Jacob's Odyssey (The Berne Project Book 1) (6 page)

I was less than a half block from Barry's Locksmith Shop. Since all businesses had closed that first week, I was hoping there wouldn't be many infected still lingering around the 9th East business area. The parking lot was clear. I clambered over the fence as quietly as I could and crept up to the side of the building. I found a dry section underneath the eaves of the roof, took my backpack off and removed the battery-operated alarm clock. After placing it near the wall, I grabbed my binoculars and moved to the front of the building to check out the street. I scanned the street in each direction and didn't see any infected. The street was well lit since the street lamps still came on automatically each evening. But I still couldn't be sure if there were any infected around because of all the abandoned cars littering the street. Toward the end of the first week, the infected began attacking motorists in their cars, mostly at intersections. Some people attempted to run red lights to get away from the infected, but would end up crashing into cars when they tried to cross the busy intersections. Others who were backed up at intersections abandoned their cars and tried to run from the wandering groups of infected. Some got away, some didn't. By the end of the first weekend, every heavily traveled street in the valley was cluttered with wrecked and abandoned vehicles, and it became impossible to get through the once-busy intersections.

I used the binoculars to get a more detailed view and still couldn't see any infected. And while it was good news, I wasn't going to take anything for granted. As long as I hurried, I estimated it would take me three to four minutes to cross the street and travel the half block to get to the locksmith shop.

I set the alarm clock for six minutes to give myself a little cushion and checked my watch. It was ten to eleven. I slipped my arms through the backpack straps and headed to the front edge of the building. In the middle of the street, a late model Ford pickup truck with its driver side door open straddled the median. If I needed cover when I crossed the street, the truck would serve as adequate cover. I took one last look in each direction and then sprinted across the two southbound lanes for the truck. I crouched down by the front grill and looked around. The rain had become an almost imperceptible mist, and I still didn't see any movement anywhere. I could see the locksmith shop down the street and it looked to be as deserted as the rest of the businesses along 9th East. It was an eerie scene with all the abandoned vehicles and empty businesses, and the incandescent lighting from the street lamps cast dark shadows seemingly everywhere. 9th East was a surreal wasteland, murky and foreboding. I took a deep breath and ran across the northbound lanes to a 7-Eleven store and made my way around to the back area behind the store.

As I made my way through the back parking lot areas of the businesses, I kept as close to the buildings as I could. I kept checking my watch to make sure I'd get there in plenty of time. I rarely wore a watch, but on this night, knowing the time was critical to my plan. But even with the illuminated dials, it was tough to clearly make out the time in the inky shadows of the buildings. I needed to be at the locksmith shop before the alarm clock went off for my plan to work effectively. I'd set the alarm to the buzzer setting, an obnoxious sound that grew louder and more shrill as the minutes passed. I knew that breaking into the locksmith shop would make enough noise to attract the infected from nearby areas, so I needed a distraction, and the alarm clock would serve as a perfect diversion to allow me to break into the shop and find a lock pick set for my journey. But the timing needed to be just right. As soon as the alarm went off, I planned to break down the back door or smash through a window pane whichever proved to be the best option. Whatever noise I made would be short-lived, and I was gambling that as the infected arrived, the annoying alarm would draw their attention away from me.

I climbed over a short cement wall and I was there. I checked my watch and still had nearly two minutes left. The parking lot area was fairly small with just four parking stalls. There was also a large garbage bin nestled against the back fence. The fence was a chain link affair that led to a neighboring backyard. That would be my avenue of escape. The back door of the building had a window pane with the name of Barry's Locksmith Shop stenciled on it in white lettering. I headed for the back door and drew my bat from the backpack. I had decided smashing the window would be the easiest way to break into the shop.

The rain had started back up again. A steady downpour that wasn't as heavy as before, but certainly enough to help mask any sounds I might make. I still had a minute and a half to go. It was quite dark inside the shop, so I leaned my head against the glass pane to peer inside. But the door gave way and I nearly lost my balance. I grabbed the sides of the door jamb to keep myself from falling forward. And while I was able to grab the left jamb with my left hand, I clumsily clubbed my right hand into the edge of the other jamb and nearly dropped the bat. My hand stung from the pain.

I rubbed my knuckles as a jumble of anxious thoughts peppered my mind. The alarm would go off in a minute, only I didn't need the diversion anymore. My clever little plan had backfired. And there was no way I had enough time to run back and turn the alarm off. In a minute or two, 9th East would be crawling with the infected. And as bad as that was, I had a more imminent problem. What if someone or something was inside the shop right now? Could the owner still be here? The owner or someone infected? What if I had to abort my plan and couldn't get the lock pick set I needed? I had my bat, but in the close quarters of the hallway if there were any infected around, I could get bitten. If I had to use the Glock, any infected nearby might swarm the shop before I could grab one of the lock pick sets. Time was running out and I knew what I needed to do. I had to get a lock pick set. I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. But the door wouldn't close and I noticed the wood in the door jamb near the lock had been stripped away by a previous break-in.

I slipped the backpack off and jammed it as best I could against the bottom of the door. I removed the gun from the backpack and stuck it inside the front waistline of my shorts. The gun would be a last resort if needed. I gripped the bat with both hands and began moving down the hallway. There were two doors on each side of the hallway, but only one door was open, the second door on my left. I raised the bat up in striking position and moved very slowly toward the open door, keeping an eye to the front just in case. The shop was remarkably quiet, and it suddenly dawned on me that if there were any infected inside the shop, I'd likely have heard their moans. My eyes were beginning to adjust to the dark, and as I came abreast of the open door, I could make out the shadowy silhouette of a toilet against the back wall of the room. I breathed a sigh of relief and quietly closed the door.

I kept my bat ready as I entered the retail area of the shop from behind the counter. Light from one of the street lamps angled through the large windows that covered the shop's front wall. Because the actual retail area of the shop was fairly small, it was easy for me to see there weren't any infected in the shop. On the other side of the counter were two merchandise carousel racks. I decided to check them out first.

As I moved around the counter, I began to hear the faint staccato ringing of the alarm sounding off through the steady drumbeat of the rain. In another minute or so, it wouldn't be so faint.

I hustled over to the racks, figuring I had maybe a couple minutes before the first infected would be filing past the front of the shop. A number of product packages were strewn around on the shop floor. I quickly scanned the front and sides of the racks but didn't see any lock pick sets or tool kits. Just keys and key chains, alarms, screwdrivers, and small drills. The back of the racks were more of the same. I couldn't understand why the lock pick sets weren't on the racks. Then I turned around and looked into the glass counter case and there they were, right on the top shelf of the case. I hadn't even noticed them when I was behind the counter. A half dozen sets on display. But they were behind the glass and I needed to get behind the counter again to get at them. And that's when I heard the first plaintive moan. I hunkered down behind one of the racks and waited. He had to be very close for me to hear him through the rain. The large windows in front, separated by the door, were filled with big lettering which gave me some cover but also obscured my view. When he slowly trudged by, all I could see was that he had long, dark hair matted down from the rain and was half-dragging his left leg. He was a loner and his attention seemed fixed on the sound of the alarm which had now taken on a shrill, high-pitched cadence. As soon as he was past the shop, I hurried around to the other side of the counter, but the sliding glass doors to the case were locked.

I foraged through a couple drawers beneath the cash resister looking for a key but found nothing. Then I heard a muted chorus of moans echoing through the rain. A lot of them were coming and I had no idea what to do. The only way I could get to the lock pick sets would be by smashing the case glass and doing a grab and run. But smashing the glass would surely draw them to me, and that's the last thing I wanted. The moaning intensified and seemed to mirror the growing intensity of the alarm. They were getting close. I knelt down behind the cabinet of drawers that had the cash register on it and tried to slow down my breathing. I could feel myself tensing up.

I thought about spending the night behind the cash register and simply waiting for them to leave. But what if they lingered around for several days? There was no way to tell how long they might hang around and I hadn't packed any food. The sink in the bathroom would have running water, but it would be contaminated. And I doubted there was any food around. Then there was the back door. If one of them wandered around back and started pushing against the door till it opened, I'd be trapped. But as much as I hated the idea of moving an inch from the safety of my position, I didn't see cowering behind the counter as much of an option. I had to get a lock pick set and I had to get it now.

I could hear them clearly now; their urgent, strident moans nearly drowning out the sound of the rain. I stood up behind the counter and waited for them. I didn't have long to wait. A half-dozen of them shuffled into view, their focus directed down the street, mesmerized by the insistent blaring of the alarm. While I couldn't see them clearly, one of the infected clearly stood out from the others. He was at the front of the group and he was quite tall. But what was striking about him was the way he walked. He walked with a normal stride as if he weren't infected at all. And for a moment, I thought my mind might be playing tricks on me.

Soon after, a large group followed, at least twenty of them. And they kept coming. I set the bat down on top of the counter and strode quickly to the front of the shop. Then I began banging my fists as hard as I could on the huge wall of glass to the left of the front door, though with the rain and the alarm and their own moans, I wasn't sure if they'd hear me. But they did. An infected woman stopped in her tracks and slowly inclined her head in my direction. With what had happened earlier with the girl and now with the woman, I knew their auditory sense had to be highly tuned. I banged on the glass a few more times and she began to totter drunkenly toward the shop. When she was within ten feet, she must have sensed my presence amidst the shadows because she suddenly moved with a crazed desperation toward the window. Her gray face was deeply furrowed, shriveled like a plum and her dark eyes had virtually disappeared into their concave sockets. When she arrived at the front of the shop, she moaned excitedly and threw herself into the window with fanatic abandonment. I took a step back. Several other infected broke ranks. They seemed to have a communal understanding that a meal was nearby.

I tried to be patient, but my chest and stomach were freezing up. I remembered to breathe as they closed in on the front of the store. It was important for them to be focused on the front when the time came for me to break the glass case. I was afraid that if I'd simply broken the case and tried to run, some of them might have gone down the side driveway to the back parking lot. But if they saw me in the front of the shop, that's where their attention would be focused. And that's where they'd try to get to me, and all the others would simply follow suit. And that's exactly what was happening. They were all converging on the shop now, pounding frantically on the window and pressing against each other, desperate to get to me. Their moans were clamorous, like an asylum of madmen without tongues, relentlessly insistent upon being heard. I knew they would never stop coming. In the midst of the onslaught, I did my best to keep focused on my breathing. By now there had to be at least twenty-five or thirty of them at the window and countless others were flocking to the store.

I ran to the counter and grabbed the bat and in one motion raised it up and brought it down on the glass case with an overwrought intensity. The glass exploded and I felt a searing pain rip across my left cheek. I ignored it and grabbed a tri-fold lock pick set and shoved it in the front pocket of my shorts. I ran around the counter and through the back hallway to the back door. The moans spiraled in intensity after I disappeared from their view. Working quickly, I replaced the bat in the backpack making sure it was somewhat snug but still easy enough to remove, then I slipped the backpack back on and buckled it. I drew the gun from my waistline and chambered a round. I eased the trigger safety lock till it was flush with the trigger and ready to fire. There was no need to worry about noise anymore. I peered out the window and didn't see any infected in the back parking lot. I took a deep breath and opened the door and glanced to my right toward the side driveway but saw nothing. And then I ran like hell.