Zombie Apocalypse Box Set 2 Page 6

  Sarah opened her mouth, feeling her tongue dryly stick to the roof of it. She cleared her throat and slowly she managed to summon her words.

  "We're moving out," she said.

  The garage erupted into a dull chatter again, with various people crying out in protest.

  "We can't just leave him!" someone said.

  "We wouldn't leave you!" someone snapped at her.

  The crowd became raucous, and Wayne's eyes shifted across them, measuring them before looking back at Sarah. He gave her a subtle nod, and it was the first sense of reassurance that he had given her. It calmed her, and she understood in that moment that she had to truly lead the group, even if it was something they didn't want to hear.

  "We're moving out now," Sarah said forcefully.

  There were still protests, but the chatter started to dwindle.

  "We don't know where Derek is, or if he's still alive," Sarah told them. "He knows the protocol, and he should be here right now. Since he's not, we have to assume the worst. If this were any other circumstance, we could look for him, but right now it's not safe for us to stay here." She motioned to the sky. "It's already dark, and if we don't leave now, none of us are going to make it. We can leave a note for him, telling him that we've moved out, but in two minutes, I expect those bags to be over everyone's shoulders and everyone to be out of this garage and on the street." She stared down each of them, and she was met with a variety of faces; some of them seemed completely obsequious and others had a little bit of rebellion painted across them. But all of them were silent, and she knew that they all understood her orders.

  "Move out," she said. She picked up the M1 Garand off the table and hung it around her neck, then grabbed one of the sacks of supplies they had packed and threw it over her shoulder. As she headed out the garage, Wayne acknowledged her and couldn't help a little smile from spreading across his face.

  The entire group moved out into the street, almost every one of them carrying a small sack slung over their shoulder, and about half of them wielding firearms. They numbered fourteen people, and they stuck together in a tight cluster as Sarah silently waved them forward. Some of them flicked on flashlights, and she told them to keep them on the ground when they could; she wanted to find a suitable place for the night, at least a couple miles away, and she wanted to do it quickly without the chance of being spotted by anyone or anything.

  Sarah stayed at the front of the group as they moved from street to street, carving their way from the edge of town into the more developed areas. Trees and wild grass gave way to tall buildings enclosing them as they headed downtown. The wind was bitingly cold, as if lashing out at them for being out at night. It swirled and howled through the wind tunnel that the old stores and offices created, causing each one of them to become paranoid. The more nervous members of the group whipped their flashlights into the alleyways as they passed, imagining grotesque monsters out of inert rubbish.

  Sarah found herself glancing over her shoulder. She and Wayne hadn't spoken much about what they had witnessed in the woods, and she knew it was on his mind just as much as it was on hers. Details that she desperately wanted to know were still nowhere to be found, but the one thing their encounter confirmed was that this new type of zombie certainly wasn't a natural mutation of any virus. It was a deliberate action taken by an unknown group—and one that seemed to have far more advanced capabilities than anyone else. It also meant that the original zombie virus dollars to doughnuts was intentionally manufactured. And the strange man dressed all in black weighed heavy on Sarah's mind. His towering presence and the way everyone around him seemed terrified of him... the thought made her shudder. But the worst part of all was that purple skull on his face. It was stamped permanently in her memory, like it had been etched into her brain—the wide, hollowed eyes; the jaw hung open with teeth that looked like they were bared to taunt her; the gritty, scratched appearance of the bone, all displayed in a deep and somehow unsettling purple hue, coming out from the blackness...

  Another shiver climbed up Sarah's spine, and she focused back on the road. Grumbles came behind her as she led the survivors. It was incessant little chatter that the others whispered about her. They were still upset about her decision to leave Derek behind, and the old self-doubting thoughts set in. The darkness swelled around her like a boa constrictor as her nerves flared up. Her eardrums buzzed with the blattering pressure until she broke rank and sunk back to the side of the group. The chatter stopped suddenly and the only noises became those of hurried footsteps on pavement and the rustling and rattling of supplies and weapons.

  Carly slipped away from the rest of the group and sidled over to Sarah, that same sullen look from before still on her face. "We shouldn't do this," she whispered.

  "Do what?" Sarah whispered back.

  "We shouldn't stay with these new people," Carly said. "We had a good thing on our own. Bringing more people in is only going to mess it up."

  "Carly, they're good people. Trust me, I can vouch for them."

  Carly shook her head in frustration. "That's not the point. I'm telling you, we already have to find a new place, and now we have more mouths to feed, more people to take care of and account for, and that's going to be dangerous. A small group worked." Her voice turned almost desperate as she added, "Sarah, please."

  But Sarah dismissed her, almost angrily. "Now is not the time," she shot back. "There's nothing wrong with having more help. It's not going to be any different. And stop asking me about it, because right now I have to keep my focus on the road."

  Carly staggered away from her, shocked, as if she had been slapped. It was hard to hide the look of betrayal on her face, which then turned to anger, and after a few seconds she moved to the other side of the crowd.

  Sarah watched her go, already regretting what she said, but she knew she needed to put it out of her mind for now and focus on finding somewhere safe for the night. They had already traveled about a mile, but she wasn't confident that they were far enough away to be safe. She scanned the crowd next to her, checking to see that everyone was okay, and she noticed Barry at the back of the group starting to lag behind. She moved over to him and put an arm around his back.

  He looked over and smiled. "Ah, there you are."

  "How's the leg doing?" she asked, nodding down at his limp.

  "It's barkin' at me a little," he said, patting it. "Never quite the same as it was before. Noah really did a number on it."

  Sarah gave him a sympathetic smile. She still felt horrible about what happened to him at Noah's Ark, and now she felt like it was her obligation to take care of him to atone for it. "Here, let me give you a hand," she said. She helped him as he hobbled along, leaning on her and gaining a little bit of speed to keep up with the group.

  "You're so good to me, my dear," he told her, and she blushed.

  "You deserve it," she said.

  "I love you, Selma."

  Sarah's smile faltered. She had looked away for a moment and thought he was speaking aloud, but when she craned her neck back, she saw that he was looking squarely into her eyes. Her mouth hung open, at a loss for words.

  "Are we going to the parade?" he asked. "I hope Ben is there. Oh, I really hope we see Ben." His head swiveled away from her as he stared off dreamily into the distance.

  She became very worried, never seeing this side of him before. Despite his age, he was always mentally alert, but now he was showing signs of the same illness that he had told her about his wife Selma. Sarah stayed quiet as she helped him along, a sudden feeling hanging heavy on her heart. She didn't know if it was sadness or fear, but she swallowed a lump down her throat and carried on.

  "Help! Help!" someone shouted.

  The whole group bumped into each other as they shuffled toward the sidewalk away from the noise, snapping their flashlights down a side street at the source of the commotion.

  Wayne raised his rifle at a figure that ran down the street toward them, his finger on the trigger.
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br />   "Please! You have to help me!" The man came into view, short, with a thin layer of brown hair wrapping around the back of his otherwise bald head and wearing narrow glasses high up on his nose. In the sharp white light, the sweat on his forehead sparkled like diamonds as it ran down his tired face. His face was red like he had been running for a while, and he stopped in front of them, hunched over and catching his breath, periodically throwing a look over his shoulder.

  "What's wrong?" Sarah asked him, feeling the weight of her own rifle.

  "Zombies!" the man cried, although his voice softened a little from the shrieks they were before.

  The group shone their flashlights past the man, but they saw nothing in their immediate vicinity. Still, Sarah took his words with the weight and gravity that they ought to have had. She wanted to give the order to move out immediately, but she let the man catch his breath.

  "Can I stay with you?" he asked frantically. "Please, I... I'm not armed. I don't have anything on me. They'll catch up to me if I'm on my own!"

  "Relax," Sarah said. "Can you walk again?"

  He nodded.

  "Okay, try to keep up." She turned her head to the group. "Move out! Quickly."

  The rest of the survivors didn't waste any time in picking up the pace and continuing down the road. They traveled deep into the downtown core of Raleigh, and they were still very lucky to have run into no one, even the zombies that the frantic man purported to have seen.

  "What's your name?" Sarah asked him.

  "Ron," the man said, wiping sweat from his forehead. The redness in his face drained a little, but she could see he was still huffing and puffing.

  "I'm Sarah. Are you going to be okay? We're not traveling much further. We just have to find a place for the night."

  "I'll make it," he said.

  "Okay," she replied, patting him on the back. He stayed near the middle of the group as Sarah moved back up to the front. She wanted to travel a little farther to be safe, but she didn't want to push her luck. The fact that they had remained unscathed and untroubled on their journey so far was a near miracle. She studied the buildings they passed, looking for somewhere that was halfway decent, but the city appeared to be in bigger disrepair than Durham. The vandalism was heavier here than anywhere else she'd seen, and what Dunblane had told her under that bridge before meeting his gruesome demise about Raleigh being ground zero for the zombie virus came back to her.

  They rounded a corner and walked past a tall apartment building. It stood like a dark pillar carving out a section of the sky as it loomed over them, watching. The pure blackness coming through its smashed windows felt like it was lying in wait for them. Sarah shuddered just looking at the place and decided to pass it without a second glance, though the front door looked sturdy and unobstructed. She directed the group to follow her as they rounded another corner and then she stopped dead.

  The street ahead of them was filled with zombies, at least several dozen.

  The survivors stood perfectly still, petrified. Sarah prayed in that moment that none of them would make any noise, and she backed up, bumping into them before their limbs were able to regain their motion and do the same.

  The zombies slowly wandered around in no particular fashion, and Sarah tried to discern whether they were the old kind of zombie or the new one, but as the survivors had remained undetected and the zombies were unprovoked, it was impossible to tell, at least with her limited knowledge of how the new zombies behaved. Whatever the case was, she didn't want to stick around and find out.

  The survivors bunched up in a tighter ball than ever as they retreated back around the corner and began to pass the apartment building once again.

  Just then, a roving pack of zombies came out from a side street up ahead. They hadn't spotted them yet, but they did close off their escape, leaving them nowhere to go.

  Sarah watched in horror as the zombies turned and shambled toward them. With only seconds to spare, she gave that second glance up at the ominous apartment building next to them.

  "This way!" she whispered to the rest of the group, and she darted for the front door. It opened with a dull whine and she directed everyone inside like a matador waving through a bull. When everyone was in, she shut the door, sealing them off from the street. They found themselves in complete darkness and absolute silence, and Sarah got a very malevolent and unyielding feeling in her gut that told her they weren't alone.

  6

  Sleepwalking

  Everyone was motionless for a long time, not daring to make the first move or sound. The silence was so smothering that there was almost a noise to it, like a heavy vibration against their eardrums. Sarah turned on her flashlight and everyone watched as the beam was drawn along the floor to the end of the hallway in front of them. They waited on pins and needles as she crept down the hallway, waving the beam from side to side almost seductively. She reached a corner at the end of it and everyone held their breath as she turned it and disappeared.

  She staggered back into view, her flashlight splashing over the dull gray walls as she pulled her arm away in a wild jerk. Some people in the group gasped and then pressed their hands to their mouths to keep quiet. Once Sarah was halfway down the hall to them, she trotted the rest of the way, shaking her head.

  "There's a lot of them," she whispered as quietly as possible.

  "What do we do?" someone asked.

  "We can't go back out into the street," she said. "There's a stairwell not far around the corner, but there's about four or five zombies hanging around at the end of the hallway. We have to sneak by in front of them."

  The group muttered faintly, expressing their discontent at the idea.

  Sarah waited for Wayne's opinion, and after a lengthy deliberation, he gave his approval.

  "Everyone follow me," Sarah told them. "We're going to move around the corner to the door, and I'll wave everyone through. When we're in the stairwell, we'll go up and find a safe place to stay for the night. Hopefully we can find an empty room with a sturdy door."

  The group grumbled, but they agreed and fell silent, waiting for Sarah to lead them.

  She crept forward to the bend in the hallway and the rest of them followed. The sheer number of them created an echoing murmur as their feet slapped on the tile floor, despite their intentions to be quiet. As they neared the corner, gentle moans and rasps came from beyond.

  Sarah kept the flashlight on the floor, lighting up just enough of the way for them to see in front of them so they didn't trip and fall over, leaving the rest of the hallway, and what was prowling around in it, in darkness. When Sarah reached the door, she carefully twisted the handle and gave it a push. It creaked open softly, inviting them into more darkness. She stuck her head in and worked the flashlight around. A sparse cloud of dust particles hung in the air, stirred into life from the opening of the door, but the stairwell was otherwise as still and silent as the grave. She nodded to the group and kept the door propped open as Wayne stepped forward and took the lead, his hunting knife drawn and ready for anything they may encounter.

  The survivors followed him and quietly filed through the doorway. Wayne led with his own flashlight in hand and Sarah waited for the last of the survivors to go through before gently closing the door behind her.

  The coast was clear as they made their way up to the second floor. Wayne opened the door and peeked his head through, holding his knife at the ready and shining his flashlight along the dark hallways. But he pulled back and shut the door, shaking his head. "Second floor is crawling with them," he said.

  Sarah was at the back of the crowd now, all of them clustered behind Wayne on the tiny landing, so she led the way up to the third floor. She didn't have a knife, and she certainly didn't want to have to use the rifle she was holding, but she kept her nerves cool as she traversed the blackness that almost seemed to be forcing itself against her. When she reached the door, the others waited with bated breath as she checked the hallway. It stretched to either side, the w
ay to the right leading to a bend just like the ground floor and the way to the left stretching on farther than the flashlight could illuminate. But there was nothing in sight, and the telltale groans and raspy wails were absent.

  "It looks clear," Sarah told them with a thumbs-up. She stepped into the hallway and held the door for the others, letting them spill out like a flock of timid sheep.

  She decided on the left path, wanting to keep unknown corners to a minimum. The chipped and peeled paint on the walls looked puke-green in the unnatural light from the flashlight, and the effect somehow made them even more uneasy. Doorways stood on either side of them like statues, watching them as they went by. Some of the doors stood open, all of them showing the same ravenous blackness behind them, and anything lurking in the night would be shrouded by it.

  Sarah didn't want to take any chances, and she searched for the closest safe room to the stairwell. She waited at the threshold of the first room, leaning in and waving the flashlight beam around. Beyond a small entranceway was the kitchen hidden around a corner and then the living room past that. She crept into the black maw, first leaning around the corner and peering into the kitchen.

  A tall woman stood there in front of the refrigerator, her eyes glassy and white. Her long hair was stringy and matted, and her skin was rough and dry like an old leather suitcase bursting apart at the seams.

  The unexpected shock of seeing her made Sarah stumble back into the wall, hitting it with a heavy thump. She retreated toward the doorway, never turning her back from the zombie as it stumbled after her. She saw just the flash of it appear from around the corner of the kitchen before she cleared the door and shut it.

  Dull bangs hit the door from the other side as the zombie tried to get through. The noises were muffled, but they were strong enough to be heard in the quiet hallway.