Affliction Z: Abandoned Hope (Post Apocalyptic Thriller) (4 page)

Turk knelt next to the Suburban and checked the tire
pressure of the front driver’s side wheel. He wanted it a touch under factory
recommendation in case they had to head off-road. Anything was possible today.

The news of the outbreak had come as no surprise. He’d
remained clued in. It had been one of his conditions for remaining off the grid
as far as the government was concerned. In exchange for his exile, he received
updates on the virus that had slowly been spreading for most of the last
decade. Entire populations had been annihilated, yet the news never picked up
on it. No one seemed to care when a small African village or tribe vanished.

What did surprise Turk was how fast the virus broke out in
the States. He knew it wouldn’t be long until it hit Charleston. Being out now
was a risk. His only salvation was the small vial of antidote that had been
provided to him six years ago.

Another condition in his agreement with the government.

He replaced the caps on all four tires and then topped off
the gas tank. His brother emerged from the convenience store, aiming his M4 at
the register.

“Don’t bother calling the cops,” Marcus said. “They won’t
come.”

Turk shook his head at his little brother. “What the hell,
Marcus? I gave you cash.”

Marcus had always been the crazy one in the family.
Considering Turk had spent twenty years as a SEAL, that spoke volumes. While
Turk had been infiltrating hostile areas in an effort to keep his country safe,
Marcus had spent time behind bars for everything from robbery to attempted
murder. But he was loyal, and that was what Turk needed surrounding him at this
time.

When it came down to it, Marcus would do anything Turk
asked, even if it meant taking a life.

“Get in the car,” Turk said, opening the driver’s door.

“Ain’t like there’s anyone to bust us,” Marcus said.

“Just shut up for a while.” He’d always said his little
brother would never grow up. And now, it didn’t matter.

Turk fired up the big V-8 engine and pulled out of the gas
station parking lot. Traffic was lighter than he had expected. Charleston
wasn’t a small town. It wouldn’t be mistaken for a sprawling metropolis either.
Still, he’d thought that more people would be on the road, coming or going,
than he saw.

He avoided the interstate, instead taking back roads toward
the airport. This was the only trip he planned on making. In all, he planned on
five people arriving, including Sean’s wife, Kathy. He’d never met the woman,
although Sean had told him plenty about her years ago. From what Turk recalled,
she was tough and resilient. She’d be an asset in his community, not a
liability. He’d have welcomed her either way. Anything for an old friend.

Turk turned into an area designated as the cell phone
waiting lot. There, people could sit and wait for the person they were picking
up to call them and let them know they were standing outside the airport.

Charleston’s airport was small, consisting of only a couple
gates. Large rocking chairs sat in the lobby in front of an expansive window
that overlooked the runway. Turk had come to appreciate the quaintness of the
airport during his travels. He’d often sit down in one of those rockers for
fifteen minutes after a return flight home.

“Airport’s up there,” Marcus said.

Turk nodded. “I know.”

“Then what are we doing here?”

“Waiting and watching.”

“Why don’t we go to the airport?”

“You are aware of what has happened today, right? You
remember the stuff I’ve been preparing you for? It’s occurring now. You want to
run up to the front doors, be my guest. I’m waiting right here.”

“Why?” Marcus rolled down his window and spat. He pulled out
a cigarette.

“Take that outside the car,” Turk said. “And the reason
we’re waiting is because we’ve got no idea what is going on inside that
building. We don’t know if that plane right there carried one hundred infected
people. We’ll get some confirmation soon, and then we’ll go down there. But not
until then.”

Marcus disappeared around the back of the van and into the
woods. Turk wasn’t worried about him. Judging by the empty parking lot, he
wouldn’t find anyone to bother.

Turk pulled a pair of field glasses from his coat pocket and
surveyed the airport. The sun had started its descent. They had two hours of
natural light left. He had no intentions of being out after it went down. The
lack of communications meant that he had no idea when people would arrive, if
they arrived at all. He couldn’t even call what he intended to do a plan. The
seed had already been planted in his mind that he’d have to return to the
airport in the morning. He cursed at himself then, realizing that they should
have brought a second vehicle and left it parked at the airport. Then anyone
who arrived after he and Marcus had left would have a means of transporting
themselves to his compound. After all, he doubted that there would be any cab
or bus service after today.

Marcus emerged from the woods behind the lot and walked up
to Turk’s window.

“There’s some dude passed out back there,” Marcus said.

“Just leave him alone,” Turk said.

Marcus held up a burlap sack and a bottle of Jack. “I did. I
just grabbed these things.”

“Goddammit, Marcus.” Turk grabbed the latch and opened his
door.

Marcus jumped back as Turk hopped out of the Suburban.

Turk moved in quickly, shoving Marcus, who tripped as he
stepped backward.

Turk said, “What if that guy’s sick? You think of that? That
shit you’re holding could be infected.”

Marcus looked at the sack in his lap and the bottle he still
clutched in his hand. He spun the cap around the top of the bottle, grinning.

“Don’t do it,” Turk said.

Marcus lifted the bottle to his lips and tilted it upward.
He drank half the whiskey in the bottle.

Turk pulled his Sig Sauer P226 from its holster and aimed it
at his brother. Marcus smiled, holding the bottle out to the side. Turk
adjusted his aim and fired, shattering the whiskey bottle into a thousand
pieces.

Marcus scooted back like a sand crab, eventually getting to
his feet. He reached behind him and pulled out his pistol.

“What the fuck, Turk?”

Turk kept his Sig steady, aiming in the general direction of
his brother. “I told you to quit screwing around. Now, either you start taking
this seriously, or I’m gonna send the next shot—”

The familiar whooping sound of a cop car cut him off. Turk
glanced over and saw flashing blue and red lights. A voice came over the
speaker. “Put your weapons on the ground.”

Turk turned toward the cop car and took a step away from his
vehicle. In his peripheral vision he saw his brother shuffle back a few feet
and then start toward him. Turk lowered his weapon to the ground while
maintaining a tight grip.

“Put your weapons on the ground now,” the cop instructed.

“Move along,” Turk shouted. “This has nothing to do with
you.”

The police car darted forward and into the lot, stopping
twenty feet away from Turk and his brother, who now stood next to him. The door
flung open and the cop got out, using the door as a shield. He had his piece
drawn and aimed in their direction.

“Get the fuck outta here, man,” Marcus said.

Turk held up his free hand. “Marcus, quiet. Let me handle
this.” He took a few steps forward.

The cop swiveled his gun in Turk’s direction. “Don’t move.”

“Okay, look, I’m stopping right here. Listen to me. We’re
only here to get a few family members who are coming in. Surely, you know that
the world is going crazy today. There’s more important things for you to be
doing than policing the streets.”

“Drop your weapon,” the cop said.

Turk didn’t. “I’m not putting this gun down.”

The cop straightened and adjusted his aim. “Drop your damn—”

A shot rang out. Turk flinched to his right, dropped to one
knee and brought his Sig up, ready to fire at the cop. But the uniformed man
had collapsed on the ground. Turk looked over at his brother. Marcus stood
there, smiling and tucking his pistol back in his waistband.

“Wasted that asshole,” Marcus said proudly.

“Shit,” Turk yelled, rising to his feet. He lunged at Marcus
and caught him in the stomach with a right hook. His brother bent over, gasping
for air. “Pick yourself up and get in the car. We gotta get out of here now.”

Turk waited while Marcus staggered around the front of the
Suburban. He flipped on the headlights and caught a disgusted look from his
brother. Marcus stopped and looked back at the cop. A smile crossed his face.
He continued around and opened the door.

“Dude’s still alive,” Marcus said.

Turk dropped his chin to his chest and shook his head. He
exhaled heavily and said nothing.

“Well?”

“Get in.”

“You just gonna leave him out here to die? You know ain’t no
ambulance gonna come for him. He’s gonna suffer all night long.”

Turk lifted his head and turned toward his brother. He
couldn’t help but to finally give in to the notion that his little brother
was
a psychopath. All the years he’d defended Marcus meant nothing now. For a
moment, he was tempted to end his brother’s life right then and there. He’d
wondered with no law left to rule, how would Marcus react? Turk had just found
out.

“C’mon, Turk,” Marcus said. “Let me finish him.”

“One shot to the head.” Turk brought his hand up to his
face. He squeezed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Closing
his eyes, he waited for the fatal shot.

The cop pleaded for his life. He had a lot to live for, it
seemed. A wife, two daughters, and a couple dogs. The man’s words were reduced
to tears. He must’ve given up hope that Turk’s crazy little brother would spare
his life.

Turk had given Marcus the ultimatum of one shot, but he
failed to put a time restriction on the job. Now, Marcus dragged it out for his
own pleasure.

“Do it now,” Turk yelled.

And so Marcus did.

Addison walked through the deserted streets of Lynchburg,
Virginia. Surprisingly, people weren’t out rioting or looting. She noticed
every church parking lot was full while walking through the section of the city
she referred to as
God’s Quarters
. Amid reports that the sickness had
reared its maniacal head in the U.S., she saw hand painted signs stating things
like, “The time to repent is now,” and “Only God can save us.” Plenty of people
agreed, judging by the turnout she saw.

Addison walked on.
No salvation today
, she thought.

The day had been as odd as she had figured it would be.
First, class had been canceled. Once news had spread that something was wrong,
teachers and students alike didn’t care to be at school. She kicked around
campus for a little while, stopping in front of every television she passed.
After that, she went to work. The general manager of the restaurant, Laura, was
locking the front door as Addison arrived. Laura had been the one to tell her
of the outbreaks in New York, Atlanta and Miami. Addison was not aware that the
virus had reached the U.S. prior to that, and now she wondered if other areas
had been affected. She knew it was more a matter of when, not if. And probably
hours, not days.

She pushed that thought to the back of her mind.

She recognized a hymn being sung by the congregation in the
last church along the gauntlet. The words had faded in her memory, but the tune
would be there forever. She used to think that would be a long, long time. Now,
she hoped to make it to the end of the week.

The scene changed as she passed from God’s Quarters to a
seedier section of town. The air smelled of smoke, and the breeze hitting her
in the face stung her eyes. Here, residents were out in the street. A few store
windows were shattered. People climbed in and out through jagged holes. They
carried televisions, computers, stereo equipment and other electronics.

All the things one would need during the apocalypse
,
she thought.

She crossed the street to avoid the crowd gathered in front
of a store. People were drinking and smoking and cussing and yelling. The
further away she was the better. She ignored the first of the cat calls
directed toward her and picked up her pace. In her peripheral vision she
noticed three men cross the street. The one in the middle looked to be over
six-feet tall and skinny. He had a brown leather messenger bag slung over his
shoulder. His two companions were shorter, probably closer to her height. One
was heavy, the other average.

One of them called out to her. “What’s the rush, Baby?”

She ignored the man and continued walking. She had to travel
one more block north, then two blocks west in order to reach her apartment
complex. Once there, she could call out for help. Whether or not someone would
come to her aide was yet to be determined. She had to hold out hope, though.
One thing was certain. The assistance she needed would not be found amid the
looters.

“Hey,” the guy called again. “Slow down, bitch.”

Laughing followed the shouts. Then the footsteps stopped.
Against her better judgment, Addison cast a glance over her shoulder. The tall
guy had his arms out, across the chests of the other two. He said something to
them. His gaze remained fixed on her. Their eyes met and a smile spread across
his face. It did not instill confidence in her that he wanted to help her. The
last thing she saw before whipping her head back around was the two shorter men
backing up and turning around.

Addison pressed on, nearing the corner where she had to make
her turn. Two sets of footsteps faded while another closed the distance. She
reached the corner, reached out for the rough brick edge of the three story
historical building and used it to propel herself around. As she did so, she
took a quick look over her left shoulder. The guy was within twenty feet of
her.

Addison surveyed the street in front of her. Empty, mostly.
She could run here without drawing additional unwanted attention to herself.

And so she did.

As did the guy behind her once he turned the corner.

His footsteps fell behind her at a more rapid pace than her
own. Using the large glass window to her left as a mirror, she determined he’d
nearly caught up to her.

Time for plan b
, she thought.

Except she had no plan other than run. So she picked up her
pace. The guy grunted and shouted something she couldn’t quite make out. A few
seconds later she felt his fingertips brush against her shoulder blade.

Knowing that he’d have her in a couple seconds, she drew her
arms in and let them go slack. Her backpack slipped off her shoulders and hit
the ground with a thump. She’d hesitated to release it, but the weight had been
slowing her down. Besides, she didn’t need the contents of it anymore. College
was over.

The guy must have been too close to avoid the bag. She heard
him trip over it and hit the ground. The urge to look back was great. Her will
to live was greater. She pressed on, sprinting full speed. The apartment
complex was in view. She thought she saw a man from her building walking his
dog. He disappeared behind a dumpster. Addison tried to call out. The searing
pain in her lungs from running so hard for so long prevented her from doing so.

The guy behind her yelled something that sounded like, “I’m
gonna kill you,” but Addison couldn’t be one hundred percent sure. His rough
voice made it seem he’d become as winded as her.

To her right, an older man leaned back against a building
across the street. He sort of waved at her while watching the chase, extending
a single finger in her direction. Any effort to help would have been
appreciated. But he didn’t do anything except wince, and then turn around.

A moment later, a hand fell onto Addison’s shoulder. The guy
matched her pace for a few seconds. His grip tightened. She felt herself pulled
back and to the right. The lower half of her body continued forward, while her
head and torso jerked backward. Just as she felt like she was going to topple
over, the guy’s other hand hit her in the middle of the back, preventing her
from falling.

He pulled her upright and then shoved her forward. A few
steps later, they stood outside of a darkened alley. She glanced to her right.
The older guy had disappeared. She looked forward, scanning the parking lot of
her apartment complex. The dog walker had not returned.

Addison’s eyes grew wet. Fear, anger and pain flooded all of
her senses.

“Turn,” he said.

She complied. The temperature dropped a good fifteen degrees
in the covered alley. Her sweat soaked shirt clung to her body, sending goose
bumps up and down her arms and legs and sides. The humidity was a bitch today.

“Go to the end,” he said.

She did as he instructed. They’d have to stop at the end.
Then he’d want something. And if she gave the impression that she’d give it, he’d
let his guard down.

Facing away from him, Addison walked slowly and deliberately
to the end of the alley. She stopped, turned and backed up until her butt
touched the wall. Condensation fell from a window AC unit above her head. It
splashed on her cheek, followed the curve to her lips, then dripped down her
chin. Despite the intense thirst and burning in her throat, she ignored the
water and let it fall to her chest.

“Take off your shirt,” he said.

She studied him for a moment. Up close, he looked taller and
skinnier. There wasn’t much muscle mass to his frame, although she knew not to
let that cloud her judgment. His long arms could generate plenty of torque,
provided he had the room to maneuver, which he did. She had to switch their
positions somehow.

He lifted an eyebrow and repeated his demand. “Take off your
shirt.”

“Screw you.”

He smiled as he took a step closer. “That’s the point.”

Addison strafed to her right, angling her body when she
reached the corner. He continued to come toward her. She crossed her arms and
reached for the bottom of her shirt. Slowly, she pulled it up, stopping right
above her navel.

His smile broadened. “More.”

She shook her head while forcing a smile. “I’m not that kind
of girl.”

“The world’s gonna end soon,” he said. “I think you can make
an exception.” He reached across his chest with his right hand and lifted the
strap of his messenger bag over his head while supporting the bag with his left
hand. He then shifted the bag from his right side to his left. The bag never
left his grasp.

What did it contain?

“If you want something, you’ll have to come get it,” she
said alluringly.

He dropped his head an inch and voiced his agreement.

Addison waited for him to draw closer to her and the wall.
His left arm was occupied by the leather bag. His right arm now swung freely
inches from the brick facade. Any hitting motion that could generate enough
force to knock her out would be disrupted.

She hoisted her shirt while studying his eyes. They widened
as her bra was revealed. She whipped her right leg forward, aiming for his
groin. The guy jumped back at the last second. She connected, but not as well
as she’d hoped she would. His feet were off the ground and he bowed over at the
waist. He looked like a plastic bag caught in the wind. The messenger bag fell
to the ground. She figured he did it on purpose so he would hit the ground with
both hands available to break his fall.

She reset, prepared to strike again. A second after he
landed, he lunged toward her. She spun to the side, sending him careening into
the wall. He let out a grunt as his right shoulder smashed into the brick wall.
With his left hand, he reached out and snagged her from behind. His weakened
right arm wrapped around her neck, pulling her toward him.

Addison closed her eyes. She’d been in this same position
over a hundred times in self-defense classes. At the urging of her father,
she’d started taking them in the months prior to leaving for college. She still
attended weekly.

Instincts took over. Addison lifted her right foot and drove
her heel down into the guy’s instep. He grunted and his grip around her became
noticeably weaker. Then she twisted her body to the left and whipped it back to
the right, slamming her elbow into his solar plexus. A hollow gasp escaped from
his mouth and his arm fell across her chest. She brought her hand down in a
quick movement and struck him in the groin. His arm completely slipped off her.
She took three steps forward and then spun around. He was bent over in front of
her.

“I’m gonna kill you,” he said.

She stepped forward with her left foot and kicked with her
right, catching him in the face. He rose slightly and she delivered another
kick to his groin. He fell back against the wall, and then slid down to his
knees.

Addison checked over her shoulder. The alley was empty. She
saw his gaze fixed on something on the ground. She followed it and reached down
for the messenger bag. Opening it, she discovered the guy had two pistols
tucked inside. Her eyes grew wide. She pulled one out, astonished and wondering
if the guy planned on using one of them on her.

Anger welled up inside of her. There was a time, like eight
hours ago, when she would have dropped the bag and ran. The world was different
now. She extended her arm and aimed the gun at the guy. He began to cry and
fell forward so that he was now positioned on his hands and knees, as if he
groveled before his queen.

Addison shook her head, tucked the gun back inside the
messenger bag, slung the strap over her shoulder and turned around. She ran
away from the guy, out of the alley, and toward her apartment.

She nearly collapsed when she reached her door. Sweat coated
her skin and soaked her clothes. She felt her hair matted to the side of her
face. Looking down, she noticed some of the guy’s blood had splattered on her
shirt and shorts.

She took a moment to compose herself before entering the
apartment. As she took the final steps toward the door, she heard several
voices inside and the thumping bass she associated with club music.

She grabbed the handle and pushed the door open. Inside,
several people she didn’t recognize, as well as her roommate and the stoner
that had been there earlier that morning, all glanced over at her. A thick hazy
cloud hovered in the air. The TV was on and tuned to a news broadcast. Bags of
chips covered the coffee table. Crumbs coated the floor. There were a few
coolers with their lids up, full of ice and beer. She looked toward the
kitchen. The refrigerator stood open and empty.

She walked up to Carla, grabbed the woman’s arm and then led
her toward her room. The door was locked. She banged against it. A moment later
it opened and a half-dressed guy stepped out from behind it.

“Gonna join us?” he asked.

“Get the hell out of my room,” Addison said.

The guy smiled and blocked the door with his body. “Nah, I’m
not gonna do that. But you can come in.”

Addison pulled back the messenger bag’s flap. She reached
inside and pulled out the pistol. The guy’s eyes grew wide as he stared down
the barrel of the gun.

“Get out or I’ll kill you,” she said.

The guy threw his hands up in the air and turned sideways so
he could slip out of the room, leaving the girl he’d been with behind.

“You, too,” Addison said, not caring that the woman had no
clothes on. “Get the fuck out of here.”

The woman began crying and she squeezed between Addison and
Carla. After she left, Addison shoved her roommate in the room.

“What is your deal?” Carla said, her eyes focusing on the
gun in Addison’s hand.

“Me? What are you doing here? Do you understand what is
happening in the world?”

Carla smiled. “Of course I do. That’s why we’re having a
Zombie Party.”