The Demented Z (Book 2): Desolation (Book 2) (17 page)

“Zeus?   Is that you
boy?”   Tom said.

The dog started whining furiously.
  He padded his feet and then shifted off of
Tom, waging his tail excitedly.

“How’d you get out?   I
thought I’d lost you for sure.”   Tom
looked up at the others. “Found him in an abandoned house just out of
town. He hates the infected just as much
as we do.”

“Where did they take Sam?”  
Kelly asked.

Tom hadn’t forgot about Sam, but with all the death and
chaos he had shoved the thought to the backburner, both because he knew there
was nothing he could do yet and because his fear for Sam’s fate was almost too
much to bear. “The school...he’ll be at
the school Lincoln took Hank, Rachael, and I to.
  It was up on the north end of Spokane.”

Kelly said, “We need to go.  
Let’s get a car.”

“First we need a plan.”  
Tom said.

Hank stepped over next to the two of them and helped Tom to
his feet. “And lots of
guns.   I’m not going anywhere near
those guys without lots of guns.”

After spending a few minutes developing a basic plan, and
then nearly an hour locating a vehicle, the five of them and Zeus were now on
their way to Tom and Kelly’s home. They
hadn’t seen any other demented or undead during this time.
  It was like all of them had made their way to
either the hospital or the school, leaving the rest of Newport alone.
  No matter the reason, Tom was glad to see
Newport fading away in his rear view mirror.

From the backseat Phillip said, “They’re going to be waiting
for us at the school. The only reason
they left the note is to get you to show up so they can kill you.
  They’ll be ready.”

“I already told you, you don’t have to go.
  This isn’t your fight.”
  Tom said.  
“Both of...”

Hank sat forward in his seat, peering out the front window
with squinted eyes. “What is that?”

The highway leading out of Newport had been clear of
vehicles. There were occasional wrecked
cars off to the side of the road, but even those were infrequent.
  Looking ahead, Tom saw an overturned black
SUV in the ditch. Its back end rested up
against a large Ponderosa Pine. This did
not seem all that unusual and Tom guessed it was not what Hank was looking at.

Tom was just about to ask Hank what he was talking about,
and then he saw it. Beyond the SUV,
through a thin stand of trees, was a helicopter.
  It had not crashed, but instead had landed in
a small clearing, the rotors slowly spinning.  
In the fading evening light Tom could see movement around the
helicopter. He eased off the gas.

“Military crash hawk.”  
Hank said.

“There’s guys outside...can’t tell if they’re infected or
not.”   Tom added.

Kelly chimed in, “Just keep going.”

“They might know something.  
Either what’s going on or a way to fix things.”
  Tom said as he began feathering the
brakes. “If they’re not infected we need
to talk to them.”

Easing to a stop, they all remained in the car.
  They sat staring out the windows, trying to
decipher what was going on. There were
three men outside the chopper that wore OD green hazmat suits.
  A pilot remained inside the cockpit.
  A pair of the men in hazmat suits looked at
the stopped car and then turned toward each other.
  After a few moments of gesturing back and
forth, one of them ran over to the chopper and grabbed a silver canister out of
the bay.

“Definitely not infected.”
  Tom said.

Nobody said anything in response.
  They all sat mesmerized by the space alien
looking group.

The man with the canister quickly moved over next to the
edge of the clearing and began operating a pump handle on the top of the
device. He started using the pump sprayer
to hose down something that was just out of sight in the tall weeds.

Tom grabbed his door handle and said to Hank, “Let’s go chat
with ‘em.  
Everyone else stay put.”   He left
the car running and stepped out onto the pavement.

Hank stepped out as well and said, “I really wish I had a
gun about now.”

“We might have better luck unarmed.”

Zeus whined frantically, desperately wanting out of the car.

“Stay.”   Tom
commanded.

As they started making their way through the trees, one of
the hazmat guys started shouting at the other two.
  His voice was muffled from this distance.
  The man with the canister turned and ran
toward the helicopter. The other two
remained in place just outside the chopper bay.

Tom waved his arms over his head and shouted, “Hey!
  We’re unarmed.
  We just want to talk.”

The man placed the canister back in the chopper and began
digging through a small bag. One of the
other two men ran over next to him and reached back into the shadows.
  Canister man turned and ran back toward the
edge of the clearing, packing a pair of wire cutters.

Tom and Hank continued to approach.
  They were only about thirty feet from the
clearing when the nearest man turned and raised a hand palm out.
  “Stop!
  Don’t come any closer.”

It was difficult to understand him talking through the dome
hazmat bubble, but his intent was clear enough.  
Both men stopped. Tom shouted
back, “What’s going on?   Can we talk?”

The evening light was beginning to fade, making it difficult
to see. Canister man knelt down at the
edge of the clearing, working on something just out of sight.
  The third man that had been digging around in
the chopper spun around holding an M4.  
The cold black rifle had a tactical, quick acquisition scope mounted to
the top rail, making it look as menacing as a piece of steel could look.
  He raised the rifle and pointed it directly
at Hank and Tom.

Nobody said anything.  
Tom and Hank both raised their hands above their heads.
  The four of them stood their unmoving.

After what seemed like a very long time Tom began lowering
his hands and slowly walking toward the men.

“Stay right there!”

“We just want to talk.”

Canister man stood and ran back over to the chopper.
  The other two men quickly backed their way to
the helicopter and climbed in. The M4
remained pointed directly at Hank and Tom the entire time, never wavering or
dipping. Once all three men were inside,
the rotors began spinning up. The heavy
wind picked up sticks and debris, flinging them in all directions.
  Hank and Tom used their forearms to protect
their faces.

Once they were no longer getting battered by flying objects
the helicopter had reached the tops of the trees.
  They looked up to see its glowing lights
disappear into the sky. An eerie quite
came over the clearing as the
whump,
whump, whump
faded into the
distance.

“Not very neighborly.”
  Hank said.

Tom started walking toward the clearing.
  “Let’s see what they were up to.”

“I don’t think I want to know.”
  Hank whispered after he started following
Tom.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing, just excited about the
whole situation.”

At the edge of the clearing lay four people, three men and
woman. All of them laid face down in the
weeds, clipped zip ties scattered next to the bodies.
  The woman had a large hole in her back, blood
and chunks of meat were splattered and clinging to her ragged shirt.
  The man next to her was also covered in
blood, but no wound was immediately noticeable.  
The other two bodies were filthy, but otherwise appeared unharmed.

“This just gets better and better.”
  Hank said.

Do you think they...”
  Tom stopped mid-sentence, staring at the
bodies. Pointing down at the two filthy
ones, he said, “Are their chests moving?”  
He knelt down next to the closest one and felt his neck.
  Quickly standing back up, he said, “Alive...still
alive.”

Hank knelt amongst the others, checking each of them for a
pulse. “These two are dead.”
  He sniffed at the air and then smelled his
fingers. “Chemicals...smell that?”

“Must be the spray...the canister.”
  Tom said.

The bodies started twitching, even the two dead ones.
  It began with small jerky movements, and then
turned more coordinated. Their heads
started shifting around looking, and arms their grasping for the
unattainable. One of the undead got his
head turned far enough to the side to see Tom.  
He let out a low moan and started to rise to his knees.

“They’re all infected.”  
Hank said as he stepped away.

“Army’s experimenting on them.
  Bet they have some kind of implanted tracker
or something.”   Tom said.

Hank scratched at his scruffy chin and said, “Maybe they’ve
found some kind of cure.”

“We may need to take a trip later, but right now we better
get outta here before these uglies wake all the way
up.”

******

For the next hour they dodged through wrecked cars on
highway 2 and discussed what the helicopter meant.
  All of them agreed the military was looking
for a solution, but the real question was if anything was working.

Kelly sat next to Zeus, looking out the window, watching the
thick trees blur by. “Even if this spray
worked, how would they ever distribute it?”

Hank replied, “If it’s contact spray it would be tough.
  They could use spray planes like crop
dusters, but it would be impossible to get all of them...even then it would take
an astronomical amount of liquid. On the
other hand it if is inhalation or something similar it might be a lot easier.”

“Undead don’t breath.”  
Phillip said.

Hank looked over at Tom.  
“He’s got a point.”

“Once we get Sam we’re going to take a trip.
  We have to know more.”
  Tom replied.

Along the way they made a detour to Tom and Kelly’s house to
gear up on supplies. Most everything had
already been looted by Lincoln and his crew, but they were relieved to find the
gun safe still intact. After loading up
on weapons and ammo they all felt much better about their odds.

Hank stood looking over a large bore rifle, slowly working
the bolt. “I feel so much better.”

Phillip said, “I’d feel better with food.”

Tom stepped over. “We
can either stay a night here and move out in the morning or head straight there
now.”

“I like the cover of darkness.
  I say we move now.”
  Hank replied.

Nobody argued, all of them wanting to get this over
with. It would be a long night with Sam
still held captive.

“If anyone wants out, now is the time.”
  Tom said while looking each of them in the
eyes. He expected Phillip to back out,
but even when looked at he simply nodded his head.
  “Okay then, let’s roll.”

Scattered buildings marked the edge of north Spokane.
  The buildings had broken out windows and
debris scattered all around. Most had
been looted in the first week of the infection.  
Everyone was hungry, but there was likely little to gain by entering any
of the buildings and the risk would be extremely high.
  Just within the last half mile they had seen
dozens of infected staggering around the buildings.
  Each of them gave blank stares, watching the
car speed past.

“Nearly a full moon, the extra light could help us
out.”   Tom said while hunching forward to
see out the top of the windshield.

Hank added, “Might bring out the crazies.”

“They came out a long time ago.”
  Kelly said.

******

Tom sat huddled between a pair of overgrown shrubs.
  His face and hands itched from the rough branches
that scratched him while he got into place.  
He had been sitting for several minutes, watching the front gate that
led to Lincoln’s school. There were
three infected staggering around the gate.  
They showed little interest in getting inside the fortification.
  It was like they had gathered there and none
of them could remember why. One of them,
a small woman wearing a stained summer dress, would touch the thick iron gate,
almost caressing it, and then stagger away, only to return a few moments later.

After deciding Kelly and the others were surely in place, he
looked left and right along the fence. A
few infected were gathered in the street to the left, like a group of kids
getting ready to play street hockey or a pickup game of hoops.
  To the right there were a few vague shapes
moving in the distance. They were far
enough off that Tom decided to the right was the better option.

He began crawling backwards through the shrubs, grimacing as
they scraped at his exposed flesh. Bits
of plant material broke off and worked their way down his back underneath his
clothes. He tried not to think about all
the spiders and bugs that lived in hedges like these.
  He wasn’t necessarily scared of little
critters, but he preferred they stayed to themselves.

Once back in the yard, and up on his feet he brushed himself
off and began moving along the natural fence in a low crouch.
  Having left his assault rifle with Hank, he
carried only a semi-auto Glock and a small revolver
concealed in an ankle holster. He didn’t
like leaving a high powered rifle behind shortly after getting it, but if their
plan was to work it had to be done.

The moonlight made getting through the yards a fairly simple
task. Tom was more worried about there
being unexpected guests inside the houses or hidden in the dark shadows between
the homes. Every few paces he would
crouch down and listen. Hearing only
distant sounds, he would continue along, slowly progressing parallel to the
school’s fence.

Tom made the determination that he had moved away from the
front gate far enough. Following a
home’s sidewalk he silently made his way back to the street.
  Looking both ways he felt good that he was
close to halfway between the gate and the infected he had seen in the
distance. Now that they were closer he
could see that there were about a dozen of them.
  They were spread out along the street and both
sidewalks. Like those he had seen
before, they seemed to have no real purpose, just meandering about like ticking
time bombs.

Slowly standing, Tom began staggering directly across the
road. Out in the open it felt like there
were hundreds of eyes staring at him. In
his mind he pictured all of the infected in the streets rushing his way and
barking loudly for reinforcements. He
looked both ways and only saw the same slow moving forms.

Standing at the base of the chain link fence he was glad
this was a school and not a prison.
  There was no concertina wire, no angled wires,
and in fact no barbed wire at all. Not
wanting to remain in the open street any longer, Tom stuffed his pistol in the
back of his pants, and climbed up and over the fence.
  At first he felt better being on the other
side, but then remembered that he was now on Lincoln’s turf.
  Before the world fell apart he would have had
a difficult time thinking of a creature worse than a zombie...ironic that it
turned out to be another human.