The Infected (Book 2): Karen's First Day (9 page)

BOOM!

That one snapped its trendy glasses in half and its limp
body went down for the count.

Only the lady with the broken ankle remained and she was
right on top of Karen. There was no time to think. Only react. The infected woman’s
hands were inches from Karen’s shoulders. Its teeth snapped together. The sound
sickened Karen. She re-angled the gun and pointed it up under the infected
woman’s jaw and BOOM. The top of the infected skull exploded into the air.
Bone, brains and blood rained down on Karen as the body fell to her feet. She
felt like every part of her was covered in bloody gunk. She needed to take a
shower and clean herself with an S.O.S. pad.

“Damn, chica!”

Karen turned slowly to see Tina’s shocked face. The child
in Tina’s arms pressed her own little face against the woman’s chest. She tried
to hide away like a shy baby.

“That was some cold blooded Rambo shit,” Tina walked over
next to Karen. “You’re loco.” She said it as a complement.

“I feel loco,” Karen spoke through her gritted teeth.
Blood dripped off her lips and she didn’t want to get it in her mouth. She used
the back of her hand and wiped some of the blood off her face.

“The girl’s got a bracelet with her address on it. She
lives in building C,” Tina said as she began to jog towards that building.
Karen followed her and fought through the urge to puke all the way.

Tina knocked at C8’s door.

“Hey, we have your kid!” Tina heard the words as she said
them and it sounded like a threat. She tried it again, “I mean we found your
baby. Hello!” She knocked one more time.

The door opened and a catatonic young woman stood at the
doorway. Blood covered her hands. The blank features on the woman’s face didn’t
change as the child reached for her mother.

Tina handed over the toddler as she asked, “Are you
okay?”

“My husband tried to kill me…”

They moved closer to the front door. Blood was all over
the floor behind the woman.

“Thanks for finding Anita. I thought the place seemed
quiet. Okay, I have to go clean up my husband now.” Before Tina or Karen could
say anything Mrs. Billings slammed the door in their faces.

“What the…?” Tina was taken back.

Karen was completely baffled and without words, but did
not have time to question it. The baby was safe and she had to get home. The
two women began the speed walk back to their apartments. They didn’t say a word
to each other on the walk back. Neither felt the need for idle chitchat. Those
five minutes of infected combat were enough to form the start of a friendship.
A sisterhood of sorts. The kind of relationship that normally takes people
years to manifest. It was already at the point where you no longer had to fill
the void with empty conversation. They could just be in each other’s presence
and say nothing. The two of them scurried across the grounds and only waved bye
to each other as Tina made her assent up the steps to her place.

Karen unlocked her front door and entered. She promised
herself that she would not risk her life again as she locked the door behind
her. She peeked in on her girls. Robin was still sleeping on the bed and
Valerie was totally digging the free reign on the computer.

Karen entered her bathroom and turned on the light. She
looked like
Carrie
covered in pig’s blood at the prom. There was no time
for a shower. She pulled a towel off the rack behind her and soaked it in the
sink.

What a bullshit day!

Back at the East Vancouver Retirement Community, the buck-naked
infected old man stomped his way towards Cliff and Morgan. In an instant Cliff
had the gun in his hand. His thumb pulled back the hammer as he raised the
revolver. He had never fired a gun before. The infected walked past an open
door and his body glowed from the sunlight. Its combover was a mess and it
exaggerated the wideness of his forehead.

Cliff squeezed the trigger and the dead body dropped to
the floor. The thrill of firing a handgun coursed through Cliff’s body. The
muzzle flash. The loud smack against his ears. The jolt of the recoil and the
smell of gunpowder in the air. Oh baby, that was so much easier than the
cleaver. He tucked the gun back into his pocket. The barrel was hot and it
singed his ass.

“Ouch! Damn.” He pushed at the back of her chair and
lifted her left wheel off of the ground so it could clear Phil’s thick arm.

Morgan looked around the hallway and bedrooms, “This is
such a mess. Who’s gonna clean this up?”

They hit the door to the stairs and he popped it open. He
pivoted her around again and moved her backwards for the flight of stairs.

“Clifford Steven Morgan, if you fucking drop me I’ll bust
you upside your damn head,” she said as she gripped her armrests. Cliff muscled
her back to the edge of the stairs. He had toted her down some steps before but
not by himself and never in near pitch-black conditions. She totaled a hundred
and fifty pounds in the chair. It was not too bad weight wise. It was the
stepping down into the dark oblivion that made this endeavor so terrifying. If
he dropped her, those old brittle bones would snap easily. He tilted her back
and slowly dropped her down the first step.

“Clifford, do you still have cable?” she turned around in
her chair. He could feel her weight shift around.

“Yes, we still have cable. Stop wiggling and be quiet.
Remember?” he grunted at her.

She whispered loudly, “I don’t wanna miss my Adult Swim
on the Cartoon Network.”

“Shh,” he leveled her out on the landing. He flashed his
light around the last eight steps. The big nurse blocked their path. Morgan
looked at the corpse.

“Is that Trevor?” her voice filled with loss.

“I don’t know.” Cliff got her stable and moved down to
the dead body.

“Look at the name tag,” she commanded.

He flipped the piece of plastic over.

“Yeah, it’s Trevor,” he moved the heavy body down the
steps. The back of Trevor’s skull cracked on each step.

 “The one damn nurse I would have loved to have climb
up on me.”

“Mom-”

“Morgan,” she cut him off.

“Morgan, please stop it and be quiet,” Cliff tucked the
dead body around the corner of the stairs. He had a clear shot for the door now.

As Cliff stepped back up to the landing he slipped on the
blood. He landed hard on his shins and chest. The flashlight crashed and fell
down to the main floor. It landed facing the wall and cut the light to zero. Cliff
let out a long painful groan.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he rubbed his sore shins and rolled over
to his butt. His clothes were wet and sticky from Trevor’s blood. He scooted
down the steps and found the flashlight. He checked himself out. His clothes mopped
up a lot of the liquid from the steps. He held the rail as he walked back up to
the landing.

This should be fun, getting her down the slick steps.

He moved her closer to the wall so he could use the rail
to help keep his footing. Cliff inched her down step by step. When the rear
wheels hit the blood they wanted to slide instantly to the next step before he
was ready. The chair dropped hard and fast down the last four steps. Cliff caught
her one foot from the floor. The wheelchair was laid out sideways. The
flashlight was propped up so it lit both of their faces.

Morgan looked to her son and her frightened face turned
to a smile, “That was like a roller coaster.”

“You all right?” he asked as he got her upright.

“Yep,” she chuckled.

He rolled her close to the door and looked through the
window. Morgan’s eyes had adjusted to the dark and she could see the outline of
Trevor on the floor.

“He was so gentle for a big man,” her voice choked with
emotion.    

Cliff angled the light back out into the main floor hall
and saw no movement. He propped the door open and pulled her wheelchair into
the main hall. He had Morgan a few steps down the hall when the door to the
first set of stairs creaked open. One of the creatures must have leaned against
the door handle just right.  Cliff froze.

An infected body stumbled through the doorway. Many more
followed. One after another they filled the hall. Their shredded bodies blocked
Cliff’s only exit.

He took the revolver out of his pocket and stepped in
front of his mother. He aimed for the leader of the dead. The threat of facing
so many had given Cliff another surge of adrenaline. The gun shook in his hand.
The light was so dim in the hall he could barely see the sights on the gun. He
was truly shooting blind. His thumbed back the hammer and fired. The shot blew
apart the shoulder of the old man, but it kept coming. Cliff hammered through
the last four shots. Each round he fired was a hit to the neck or torso.

No kill shots.

The pack of monsters moved faster now. The noise got them
riled up. Cliff moved back behind Morgan and exchanged the gun for the cleaver.
He knew this whole thing was a bad idea. He loved his mother but now he was
going to die at this old folk’s home.

Who was going to protect his family? 

He moved to take position in front of his mother again.

She caught him by the arm.

“What?” he snapped at her.

She pointed with her free hand back over her shoulder,
“Emergency exit,” she said flatly.

Cliff turned with his flashlight and at the other end of
the hall, in the dark corner with no windows was a door. “EXIT” was written on
the sign above it. This was a lesson. Always know your exits before entering an
infected filled building. Cliff made a mental note of that as he spun Morgan
around and raced for the door.

It opened with a
click click
and sunshine blasted
his face. The light burned. It was the emergency side exit into the overflow
parking lot of the building.

Cliff hustled down the sidewalk back to the front of the
building. As he rounded the corner his breath was taken away. He came to a
complete stop. A mix of nurses and old people stood between him and the truck.

All infected. Fifteen monsters total. They had not
spotted the two living humans yet. Cliff put the bag on the ground and unzipped
it. He squatted down, dug through Morgan’s clothes and pills, found the box of
ammo and pulled it out. He clumsily opened the box and pushed the cylinder out
from the gun. The empty shells fell to the ground. The brass rattled across the
sidewalk giving away their position.

“Clifford?” she turned in her seat to look at what her
son was up to.

Cliff looked up. The monsters heard the brass and the able-bodied
nurses took off in a sprint.
Click click.
Behind them the emergency door
opened and the dozen they left inside were on their way to lunch.

Cliff was all thumbs as he pushed the six rounds into the
cylinder. The infected were so close. The last shell was crammed into its chamber.
He grabbed the cleaver from the ground next to the bag.

As he stood up from the squat, he sighted in the front-runner.
When Cliff pulled the trigger the monster’s forehead was two inches from the
barrel of the gun. Its head exploded at point blank range. Cliff stepped to the
side as its body continued to run for a few steps.  

Without thinking he cracked off the next five rounds and
all of the infected nurses were gunned down less than a foot away from him.
Cliff got so jacked up he lost count and dry fired a few times. With all of the
fast ones taken out he felt a little relief. The old dead bodies were dangerous
slugs shuffling around him.

Cliff got the wheelchair rolling again. They glided down
a ramp and out into the parking lot. He got up enough speed that they left the
monsters by the door in the dust.

He looped around the parking lot and was able to outrun
the infected to the truck. The monsters seemed confused by the moving target.
They stumbled out and away from Cliff’s vehicle. He circled around the whole
lot and was able to get Morgan to the driver’s side of the truck. The infected
changed direction again and headed back towards the Dodge.

Cliff got his keys from his pocket and popped open the
door. The monsters were only feet from the passenger’s side. Cliff tossed the
bag onto the floorboard and the cleaver up onto the dash. He slid his arm under
the back of Morgan’s knees and under her armpit. He hoisted her up out of the
chair and got her onto the driver’s seat. Once he got her stable she had enough
upper body strength to pull herself across the center seat and into the
passenger’s.

Bloody hands banged at the window next to Morgan. She
looked out the window at her old cribbage buddy. Digits missing from its hand,
tip of its nose was bitten clean off and its right cheek was torn open exposing
his teeth. His old eyes had turned black. To Morgan they looked sad and lost like
an old abandoned dog.

“Oh God, Sal. What happened to you?!” Morgan reached out
and touched the glass that separated them.

Cliff folded the chair and tossed it into the back.
Another set of wrinkled hands grabbed the edge of the truck bed. The mangled
ex-human used the side of the truck and the tailgate to pull itself along
faster. Cliff climbed in and slammed his door shut. He forced the key into the
ignition. Dead hands thrashed at the sides of the vehicle. The engine fired up
and Cliff threw it into reverse.

As he backed up, three monsters were taken under the back
wheels. The infected speed bumps tossed the building supplies and Morgan’s
chair around. Cliff cranked on the four-wheel-drive and it launched the Dodge
over the crushed bodies. Morgan’s body wobbled in the passenger’s seat. She grabbed
at the door’s handle for support.

“You need to install a set of oh-shit grips,” she looked
at her son.

“What?”

The front tires bounced off the dead. Morgan mimed
holding a set of handles on the ceiling of the truck.

“You bolt on a set of handles. We called them oh-shit
grips back in the day.”

The infected chased after them but they fell behind as
Cliff pulled out onto the street. He watched the dark building shrink in the
distance. It killed him three years ago when he had to put Morgan in that home.
There was not enough space to keep her in his apartment and his older brother
and sister were worthless meth-heads. Most of their energy went into ripping
off the government every month with a disability claim. So they were no help with
her at all.

Cliff looked back over at her as they sped away.

She gave him two thumbs up. It was her signature move anytime
she was super jazzed about something. “That was exciting,” she yelled over the
roar of the engine. It had been a long time since she had given him the double
thumbs up.

 Morgan was nearly forty when she gave birth to
Cliff. Doctors said it was not safe for her to carry another child at that age,
especially with her party vices. But no one told Morgan what to do. She wanted
to show the bastard doctors that they didn’t know dick. For the nine months she
was pregnant she lived like a nun. She kicked every bad habit cold turkey for
her little man. During Cliff’s childhood she stayed clean and sober. Once Cliff
hit his mid-teens she fell off the wagon hard. Cliff always assumed she was
making up for lost time.

Cliff’s heart rate slowed to a normal pace. A drop of
sweat rolled down his shaved head and fell from his nose. The running and
lifting in the warm spring sun had worked up a good layer of sweat under his
jacket. With a twist of a knob the AC blasted the two of them in the face. He
dropped the zipper on his jacket to mid chest.

“How are my four ladies?” She reached for the radio and
turned on the classic rock station. Cliff was a little taken aback about how
calm she was with everything.

“They’re at home. Tina’s unloading a grocery run we made
earlier today.” It felt weird for him to carry on with a normal conversation
after gunning down and chopping up a group of people. Cliff was somewhat used
to this with her. She was always forgetting what had happened five minutes
earlier. He was jealous. Cliff wished he had the power to forget this day.

“Why are you speeding?” she pulled her seatbelt across
her lap.

“I want to get home fast.”

“Don’t you wanna get home safe?”

He lifted his foot off the pedal and allowed the truck to
slow down. It was perfect timing for her warning. A yellow blur caught his
attention out of the corner of his eye. Cliff slammed the brakes as they
approached the next intersection. There wasn’t a sign or a red light that gave
him a reason to come to a complete stop. He clearly had the right of way, but
the school bus racing to his left didn’t give a shit.

Cliff reached out and pressed his hand across Morgan’s
chest as they stopped short.

“Christ!” Cliff yelled out.

All of the building supplies and Morgan’s chair crashed
into the back of the cab. The tires smoked and cried out with a loud screech.
The front of the Dodge was less than a foot away from impact. As the bus
rocketed by, Cliff was able to make out the full-length Jesus mural. What
really caught his eye was the group of people on board, armed with assault
rifles. There was a mix of men, women and children on the rig. As far as Cliff
could tell, all of the adults had guns.

A Hummer followed closely behind the bus, it was part of
the same convoy. A man sat in the passenger seat wearing mirrored aviator sunglasses,
looking like a dictator. Something about the man gave Cliff the chills.