

A group of infected tore out of a gas station parking lot and hurled themselves in front of the bus. Forced to impact with the flailing, once-human creatures, the bus lunged forward, then back, sending Dakota flying up the middle of the bus and Ian into the seat in front of him.

“FUCKING HELL!” Ian screamed. “SOMEONE GET THESE CUFFS OFF ME!”

“NO!” Steve roared. “Nothing’s coming off of him until I fucking say so!”

An infected slammed into the side of the bus, screaming as it first wrapped its hands around the barbed wire only to be tossed aside as the metal sliced its hold away. Another group—this one larger, but just as troublesome—stumbled into the road and reached for the bus. A few of their arms were instantly destroyed upon impact with the vehicle barreling down the road.

Struggling to regain his composure, Dakota sank his fingers into the leather seat hard enough to tear holes in it, then grabbed hold of Steve’s chair. He pulled himself up just in time to be pushed into the man’s side as he rounded a corner.

“STEVE!” he screamed.

The tail end of the bus skirted the corner, struggling to follow its front half.

Ian flew into the seat opposite him.

Dakota slammed his head into the dash and nearly blacked out.

At that moment, Dakota thought the bus would tip onto its side and they would all be crushed under the unbearable weight of fifteen-hundred tons of metal.

Somehow, some way—through an act of God or a stroke of luck—Steve managed to correct the vehicle.

“DAKOTA!” Steve screamed.

Stars flashed over Dakota’s vision and what felt like blood was running down his forehead. “We have to do something.”

“I’m working on it! I’m working on it!”

“We have to untie Ian.”

“Don’t do you dare, Dakota.”

“He’s completely helpless! He just flew into the side of the bus!”

“You let him go and I swear I’ll—”

Dakota didn’t let Steve finish. He turned and barreled down the center aisle, desperate to find the ex-con.

Where are you?
he thought, panicking, eyes darting over the seats and into the tight spaces along the floor.
Goddammit! I just saw you! Where the hell are you?

A trembling figure wedged into a seat came into view.

“Ian! Ian! Listen to me!” Dakota said, falling to Ian’s side. “Snap out of it!”

“I’M FUCKING SCARED OUT OF MY MIND!” Ian screamed, tears coursing down his face.

“I know! I know! Here, stand up. I’m untying you.”

“What?”

“I’m fucking untying you!” Dakota cried. “Get up!”

Dakota leaned forward, grabbed the man’s undershirt, and pulled him out of his seat. It took little more than a few pulls and tugs to release Ian’s wrists from their bonds.

“You’re fucking kiddin’ me,” Ian said, staring Dakota straight in the eyes. “You have to be.”

“I’m not,” Dakota paused. Steve barreled over an infected and accelerated down the street. “I don’t know if I can trust you, Ian, but I’m fuckin’ hoping I can.”

“You can,” Ian said, “because I’m not going to do anything to either of you.”

“HOLD ON!” Steve screamed. “I SEE PEOPLE AHEAD!”

“PEOPLE?” Dakota cried.

Steve slammed his foot on the gas.

Dakota and Ian went flying forward.

*

“What the fuck?” Erik breathed.

“What’s going on?” Jamie stood up to get a better look.

“Look at all the zombies.”

A booming sound in the near distance stopped Erik from speaking. Unsure of what to say, Erik paused, frowned, then lifted the radio at his side. “Sergeant. Come in Sergeant Armstrong, over.”

“Sergeant Armstrong here. Over.”

“Corporal Marks and I just heard what sounded like a crash in the distance. It may be civilians. Over.”

“A crash? Over.”

“A crash, sir. I think you should send Kirn and Wills out here. Over.”

“They’re moving up the road,” Jamie said, raising his gun and setting the butt of the rifle against his shoulder. “It sounds like tires.”

“Tires?”

“Yeah. Something moving. Fast.”

“Corporal Marks reports the sound of a moving vehicle,” Erik said. “Over.”

“Who the hell could be moving out there?” Sergeant Armstrong asked. “Over.”

“I don’t know, sir, but I think we should—”

A bus barreled around the corner and began heading straight toward them.

“REQUEST TO OPEN PERIMITER GATES TO LET CIVILIANS IN!” Erik screamed. “OVER!”

“YOU ARE NOT OPENING THOSE GATES!” Sergeant Armstrong screamed back. “UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCE!”

“THEY’RE GOING TO PLOW THROUGH THE FUCKING GATE IF WE DON’T LET THEM IN!” Jamie roared, swiping the remote from Erik before the sergeant could finish. “WE HAVE VISUALS OF A DOZEN INFECTED TRAILING BEHIND THEM—FRESH, RUNNING INFECTED. THEY ARE GOING TO PLOW INTO THE GATE IF WE DO NOT OPEN IT! I REPEAT, THEY ARE GOING TO PLOW INTO THE GATE! OVER!”

“Corporal, if you disobey my orders, I swear I’ll—”

Jamie pushed Erik aside, hurled his rifle over his shoulders and threw himself down the ladder as fast as he could.

The sergeant’s orders notwithstanding, they’d either open the gate and let the civilians in or they’d die. There was no question about it.

Running as fast as he could, dodging around hunks of loose metal and boxes of military supplies, Jamie pushed himself across the apartment building’s parking lot as fast as he could, desperate to outrun the barreling vehicle and open the gate. Behind him, Erik struggled to make his way down the ladder, but was hung up by his military fatigues in the process. With no time to wait, Jamie grabbed onto the gate, pulled apart the intermixing locks and chains, and hurled the gate to the side.

A moment later, the bus came barreling toward him.

He had just enough time to jump out of the way before the vehicle tore into the parking lot in a scream of rubber and metal.

CHAPTER 4

“Is everyone all right?” Steve gasped, looking back at them.

“I’m fine,” Ian breathed. “Dakota?”

Dakota nodded, reaching up to wipe a bead of blood off his face. He came back with the side of his wrist covered in red. “Yeah, I’m ok,” he managed, finally able to take a breath

“My name is Private Erik Roberts,” a voice outside the bus said. A lean man in military fatigues stepped forward and knocked on the side of the bus. “I request that you remain inside your vehicle until we have more personnel present for your own protection.”

“Our own protection?” Ian asked. “What the hell are they talking about?”

“They’re military,” Steve said. “It’s standard procedure.”

“How do you know?”

“I used to be a marine.”

“Used
to be?”

“It’s a long story.”

Dakota closed his eyes. Outside, the soldier who introduced himself as Private Roberts began calling to someone, only to be silenced a moment later by a screaming voice that came out of the building in front of them.

“Sounds like they’re in trouble,” Ian said.

“They probably didn’t have clearance to let us in,” Steve suggested. “Oh well, we’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

The three men that came out of the building immediately stepped toward the bus. One man—presumably the commanding officer—gestured the other two to the front, while Private Roberts stood at the side, waiting for further instruction. The man Dakota had seen open the gate came forward and stood at Private Roberts’ side, lips pursed and face devoid of expression.

You saved our lives,
Dakota thought.

The commanding officer stepped forward and gestured the door open. “You boys have made quite the ruckus here,” the man said, stepping onto the bus. “I’ll have you aware that you’ll be strip-searched once you leave the bus.”

“Yes sir,” Steve said, standing. He pressed a hand to his forehead and saluted the officer. “Lance Corporal Steve Earnest at your service, sir.”

“A marine. Are you still active-duty?”

“No, sir. Haven’t been for three years.”

“Reason?”

“Injured on the battlefield.”

“I thank you for your service, Lance Corporal Earnest, though I don’t necessarily appreciate your sudden entry.” The man trained his eyes on Dakota and Ian. “Your friends?”

“Dakota Travis,” Dakota said.

“Ian Shaw,” Ian added.

“We came from up north,” Steve said. “We spent two days fortifying the bus to get us here.”

“Regardless, you brought a good amount of infected here with you. That I don’t appreciate. However…” the man paused, “since there’s no way I can safely remove you from this facility, I’ll allow you to stay. Please step off the bus and do as Private Roberts tells you to.”

“Yes sir,” Steve nodded.

Dakota stepped forward, careful not to brush against the officer, and made his way off the bus. Once outside, the lanky Private Roberts waited for Ian to remove himself from the vehicle before he instructed them to remove anything from their pockets, then to step forward and remove their clothing.

This is embarrassing.
Dakota was already reminded of high school gym class the moment Steve stripped off his shirt. The ugly scar on his left arm stood out in stark contrast against his evenly-tanned skin, confirming his discharge from the marines with its presence alone. The man who’d stood next to Private Roberts the moment before now examined Steve’s body for bites or other wounds. Once he deemed Steve appropriate, he waved Dakota forward.

“One down without taking your shirt off,” the man chuckled, reaching forward to brush Dakota’s hair aside. “Blunt wound, sir.”

“I hit my head on the dashboard,” Dakota replied.

The military man smiled. Dakota stripped his shirt over his head, undid his belt, then let his pants fall to the ground. He stepped out of his underwear with a humble humility he would have never had in a similar situation.

“You’re good,” the man said, pressing a hand against Dakota’s shoulder. “My name’s Corporal Jamie Marks.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dakota said, surprised at the gentle squeeze the man offered. “I’m done then?”

“You are.” Jamie wagged a finger at Ian. His eyes immediately fell to the tattoos on his left arm. “How old’s the ink?”

“Couple of years. I had it touched up three or four months ago.”

“Nothing recent?”

“Nope.” Ian stripped his shirt off. His massive, muscled frame was nearly completely covered with tattoos on his left side.

“Anything we should know about you?”

“Other than that I was in a gang up until recently?” Ian asked. “No. Nothing at all.”

“Your pants and underwear, sir.”

Ian obliged. A swirling tribal tattoo adorned the skin on his right calf, but otherwise he had no tattoos on his lower body. Corporal Marks quickly scanned Ian’s body, taking careful note of the bruises on his side, then looked up at the bandage on his arm. “What is this?” the corporal asked.

“Gunshot wound. I got grazed yesterday.”

“May I see?”

“I’m not stopping you.”

Private Roberts came forward. He took a first-aid kit handed to him by another man in fatigues and opened it up, sliding the rubber gloves over his fingers. He made short work of the bandaging on Ian’s arm, then confirmed it to be a gunshot wound a moment later. “Just a glancing hit, like he said. It looks like the bullet only took off the top layer of skin.”

“He’s good then?” the leading officer asked.

“Yes sir. He is.”

He cleared his throat, then clasped his hands behind his back. “I want the three of you to know that this is a military operating base. My name is Sergeant Armstrong. You’ve already met Corporal Jamie Marks and Private Erik Roberts. These men here are deputies Derek Kirn and Donald Wills. You will obey any orders they give you, no questions asked.”

“Yes sir,” Steve said. Dakota and Ian offered the same reply.

“I’ll have you gentlemen know that you’ll each be given jobs based on your individual talents, which will be assigned by Corporal Marks when he finds fit. Until then, keep to yourselves and stay out of the first floor lobby, which is currently being used as our communications base. If you refuse to comply with any orders, you will be removed from the base—permanently. Understood?”

Dakota, Steve and Ian nodded. The sergeant, in turn, offered a curt nod, then turned and started for the entrance, leaving the three of them with the deputies and military men without another word.

“Everything will be fine,” Jamie said, clapping Steve, Ian and Dakota on the shoulder. “I’ll get the three of you into a room as soon as possible.”

“Thank you, sir,” Steve said. “That was a brave thing to do.”

“No need to thank me.” Jamie turned his gaze on the gate, where a group of infected stood clawing at the chain-link fence. “Go on in, get some rest. Dinner’s at eighteen-hundred tonight.”

Dakota stepped into line with Steve and Ian as they made their way toward the door.

Before he entered the apartment building, he took one last look at the man who’d saved their lives.

“Pretty heavy shit back there,” Steve sighed, collapsing onto a cot in one of the spare rooms.

“No kiddin’,” Ian grunted, seating himself on his own bed.

“Your arm ok?” Dakota asked.

“It just stings a little, that’s all.”

“You did good back there,” Steve said, propping himself up on both elbows.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Let’s just say I have a little more respect for you after all the shit we went through.”

“How long do you think it’ll be until someone comes up here to talk to us?” Dakota asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Dunno,” Steve shrugged.

“You care if I confess something?”

“I don’t see why I would.”

“I don’t know.” Dakota paused. He looked from Steve, to Ian, then back again. It took him a moment to compose himself before spoke. “I get the feeling that we might not be wanted here.”

“It’s the military. We busted into a sanctioned facility without permission and dragged a shit-ton of infected with us. If I were them, I wouldn’t be happy with us either.”

“Besides,” Ian added. “It’s the same government bullshit as it always was.”

“What do you mean?” Dakota asked.

“Cops don’t like having to deal with stupid people, security guards don’t like having to deal with prisoners, the military doesn’t like having to protect civilians…you think they’re here because they want to be?”

“They’re probably not here because they want to be, in all actuality,” Steve said. He pushed himself forward and ran his hand through his hair.

“What about you, Steve?” Dakota asked. “I mean, what was it like in the marines? The atmosphere, having to work with people?”

“To tell you the truth,” Steve sighed, “I don’t blame them for being angry, especially the sergeant. Dealing with civilians, especially refugees, is never an easy thing, particularly when they’re so quick to act on impulse.”

“Like we did,” Dakota mumbled.

“Exactly.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ian said. “We’re here. We might as well forget about it.”

“We still have to watch our backs,” Steve sighed. “We’re under military order now. It’s their way or the highway as far as they’re concerned.”

“Which is bullshit, as far as I’m concerned.”

Dakota stepped forward, toward the sole, bar-covered window in the room. “What do you think this place used to be?”

“Huh?” Steve asked.

“This building. There’s bars across the windows.”

“Probably a nuthouse, from the looks of it,” Ian said.

“A nuthouse?”

“Yeah. You ain’t ever seen an asylum?”

“No, not really.”

“I think this place used to be called David’s Ward or something. I’m not sure. All I know is that it isn’t named what it used to be.”

“It doesn’t really matter,” Dakota sighed, looking outside. “At least we’re safe.”

From his current perspective, he could see all the way across the opposite parking lot, toward what used to be a park.

In a distance, a lone zombie shambled on.

She alone showed him what the world had become.

A knock came at the door just as the sun was beginning to set.

Rising from his place on the cot, Dakota crossed the room and pressed his hand to the doorknob. A quick look out of the peephole showed Corporal Marks in full attire, cheeks wind-burnt and eyes looking tired as ever.

I wonder what they were doing?
He frowned, looking back at his companions. Both were asleep. “Guys,” he said. “Wake up.”

Steve rose first. Curled on his side, he opened his eyes, then shook his head, rolling onto his back and running a hand through his hair. “What’s up?”

“Jamie’s here.”

“Who?”

“The corporal. Remember?”

“Him.” Steve sat up. “Ian, wake up.”

“I’m awake,” Ian groaned.

Dakota opened the door, offering the soldier the best smile he could. “Hello, sir.”

“Good evening,” Jamie said. “Can I come in?”

“We were just sleeping,” Steve said. “Go ahead.”

“Sorry I’m late. Private Roberts and I were working on getting the infected away from the area.”

“How’d you manage that?” Dakota asked.

“Sound displacement. A late comrade found that if you’re able to make noise in an area other than the one you’re currently in, the infected will run off.”

“So you were tricking them,” Steve chuckled.

The corporal smiled. “We spent the last few hours shooting dummies at the cars down the road with silencers.”

“Pretty clever, Corporal.”

“Yes, very.” Jamie looked about the room, lips pursing in thought when he saw Ian’s still form on his cot. “Sir? Are you feeling well?”

“I’m good,” Ian said, throwing his legs over the cot. “Didn’t mean to not answer you.”

“No need to apologize. Just making sure.”

“We had a rough two days,” Dakota sighed.

“I can imagine. How long did it take to fortify the bus?”

“A day, day-and-a-half,” Steve said. “What’s it to you?”

“No reason.” He paused. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I’ll get on to business. The sergeant’s instructed me to assign jobs to the civilians based on any useful skills they might have. Can any of you do anything other than cook or fix cars?”

“I’m guessing you’re filled in those departments.”

“Yes.”

“Nothing I can think of,” Steve said.

“I used to be a plumber,” Ian said. “I don’t know if that’s any help.”