The Infected (Book 1): Jim's First Day (13 page)

“What’s
your name?”

“Frank,”

“Frank,
these things are attracted to sound. So keep the shots to a minimum. If we come
across one or two let us take care of it.”

“Alright.”

“We’ll
help you get your brother and then you drop us off on the Vancouver side of the
river. Deal?” I hold out my hand again. This time he takes it and we shake.

“Deal.”

It
is like shaking hands with a stone giant. His bear paw of a hand engulfs and
crushes mine. He must wash them with sandpaper. Devon and Sara cross over the
dead bodies. They don’t try and hide how pissed they are at me. Frank leads us
off the beach.

We
move quickly back into the woods. One of the infected tumbles out onto the
gravel and falls at Devon’s feet. He yells at the top of his lungs. I don’t
blame him. The thing is the most mangled looking ex-human I have ever seen. It
was only held together by the tattered blood soaked clothes on its back. I
think it was a female. It is hard to tell. It looks like it was shot through a
de-barking machine. It oozes black slime from every part of its body. It is a horror
and it stinks. It is not a rotted meat smell. More of a port-a-potty in the hot
sun kind of stink. Devon quickly puts the thing out of its misery. Frank dry
heaves and his eyes flutter like he is going to pass out.

“Stop
looking at it,” I turn him away from the dead body. “We’re almost there,” I
have to pull Frank along.

“Goddamn,
what happened to these people?” he spits a little.

“We
don’t know. Some kind of infection.”

Two
more appear behind us on the path. They are so quiet. I don’t hear them behind
us until they are only a few feet away. I take one out fast and easy with a
hard stab to its face. Sara swings her machete down onto the other one’s head.
Her blade gets stuck in the skull. As it falls to the ground it takes the
machete with it. She tries to pull it out but it is stuck. Devon puts his boot
on the dead man’s head and wrenches the blade out. He hands it back to her and
their hands touch.  He gives her a cheesy grin.
Kids.
We are almost
there. Frank stares at the dead cow across the log.

“What’s
this?”

“Animals
can catch it too.” I slow down. Something moves on the other side of the log.
We step off the path and get around the end of the tree. Four infected monsters
are eating Bob’s body. They have chewed up his hands, face and one has
disemboweled him. It scoops his guts into its mouth. Frank guns them down in a
flash. He kneels down and pushes the dead bodies off of his brother. Tears
stream down his cheeks. He sobs as he pulls his dead brother’s body close to
his. My heart goes out to him.

“Come
on,” I touch Frank’s shoulder. He shrugs me off.

“We
need to get back to the boat,” whispers Devon. Sara moves a little closer. Her
grip tightens on her machete. She moves in behind Frank.

“Devon,
Sara, keep an eye out.”

“Fine,”
she grits her teeth. 

They
stand guard at the end of the log. I slide my spear down between my back and
the pack I am wearing.

“Frank,”
he pulls away from his brother. We lay the body down on the ground. He holsters
his revolver. I hook my arms under Bob’s and Frank hooks under his legs.

“Devon,
you lead the way. Sara, watch our backs.”

We
truck down the gravel path and run as fast as we can. Bob was six foot two and
two hundred and thirty pounds. I struggle to carry the body this way. Frank is
a tough old bird. I can’t imagine carrying my dead brother like this. I would
have a mental breakdown. Frank runs hard and seems like he could move faster if
he wanted to. I am slowing him down. An infected pops out of the woods in front
of us. Devon cuts him down without breaking his stride. A few more are behind
us. It is incredible how they can magically appear sometimes. You look away for
a second and then when you look back there are two of them. You would think I
would be out of adrenaline but it keeps pumping through me. We move fast enough
that they can’t run us down from behind.

We
are back out onto the beach and twenty infected turn to greet us. They mill
around at the end of the dock, close to Frank’s pile of dead bodies. It is too
many for Devon and Sara to take on by themselves and there is no way around
them.

“We
have to put him down.” He nods his head and we carefully lay Bob on the sand.
The second Frank lets go of his brother’s body he draws his pistol and hits two
infected dead center of their foreheads. He made that shot from thirty feet
away. My arms are shaky from carrying his brother. I fight to get my spear from
my backpack. Frank pulls shells from his pocket, reloads and guns down another
six monsters within a few seconds. It is phenomenal. I run over to the
remaining infected and the three of us hack, slash and stab them to pieces.
Frank reloads. I cut down an infected and look back at Frank.

“Behind
you!”

Frank
turns and there are fifty creatures both human and bovine, stepping from the tree
line. Frank grabs Bob by the wrist. He drags the body across the sand as he
shoots another six. Sara takes the head off the last one by the dock. I sprint
to Frank’s side and grab Bob’s other arm. We pull with all of our strength.
Frank can’t reload, so he holsters his gun and uses both hands to pull. There is
a pile of bodies on the dock. Sara and Devon kick the bodies off the grates to
clear a path. The monsters gain on us. We hit the dock and keep moving.

“UNTIE
THE BOAT!”

The
kids race to the boat and unhook the two lines. The infected stream onto the
dock, they knock each other off into the water. They are closing the gap. At
the pace we are moving they will get to us before we can get Bob’s body onto
the boat. I don’t want this to happen again. I couldn’t save my manager and
friend, Bill. I couldn’t save Bob, but I can help Frank not leave his brother
behind. I dig deep inside myself and I pull harder. Tears well up in my eyes
thinking about Bill and Sam. I convince myself that if I can get Bob’s body
into the boat and not leave him for these monsters to feed upon, it will put a notch
on my win column. So much of today has been a loss. I need this win. We finally
reach the boat.

“Devon,
help him!” I let go of Bob and Devon takes over. I stand by the end of the boat
and face the shuffling horde. I stab at their ugly twisted faces. I hit them
hard enough to knock some of them backwards and that slows them down. They
stumble and trip over the bodies. I will not let them get passed me. Devon and
Frank pull Bob’s body down onto the back of the boat. Frank hands Devon the
keys to the boat.

“Fire
it up, boy!” he pulls his gun out and reloads. He blasts off six rounds. It
helps clear out some space on the dock for me to swing my spear back and forth.
I get some distance from the monsters. My spear chops off head after head.
Devon drops the key into the ignition and cranks up the motor. The second it
comes alive he hits the throttle. The boat pulls away from the dock. I feel
fingertips brushing against my neck as I turn and take a running leap off the
edge of the dock.

There
is no reason I should land this jump, but I do. Somehow I make it. My chest hits
the side of the boat hard and my feet splash down into the water. I drop my
spear into the boat and use both hands to get a grip on the railing. Behind me
the infected push each other and fall into the water. As my grip starts to
slip, Sara and Frank grab my arms and they pull me onto the boat. I am laid out
next to Bob’s body.

“Thanks
Devon!” I cough up at him. He looks down over his shoulder at me.

“Sorry.
I got excited.”

The
horrible island shrinks into the distance behind us. I feel a slight sense of
relief. I did it. I helped this man. Frank pats me on the shoulder. We both
have tears in our eyes.

“Where
did you learn to shoot?” Sara asks him. Frank digs into a storage chest and
pulls out a tarp.

“Boy
Scouts,” he grunts. I can’t tell if he is feeding us a line or if he means it.
I help him wrap up his brother.

“Thank
you.”

“Thank
you for the ride,” I stand up and look out across the bow. Vancouver is so
close.

Frank
sits in the passengers chair. He stares at the tarp. I have to get this guy to
help me. With him and his gun by my side I could get home much faster. How do
you ask a man that just lost his brother to help you find your family? How do
you ask him to risk his life to help you save your loved ones?

“What’s
your plan?” I get a little closer. He shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders.

“I
wanted to get my brother. After that, I didn’t care.”

“Do
you have a place to go?”

“Bob
had a cabin but I’d never been there. My place is...gone.” I glance over at the
controls. The gas gauge reads a quarter tank. So he is not getting too far in
this thing, ten miles at best. We are close to the shore. Devon heads for a
multi-million dollar home with a dock.

“I’m
going home to my wife and kids.”

“Lucky
you,” he raises his hand to put the revolver to his temple. Instinct takes over
and as his hand comes up I hammer fist down onto his forearm. He pulls the
trigger when we make contact and the round whizzes over my head, inches from my
skull. I go deaf. I lose my equilibrium and fall backwards onto Devon. He is
pushed forward and hits the throttle. The boat launches at the dock. Devon
turns the steering wheel and pulls back on the gas but it is too late. We slam
into the corner of the dock. The boat grinds along the edge and the hull tears
open. The impact throws us all to the deck. We cruise right for the shore.
Unable to stop, the boat slides up onto the rocky beach. The blades of the
propeller chew up the rocks. I reach up and turn the key and the engine goes
dead.

“Everyone
okay?” I lay on my back testing for broken body parts. I’m fine.

“Yeah,”
the kids groan. I roll over to Frank and slide his gun away. I grab him by his
collar and pull him close to my face.

“What
the fuck are you doing?!” my jaw tightens. He shakes his head. “I know it’s
bad! I lost my best friend today! I don’t know if my wife and kids are alive!
You think you have nothing to live for?! Look around, man!” Frank looks at Sara
and Devon. They are terrified.

“I
need you. We need you!” I pull out my wallet and open it up and show Frank a
picture of my family.

“Look
at these girls. They could be your granddaughters,” Frank sobs and grabs at me.
He fights against me.

“They
need me Frank…I need your help…we could be a team,” I lay it on thick, but men
are goal oriented. You give a man a project and they can excel. This is why men
like to join the service and play football. Most men love to be part of a team
that has a common goal. If I can get Frank on my team he might have a good
reason to stick around.

“Please,
sir. Stay with us,” Sara utters. Frank looks over at her. His grip loosens. He
looks back at the photo of my family.

“Okay.
I’ll stay.”

“Are
you solid?”

“Yeah.
That wasn’t like me…I don’t…” he mutters. He is shaky, but if we can get him
moving he might snap out of it.

“It’s
okay,” Sara rubs her sore shoulder.

“What
do you need off this boat?” 

He
points to a duffle bag in the corner of the boat. I pick it up and it is extremely
heavy.

“What’s
in here?” I hand it to him.

“Ammo
and more guns,” he takes the bag, slings it over his shoulder and reloads his
revolver.

The
little beach we landed on is connected to a very well manicured yard. It is
like a golf course. Amazing flowers and trees are perfectly placed. The yard
leads to a ridiculously expensive mansion. The backyard is completely fenced
off and there are no infected in sight. I take a big swig of water and make my
way to the back of the boat. Up and down the beach there is nothing going on, nobody
trying to leave by boat. No panicked families running from swarms of the dead.
Maybe it is not bad here. Maybe the police were able to get it under control. I
turn back to Frank.

“What
about your brother?” I look at the tarp.

“We
can’t take him,” Sara joins me. Frank nods his head and thinks for a minute.

“He
wanted to be cremated,” the words fight to get out.

“Okay,
we’ll do that,” I look around and find a tank of gas.

I
pick it up, then climb over the edge of the boat and drop down to the beach. Devon
tosses me my spear and he climbs over. Frank helps Sara over the rail and
gently lets her down. He takes a last look around. There is nothing that he
needs. He slides over the edge. I twist the cap off the gas tank and toss some
fuel up into the back of the boat. I pull out my lighter.

“You
wanna light it?” I offer my lighter. He shakes his head no. “You should back
up,” they step back and climb up onto the short grass. I light some of the fuel
that splashed on the edge of the boat. It does not take long before the vessel
is covered in flames. I catch up to the three of them on the lawn.

“He
was a good little brother,” the words fall out of his mouth. “I wasn’t always
the best brother…brothers fight and I wouldn’t pull my punches…I told myself it
made him stronger…he was always there for me…I will miss…I loved…” he turns
away from the fire and makes the saddest whimper I have ever heard. Sara puts
her arm around his shoulders. He drops his head and cries like a baby on her.
The boat burns and burns. The wood snaps and pops. Chunks of the boat fall to
the beach. My fear is that this is not the last time I will see a funeral like
this. Sudden, no time to mourn, and ending in fire.

We
stand there for a long time. I keep a look out, but I don’t want to rush him.
After a good amount of time he lets go of Sara and pats her.

“Thank
you,” he wipes his eyes over and over. The tears have stopped but he keeps
drying them. I put my back to the river and take a good look at the house
attached to this yard. It has a large back patio and is covered in beautiful
stone. There is a big hot tub, built in barbecue, outdoor TV and furniture. A
large sliding glass door gleams in the sunlight. I head for it.

I
limp up to the eleven-foot tall door, cup my hands around my eyes and scan the
room. Holy shit. There is a man in his eighties reading in a high back leather
recliner. He puffs on a pipe. I gently knock at the window. He does not look
up. I knock a little louder and this time he hears it. Up in the air goes his
finger, “one moment please” and he picks up a bookmarker from the side table
and slips it into his book. It takes a lot of effort but he stands up and puts
the book back on the shelf behind him. He walks slowly over to the door and
unlocks it, gives the door a hard pull and it slides open. He gives us a look.

“Can
I help you?” his voice is raspy from years of smoking. He notices the gash on
my forehead, broken nose and the way I favor my right leg.

“Son,
what happened to you?”

“I’ve
had a tough day.”

He
steps away from the door, “Come in. Lock the door behind you. The world has
lost its mind. I am Calvin Ramsey, Attorney at law,” he says it like he is doing
a voiceover for a commercial.

I
step into his home and it is as amazing as the outside. Devon is the last one
through the door. He locks it and gives it a good pull to test it. The old guy
shuffles away and down a hall. It is a three thousand square foot living room
and kitchen. The ceiling is vaulted and you can see up to the second floor
walkways. Everything here is top notch. On the walls and shelves he has a large
collection of mounted dead animals from this region of the world.

“Where
did he go?” Sara moves farther into the living room.

“I
don’t know.”

“Maybe
he went to get a gun,” Devon grabs my arm. Maybe he did. Why the hell would he
open his doors to this motley crew? On the wall hangs a portrait of our new
host standing next to a beautiful woman. There is a noticeable age difference
but she is definitely not his daughter. He shuffles back around the corner with
a black bag and a little medical kit.

“One
of you might be able to use this,” he waves me over. “Come on boy it’s heavy,”
I move quickly and help him. I take the bag. He points at the countertop island
in his kitchen. “Put it there,” I lay the bag up onto the granite. “After I
retired I needed a hobby, so I took up taxidermy,” he puts the medical kit on the
island. “You folks look quite thirsty. Help yourself to whatever is in the
refrigerator,” the group is as confused as I am.

“How
did you get all banged up?”

“Car
crashes mostly. Took a bad fall. Punch to the face.”

Calvin
breathes in a light laugh at my answer and then looks over at the group.

“Go
ahead and help yourselves.” The others move into the kitchen and open up the
big built in refrigerator door. It is full to the brim with all kinds of good
food, cans of pop and bottles of beer.

“You
want anything?” Devon pulls out a pop.

“Beer,”
without hesitation. Devon pulls out three bottles hands one to Frank, Sara and
then me. It is a nice craft Indian Pale Ale and it goes down smooth.

“My
old taxidermy kit is in the black bag. Whichever one of your friends has the
strongest stomach can stitch you up. I would help but,” he holds up his hands
and they shake, badly. He shuffles out to the living room, picks up his book
and sits back down on his recliner.

I
look at the three people in the kitchen. Two are strangers and Devon is, well
Devon. Frank sips at his beer and stares out the back window at the smoke cloud
above his old boat. I am not going to ask him to stitch me up. So it is the two
kids.

“All
right. I’m bleeding a lot. I need you to stitch me up,” they want no part of
this, but I need these wounds cleaned up. I do not want to get home to my
family and die from an infection. I put down my spear and take off my backpack.
I down the rest of my delicious beer and climb up on to the island countertop.

“What
are you doing?” Sara inquires.

“Yeah…we’re
not stitching you up.”

“I
can’t do it myself. I’m not happy about it either, but I need these wounds
stitched up.” I can’t believe I am asking them to drag a needle through my
skin. When I was a kid I remember a nurse needed to draw some blood. I was not
going to let them take it. I fought, cried and would not give my arm over to
the lady. I must have embarrassed my poor Mom so much, but I knew that needle
was going to hurt. My Mom pleaded with me to let them take the blood. She was
supposed to be on my side. Why would she be on the bloodthirsty old nurse’s
side? Finally the nurse put the needle down and picked up the phone.

“I’m
going to have to call your father at work,” it was all she had to say. My arm
was down on the table in a second. My poor Dad, he was not abusive or mean. We
would get a spanking if we did something bad, but at the time that was a normal
thing for parents to do. He was a good loving father and my parents are still
together today. It all worked out in the end. They got their blood. Mom did not
tell Dad I was acting whacky at the doctors and I learned you would not die
from a little needle.  

I
stare at them until they give in. They wash their hands in the sink and then
they find a set of rubber gloves in the medical kit.

“Calvin,
do you have any hard booze?” I request. He looks up from his book.

“In
the upper cabinet,” he motions. Devon opens the cabinet and pulls down a bottle
of vodka. I reach out for the bottle and take it from him. It is some top shelf
booze. I have not had any top shelf cocktails since my kids were born. I twist
off the top and take a swig. It is smooth, and makes my throat and stomach feel
warm.

“You
will want to clean the tools with this,” I hand the bottle back to him. I feel
the effects of the beer and vodka in my brain already. I have not eaten much
today and the little bit I did eat was lost on the side of the road in
Portland.

“I
think this is a bad idea,” Devon puts the bottle down on the countertop.