The Last Outbreak (Book 2): Devastation (13 page)

Out into the street, Tom moved in behind the woman and took her by the arm. Feeders flooded the area around his car and as far beyond as he could see. The deluge of walking corpses appeared to be coming from the intersection less than twenty yards past where he’d parked and continued to add to the already out of control horde. He slid his hand down over hers and slowly urged her backward. The options for getting to his vehicle and saving this woman had just been altered. His friends back at Harbor Crest weren’t going to be pleased.

“We’re going to have to find another way.”

Not appearing to hear what Tom had said, the woman stared straight ahead into the crowd. She’d stopped screaming and had frozen in place. Her eyes wide and face expressionless, she resisted his attempt to start moving in the opposite direction.

The time to stay quiet and hide was gone. It was now time to run. Leaning in, he looked directly into her vacant eyes and shouted, “NOW, WE HAVE TO GO RIGHT NOW LADY!”

Nothing.

He didn’t have a choice. He knew it the minute he first caught a glimpse of her and he knew it now.  She wouldn’t survive another five minutes out here alone and there was no way he was going to leave her, of this he was certain. What he couldn’t quite make sense of was how she survived out here for the past six days on her own.

Tom dropped her hand, looked back toward their only option for escape, and estimated they had maybe ten seconds. “Please, if you can hear me, we need to run. Right now.”

She blinked slowly and turned to him. Pursing her lips together, she started to speak, but then didn’t. Turning away from the crowd, she raised her right arm and pointed toward the end of Sixth Street and nodded. Then she looked back at him.

“That way?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Tom reached for her pack and she pulled away—started running before he did. She was quick. Even faster than he remembered from the third floor of the garage. She must have been some sort of athlete before the world went to hell. He didn’t necessarily have trouble keeping pace, but he could tell she wasn’t even close to her top speed. And as a pair of Feeders stepped out from the first floor of the garage less than twenty feet away, she quickly glanced over her shoulder to make sure he was still with her.

Approaching the next intersection, they moved past an abandoned animal shelter and another parking garage positioned along the opposite side of the street. As Tom caught up to her, she slowed to a fast walk. She looked back at him and then ahead toward where the city changed.

The older part of town, where Tom had first seen her peering out into the street from the third floor, looked to be at least sixty years old. The city that stretched out ahead and in the opposite direction must have been built within the last twenty. They stood where the two met. The old and the new.

Behind them and advancing quickly, no less than a few hundred ravenous beasts. Moving in and out, more staggered into the street with each passing second. Further ahead, less of those things dotted the street, but there was also the unknown. Which was worse? Tom guessed that they were about to find out.

He’d lost himself attempting to think of a third option. One that wouldn’t end in him being eaten alive beside this woman he had yet to really meet. Trying to avoid replaying the gruesome images over again, Tom realized she was tugging on his shirt and more importantly, that the horde closing in would be on them in seconds.

She looked down the length of Sixth Street and back at Tom. He didn’t ask and just started running. His legs felt more free—faster. He was somehow keeping pace with her and as they reached the next block, they were shoulder to shoulder. Although as they crossed over Pembroke Lane and he looked to the right, he found their next problem.

The pay-by-the-hour parking lot was still full of cars left behind by those apparently still walking the city streets. Interspersed between the sedans, SUVs, and minivans were another forty or so Feeders. Although not an immediate threat, they had taken notice of the pair and of the more massive group filling in from behind.

The smaller group fought to free itself from the maze of abandoned vehicles, weaving slowly from one row to the next. The first few spilled out onto the street ahead of Tom and his new friend. And glancing back over his shoulder, he could see them filling in the empty spots among the first group.

Shifting his weight and continuing toward the left side of the street, Tom looked for the woman to follow. She did. And as they sprinted diagonally across the intersection, he began looking for an out. Somewhere they could rest. Somewhere to catch their breath, even for just a moment.

They’d been running for less than two minutes, but he was nearly out of gas. His legs burned, he could feel his heart beating in his face, and as she pulled ahead, he began to slow.

“Hey.”

She turned, but kept running.

Tom’s stride began to fail, and as her lead grew to more than twenty feet, he called out. “I gotta stop for a minute.”

She slowed, but only enough to look back and shake her head. Raising her left arm, she motioned him forward.

The back of his right leg began to tighten. Near where the lower portion of his hamstring met his calf. It jolted him back and pulled what little breath remained in his scorched lungs. He limped for another few feet and then it came on with a vengeance.

Grasping the back of his right leg, Tom tripped and fell forward. He was weightless for half a second and then cursed as his left shoulder contacted the unforgiving concrete. Momentum carried him forward and his feet came up over his head, ejecting the nine millimeter from his waistband. And as he collapsed into a heap next to a city garbage can, the woman spoke for only the third time.

Her voice came out much different than before. It was hard. It was intense. And although it was only one word, it was all that was necessary.

“NO!”

Tom watched her face contort and followed her eyes to the edge of the sidewalk. He was able to see the pistol at the last second. It skipped off the edge of the curb and disappeared. Next, the world went silent as Tom held his breath.

The sound of metal on metal and then nothing.

As the muscles along the back of his leg spasmed and then began to cramp, another shockwave forced him onto his side. The pain that radiated up into his hamstring was now bordering on monumental—it felt like he was losing consciousness. He dug his fingers into the knot and tried to straighten his leg. No relief.

With the advancing crowd now numbering in the hundreds and closing in fast, Tom dragged himself to the edge of the sidewalk. The woman had beaten him there and stood looking down at the storm drain. Slowly and painfully sliding his legs out from under himself, he looked down into the empty gutter and then back up at her.

“It’s gone,” he said.

Through the high side window behind the driver’s door, Ethan could see the dying edge of the midday sun. It was a welcoming warmth as they pulled out of the station over an hour before, but now in the rear cabin, it felt as though the group of seven were being baked from the inside out.

Over the last twenty minutes, Ethan and the others sat in silence. They braced themselves and held tight to one another as the armored vehicle rocked under the weight of the growing horde. And as the sounds of the dead beyond their metal box escalated, the hopeful siren playing in the distance was all but drowned out.

Since parking alongside the apartment building and deciding to wait it out, the crowd that had broken off and turned their focus to the armored truck had easily doubled. They’d begun pulling more followers away from the larger group at the old Taylor farm and appeared to have combined their efforts. If this trend was to continue, they’d eventually draw every Feeder in town into the narrow alley. It was only a matter of time. The group could continue to wait out the horde, but for how long? At some point, they had to make a move.

Ethan was ready now.

As the horde continued to attack the exterior, he tapped Griffin on the shoulder and pointed to the driver’s seat. Leaning in, he turned up the volume in his voice. “Give me the keys—we’re getting out of here.”

Griffin shook his head. “There’s no way—too many of them.”

“And there’s more coming,” Ethan said. “They’re being drawn away from the farm—not your fault—no way we could have known that they’d find this metal box more interesting.”

Griffin grinned and handed Ethan the keys. “I don’t think it’s the truck they’re attracted to. More like what’s inside.”

Cora moved away from the door, slid up to Ethan, and peered out over the dash. “What are we doing?”

Reaching for the headrest on the driver’s seat, Ethan pulled himself up. “We’re getting out of here.”

“But—”

“Grab a gun from the duffel and get ready. Tell the others to hold on to something.” Sliding into the driver’s seat, Ethan slammed the key into the ignition as the crowd outside took notice. They began clawing at the driver’s door and over one another. The horde crammed in, pushing the first row of Feeders flush against the exterior windows.

Bloodied mouths with lacerated lips bit at the exposed metal, splintering off more of their fragile teeth with each new attempt, their rage doubling at the sight of Ethan sitting only inches away. Those up front, standing on the side step, pulled at the roofline, ripping away large swatches of skin from their fingers and hands in the process. Ethan tried not to look—to remain focused.

Turning over the engine, Ethan pushed the pedal to the floor and as the motor screamed to life, he shouted into the rear cabin. “Hold on.”

His vision party obscured by the thick trails of blood now running from the top of the windshield, he slammed the armored vehicle into reverse and clutched the wheel with both hands. “Here we go.”

Out of his periphery, Ben moved quickly from the rear and slid down into the passenger seat. A pistol in his left hand, the kid braced himself against the dash with his right. Staring straight ahead as the massive vehicle lurched backward, he said, “We really doing this?”

Ethan didn’t answer. He peered through the driver’s side window into the mirror, and although mostly blocked, he caught a glimpse of his target. It was only a flash of blue—the sun reflecting off the angular metal—but he saw its placement along the packed alleyway.

“They’re everywhere,” Ben said. “How’s this gonna work?” The kid also checked his mirror through the opposite window and then leaned forward, his face less than two inches away from the beast on the opposite side of the glass. “What the hell is with these things? They weren’t like this two days ago. It’s like their pissed off. I mean, before they were the worst possible thing you could ever imagine, but now they also seem mad. Like really—”

The truck increased its speed as Ethan peered out through the side window. Driving backward with only his mirror as a guide, he cut the kid short without turning to face him. “They’re hungry.”

“What?”

“They’re running out of new victims,” Ethan said as the truck pitched up, plowing over two downed bodies. “They’re hungry and have nothing to eat. We’re it. Just us, that’s why we have to leave and that’s why it has to be right now.”

Ben started to speak, but was again cut short as Ethan reached over and pushed him back into his seat. Continuing to gain speed, but unable to shake the riotous crowd, the Feeder outside Ethan’s window had gotten wedged between the door and the mirror. Looking past Ben, he again scoped his target and cut the wheel to the left. Under his breath he said, “One shot at this.”

As the truck continued in reverse, Ethan motioned to Ben. “Seatbelt, now.” Without turning and still focused out the passenger window, he shouted into the rear cabin. “You’re all gonna need to get down on the floor. Stay there, we’re gonna hit hard.”

Ben reached for his lap belt and quickly buckled himself in. He looked from Ethan’s determined gaze out through his window and searched the surroundings for what Ethan had planned. “What are you doing and why are you doing it in reverse?”

“Just hold on.”

Nodding, Ben pushed his feet into the floorboard, slipped the weapon under his left leg, and held tight to the door with both hands. Looking back through the windshield, he could see that they’d begun to drop many of their unwanted passengers—a few more every second. Although as they tumbled to the ground, the tormented beasts again found their way to their feet and then followed the armored vehicle further into the alley. They had no intention of giving up.

As the others sat on the floor, up against the walls, Ethan drove the truck backward in a straight line. With his target now in full view, he again shouted. “Five seconds!”

He counted down the rest under his breath.

“Four… Three… Two…”

Reaching around the mirror and looking for a handhold on the hood of the armored vehicle, the Feeder at his door struck the angled edge of the apartment building and was torn in half. Its upper body disappeared as they sped backward and its lower half slid down the side of the truck, dropping somewhere near the front tire.

“One.”

Glancing through the rear cabin and out the window, he could easily make out the words
Summer Mill Waste Management
as they slammed into the dumpster.

An explosion of metal on metal rocked the weighty truck. It lifted off its front wheels and crashed back down as more than a dozen Feeders were tossed out onto the stained asphalt. Ethan gripped the wheel and slammed back in his seat, as the others slid into a pile of arms and legs at the rear of the truck.

Slowly blinking through the confusion, she attempted to rub away the ringing in her ears. Cora sat forward and pushed away from the others. She got to her knees and then from a crouched position up onto her feet. As the silent world beyond the rear cabin came into focus, she reached out for Griffin.

He wasn’t moving, a small trail of blood ran from his left ear and his eyes were closed. She turned to the others as they also attempted to pull themselves together. Back to the front, she tried to shout, but it came out only slightly louder than her normal voice. “Ethan, there’s something wrong. Griffin needs help.”