Resurrection (Apocalypse Chronicles Part II) (7 page)

“It’s better, more powerful, but other sounds can merge and convolute what I hear. Their breathing can be blended with the wind. Their footsteps across carpet can sound like someone’s heartbeat. Their movements can also blur together so that it’s hard to know if what I’m hearing is…what I’m hearing. But I can pick up these sounds several yards away. Maybe about three hundred in the open.”

“And sight?” Mei pressed.

“It’s not so much our ability to pick up movement from a distance—though we can up to a few miles away—but, from what I understand, our eyes move faster than yours so we take in more detail. It’s why their head moves back and forth so fast. They’re absorbing their surroundings.”

Mei drew in a deep breath and sighed as if a heavy burden had been laid across her shoulders. “All right, so you can smell up to a mile away, if you’re downwind and unobstructed; hear three hundred yards away, unobstructed; and you can see us a few miles away. My gosh, how are we ever going to beat you?” She seemed appalled.

“Them,” I corrected.

“Right, I’m sorry. Them. How will we beat them?”

Harrison grinned, bent down, and collected the rods, handing the first one to Beverly. “There’s really only one way to do that.” He didn’t add to his statement as he distributed the rods, which drew an eye roll from Beverly.

“So, mindreading isn’t something I’ve perfected quite yet, therefore how about telling me what that has to do with this.” She attempted to lift the rod off the ground, making it a whole inch into the air before it went stabbing back into the decomposing leaves.

“If you’re going to fight the Infected,” Harrison said, “you’re going to need to practice against one.”

There was a stiff moment of silence.

“So you’re our guinea pig?” Mei assumed.

“More like a punching bag,” he called over his shoulder.

I heard the grin in Harrison’s tone but didn’t feel like joining him.

“You think that’s a good idea?” I asked.

The muscles across his shoulders tensed and he stopped before picking up the last rod, but he didn’t turn around. “I think it’s a good foundation to use to prepare them for what they’re going to face.”

“You took a good beating yesterday,” I pointed out.

“Oh…,” he said, and this time I knew he was grinning, “I think I’ll be all right.” As he turned to face me, I noticed that he had rolled his sleeves up his arms giving me a clear view of his wounds. His incredibly able body had almost entirely healed itself.

He paused to allow my eyes to take in the sight of him, serving to both drill home his point and to tease me, like I had done to him the night before. When I caught the upturn of his lips, I knew both reasons carried equal weight with him.

He approached me watching for my reaction as he handed a rod to both Doc and Mei. “We need to do what we can with what we have, and right now we need a defense.”

That’s fine, I just didn’t want to test it out on someone I love. He knew this, which is why I only counted three metal rods. I wasn’t given one. Doc, Mei, and Beverly held theirs down, below the waist, in a sign they wouldn’t either.

He moved a few yards away and spun around. His expression became chillingly serious, commanding attention from the rest of us.

“All right, come at me.”

No one moved.

“Let’s go, come on.”

“This is insane,” Mei said, vocalizing all our thoughts. “We’re supposed to be protecting you…not beating you with metal sticks.”

“You can’t hurt me, Mei.” For emphasis, he repeated more sternly. “You cannot hurt me.”

They glanced uncertainly at each other.

Harrison, who had been hunched over and ready, stood up again. He opened his mouth to negotiate with us but never got that far. His eyebrows dipped and his eyes darted to the side, deeper into the forest of trees. I was already looking in that direction by the time I heard his hammering feet traverse the space between us.

I could see them; barely making out their shape through the trees. Five, maybe six in front. Who knew how many were behind them.

My heart leapt into my throat as I told Harrison, “Get Beverly!”

She hadn’t seen what was heading for us, so she cast a glare over her shoulder at me before refocusing on Harrison. By then, she only had time for “Oh, shi-” and to brace herself for the impact.

Harrison scooped her off the ground and hauled her under his arm. A high pitched wail began to percolate in Beverly’s throat, but Harrison was quick to stop it, slapping a hand over her mouth until she understood this wasn’t part of the exercise. Doc and Mei did, and they were halfway across the grass toward the freeway by then. I assumed their pledge to defend Harrison was forgotten in their panic.

We sprinted for the road, taking cautious glances over our shoulders to see if the Infected had caught onto our trail. Crackles of breaking branches and subtle growls seeped from the shadowy trees as we reached the freeway. Harrison didn’t release Beverly, choosing instead to keep a solid seal over her mouth until we’d reached safety.

Ironically, Beverly still held onto the metal rod and could have used it in her defense if it hadn’t been wedged between her waist and Harrison’s arm. Instead it wobbled feebly like a seesaw between them.

Our small group ducked and weaved between the vehicles as best we could until we came to a gap five sedans wide. By this point, two of the Infected had slipped out into the open and were standing at the edge of the trees with their noses in the air.

As we hunched down, and Harrison maintained a firm hand over Beverly’s mouth, I motioned that the Infected were trying to sniff us out. Unfortunately, when the wind shifted, they’d find us, and none of us wanted to be around for it.

The only problem was crossing the gap, which gave the Infected a clear view of us. There was only one option, and it wasn’t a good one…I would signal when it was clear to cross and we’d pray the Infected wouldn’t look up and find us. I motioned this plan to the rest and they nodded in agreement. And then I paused because something amazing happened on that freeway. For the first time, I saw the start of a team forming. They understood me, and more importantly, we all agreed on something. Even Beverly nodded from behind Harrison’s hand.

With a glimmer of hope that we might just make it across, I spun around and peered through the cracked driver’s side window of a beaten up Audi A6. There were three Infected roaming aimlessly in the field between the woods and freeway, all of them coincidentally rotating their faces in the direction of the woods.

I gave the signal, and we took off.

My first visual check told me that the Infected were still focused on the trees. We were safe.

By then, Doc reached the other side. Harrison and Beverly were close behind.

My second check told me that the Infected were hesitating in that direction. We were still safe.

Mei slipped past the edge of the bumper and for the first time in days I actually felt luck was on our side. They were hidden now. I was the last one left exposed. Just a few more feet now…

On my third check I saw what it was the three Infected had been listening to…They’d been paying attention to fifteen more of them, as they sprinted out from the low lying branches and darkened woodland floor and into the sunlight.

They came at us scattered, in no formal order, mouths open, arms pumping, legs moving at speeds that didn’t seem possible.

I caught sight of the fury in Harrison’s eyes at my vulnerability and instinctively knew what he was contemplating…If he threw himself in as bait to let the rest of us reach safety, would I try to stop him.

Yes, I would.

“Run!” I shouted, but it came out no louder than a whisper.

Don’t risk yourself
, my mind pleaded,
run, God please, run
.

But he released Beverly and stayed in place, his focus locked on me.

When I reached him, he launched himself up alongside me, sprinting at my speed within seconds. I made the motion to check on our pursuers, but he stopped me.

“Don’t.”

He was right. It would only slow me down, and with his warning I knew they were close.

So we concentrated on running, swerving around vehicles, avoiding side mirrors and bumpers, anything that might slow us down, until we met the greatest obstacle of all.

A handful of large rigs, the kind that haul produce for chain grocery stores, had somehow managed to topple at the same place and at the same time. They formed a cone down the freeway and the vehicle pileup behind it funneled us directly into it. At its crux, we found Doc, Mei and Beverly trying to claw their way out. Their metal rods had been carried this far only to be discarded in their effort to find a way out.

There was no time to tell them that we were here now, and if we’d arrived, so had the Infected. The sheer number of feet pounding the pavement must have been the sign they needed because gradually they abandoned the effort and turned to face their demise.

As the Infected flowed down the cone toward us, Harrison stepped in front, preparing to sacrifice himself once more.

“NO!” I shouted, this time finding my voice.

I ran for him, but he held me back with a hand swiftly and perfectly placed to block me from going around him.

“NO!”

But as the Infected reached us, something unexplainable happened, and it was Beverly of all people who instigated it.

She went stark raving mad.

I’d seen it once before, when she’d found her dad had been bitten and met his end. She was facing the same death and it triggered something in her, a deeply seeded survival instinct that erupted with uninhibited force.

The scream that had started earlier in her throat found its way back and without Harrison there to block it, the shrillness pierced the air.

It didn’t stop the Infected, which only seemed to inspire her. She ran at them head on, with metal rod in hand and lifted well above her shoulder.

The first Infected never slowed her pace, even when Beverly swung the rod’s sharp edge across her neck and lobbed off her head.

She took down two more before any of us realized what was happening. Beverly just kept swinging that rod from side to side, taking out Infected one by one. Doc was the first to join her, poising his rod to stab at them as they approached, using their momentum against them. Mei, whose tiny frame required a different tactic, fell back and finished off the incapacitated who fell through.

Harrison released me and we met Beverly in the front with him snapping necks and me firing off rounds as fast and efficient as possible.

When it was over and Beverly had taken down the last Infected, she kept the rod poised overhead as she spun around in search of more. Her nostrils flared and her lip curled back as she seethed with rage. We observed her then, even while she was blind and oblivious to us, amazed at witnessing a person unravel before our eyes.

Harrison surveyed me for injuries, found none and turned his attention to her.

“Beverly,” he quietly called out. “It’s over. You’re safe.”

She didn’t acknowledge him.

“Beverly,” he said, making another attempt to break through her fixation. “You’re safe. Put the weapon down.”

She blinked and stopped her spinning.

“Beverly-”

“Stop already!” she snapped. “I heard you the first time.”

His head jerked in surprise, almost in unison with the rest of us.

“Annnnd she’s back,” Doc muttered.

A quiet laugh ran through the rest of us, excluding Beverly.

While we caught our breath, Harrison asked the question that was on everyone’s mind.

“I’m wondering, Beverly, how you learned to swing like that.”

She dipped her head to inspect an Infected, not bothering to look at him when she replied. “Junior Varsity Softball, back in Minnesota, before I moved to Chicago.”

Then, despite the fact that her ability had just saved her life, her ego resurfaced long enough to compel her to mutter, “That was before I developed some class and learned how to use a razor.”

The rest of us lifted our eyebrows at the comment, but Harrison ignored it. Instead, he nodded to himself, spun around to survey the bodies left in Beverly’s wake and remarked, “Well, guys, I think we’ve found her weapon of choice…”

CHAPTER 4

W
E WERE SPLATTERED WITH BLOOD AND
dirt, and in desperate need of clean clothes and food. Water, we had in abundance, so we used the stream Harrison found to wash himself the night before. It was frigid, forcing us to limit our washing to only our hands, arms, faces and neck. Only Beverly complained.

I was the first one out and returned alone to Harrison on the top of the sloping bank where he stood as guard. He gave me a serious inspection before mentioning, “Your lips are blue.”

I shrugged, but I’m not sure the motion was distinguishable from my quivering shoulders. “Nothing like a dip…” I muttered, fighting with my chattering teeth, “in the middle of winter…”