Scavengers. Part 21

Dejah smiled and waved. "I'm alive. Thirsty though. Y'all take care of David. He's the one with the st.i.tches on his gut."

"Don't worry, we're keeping an eye on him." Shaun winked at David. "We just loaded soft drinks. What sounds good?"

"How about a c.o.ke?"

Shaun opened a knotted bag and dug around until he found a red can. He popped the top and handed the cold can to Dejah. "Here you go. Still cold."

"Thank you so much! I didn't know we had delivery here." She laughed. "Such quality service. Do you have steak? Maybe a nice New York strip and baked potato with b.u.t.ter?"

Shaun grinned. "How about ..." he dug around in a second bag, "some Hot Skins Pork Rinds and a bag of Lays? Top of the line, for the lady, of course."

"Of course," Dejah gave him a groggy smile.

"You coming with me to get the other bags, Romeo?" Kathryn asked, a bit of impatience edging her voice. She stood, one hand on her hip, outside the helicopter, waiting. Dejah looked past Shaun with a questioning look. He realized Dejah hadn't known anything about Kathryn before now, but there'd have to be time for introductions later.

Shaun turned to Kathryn. "Sure. Hey, Dejah, we'll be back in a few minutes. I need to help Kathryn get the rest of the food."

"Go on, I'll be fine." She leaned back in the seat, drinking her soda.

As soon as they were away from the helicopter, headed back toward the main building, Shaun scowled at Kathryn. "That Romeo comment was out of line. I'm not in love with her or anything. She's like a mom. She saved my life."

Kathryn shrugged. "She seems to need a lot of attention, that one."

"None that she wants. All Dejah wants is to get to her daughter. The rest of this c.r.a.p just keeps happening to her. It's not her fault."

"Whatever you say, Romeo." Kathryn rolled her eyes and stepped up the pace to the metal building intent on retrieving the final bags of snacks and sodas.

Once inside, Kathryn seemed antsy. Shaun noticed her discomfort. She was eyeing a unis.e.x restroom just down a side hall, next to a drinking fountain.

"I hate to do this, but it's gotta happen. I'm going to have to use that restroom while we're here," Kathryn said.

The side hall where the bathroom was located was well-lit and decidedly without menace. Still, the quietness in this place seemed pregnant with dark possibilities. They couldn't see all the way to the end of the hallway from this angle, but it was close enough to the door they could get out if a zombie horde emerged from the back of the building or one of the offices. So far so good, but there were no guarantees their luck would hold.

"Okay," Shaun said, voice heavy with trepidation. Since he'd chugged that soda, he felt the urge too. d.a.m.n it, maybe not such a smart idea. "I'll keep an eye out while you go, then you can stand guard for me."

Kathryn nodded and walked the hall. She slowly pushed open the door to the restroom. The door closed behind her.

He listened for a moment. He couldn't hear anything inside the bathroom.

"Is it okay in there?" Shaun shouted.

Kathryn didn't answer. Maybe she didn't hear me. Shaun sat, alert and ready, on the edge of the sofa, not really expecting any trouble, but not entirely trusting they were safe either. He felt a surge of relief when he heard a toilet flush.

Kathryn emerged, drying her hands on paper towels.

"Your turn."

Shaun slipped inside the room. Light bathed the room in the bright glow of florescent magic. The bathroom was the average public facility: metal stalls, low to the ground porcelain toilets that had seen cleaner days. Two sinks were grimy and edged with rust. One of the faucets dripped, echoing in the room. He grasped the metal pull on his zipper.

He was taking a p.i.s.s when the drip drip drip of the rusty sink was drowned out by unmistakable sound of gunshots.

"d.a.m.n!" Shaun finished in a hurry, readied his pistol, pulled the door open a crack, and eased his gun around the doorframe, looking through the hall toward the sofas where Kathryn was waiting.

Kathryn was no longer there. The bags of food and drinks were torn apart, their contents littering the tiled floor, cans rolling every direction.

"s.h.i.t," Shaun hissed in a whisper, and backed into the restroom. It was the one room in the building where he could be certain he was alone. His own breathing was louder in his ears than he wished as he listened to the sounds around him. Was she hiding? Should he call to her? Uncertain of his next move, he cursed under his breath.

He peered though the hall again and caught sight of a gray-trousered leg and boot rounding the corner. It was a Sickie. He came into Shaun's line of vision. The zombie's uniform marked him as one of the airport maintenance crew. His nametag said he was Bill. Bill wasn't looking too good.

Bill opened the narrow door leading to the janitor's closet and was ripped to shreds by a sudden burst of gunfire. Kathryn leapt from the closet, screaming a primal shout. Kicking the body of the infected fiend to the floor, she ran toward the green sofas. "Shaun!"

Shaun looked in both directions and then ran toward the shouting Kathryn. "I'm here," he shouted as loud as he dared. If there was one infected, it seemed likely that others would be in the near vicinity. "Let's get out of here!"

They ran for the door. Just as they made it outside, seven infected maintenance men poured from a side door in the building, heading toward the helicopter pad. On the other side of the chopper, three Sickies came around the fueling truck, shambling straight for David and the waiting helicopter.

David stood, tensed, hands cupped over his eyes, staring toward the corrugated metal building.

"Go! Go!" Kathryn shouted. She gestured wildly toward David and the chopper. More zombies filed from the hanger. The place was alive and swarming with the monsters.

David ran around the helicopter, jumping into the c.o.c.kpit through his door. Shaun ran faster than Kathryn and clamored into the backseat, panting.

"Come on Kathryn!" he shouted out the door.

Kathryn struggled with a man in a gray jumpsuit who grabbed onto her jacket at the edge of the landing pad and was holding on despite her best efforts to dislodge him. She pivoted, ramming the b.u.t.t of the gun into the Sickie's head.

David started up the chopper. The noise drowned out Kathryn's shouts.

Sickies came from every direction.

Kathryn struggled to reach the helicopter. She frantically yanked against her captor's grip, trying to get clear before the others caught up. It was futile; three more zombies rushed ahead of the staggering group. They fastened their blood-smeared hands around her arms and pulled her to the pavement. A deep crimson stain spread across the arm of her jacket, and the fabric was ripped free revealing b.l.o.o.d.y flesh. Grimy fingernails left deep gouges in their wakes, curled runnels of skin peeling from the rivulets.

Kathryn kicked the head of a zombie on the ground, its hair dangling in patches from leathery scalp remains. Its skin seemed to have dried on its body, the ruined flesh of its eye sockets swimming with maggots where flies had planted eggs as it slept. She bashed in the drooling face with her heel. For every infected person she managed to do in, another one latched onto her.

A woman in a blue business suit and lighter shade bluish-gray skin clutched Kathryn's hair and pulled. Kathryn screeched and twirled, beating the woman with her fists. The businesswoman lost her footing, and fell, but took a sizeable clump of Kathryn's hair with her.

"We've got to do something!" Shaun screamed. David pushed the barrel of the rifle through the open window and tried to aim for the heads of the infected, but he couldn't get a clear line. There were too many of them and now they couldn't see Kathryn. Every few seconds they could see her hand or foot, but no clear visual.

"Shoot, d.a.m.n it! Shoot!" Shaun shouted.

"I can't see where she is."

"It doesn't matter, man. If she's getting eaten by those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, she's going to want to be dead anyway. You gotta take the chance. Shoot them!"

David popped off a few rounds, catching a couple of the infected work crew in their backs. They fell to the ground around the trampling feet of the others, but their absence did little to slow the onslaught of terror enveloping Kathryn.

As the shots pierced the loud drone of the chopper's engines, the zombies turned to the helicopter. Several broke away from the cl.u.s.ter around Kathryn and shuffled to the landing pad. From the hanger, a dozen or more zombies emerged, some in business suits and dresses. It was like a hornet's nest had been whacked with a stick.

David eased the helicopter into the air.

"We can't just leave her!" Shaun yelled.

Dejah put a hand on Shaun's arm. He knew if David was leaving Kathryn behind, there was no hope for her rescue. He just didn't want to believe it. Shaun slammed the door closed, locked it, and strapped himself into his seat. "Can we shoot from the air?"

He looked below, over the scrambling crowd of zombies, where Kathryn's body lay face down on the pavement. She wasn't moving.

A thump sounded from the pilot's side of the chopper. Dejah screamed.

Hanging on the side of the helicopter was a gore-crusted Sickie, his face smashed against the gla.s.s, black mouth fogging it with wretched breath.

David tilted the bird a hard left. The zombie lost his hold and tumbled to the pavement below like a sock-doll dropped from a balcony. Shaun tried to spot Kathryn beneath the growing horde of zombies. The mob grew thicker, and the helicopter put more distance between them and the ground. And then they were away.

Everyone rode in silence, listening to the din of the wind through the rotor blades. Dejah leaned back in her seat, breathing heavily into her microphone, eyes closed.

"We should've done something," Shaun muttered.

"Nothing we could've done, pal. There were just too d.a.m.n many of them." Over the speakers in their helmets, they heard his deep sigh, laden with regret.

Shaun looked back at Dejah and she gave him a sad smile. They didn't even get to meet each other, he thought.

David piloted the copter east into Hunt County.

CHAPTER 32.

Dr. Josh Gutierrez buried his face in his hands, and then, in a complete and utter loss of control, dropped his head to the metal desk in anger. He yelled at the top of his lungs, raising his head, and slamming a fist into the desktop. "Does Robbins not get the severity of this situation?"

Nurse Doris Ford sat opposite the desk on a folding chair, rigid now after his outburst, a duffle bag on her lap. She was leaving. "Josh, it sounds to me like Dr. Robbins is doing everything he can to help control this situation. He's only one man."

"And so am I! I've got raging lunatics strapped to cots and fence posts just to keep them from killing each other. I've got tents full of healthy people that won't go home because they don't want to leave infected family members behind. I'm down to three staff members - two after you leave. This is a nightmare."

"You should leave."

"I can't. I took an oath. I have to stay."

"Bulls.h.i.t. Your oath didn't account for flesh eating zombies. Just leave." Doris's blunt language startled Josh. She stood and turned toward the door, but faced him again. "Leave, Josh. Tell the healthy people to get out, let the Army and police go, and leave."

"And leave these ... people ... these infected ... to their own devices?"

"Yes."

Josh shook his head, exhaustion worn deep into the lines of his face. "Be careful, Doris, and take care of yourself out there."

"I'll say a prayer for you, Dr. Gutierrez."

"We'll need more than prayers out here, Doris, but thanks all the same." Josh stood and walked Doris to the door of the trailer serving as the clinic office. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye." Doris walked down the metal stairs and into a police car heading into town. She waved to him from the pa.s.senger window, her face a vision of worry.

Josh sighed, and sunk his hands into the deep pockets of his scrubs, watching the squad car drive over the tree-framed dirt road, and then turn onto the county road. He looked around the quarantine camp. Maybe he should leave.

His phone rang, vibrating against his chest. He slid it from his pocket, opening it. "Gutierrez."

"Josh. It's Matt. Bad news."

Josh laughed hard. "Well, I didn't expect f.u.c.king Disney."

"Sorry to have to tell you this, but there are no sedatives left near your location after we had so many shipped directly there. I've scrounged and begged at every pharmacy, clinic, and doctor's office, and I've got a small case of clonazepam that would work great for your worst patients if only I could get it to you."

Silence.

"Josh?"

"I'm here."

"I thought I lost the call again," Dr. Robbins said.

"Nope. Still here. For the time being. I'll probably be dead by morning."

"Now, don't talk like that. You've got the infected people restrained, right? That should hold'em for the time being."

"The time being? You said that days ago," Josh said, frustration evident in his voice. "Doris left a few minutes ago."

"Who've you got left?" Dr. Robbins sounded dismayed.

"Me and two orderlies. Handful of Army and police. The patients' families are handling most of the duties now."

"That's all?"

"I should leave, too. It's suicide to stay much longer. The infected are getting more agitated. There's no food. There are no meds. Unless you can get some sort of serum out here soon, I'm certain everyone here is doomed. I'm telling all healthy people to stay at their own peril. I don't think I'm doing a good enough job of terrifying the s.h.i.t out of them yet."

"If you really don't see any possible way around the situation, Josh, you should take as many who will listen and go," Dr. Robbins said.

"Thinking about it. Seriously, Robbins. I need to talk with the families one more time and convince them to leave. After that, I'm throwing in the towel. I'm probably in the next car out."

"Okay, listen. I've been going back and forth with the research lab long-distance, and we're getting close to a serum that works as an antidote for the toxin and induces antibodies to fight the virus. I've been testing it on willing and-" he cleared his throat, "not so willing partic.i.p.ants. I'll give you a call when I can. As soon as it's ready, I'll get it to you if I have to bring it out to you myself. But if you've got to get out of there, Josh, then go." Robbins terminated the call.

Getting close isn't good enough; not for these people. Not now, Josh thought, staring at his phone. He returned it to his pocket, and went inside.

Nine-year-old Selah Corliss crept through the narrow pa.s.sages behind the big tan Army tents along the dirt path in the infected quarter. She slowly lifted one of the tents from its bottom edge and peered inside. A man lay on a cot, straps buckled around his chest and thighs. Once she'd watched an old Frankenstein movie with her dad. The image of the man now before her, shackled, reminded her of the monster. Although this man looked human, there still seemed to be something wrong with him at first glance. Not just the sickness, either. Darkness gathered around him in the waning light of day, as if something unseen cast its shadow over him. There was a musty smell, of something rotting. The man's skin was dark tan but had gone sallow in places, hair black, his eyes two pools of deep shadow. He was staring at the ceiling of the tent, mumbling words in another language that she couldn't understand.