The Dark Trilogy (83 page)

Rooting around, they found a few rags and were able to clean off the worst of the gore that covered both of them. After that, they set out to explore the place and see what rooms they could barricade from outside assaults.

George promised Jason that they would stay here for only a couple of days, until he figured out an escape strategy. The boy listened to the promise impassively, seemingly unconcerned about their current situation.

They pulled down blinds on the windows that had them and propped a few cafeteria tables up in front of other windows that faced the road. They secured the exits as best they could, which amounted to little more than moving a few desks in front of the doors and praying the undead wouldn’t notice that someone was now inhabiting the church.

A search of the premises revealed a small stash of food and drinks—stale crackers and juice boxes left over from the previous school year. The box full of bottled water was a nice bonus, along with a stash of junk food George found hidden in a janitor’s closet. It was better than nothing and would prevent them from starving if they were forced to stay for a while. They claimed their bedrooms on the second floor and hunkered down.

After a couple of days with no attacks on the church, they were able to relax a bit and start monitoring the situation outside. The number of rotters roaming the streets was diminishing. George’s best guess was that with the lure of warm flesh gone, they had wandered into the schools, away from the blazing sun. A few emerged from the school buildings every now and then. George would watch them from the second floor as they stumbled around, picking at the Humvees and other vehicles that were now collecting dust.

That was when George wondered if those sad creatures still had a shred of humanity left to them. He couldn’t help but compare them to the boy with whom he was hiding out with. Jason was acting more like some sort of drone or robot with each day that passed. Nothing George did seemed to break down any of the kid’s hard-earned barriers. The twelve year old spoke only when absolutely necessary. He followed George’s rules without question or complaint. He knew that they needed to be quiet; he knew that if he went to the first floor, he was not allowed to let any of the doors slam shut and he needed to stay away from the windows. But none of that came up too often, because Jason spent most of his time in his room up on the second floor, alone.

Days passed and time crawled. George plotted different potential escapes. At the same time, he felt the strong need to keep Jason sheltered, to prevent him from sustaining even more damage. He prayed to God to give him an idea of what to do and when to do it. He stared out windows and went through different scenarios in his mind. Every single one ended up with the two of them being surrounded and devoured by those things. Time ticked by, and after a while, the ideas ran dry. George needed to get to his family, but he wouldn’t risk the boy’s life to do it.

The slim hope that someone might come to their rescue disappeared not long after they arrived in the church. George had held out little hope for the Ninth Infantry to come blasting in or some Navy SEALs to sneak them away, but he tried to hold onto the belief that there was someone, anyone, out there and that they were trying to figure out a way to save the people who were trapped, like him and Jason.

The thought that some savior might show up and save them was a ludicrous fantasy, but George couldn’t help thinking about it every now and then.

Mostly, George slept. And when he wasn’t sleeping, he exercised. He did situps, pushups, jogged around the gym … anything to distract himself from the current situation.

The weeks went by and the food continued to diminish, but nothing happened, either outside or inside the church.

George was about to doze off after an aggressive workout when he was jolted out of his daze by Jason, who was peering at him through his bedroom door.

It was shocking to see the boy; he never entered George’s room. Now here he was, leaning through the partially open door with a look George had forgotten could exist on Jason’s face: excitement.

“Someone’s here.”

It was all the kid had to say for George to jump up and get moving. No questions, no skepticism. Those two words were the most he had heard from Jason in several days, and the emotion he displayed in the few seconds it took George to rush through the door was more than he had shown since they had arrived at the church. Jason waved him on, pointing toward one of the small windows at the end of the hall.

“Okay, okay,” George said as Jason grabbed him by the arm and yanked him to the window.

The windows faced the street and were spaced far enough apart that the refugees couldn’t see directly below, due to the roofline of the building, but they were able to see most of the street. Jason pointed out the left window, frantically jabbing at something down below.

“Over there!”

George moved up to the window and saw what the boy was so excited about. It was some sort of van slowing down in front of the high school. It was blue, and he could see the silhouette of a driver, who appeared to be staring at the sign posted nearby that stated:

GALLATIN EMERGENCY SHELTER. ALL FAMILIES AND INDIVIDUALS REPORT TO THE GYM FOR REGISTRATION.

One suitcase per family, clothes only. No pets! All food and water is provided. All food and water brought on the premises will be confiscated. NO FIREARMS! Please have valid state or federal ID available for inspection. Thank you for your cooperation.

George had memorized those words and even dreamt about tearing down the sign on more than one occasion. It felt like a mass grave marker to him, a sign painted in the blood of dead soldiers and refugees.

George could see that the driver was a man. He wore a t-shirt and a ball cap. Other than that, it was hard to tell much about him through the dirty window of the vehicle. The man gesticulated at a passenger as the van slowed to a stop.

The vehicle had been through the ringer. It was banged up and splattered with gore. The rear windows were tinted, and it was nearly impossible to tell if there were any passengers besides the one to whom the driver was talking.
Got room for a couple of hitchhikers?

“Should we open the window and yell down to them?”

George shook his head at the excited plea as he continued watching the dark blue minivan inch down the street.

A cynical side of George did want yell out at the fools to tell them that they had picked the wrong street to cruise. But mostly, he felt like he had just been shocked by defibrillation paddles. His heart was racing and his pulse was going through the roof with insane hope. Less than one hundred yards from where he and Jason stood were the only living beings they’d seen in ages.

The van came to an abrupt stop at the sign. The driver had probably read it, but was still jabbering at the passenger.
What in the Lord’s name are those two squawking about? What could be so damnably important?
George was getting irritated just watching the scene unfold below. He noticed Jason glancing over at him and realized he was mumbling, talking to the driver. He slammed his mouth shut, and both he and the boy returned to looking at the vehicle.

“No.”

“Huh?” Jason responded to the whispered word as he continued staring out the window. He jumped when George exploded a moment later.

“No, God dammit, no!”

George slammed his fist against the glass, rattling it in its frame. Jason was surprised to hear the supposedly religious man with whom he’d shared this place lash out with blasphemy.

Looking back out the window, he knew why George had lost his composure. Dead people were surging out of the schools on both sides of the road.

The van shot forward, and Jason wanted to scream along with the man next to him, yelling at the driver to come back. The vehicle moved out of sight down the road past where they could see them.

Their rescuers were going to leave before they even knew he and George were here.

Jason was angry at the people in the minivan. He wanted to lash out at them, kick them, and beat on them. In that moment, he hated the other survivors for everything that had gone wrong in his life. Every bit of his pent-up rage that had been festering for weeks came to the surface in an instant.

The twelve year old grabbed George’s arm and pulled on it until the big man snapped out of his angry trance. Jason almost dropped his hand when he saw the seething anger in the man’s eyes. It looked like it was directed at him, and he was ready to move backwards out of the range of those large clenched fists. But the anger dissipated, and Jason realized George wasn’t angry. He was frustrated.

“We need to go after them. We have to leave here, now. I can’t stay here anymore.”

George had a surprised look on his face. His mouth opened as he tried to sputter out a response, but Jason spoke again before he could.

“I know those people took off and those dead things are out there, but if we go out back, we could sneak around those creeps, we can track those people down. They have to stop sooner or later. We have to try!”

Now it was George holding Jason’s arm, easily keeping him from racing for the steps. George continued to shake his head, a resigned look on his face. The tug of war lasted only a couple of seconds until George snapped.

“Jason! Shut up and listen!” The command had the desired effect, and Jason steadied, at least for a moment. George turned and pointed out the window down the street in the direction the vehicle had headed. “Can you see out past the schools?”

Jason’s vision was pretty good, but the road curved, and the church was set far enough back on it that it was hard to see that far. He shook his head.

“I’ve been looking out this window, just like you have, for a month now. I’ve looked at it from every angle. Believe me, I’ve tried figuring a way out of here … probably a million different times.”

The van had turned around and was heading back toward the church. George’s resigned voice deflated Jason’s enthusiasm, but seeing the van return still excited him.

The kid turned to rush to the stairs and George did not grab him this time. Instead, it was the man’s words that stopped him cold.

The van skidded around the parking lot next to the church. The angle wasn’t great, and Jason could barely see the vehicle, but the van was getting closer and was surrounded by crowds of the undead.

The driver was darting in and out of the horde and was having a small amount of success, but from their elevated vantage, George and Jason knew what was about to happen.

The van would run out of space. There were too many monsters to ram through. They would be forced to stop, and the driver and his passenger would be torn to pieces.

Jason watched the vehicle pitch and weave and knew in his heart that the driver and his passenger were doomed. He glanced over at George and realized the man was only watching the scene unfold out of some morbid sense of curiosity, not because he was hoping the driver would figure out a way to escape.

“I can’t stay here. I’m going to help those people.”

Jason turned and ran for the stairs. He had no idea what he was going to do, but he had to do it fast. He had hit the bottom of the steps when George caught up to him and whipped him around by the arm.

“Are you crazy? Have you completely lost your mind? Jason, I know being stuck here sucks, but that doesn’t mean you should go on some suicide mission to try to save some people who are already dead!”

The anger on Jason’s face as he wriggled free of George’s grasp startled the man. He was even more stunned when Jason slammed a fist into his chest.

“I’m not going to kill myself! I’m going to save those people, and they’re going to take me out of here. You and those creeps aren’t going to stop me either!”

Jason kept punching George as he raged. It was like hitting a side of beef, but he didn’t care. The anger he’d felt only moments before toward the people outside had been redirected toward the man he perceived to be his jailor. George, stunned by the outburst, couldn’t react. He could only watch as tears of rage formed in Jason’s eyes.

That’s when it all crashed down on George like a ton of bricks. He’d been sheltering Jason all this time, believing that the boy was some fragile child who needed to be kept safe from the horrors outside the door. The reality was that it was impossible to keep him safe. Not here, not anywhere. Jason already knew this, and was willing to take any risk necessary to get the hell out of this mausoleum in which they’d been dying for far too long.

If we hide out in this place any longer, we’ll die here.
It was a simple thought, clear and precise in George’s brain. The clearest thought he’d had since they’d arrived.

An image of Helen popped into his head. She was listening to him talk on his cell phone from the high school gym. He was promising her would be home soon, that nothing would stand in his way of getting back to his wife and daughters.