This Would Be Paradise (Book 1) (15 page)

We threw down their bags and our own. I don’t think we would make it through that hole wearing a giant backpack. I wasn’t a fan of heights, but I didn’t see much of a choice in the matter. The metal rungs were cold on my palm as I ascended the ladder with Ethan right behind me. I grabbed onto the top and hoisted myself onto the roof. I noticed the rusty, metallic smell clinging to my hands so I wiped them on my shorts. John and Taylor were on the south side of the building shooting.

“Hey!”

They turned to me, confused that I was up there. I ran to the side and peered over. Our vehicles were unharmed, but there were quite a few roaming infected. The main horde must have been the ones at the front since I only counted about ten or so still standing back here. There were fallen bodies littered around the vehicles, all shot with their guns.

“They broke through both sets of doors, we only have a bit before they will reach back here,” I filled them in on what happened.

“Shit!” Taylor yelled.

“Calm down!” John yelled back, more stressed out than I had ever seen him before.

I could clearly see the worry lines etched into his face that I had managed to overlook until now.

“We gotta go before this gets worse,” Ethan declared, as soon as he poked his head out of the roof hatch.

All of us scrambled back down the ladder, planning to roll up the receiving door just enough so that we could escape through. It groaned and squeaked as John and Taylor yanked on chain. Light spilled in as it slowly opened and soon there was enough room for us to crawl out. They tied the chain around the handle on the wall, testing to make sure the door wouldn’t roll back down and squish us on our way out.

I threw our bags first, then followed suit and rolled out. The rising sun and fresh morning air greeted me. I pulled out my Beretta and shot the infected closest to me. The bullet landed in the thing’s torso, the impact knocking it to the tarmac. In three steps I hovered over the infected and shot it in the head. The body jerked at the force and laid still. I looked up, only to see the rest coming straight for me.

A bullet whizzed by my head, and I turned to glare at the idiot who thought it was all right to shoot so close to me. John had his gun raised and was picking off the closest threats. I trusted John with a gun more than anyone, but I still didn’t approve of him shooting so close to me. The slide of my gun popped back, signaling that the magazine was empty. All those bullets used and I had only taken down three infected. I really needed to work on my aim when under pressure.

“Bailey!” Ethan yelled over the fray.

I spotted him opening the truck door, stabbing the keys into the ignition. Taylor jumped into the passenger side since he was closest. I dug into my pocket and produced the van keys.

“John, let’s go!” I screamed, as I ran for the van.

He held up his hand for the keys, and I tossed them to his opened palm, missing my target by a foot. I was too worked up to fight over who was driving and with my shaky hands I wouldn’t be very good at it anyways. The engine sputtered, but started quickly when John turned the keys. He put it in drive and floored it, smashing into the infected that was right in front of the grill. Blood and goo splattered all over the windshield and the body crunched under the wheels as we ran it over. John flipped on the wipers and the mess smeared all over the windshield.

I let out a nervous laugh at the sight, and John gave me a questioning glace out of the corner of his eye. I waved it off. After a few more wipes, the windshield was clear of the mess. John avoided hitting anymore of the infected, steering the vehicle away from the bodies coming toward us. We peeled out onto the road that passed behind the Walmart, the wheels squealing in protest. The smell of burnt rubber wafted into the van.

I turned to look out the back window only to realize I couldn’t see over the mound of supplies crammed into the back.

“They’re right behind us.” John pointed to the side mirror.

I spotted Ethan’s truck a few car lengths behind us and breathed a sigh of relief.  John led us out of the town and back onto the interstate.

“So I take it we are still going to Duson?” I asked, noticing we were not heading back in the direction of the cabin.

“We need to see if they have a police scanner or transistor radio. Maybe we can start broadcastin’ and see if anyone hears.”

I glanced back at the side mirror to see that Ethan’s truck was not right behind us anymore.

“Ah, John.” I pointed to his side mirror.

“Shit!” He put on the brakes and slammed his hand against the steering wheel.

We were sitting in the middle of the three-lane highway, a few wrecked and abandoned vehicles sitting nearby. There was an unmoving body lying face down by a rusty Mustang.

“Are you going to turn around?”

“We will give ‘em a few more minutes. I’m guessin’ Ethan tried to go back to the cabin.”

There was no way Taylor would allow that, so I fervently hoped they didn’t start fighting. Taylor would easily throw a punch, and Ethan was worked up enough that he would return it. We waited in silence for a few more minutes, our breathing and the engine the only sounds in the van. I opened my mouth only to shut it again when I spotted the black Chevy coming up behind us like a shadow.

“See.” John put the van back into drive and we continued along the interstate.

“Do you think that horde will follow us? Or at least start moving our direction?” I mused out loud.

“Dunno, I hope not. But let’s just pray they head this way instead of the other direction.”

We approached the Duson turnoff in just under forty-five minutes. I only counted a handful of infected during our jaunt down the interstate. John easily avoided them, making use of all three lanes. The turnoff wasn’t blocked with cars like the last one, so our entry to Duson was already smoother than the last.

“Any idea where the police station is?” I asked.

“I got a rough idea, I’ve only ever set foot in Duson once before. Had no reason to go to the police station.”

The town was a decent-sized one, not too large or small. We passed by the main drag of stores then ended up in a relatively new development of houses. They stuck out amongst the rest of the aging infrastructure.

“Are you also noticing the lack of any infected? Or bodies?”

“Just thinkin’ that myself. A town this size should have some out and ab–”

“Stop!”

John hit the brakes without question, and I stepped out of the car. The last portion of the new subdivision was all just empty lots. But that wasn’t what had caught my attention.

“Ho-ly shit,” John said in a low voice as we approached the last lot.

It looks like they had managed to dig the basement but instead of being filled with cement, the hole was filled with charred and burnt bodies. The stench of scorched charcoal and gasoline mixed with a foul smell I couldn’t place drifted off of the massive pile. There must have been at least a hundred bodies in there. Whether they were the corpses of infected or not, I had no way of telling.

“You can still smell the burned flesh, whoever did this must have added to the pile recently,” John observed, making me even more nervous.

Taylor and Ethan had joined us, both just as disturbed by the sight as we were.

“What the hell?” Ethan asked to no one in particular.

“You think whoever did this is nearby?” I asked.

“I’d bet on it, and to do somethin’ on this scale, it would need more than one person.” John rubbed his hand along his jaw line.

“Well, this is probably the most efficient way to deal with the infected,” Taylor said.

“If they were all infected.” I’m sure the others were thinking it, too.

“Come on, let’s keep movin’,” John prompted.

We drove in silence, following the blue signs that showed us the way to the police station. John made sure to drive slower, trying not to draw attention to ourselves. Since we were the only moving vehicles on the road, driving slower was futile. We stood out like a speck of dirt on a white floor. The police station appeared on our right; a chain link fence surrounded the perimeter.

John spotted them before I did. “I’m willin’ to bet these are the folks who did the burnin’ back there.”

There were two men stationed at the makeshift front gate. The chain link had run all the way along except for the break in the front, which was now covered with a brand new moveable chain link gate; you could tell due to the shininess of the gate compared to the rest.

Now aware of our presence, the two men approached our van with their weapons drawn. Both had automatic weapons pointed right for us. They weren’t wearing any police or military type clothes, just green cargo jackets and jeans. One man veered off toward Ethan’s truck while the other came up to the driver’s side. I gulped as the man opened John’s door.

“Get out,” he said forcefully.

“All right, we don’t want any trouble,” John said calmly.

“You too,” the man said when he noticed me in the passenger’s seat.

I reached for the door, fear making it hard to grip the handle.
Were we being taken hostage?

John looked me in the eye and nodded. “It’s gonna be fine.”

“Now!” the armed man demanded.

After a few attempts, I managed to open the door. My legs were shaking, as I clambered out of the van. It’d been two months since we’d seen other people and these were the first one’s we’d run into. This wasn’t a good sign. Ethan and Taylor were ushered out of the truck by the other guard.

“Turn off the van.”

John did as he was told. The guard grabbed the key chain from John’s hand while keeping the gun trained on him. The other guard followed suit and took Ethan’s keys from him. They were both average height and not particularly muscled, but they had automatic guns aimed right at us.

“Get over there,” he pointed at John with his weapon.

My legs were like a hundred pound weights, fear making my limbs seize up. It made my journey to John’s side more difficult than necessary.

“Open up,” the other guard yelled and the chain link gate started to move.

It took two men from the inside to lift and swing open the wide gate. They were dressed in similar attire; they almost looked like a hunting group. All with their own weapons.

“Move.”

I looked at John, the terror clear as day on my face.

He whispered to me, “Just follow my lead, and we’ll get out of here.”

With the guns pointed at our back, we were ushered into the compound. There was not much room between the fence and the building, especially along the sides. Our vehicles would not have fit inside. The gate was closed behind us and the two men who had opened it, joined the guards in pointing their guns at us.

The front doors to the police station opened, and one man strolled through as if he owned the place. He was wearing a faded green wife-beater top and army cargo pants. His belt boasted two gun holsters, which were not empty, and a rather large knife. Tattoos covered one of his arms, and he wore a pair of motorcycle gloves. As he got closer, the taller and bigger he became. He must have stood well over six feet and had the body of someone who devoted at least two hours a day to weight training. His face didn’t show any emotion, as he approached us.

“Conner, did you check them for weapons?” he barked at the guard who had forced us out.

Conner panicked and motioned for the others. “Will do.”

They descended on us, and I instinctively backed up. John shook his head at me, silently telling me to remain still. The guard patted me down, opting to remove my entire belt containing my holstered Beretta and knife, while the other guards did the same to the rest of our group. They gathered up our weapons and accessories, placing them in a large garbage bag. Now we really were screwed. There was one man stationed on the roof with a hunting rifle. He didn’t seem too concerned with us, as his weapon remained impassive at his side.

“Now what brings ya’ll to Duson this fine day?” the muscled man asked, trying to sound conversational.

“We just wanted to see if we could find a police radio or scanner, that’s all,” John spoke up on our behalf.

Not that any of us were considering speaking up. I’m pretty sure that if I was forced to speak, that my voice would come out in a squeak. I have never been so terrified in my whole life; even the infected didn’t scare me as much as this group did. I flexed my fingers, trying to get the involuntary stiffness out of them. Apparently extreme fear made my joints buckle and stiffen. This was something I would have been happy to go my whole life without knowing.

The man smiled at us while the rest of their crew remained silent. It was clear he fancied himself the leader of this paramilitary type group. They looked like a rag-tag bunch of macho men, not proper military like John. John’s demeanour was a lot more professional than theirs.

“Why don’t you come inside and maybe we can discuss a trade? My men tell me you have two vehicles full of supplies.”

It wasn’t until then that I noticed the walkie-talkies they all sported on their belts.

“I think out here would be best,” John eyed the man warily.

“Now you’ve hurt my feelings,” their leader tsked. “I would have liked for you to take the offer voluntarily. Now, I must insist you come inside.”

He nodded his head toward us and the guards sprang into action. The one closest to me grabbed my forearm in a vice like grip. He started to drag me toward the police building. I wanted to struggle, but none of my limbs were cooperating with what my brain was telling them to do. The others didn’t bother putting up a fight either, now noticing that the sniper on the roof had hoisted his rifle to eye level.

John stared the leader down as we were ushered against our will into the building. The leader just smiled politely as we passed. He shot me a wink, as I walked by, and I just stared.
Have I mentioned how screwed we were?