The Last Outbreak (Book 2): Devastation (12 page)

With the sun now sitting at its highest point in the sky, the streets of Summer Mill warmed. The snow from the previous storm had all but disappeared and was now replaced by tiny puddles that sat lonely among the few shadows of midday. And although it was still in the thick of winter, the area resembled a beautiful early spring day, with the exception of the numerous bodies littering the streets of downtown.

Ethan sat in the passenger seat of the abandoned patrol car and guided Ben out into the street. They pulled alongside the driver’s door of the armored truck and stopped. Looking up at Griffin, who sat in behind the wheel, Ethan gave the thumbs up and mouthed, “You ready?”

Griffin nodded.

Ben nosed the patrol car out in front of the truck and turned up Main Street, heading for the northern edge of town. Griffin and the others followed close behind. As they weaved through a maze of fallen Summer Mill residents, Ben peered down each cross street they passed. “Ethan, why do you think it’s so quiet?”

“Not sure, but I’d bet they’re gathered up nice and tight somewhere. We just need to make sure it’s not anywhere near where we’re going.”

“Yeah, Griff’s plan is pretty solid.”

Ethan just grinned. “You know where we’re headed?”

“Yep, just hope those things aren’t already there.”

“The old Taylor farm. They think that’s where most of this started last week. Even if we run into a large group of them, we should still be able to get through the gates without much trouble. We’ll get everything set up and then get back to the store before they know we’re gone.”

“Okay.”

Glancing back into the rearview mirror, Ethan checked on the armored truck. “Hey kid.”

“Yeah?”

Ethan turned in his seat. “What brought you here, why Summer Mill. Why on earth would you want to come here, I mean when most everyone else is trying to leave?”

Ben continued staring ahead as a bead of sweat rolled from his hairline. “It was my grandfather on my mom’s side. He grew up here and anytime we came to visit, he always had the best stories. He was one of those old men who could tell you a story about paint drying and it would be the most interesting thing you’d ever heard. He was a real good guy.”

“Wait, was your granddad old Mr. Westbrook? The math teacher who passed away about ten years ago?”

“Yeah, that was my grandpa. He made me want to come here. And when my parents passed away a few years ago, I started planning how I would get out here on my own.”

Ethan sank down in his seat a bit. He hadn’t remembered the kid talking about this part of his life. In fact, he hadn’t remembered Ben talking about anything that was personal. He just seemed to be more interested in what everyone else was sharing. Ethan was starting to realize why. “Your parents?”

“Yeah.” Ben paused and smiled. “They we’re the best people in the entire world. I couldn’t have asked for two better role models. I don’t really tell anyone about it, but they died in a car accident on the way home from coming to see my new apartment. I had moved to the beach and couldn’t wait for my mom to see what I’d done with the place. She was an interior designer for a lot of really wealthy people. Even though what I’d done was probably terrible, she found a way to make me feel like I’d done something really special.”

Ethan just listened.

Ben’s voice began to break. “They stayed for dinner and then we just hung out on the deck watching the sun set. After a few hours, it started to rain. We came inside and kept talking until really late into the night. I knew they were tired, but they could tell I was really happy. And thinking back now, I feel like they just didn’t want that moment to end. Neither did I.”

“I’m sorry buddy.”

“Sometime after midnight, my dad got up. He said they had to leave and then gave me a big hug. I walked them to the door and then also hugged my mom, like really tight. That was the last time I saw either of them. They were going around a corner on Pacific Coast Highway when another car came into their lane and they were hit head-on. My father died instantly and my mother passed ten minutes after I arrived at the hospital. I held her hand and talked to her. I told her that I loved her and asked her to tell my dad that I loved him too. Told her I was going to come to Summer Mill one day, no matter what I had to do to get here.”

Ben wiped his eyes and turned onto the short dirt road leading to the farm. “It’s kinda weird,” he said. “But I can still smell her if I try really hard. Like a sweet citrus smell. I just hope I never forget.”

Ethan didn’t know what to say. What could he say? He wanted to tell him he was sorry for not asking him anything about himself. He felt terrible for focusing on his own priorities and for overlooking the needs of the others, now specifically the young man seated twelve inches away. “I’m sorry kid. If there is anything at all I can—”

He stopped Ethan. “I’m actually good, but thanks.”

Approaching the gate, the area was—for the most part—clear. Ben unbuckled his seat belt, slowed the patrol car, and turned to Ethan. He was smiling. “Neither one of my parents had any siblings. I didn’t have any brothers or sisters either. I guess that bonded the three of us. And because of my parents’ wealth, I moved around a lot. Almost every year when I was younger. More money, bigger house. When they died, I wanted to stay somewhere for good, I wanted stability. You, Griffin, Carly, Cora, and Shannon are the closest I’ve come to having friends in a long damn time. What’s happened out there sucks, but my life wasn’t all that great before a week ago anyways. So… I guess other than running for my life and trying to stop those things from eating my face off, life isn’t really all that bad.”

Shaking his head, Ethan again looked into the rearview mirror as Griffin pulled the truck to within a few feet and stopped. “I don’t know if you’re crazy or the most well-adjusted human left on this planet. But kid, I’m buying whatever it is you’re selling.”

Reaching for the door handle, Ben turned back. “Thanks Ethan.”

“No problem.”

Ben stepped out through the driver’s door and waited for Ethan to appear on the opposite side of the cruiser. “Really, I mean it. I haven’t told anyone about my family. There wasn’t ever anyone to tell.”

“Were gonna get through this thing,” Ethan said. “But we first need to get out of this town.”

Leaning into the driver’s door, Ben glanced toward the truck, made eye contact with Griffin, and held up his index finger. Then turning back to Ethan, he said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, but we’re gonna need to start—”

He couldn’t wait. Talking about his parents brought up something he thought he’d moved beyond. Something that he’d been trying to ignore for the last week. But it was still there. Rubbing his hands over his face, Ben didn’t know how to phrase the question other than to just ask. So he did.

“Ethan, have you ever thought about how you might die? I mean really sat and thought about it? I used to do it all the time. Sometimes for hours. I must have come up with a thousand different ways. It can be pretty scary—really dark. But now, after all that’s happened in the last few days, I’m pretty sure I know how. And when it does happen, I just hope it goes quick. I don’t want to suffer being torn apart by those things. That would be bad, I mean way worse than any of those other things I imagined.”

Ethan nodded. “Yeah, I do have those thoughts sometimes. Now more than ever, but we’ll get through this… somehow.”

Ethan moved to the rear of the patrol car and opened the trunk. He nodded at Griffin who was tapping his wrist, indicting the obvious—it was time to go. Reaching in, he pulled out a twelve-gauge pump-action shotgun and a single box of shells, his backup plan, just in case things went sideways. He then quickly moved to the passenger side of the truck and peered out past where the dirt met the pavement. Turning back to Ben, he said, “Go ahead and do it, we’re already starting to draw a crowd.”

Rounding the armored truck, Ethan moved to the driver’s side and watched as Ben leaned into the police cruiser. Seconds later the red and blue lights flicked on and the incessant wailing of the car’s siren began its call for attention. Waving Ben over, they covered their ears and moved to the rear of the truck. “Good job, kid. I can see why you changed your mind about wanting to drive.”

Shouting over the siren, Ben said, “Yeah, how many people get to say they took a police car without permission and lived to tell about it?”

Slapping Ben on the back, Ethan leaned in close. “That other stuff—the stuff how you might die.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve thought about it almost every single day, even before the world went to hell. But let’s just keep that between the two of us.”

“Sure,” Ben said. “No problem.”

Ethan stood back and pulled the rear door open. “Okay then, let’s get the hell out of here.”

.      .      .

Griffin turned the massive armored vehicle around and they sat facing the street. Locking his door, he shifted into drive and turned to Ethan, who slid down into the passenger seat. The others sat quietly in the rear cabin and watched through the windshield as a half dozen Feeders moved off Briarwood Avenue and started up the dirt road leading to the old Taylor farm.

“This just might work,” Ethan said. “I need maybe ten minutes inside that store, and then we go.”

Out away from the farm, they drove around the few Feeders that had already begun to take notice of the lights and siren. Onto Briarwood, Griffin drove along the edge of town and attempted to be discrete as he positioned the truck along the darkened alley below Ethan’s former residence.

“We good here?”

“Yeah, go ahead and cut the engine. Let’s give it like twenty minutes. We move in as soon as it looks clear. I’m not taking any chances.”

Over two miles from the patrol car they’d left as a decoy, the belligerent wailing of the siren continued. They’d driven to a spot where the grocery store was less than a hundred yards away and in full view. They’d wait until the area was mostly clear, grab what they could, and drive out of town.

Even though they were able to come away from the station with a few days’ worth of supplies, they had no way of knowing what lay ahead or if they’d even make it to the city. There were no longer any certainties. Not with the world falling apart on all sides. Getting into that store may just prove the difference between making it to the coast and starving to death somewhere between here and there. Griffin’s plan was smart, but most of all it was simple.

Ethan and Griffin watched as a herd of two dozen Feeders poured out of the storefront along Bridge Street. Glancing back in the opposite direction, another crowd that easily doubled the first stumbled across the empty street and turned not only toward the sound of the blaring siren, but also toward the armored vehicle. And with less than fifty yards separating them, Ethan slid down in his seat and ducked below the dash.

From his knees, he turned back to the others. “Stay low. We’ll wait them out if we have to.”

As the minutes passed and density of the crowd moving out of the area grew, they also began spilling over into the nearby streets. The group sat in silence, now everyone in the rear cabin, with their backs to the walls and blankets shrouding them from any errant Feeders that happened to catch a glimpse of the interior.

The truck swayed as the crowd pushed in. The group stayed hidden and quiet as the groans and growls from beyond the interior overshadowed the distant siren. And as the temperature inside the rectangular metal box rose, so did their anxiety.

Sitting beside Ethan with thick lines of sweat rolling from his forehead, Ben wiped his face with his hand. “We need to go, we need to get out of here. This isn’t working. There are too many of them. This was a really bad idea.”

Ethan leaned to his right and put his hand on Ben’s arm. “Yeah, it’s getting louder, and it may get worse, but there is no way they’re getting in here. No matter how long we have to—”

A thunderous jolt along the driver’s side sent the group hurtling into one another. Carly and Frank slid sideways across the floor and collided with Griffin. The trio twisted violently as they came to rest at the center of the rear cabin. Cora and Ben were pinned to the passenger wall as Shannon finally broken the silence, screaming into her hands.

To his feet and from a cramped squatting position, Ethan moved to her, put his arm over her shoulder, and whispered into her ear. “Keep it together. We’re safe in here, even if this thing goes up onto its side.”

As the armored truck again began to list to the right and the group braced themselves, Shannon held tight to Ethan’s right arm. Although close enough to see his pulse beating in his neck, she looked up into his eyes and moved closer. Her nose brushed his cheek and her voice came out soft and frail. “Those things—I can’t. I can’t do this anymore. I need a break, Ethan. From all of this. I just can’t.”

The blankets and sleeping bags they’d used for cover now sat in a balled mess in the middle of the floor. He didn’t know what to say, and at the moment, there wasn’t a whole lot he could do to make her understand. But he needed to. He needed her and the others calm. That was the only way this would work.

Looking around, Frank, Carly, and Cora huddled near the rear door with their legs pushed into the side wall. The expression on Carly’s face told him that Shannon wasn’t alone in her reaction. Over his shoulder, Ben and Griffin had the same idea and were braced against the wall near the cab.

Tapping Griffin on the leg and trying to avoid having Shannon see him, Ethan motioned with his eyes out toward the windshield. He mouthed, “How’s it look?”

Griffin slid up onto his knees and slowly raised his gaze above the dash. He stayed there for a moment and looked from left to right and then back again. Ethan could see him shaking his head before turning back.

Griffin slumped back to the floor and turned to Ethan. He looked over to Shannon and then to the others. He figured there wouldn’t be any point in him giving them a false sense of security. The wheels had already been set in motion. It was his fault and it
was
going to happen no matter how much he hoped and prayed otherwise.

“I’m sorry, but it’s about to get much worse.”