The Last Infection: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (3 page)

Had the infected been among them, they would have been dead for sure. Chris grabbed hold of the girl and lifted her up. He held on long enough for her to grab the top of the sectional
wall, and then left her to her own strength to survive. The boy leapt up and grabbed hold on his own. Chris followed his example as he struggled to pull himself up.

Both the boy and Chris reached the top of the wall at the same time. All three figures perched in a crouched
position, trying to keep their balance, their heads pressing against the cheap ceiling tiles. They looked out over the dead to discover the true direness of their situation. A symphony of death rose from a mass of zombies as the undead cleared the rows of desks and came within a few feet of the sectional wall. A quick inspection revealed the situation was even worse than first imagined. The walkway on the cubical side of the wall was full of movement.

The mass of the dead and the noise of the chase had stirred the occupants of the floor. Bloodstained bodies stumbled out in to the cubical walkways. They were in various stages of decomposition, some missing limbs and other flayed in a
heinous manner. The random nakedness was shocking to the system in contrast to others that were still in neatly ironed clothes. The sudden mass movement stirred up a festering smell that nearly knocked the living right off their momentarily safe perched positions.

“What are we going to do now?” the girl asked. She grabbed hold of Chris’ hand and the shock nearly caused him to fall. He was still holding on the bag of snacks with one hand
and trying to keep his bat from slipping out of his belt loop with the other. He tried to pull his hand from the girl, but she wouldn’t let go.

The
undead in the open space reached the wall and several slammed into the barrier. They reached up at the living, flailing their hands about. Their lust for flesh was undeniable and the terrible sounds emitting from their foul pits was overwhelming. A few were tall enough to reach the sectional’s edge and two grabs of his pants was enough to encourage the boy to act. He steadied himself, then moved forward, one foot at a time in an odd hunched walk. Chris urged the girl to follow the boy and as she turned, a pair of hands reached up and grabbed hold of her foot. A vicious pull lifted her from the top of the wall and only Chris’ grip kept her from falling to the floor. The boy spun around and his cry filled the air with a sudden violent yell.

“
Alicen!”

Chris reacted without thinking. He sat his butt down on the top of the wall and sent the heel of his boot into the forehead of the clutching zombie. The impact cracked the
skull open from the temple along the brow and nearly ripped the top of its head clean off. The zombie fell over backwards only to be replaced by two more.

Chris
didn’t wait for the next would-be attacker. He got up on his feet and started forward along the top of the wall, dangling the girl off one side as he went. Alicen screamed at the top of her lungs as the dead swiped at her legs. The boy managed to get out of the way before Chris barreled into him. One violent pull lifted Alicen up and over the wall between the break room and the open space. Chris let her go and she hit the break room floor with a hard
thud
. The boy leapt down after her as the wave of undead slammed into the wall trying to get through.

Chris continued his hunched walk until he reached the outer hall then jumped down.
The path to the stairwell door was clear, but the echo of the dead told him it wouldn’t be that way for long. He reached the stairwell door before the boy’s voice called after him. Chris turned to find the duo rushing in his direction.

“Half of that is ours,” the girl said.

Chris rolled his eyes. “I never said half,” he insisted. He eyed them until they reached the door, then he pulled it open and waved them through. “Fine,” he said, “…just go.”

4.

The air was bitterly cold and the clear blue sky brought little relief for those forced out in it. Winter would soon sweep in and cover the city in a thick blanket of snow. The thought of surviving the freezing temperatures that were sure to come was too hard to imagine without the comfort of a good heater. Scavenging for food was already difficult enough
, but the addition of the imminent elements would no doubt starve out many before the infected or undead got hold of them.

Most of Denver’s streets were converted graveyards, both for the uncountable vehicles lining the major
roads, as well as the lifeless corpses littering the pavement. Survivors kept clear of open spaces as much as they could help it. Most made a safe space for themselves in houses, apartments or stores and shut themselves in until food and water became a need. The infection swept across the city so quickly that few had time to gather enough supplies to sustain them for very long. The survivors who did venture out didn’t last very long. It didn’t matter if it was the infected, the undead, or the roaming thugs that got hold of you, none offered a pleasant end.

Chris hadn’t seen another survivor in over a month as best as his internal
calendar could tell. The two who were currently walking in front of him were even more curious. He’d led them to a crowded parking lot several blocks south of the building they’d found one another in. He’d used the lot before. He slid open the side door of a tireless minivan and urged them in. The boy eyed him queerly before looking around at the surrounding vehicles. A few contained the blacked and bloated bodies of the dead, some of which were still moving.

“Think of it as camouflage,” Chris explained the unasked question. “The zombies trapped in the cars seem to tell the infected that there’s nothing to see here.”

Alicen glanced at the boy and he nodded. The two climbed in and Chris followed, sliding the door closed behind them. The middle seats were missing, leaving a wide open space on the floor between the front seat and the rear. Chris sat down, crossed his legs and set the bag of snacks down between them. He reached around the front passenger seat and dug through a pile of trash on the floorboard, pulling back a backpack.

“Knew I’d need this again,” he said. He turned over the bag of snacks and poured the contents out on the floor. The group took in the sight like a pack of hungry w
olves. “You two going to sit?”

The kids were still hunched over near the rear
row of seats, unsure of their place. They sat down together and huddled close to one another, their eyes locking on the treasure of food on the ground.

“I heard you call her
Alicen, you got a name?”

The boy tore his stare away from the candy bars and chip bags long enough to make
eye contact with Chris.

“Jake, Jake
Bradley. Alicen’s my sister.” He reached for a candy bar, his eyes looking for a response from Chris.

Chris shrugged. “Go
ahead; I guess it’s half yours anyway.” The kids went at the stash as if they hadn’t eaten in a month. Chris separated his half, then started on a candy bar and looked up to discover half of the kid’s share was already gone. “You should really slow down,” he said in an unusual fatherly way. “You’re probably going to make yourselves sick.” He laughed as they ignored him. “I’d hate to see you waste the food by throwing it up.”

Alicen
leaned back with a look of contentment. She wore a wide smudge of chocolate across her face. She was smiling, something Chris hadn’t seen in a long time. Her hand was still wrapped around a bar of chocolate, but she appeared to lack the ability to take another bite.

“Here, take the trash bag,” Chris said holding it out. “You’re going to need something to hold the rest of it with.”

Jake pushed back against the rear seat and opened a bag of chips. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Chris.
Chris West, if you want to be formal about it.” He started packing away the remainder of his feast in his backpack and popped open another candy bar as he worked. “You two alone?” He didn’t really want to know the answer, but he couldn’t think of anything else to ask. In truth, all of the time he’d spent alone had eroded what little social skills he possessed.

Jake shot his sister a sideways glance before responding. “It’s
only us,” he said. “…how about you?”

Chris laughed. “Me?
Hell, I’ve got a huge social circle. I just got lost.” He kept laughing, but the kids didn’t seem to get his joke. “Don’t be fooled,” he said. “We’re all alone out here.”

“We’re not,”
Alicen said in an angry reply.

Jake shushed her which only made Chris all the more curious.

“Is that so,” Chris said. “Then where’s the rest of your gang?”

The ki
ds didn’t answer, but it was obvious from the aggravation on Alicen’s face that she wanted to.

“Come
on, kid,” Chris urged Jake, “I’m not going to give away your secret. Look around,” he motioned out the grimy windows of the van, “who the hell would care anyway?”

The boy put down
the bag of chips between his legs and wiped his hands together to get off the sticky salt. He gave the question far more thought than Chris believed it warranted. Chris was about to forget the entire conversation when Jake finally spoke up.

“We’re
going to find our Aunt Debra and Uncle Mike.”

Chris did his best not to
snicker. “That’s the big secret? What makes you think ole’ Debbie and Mike are any better off than you two are?” Jake considered the question, but Chris had heard enough. “You know what? I don’t even want to know. I’ve heard more fairytales about safe houses and free zones than I can stand.”

“It’s not a fairy
tale,” Alicen screamed at the top of her lungs, then buried her face in her brother’s shoulder.

Chris’ head spun around at the
high-pitched shout, scanning the surrounding vehicles. “Alright, kid, whatever you say. Keep your voice down.” The little girl continued to sob and wouldn’t look at him. Chris felt something for the first time in a while. He wasn’t sure sympathy would ever bother him again. “Fine,” he said when he couldn’t take her crying any longer. “I didn’t mean it wasn’t true. What the hell do I know, anyway?”

Jake cleared his throat as he urged his sister to sit up. “Catalina,” he said.

Chris’ brow creased as he thought. It took a moment, but the recognition of the word came to him. “The island?” he asked. “In California?” Both kids nodded. “That’s like a thousand miles away. You gonna walk there?”

“If we have to,” Jake said
defiantly, then added, “I can drive.”

“
How old are you, kid?”

“Twelve.”

“And your sister?”

“She’s
eight.”

Chris opened up another candy bar as he
absorbed all the information. It took him several minutes to understand the undertaking the kids were looking at. He was midway through the bar when the sheer impossibility of it all came to him. “So let me get this straight, a pair of preteens is going to walk,” he paused, “or drive, a thousand miles or so through a few states, that are no doubt loaded with zombies and the infected, to reach a magically unaffected island containing Aunt May and Uncle Joe?”

“Aunt Debra and Uncle Mike,”
Alicen corrected.

“Whatever.”

Jake nodded.

Chris leaned up against the back of the driver’s seat and let out a
long breath. “Well, have fun with that. You’re welcome to hang out in my humble abode and rest up for your trip. I’ll be off as soon as I catch a few hours myself.”

He finished his candy bar in two big bites
, and then stretched out his legs. He closed his eyes before either of the kids could get another word in. Chris knew the kids were waiting for him to ask more questions, but he didn’t want to know any more about their plan. He sat with his eyes closed tightly, desperately trying to think about anything besides their impossible task. His old nemesis, guilt, was raising its head and as he tried to fight it off, he managed to fall into a restless sleep.

#

Chris shifted uneasily, then caught himself, as he slid off the backside of the driver’s seat. He knew the moment his eyes snapped open that he’d slept longer than he’d intended. Two things stood out almost immediately. First, it was dark outside, and second, he was alone in the minivan. It took him a full minute to shake off the haze of sleep still shrouding his mind. Once he was sure of himself, he verified that it was in fact dark outside and the kids were nowhere to be found.

A sudden thought came over
him and he pulled open his backpack only to discover his half of the snacks missing. “Those little shits.” He laughed despite himself. “Good riddance then.” He thought for a moment about rolling over and going back to sleep, but the unsatisfied growl in his stomach urged him in another direction. He wasn’t starving, but he was hungry. The difference was something he’d learned very acutely since the infection started.

The memory of the office building and the
raid on the vending machine was still fresh in his mind.
Thank God, there weren’t any infected
, he thought. So the theory went, if the infected were out at night hunting, then their day time hiding spots must be safer for food exploration. He wasn’t sure how sound the logic was, but it had kept him alive for eight months and he was going to stick with it. The undead were always a concern, but that was something he would have to deal with.

He got up on his knees and surveyed his surroundings. The only movement came from the constant
shifting of the poor undead bastards trapped inside the nearby vehicles. He’d had an ongoing debate with himself about which would be worst, becoming one of the mindless undead or the blood driven infected. At the beginning, some doctors theorized that the infected still had human thought, but were blinded by an insatiable lust for blood. It was only discovered, right before the full loss of governmental control, that it was the infected that became zombies after final death. It was suggested that out of courtesy for your fellow man that survivors who’d become infected should kill themselves before the full virus took hold.

Chris zipped up his jacket and slid his backpack in place. He couldn’t figure out how the kids got out without waking him. He guessed they’d had to have learned to be as quiet as mice to
have survived as long as they had on their own. Chris chuckled. In the end, the kids had done him a favor. Sneaking off, left him with no chance to get involved and as far as his conscious was concerned, there wasn’t anything else he could do about it.

He took hold of his
bat, then pulled open the minivan’s sliding door. He slipped out into a cold, crisp night with less weight on his shoulders. In fact, he couldn’t remember feeling as well rested. His hunger crept back into the forefront of his mind and he tried to figure out if there were any hotspots nearby. He’d put together a good map of Denver, highlighting safe houses, food stores, and even contacts, but he’d lost it with his gear during his escape from the mall. His only remaining tool was a lighter and he was sure it was about to run out of fluid.

He had half a mind to head back to reclaim his
stuff, but he needed to eat first, so the gear would have to wait. In the south, highway seventy was visible between a series of three and four story buildings. Chris knew where there were highways; there would be exits and onramps. Exits and onramps meant convenience stores. He was on the move a minute later with a new hope for dinner in his belly.

He
moved quickly but quietly, his head on a swivel as he walked. He crossed west Fifty-Second Street before realizing where he was. Kingston Parkway had been a major inroad through North West Denver. Most important to Chris, the nearby highway exit was lined with fast food restaurants and gas stations, each with its own risks and chances at sustenance. He crossed behind a large gardening store headed towards Fifty-First Street when a distinct sound rang out from somewhere nearby.

A
gunshot was easy to recognize and these days, someone had to be in real trouble to waste the round. Chris froze and waited for the echo to clear. He closed his eyes and turned in the direction of a new sound. His eyes sprang open and he ran towards the side of the building. The sound of voices, now screaming, guiding him and as he neared the front of the building, he made them out.

“Get behind me,” a distinctively feminine voice cried. There was another gunshot as Chris reached the
corner of the building. “Here they come, get ready.”

Chris peeked out onto a parking lot in front of the store and found the
woman behind the voice almost immediately. She raised a handgun and fired. The round hit an advancing figure as it leapt up on top of a car a few stalls away. The shot hit a sagging gray forehead in between a set of haunting eyes. The snap that followed sent its brains out the back of its head. The woman looked back for a split second, taking precious attention off an advancing mob of infected running across the lot towards her. Chris followed her eyes and his stomach soured. In a flash, the full weight of his guilt rushed back as the terror filled faces of Jake and Alicen caught his attention, cowering behind the tail end of a beat up Ford.