Infected Freaks Volume One: Family First (3 page)

“Gramps, we have to go!” He heard Hunter’s voice boom through the broken window of the backroom. “The fire’s going to attract them!”

“What are you doing? Go back to the cliff,” he snapped, keeping the weapon aimed on the girl. He couldn’t think. All he could hear was the crazy man still singing his song of fire and affection. The smoke blurred Abraham’s senses as he tried to calm his nerves. “Dammit, I told you stay.” He wished his grandson would listen. “You’re just like your father. You don’t listen!”

Hunter looked like a ghost as he stood at the window, speechless. Abraham saw in his grandson’s eyes he wasn’t anything like Robb.
I shouldn’t have said that.

“I’m not infected,” the teenage girl stammered with southern attitude. Abraham saw she wanted to say more, but fear must have held her tongue.

Abraham frowned.

“Gramps! We have to go. Now!” shrieked Hunter.

Abraham knew he could be stubborn. He had overheard Hunter talking about how it was him and his constant need to control Robb that drove Hunter’s father away. Abraham didn’t want to argue with the headstrong boy.

The fresh cinders polluted the air with thick smoke and choked the dark-skinned man and his damning song. A soaring spark set fire to parts of the roof. Still, the dying man remained in place, singing his song through clogged lungs. The girl inched out of the putrid freezer and didn’t seem to care one bit about the mysterious man. The hate in her eyes burned brighter than the flames dancing around the ruins.

“I can’t save your father,” Abraham muttered, sliding back toward the glassless window ledge. The fire was overtaking the building. He lowered his gun and motioned for the frightened girl to join him. “The building is going to collapse. We have to hurry.”

The girl took one last glance at the black man and then turned away and heaved.

Abraham wanted to tell her to sort out her feelings later. He didn’t have time for weaklings. But he couldn’t find the heart. “Get out the window.” The groan of the burning timber wailed as she wiped her mouth and followed him. Through the thick smoke he could see the tiny black girl had no love for the foul man.

“I hope it hurts, Rictor,” she yelled back toward the black man. Rictor’s congested lungs brought a makeshift smile to her reflective face. She quivered, taking Abraham’s hand, and toppled back out the window. Yet, it was Hunter who grabbed a handful of her arm and yanked. The way she regarded Hunter was less than innocent. “I don’t need your help,” she said, pushing him back.

The smell of burnt flesh swirled about as Rictor’s shrieks of sweet fire transformed into blood-curdling cries for help. If any infected were near, they would be on them in a few minutes.

“Hurry up,” Abraham cracked, pounding the ground with his black boots. The daylight had disappeared behind the brush of the endless mountains. The night sky glittered in a crimson cloak from Red Dead as it had for the last three years.

Abraham fell to the ground, covering his head as a massive explosion rocked the landscape, leaving him in awe. Shards of burning wood reached out far into the parched background, setting the nearby brush ablaze. Brushing off the tiny ambers, Abraham broke off the highway and into the woodland. His memories of a world so cold left him dazed.
Here they come,
Abraham thought, pushing Hunter up the slope of the overpass.

A sudden buzzing sound cut through the sparkling red night. Abraham shoved his grandson again while looking back over his shoulder. He knew hiding in the trees was their only option of escape.

“Move it!” The ominous sound reminded him of Stencil Ranch. Only this time the callous sound was louder. He hardly believed it when he reached the top of the mountain. His heart beat out of control as he spun around to see if any of the things had followed.

“What do we do?” the girl asked, pulling at her loose pig tails.

“Hush,” snapped Abraham, watching the fire crackle and claim new territory. Yet it was the sound of an angry bee hive magnified by the sound of a thousand burning bodies, if that were possible, that frightened him. He dropped down into the dirt and plugged his ears. The blaze had devoured the building, giving Abraham a false sense of daylight. He had avoided the gas station over the years because of its close proximity to the highways. At first, it was the criminals he was trying to avoid, but now it was the infected freaks layered in morbid fungus and evil desires.

“Here they come,” Hunter warned.

The horde of freaks emerged down the highway, sprinting toward the warmth of the flames. They swarmed fast and reached the blazing flames rising up into the bloodstained sky. The buzzing sound hit Abraham like a bag of icy bones. The creatures wouldn’t touch the flames or bright light. No, the infected only wanted to be close to the warmth.

“I don’t want to die,” the girl whimpered.

“You won’t,” Hunter replied, reaching out to touch the girl’s hand.

Abraham watched her pull back fast like a snake.
I don’t have time for children.
He wanted to take a hot shower. Yet, the cool refreshing water would never wash away his haunted memories.

Abraham shuddered, hoping the fire killed whatever scent was left. He couldn’t prove it, but those things could smell better than a bloodhound. Most of their faces were clustered in deep rifts of fungi. He was almost positive the monsters couldn’t see out of their rotten eye sockets.
They must use some sort of sonar like a bat. 
For a moment, he feared the infected would stalk up the narrow path and overtake them. Little could be done to stop such a large horde. He looked down at his pistol and wished he had brought a bigger gun.
I’ll eat a bullet before I become one of those things.

Abraham knotted his fist in the dirt, wishing he was home enjoying his wife’s good cooking. The infected freaks rocked back and forth, ogling the smothering flames from a safe distance. Abraham didn’t want to study the monsters anymore. He wanted to run home and check on his family.

Then and there, out of the burning building sprinted the sizzling black man. Rictor cried for mercy, howling for help as he collapsed. In an instant, the inhuman creatures attacked. Abraham turned away as the monsters tore out chunks of Rictor’s cooked flesh and stuffed it in their famished maws. They wouldn’t tear him apart, only injure him enough to carry on the infection.

“You don’t have to look,” Abraham whispered, eyeing the girl. However, the girl almost seemed to enjoy the sight of the black man getting torn asunder. Abraham’s soul started to shake.
We must remember who we are or risk becoming a monster.
“We need to get moving,” he slurred, crawling away from the edge. “We messed up staying out this late.” His worse fear was leading the monsters back to his family, and it showed on his quivering lips.

Abraham, Hunter, and the girl hurried through the forest for what felt like hours. The long way home took them miles in the wrong direction. Nevertheless, it kept the chances of running into the infected freaks down a few notches. Abraham fell against a pine tree, panting and praying nothing had followed them. Salt dripped down the side of his engraved face.

“Let’s take a break,” he muttered, touching his throbbing chest. The sweet sound of the forest at night was a symphony of crickets, owls, and coyotes. It was a thousand times better than the gurgling, buzzing sound that escaped the infected freaks.
If only this was a bad dream,
he considered. “Why don’t you tell us about your travels? What brought you out here?” He fixed his gaze on the mysterious girl and sighed. It was hard for him to trust anyone.

The girl hadn’t spoken a word for the duration of their tedious hike. “I really don’t know where to begin.” She hesitated and had maintained her distance throughout the trip. Abraham could tell the girl didn’t trust them. Dependence was a monster that devoured everything in this world. This was something he understood and respected.

Abraham sighed. “It couldn’t be easy watching your father die. But you know he was already dead.” Words never came out right for the old man. However, sometimes the truth was better in one big gulp. “Once the infected scratch or bite, a person is as good as dead. Still, I’m not sure about inhaling the spores they seem to produce.”

“We don’t know anything for certain,” Hunter interjected. Abraham and his grandson had spent many nights discussing the diseased abominations in the recent months.

“Rictor wasn’t my father,” the girl snapped.

Abraham wondered how long had it been since she was free. Had it been the entire three years? The intensity of his beating heart drove him to rest a hand back against a nearby tree trunk. Put under the primal stress of a world without rules, his mind created walls to protect his family.
I should have left her
.

Sam slipped a few fingers into her tight front pocket and withdrew a single pill. She swallowed it and seemed pleased by the effects. Abraham forced his gaze down toward his muddy boots. He remembered his encounters with humans turned criminals over the last few years. He wanted to say he understood the girl’s pain, but lacked the nerve.

Abraham swore the hearts of men were almost as dark as the infected. Though the words were never spoken, he understood the girl was somehow the black man’s slave. What he didn’t understand was how to talk around it. He needed answers before he would bring the girl back to his farm. Part of him wondered if the girl could have been part of some larger group plotting an ambush.

“What should we call you?” Hunter’s voice echoed.

Abraham gave his grandson a crossed stare and waited for the boy to reply by rolling his eyes.

A swirl of fire flies orbited the space in front of her innocent face. “My name is Samantha, but you can call me Sam.” Reaching up, she clutched a small heart shaped locket woven on a dirty silver chain.

“Nice too meet you, Sam. My name is Abraham and this piece of work is my grandson, Hunter. Are you hungry?” Abraham slipped out of his rucksack and then tossed a little container to Hunter.

“You had food all this time?” The crimson light filtered through the trees, highlighting the woods around them. She took a piece of jerky from Hunter and swallowed. “So do you guys always rescue women you don’t know? Tie them up and keep them in your basement?”

Abraham couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. She reminded him of Hunter.
Damn disrespectful teens.
“You bet,” he answered, tired of getting shit from young punks.

Sam only stared back at him. He knew she was considering running.

“Did you see a lot of infected on the road?” Abraham stared at Sam and wiped his clammy hands on his pant legs.

“I guess.” Sam shuffled back and then saw the menacing curve of his smile. “You got any running water at your farm?”

“We got solar and wind power,” Hunter replied.

“So the shower is actually hot?”

“Hunter,” Abraham said, holding up his hands.

Sam showed her teeth. “I get it, you don’t trust me, and I sure as hell don’t trust you. But what choice do we have? I mean, the infected are combing the mountains searching for us, so maybe we should keep on moving.”

Abraham thought that was a good idea. He wasn’t one for long talks about feelings and by what he could tell, neither was Sam.

***

Abraham froze, his heart pounding. There was no sign of the infected. Yet, the hideous sounds were all around. It was the rigorous wail of a stadium infested with bees. He moved past a mound of branches, careful to plot his steps. Abraham located a variety of potential hiding places, but none of nooks seemed promising against the horde of undead. Through the high buzzing, he recognized the familiar trickle of a creek and remembered the old mill house that sat at the edge of the back roads.

The name of the place escaped his memory, but the vast collection of warehouses and a water-powered wheel that once produced electricity was etched into his mind. The wheel had been damaged during the initial fall of the world, and last year’s drought reduced the waterway into a thirsty, dry bed. Still, the four connected buildings promised thick walls against the unseen oddities. Jumping over a falling aspen, he spotted the outline of the complex. It wasn’t long before Abraham and his group reached a broken door on the front of the compound. The entrance was already open and begging him to come inside.

Abraham entered the nameless mill several times over the years, and knew the other side opened to a clearing. He gathered himself for a few seconds, listening to the song of decay and marched into the empty lobby stripped of all furnishings. The disease had never been this close to home. It happened too fast, and his thoughts drifted toward the safety of his family at the farm house.

“This place is dark,” Sam stuttered through clenched teeth.

Abraham was pleased the dense walls had drowned out the worst of the buzzing moans stalking the forest. “Darkness is better than that god-awful crimson light.” He strode through another set of doors and turned to secure them safety behind.
Breathe slowly. They don’t make heart medication anymore
, he told himself, placing his boot a few inches in front of the other and inching across the dark space.

Hollow stalls and the stink of a ripe outhouse that hadn’t been emptied in years filled the larger vaulted room. He closed his eyes and remembered the loads of people who slept in the stacks of hay during the beginning of the apocalypse. All of them were heading to Denver, chasing a fading dream. He cast a curious glance into the first stall they passed and saw moth-eaten blankets and a stack of trash consumed in a vigorous bloom of mold. He didn’t think much of it. As he passed the third stall, he saw a half-eaten horse decaying on a stack of piss-colored hay. Again he noticed a terrible blight consuming the compartment. Behind him, he heard Sam try to stop herself from vomiting.

“People have to eat,” he muttered, looking up to the second level balcony.

“What was that?” asked Hunter, turning back.

Abraham heard the shuffling of unsteady steps and then a distant door rattled. “Shit, they must smell us,” he said, crouching down.

Abraham doubled checked each direction. As his eyes adjusted, he saw fungus thriving in the dark damp environment. It was everywhere. Afraid, he made his way to a set of metal stairs to get a better view. Each step reverberated throughout the mill in an uncanny manner. The second level balcony was only a fourth of the mill, and he saw a third level thrice as small as the second. No walls separated the floors, only a crusty grate and broken set of rails.

Then, he heard a tin scatter across the first level floor in the obscurity. “Hurry,” he mouthed, gliding up and praying for a miracle. A metallic tang of fear nested on the tip of his tongue. Desperate, he blinked away the horrible thoughts and refused to give up and give in. He found the second floor covered in a web of vines and draped in a colony of alien growth. It appeared months old, healthy and bright in wet colors. Parts of it looked alien, tattered, and tooth marked; a fragment of it pulsated with each icy breath.

Abraham knew if any of them screamed, they would die. He could only hope the teenagers could swallow their fear and accept the horror. Behind him, Hunter tensed. A quiet rustle followed the silence. Then the snapping of a twig alerted them of the presence of infected.
They followed us in.

Abraham shifted for a better view. All he could see was Sam squeezing Hunter’s forearm. He crouched down, and through the gap in the grate flooring, he saw something bloated and infected. His pulse quickened with each fearful breath. Abraham was moving again, this time across the second floor toward a warped ladder leading up to the third-level balcony.

“Go first,” he said, trying to forget what he thought he saw.

A clouded cone formed around his labored breath. The temperature had dropped in the late hour. He waited for both of them to climb to the top of the small balcony and then followed. The makeshift balcony was the highest point in the crumbling structure. A single dirty window was etched into the far side. He wiped a small spot clean and then leaned over the filthy window edge. What he saw almost brought him to his knees. Outside, under the now-familiar red glow of night, the entire west side of the mill was flooded with undead abominations. A sharp pain set fire to his weak heart. He took a seat on the floor and cupped his jaw.

“How is this possible?” Never in his life had he seen this many in one place. His old eyes fluttered in distress. Abraham’s underclothing was saturated in sweat and zest, causing him to pull at his clothing. The breeze from the cracked tower brought the powerful smell to his nose.

“What are we going to do?” Hunter pinched back the bolt on the rifle and then smashed it forward after checking the loaded chamber. “You led us here to die. They’ll reach the farm and kill everyone.”

Sam placed an icy palm on Hunter’s tense shoulder and smiled. “We still have a chance,” she said, pointing at the drainage ditch. “I think it’s a straight shot out into deep woods.”

Abraham thought about correcting Hunter’s attitude, but he didn’t have the strength. “It might work if we work together.” He brought a quaking hand to his constricted chest. Another rattle echoed across the blackness below. “Shit!” His white hair was slicked back in grime and his puffy eyes bulged at each sharp pain stabbing his heart.
Not another heart attack.

“Are you alright?” Hunter asked.

Abraham knew the painful prompts were written all over his face. He knew if he died, everybody died. And still that wasn’t the reason for his mounting sorrow.

“Take it easy,” Hunter said, helping Abraham to the ground.

“I’ll live,” Abraham panted. “I need one of you to set a distraction on the south end of the mill.” Beads of sweat glistened on the slope of his nose. “Did you hear me?”

Hunter looked at him with fear and compassion. “Fire—it will buy us time to get out and cover our scent.”

Sam hesitated. “It will call every one of them in the area. Do you really want that?”

Silence and stealth were the rules now, and Abraham was aware that violating those rules meant a swift death. “There’s no other way. Fire will draw them to the mill and clear us a path.” He knew from experience that the infected freaks never came out during the day. “Have you ever seen one of the infected during the daytime?”

Sam shook her head.

“I have a theory. I think these things don’t like the sun. It appears that the darkness of this place keeps them safe from the burn of daylight. Places like this must serve as nests or hives.”

“And you just reunited the super horde with this small nest. Great job, Gramps,” Hunter said. “The farm is going to fall.”

“I always wondered where they went during the day,” Sam said, rubbing her arms furiously.

For the longest time, Abraham thought they might be nocturnal creatures, but now, he wondered if the sun burned them or cooked the fungus somehow. What type of monsters were these things that nested in the damp darkness of an old mill? His mind was running through various theories.

“How far is the farm?” Sam chewed at her fingernails.

“I’d guess a few miles,” Hunter answered.

“Can we make it?” she questioned, crossing her eyebrows.

Abraham growled as if life slapped him clean across his face. It was the sharp burn in his heart. “We have too. But with all of these infected, we won’t last for long.”

“A huge fire will draw every infected to the mill.” Hunter’s voice was quick, but quiet. He looked once more at his struggling grandfather. “Do you really think this is a nest?”

“I think they seek shelter underground and perhaps in places like this.” Abraham didn’t want to scare them with all of his crazy notions.

“So if we destroy the hives, will this infestation stop?” Sam rubbed her forearms.

“It’s an idea.” Abraham spat, feeling lightheaded. “But dark places dot the surface of the Rocky Mountains. So destroying them all will be impossible.”