ARES Virus: Arctic Storm (10 page)

The two cadets respond in the negative by shaking their heads.

“All right. Let’s get this done quickly and quietly.”

Leaving the shelter of the side yard, Brown crouches and, skirting around a sedan with both front doors open, rapidly moves across the road. Glancing at the two cadets across the street, he watches them keep low as they approach the first parked car. Clarke watches the area as Hayward peeks over the lip of the door to see inside. Brown feels a sense of pride as the two of them demonstrate that they’ve managed to learn a little on this escapade. Turning, he begins his search on his side of the street.

Checking the few cars that are still parked in the driveways and not askew in the street, Brown doesn’t find a single one with an alarm activated by the time he gets to the end of the block. Looking over at the cadets, Clarke shakes her head indicating that they didn’t find one either. With the sound of helicopters faint in the background, and the noise of the infected only a couple of blocks away, Brown waves the two over.

Time isn’t on their side and he’s hesitant to spend what little of it they do have searching for a car alarm. Each minute they remain in the city is one less they have until a blockade is set, and the odds that they’ll be discovered are increasing. With the two sprinting across the street, Brown looks down the street, focusing on the houses lined up in a neat row along it. It occurs to him that some of the abodes might have been empty, with this situation having occurred during working hours.

These houses are fancy enough to have alarms
, he thinks as Hayward and Clarke slide next to him.

Looking closer, he sees that several have small signs posted, indicating that the home is alarmed.

I’m slipping. I should have noticed that kind of shit before. Come on, Brown. Stay in the game.

“Okay you two, new plan. We’re going to those houses that have the alarm signs posted in front. We’ll circle around back and break in, setting off the alarm. Hopefully that will be loud enough to draw the infected this way.”

“If we’re going to break in, why don’t we just break in through the front door?” Hayward asks.

“Ever tried to bust through a solid wooden door that probably has a dead bolt? If you want a dislocated shoulder, be my guest,” Brown responds.

Brown sees Clarke’s eyes light up. “Oh, yeah. Back doors are often just sliding glass.”

“Precisely.”

“Always busting my balls,” Brown hears Hayward mutter.

“I’m not busting your balls, lad. If I was, your balls would be busted. But, that’s a little tidbit that you won’t forget, right?”

“I guess so,” Hayward sullenly answers.

“Look. We’re on the fast track for educating the both of you and I don’t have time to worry about your feelers. At this point, we either live through this or we die. There is no timeout for instructional purposes. We don’t get retries. And the only way we’ll come through this alive is if we start using this,” Brown states, pointing at his head.

“Okay, I get it,” Hayward says. “So, if that’s the case, why don’t we just break one of the front windows?”

“Alarm systems 101. Alarms are expensive, so they’re mostly placed on the entryways with a motion tracker placed somewhere inside…maybe two. Windows are often left uncovered, so breaking one may not set off the alarm. Now, mark the location of the alarmed houses in your head and let’s get this done.”

Without waiting for a reply, Brown heads toward the back of the corner house. After checking that the visible backyards are clear of infected, he heads across the neatly trimmed grass and leaps over a short fence into the adjacent yard.

A swing set and small fort occupy most of the yard, with metal construction vehicle toys scattered throughout, some upright, some tipped over on their sides. It also happens to be the first house with an alarm sign out front.

Small child residing here lowers the odds of the house being empty—unless they use child care—but what the hell, might as well give it a shot
, Brown thinks, edging carefully toward the sliding glass door.

Drapes are pulled across the entry, obstructing any view of the interior. A quick test shows that the sliding glass door is locked.

Well, that’s a good sign at least
, Brown thinks, securing his grip on the handgun and readying himself for any quick surprises.

“If we trigger an alarm, the infected are likely to make a beeline for the noise. Which means that no matter which way we go, there’s a chance that we’ll run into some. If we move quickly enough, there’s a chance that we can slip through. The plan is that we’ll head to the house behind us, turn right, and go two blocks before circling around to the girl’s house. If we get split up, we’ll meet there. Any questions?”

Both cadets shake their heads.

Directing Hayward to gather a rock from a portion of the yard that has been landscaped, he stands with his back to the outside wall. With a backswing, Brown bashes the rock into the large pane of glass. The resounding crack echoes across the yard. Looking at the window, he notes large fractures radiating from the impact.

Shit! Hurry, hurry, hurry
, he thinks, slamming the rock into the same location.

With a crash of broken glass, shards fall inward and hit the drapes before hitting the floor.

“Get ready.”

Reaching through the break, Brown deftly undoes the lock and slides the door open. Expecting an ear-piercing alarm to blare from within, he is momentarily taken aback by the silence that ensues.

What the fuck? They have an alarm and don’t set it? What in the fuck is the use of having one, then?

Knowing that he doesn’t have much time, if any, before nearby infected react to the sound of the break-in, he whispers “Stay here,” pushes the drapes aside, and steps inside.

The interior is darkened by drawn shades. Thinking that most alarms are set near the front door or in a nearby hallway, he quickly heads toward the front of the house. Sure enough, in a hallway close to the entrance, two wall-mounted panels glow brightly within the gloomy interior. One of the panels is for the heating/AC system. The other is an alarm panel. Looking closely at the lit buttons, he finds the emergency button and presses firmly. The siren that he expected to hear upon opening the back door blares loudly.

Hustling back to the broken door, he exits.

“Go,” he yells to the two waiting cadets.

Together, they begin running across the lawn toward a taller fence separating the yards. Without breaking stride, Brown leaps onto a patio dining table and jumps into the air in order to see what is on the other side of the fence. His quick glimpse reveals that the opposite yard is empty.

Landing on the grass, he continues his sprint for the fence with Hayward and Clarke by his side. The three hit the fence at the same time. Grabbing the top and driving upward with their feet, they vault over the top. Brown is astonished to come face-to-face with one of the infected doing exactly the same thing from the opposite side.

An additional surge of adrenaline rushes through Brown’s body. Fear makes his heart beat wildly. Time slows. In the air, each with their hands on the top of the fence, Brown and the infected lock eyes. He sees surprise register in the other’s expression. As they sail over the fence, the infected’s eyes quickly narrow, their expression changing from surprise to anger and determination...and what? Eagerness? The infected attempts to change direction in midair and reaches out for him. That feat, however, epically fails. The last thing Brown notes before dropping below the top of the fence is the infected opening its mouth wide. The infected one vanishes, looking like someone about to belly flop into a pool.

With a quick look to make sure he’s not about to become entangled in some feature of the yard, Brown lands in a crouch. Two thumps beside him tell him that Hayward and Clarke have arrived. The shriek Brown expected upon seeing the infected’s open mouth erupts from the other side of the fence.

How in the fuck did I miss that?

“What…what in the fuck?” Hayward says, both as a question and in astonishment.

In shock, Hayward and Clarke stare over the top of the fence trying to understand what just happened.

“Never mind that. Just run!” Brown states, pointing to a side fence and pulling them both back into reality.

The two cadets gather themselves and take off across the yard. Brown squats next to the fence, placing his handgun on the grass and pulling out a small survival knife. He feels the boards push against his back at the same time as the sound of feet hitting the fence registers. Looking upward, he sees fingers grasp the top of the fence off to one side. Another scream echoes forth as Brown shuffles until he’s directly under where the infected will vault over.

A shadow falls over him as the infected one clears the top. Looking up, Brown sees that his pursuer can’t be more than an early teen.

Ah shit! It would have to be a kid
.

It lands directly in front and turns its attention toward the two cadets attempting to scale the side fence on the far side of the yard. Brown lunges up and forward just as the infected lets loose a third shriek. With the alarm blaring across the neighborhood, Brown grabs the creature from behind. Wrapping his free hand across the mouth, Brown pulls back and drives his blade upward into its back, just below the ribcage. Warm blood gushes out over his hand and he feels the body stiffen as the blade deeply penetrates. Still, it attempts to struggle and turn in Brown’s grasp. With a quick twist of his knife, Brown pulls it free and plunges it in again. Brown feels the hot breath as it attempts to scream. It makes a final attempt to lunge before going limp. Removing his knife, Brown lets the body slump to the ground.

This is some fucked up shit
, Brown thinks, quickly looking around the yard to see if any additional company has joined him.

Knowing that they now have to move even more quickly, he replaces his blade and retrieves his handgun, then darts after Hayward and Clarke. If the screams didn’t draw others to their location, the blaring alarm certainly will. Any hope that they could quickly get through any infected converging on the sound of the alarm vanished with the chance meeting. Speed is now replaced by deft maneuvering, and the odds of another chance encounter grow with each passing second.

That’s aside from the fact that we’re spending time here instead of getting out of this hellhole. It feels like we’re on borrowed time as it. We need to be leaving before the shit storm arrives. Yet here we are wasting what time we have on some damn rescue…and one we’re not even sure about. We should have just moved on
, Brown thinks, knowing that his mind is just playing games.

He knows that he couldn’t leave some young girl in this mess. His mind just likes to pretend that he could. With these thoughts racing and his attention focused on forging a path to the house, he vaults the fence. He’s not worried about something being on the other side, as he would have heard the screams. Coming to land on the other side, he sees Hayward and Clarke hunkering against the far fence.

Fucking kids just don’t listen
.

“Why are you still here?” Brown asks as he slides in next to them.

Clarke points to a knothole in the fencing. Looking through it, Brown notes that they’re at the corner house. In the streets beyond, small groups of infected are running down each of the avenues, converging on the house blaring out the alarm. Young and old are mixed together, each one with a ferocious look of anticipation, each screaming.

“Well, shit. That doesn’t bode well,” Brown quietly states, pulling away from the hole.

“What are we going to do?” Hayward asks, his breath indicating his stress level.

“I guess we’re going to have to wait a bit,” Brown replies, looking around the landscaped yard.

Noticing small bushes planted near the back corners of the fence, he nods toward them.

“We’ll hide over there and hope no one jumps over and lands on our heads. No noise or movement. After they’ve moved past, we’ll hop the fence and continue on.”

“And what if they don’t? Move past, I mean?” Hayward whispers as they settle into position, barely hidden by the bushes.

“Then we’re well and truly fucked. Time is not our friend at the moment.” Seeing their eyes widen in alarm, Brown adds, “Listen, things could be worse. It could be raining. So, ease up. I don’t hear a fat lady singing. We may not be out of this yet, but we’re still in the game.”

The screaming of the passing infected continues, mixed with the sound of feet pounding on the asphalt, sidewalks, and nearby lawns. Something bangs against the other side of the fence with a sudden, loud thump. Brown sees the two cadets startle as his hand tightens around the grip of his handgun. Without taking his eyes off where the sound came from, he sweeps his free hand back in an automatic gesture to hold the cadets still.

Another solid thump rolls across the pristine yard. At the same moment, fingers appear along the top of the fence near where the three of them were peeking moments ago. A head and shoulders become visible as one of the infected vaults over the fence and lands with a soft thump in the yard. Brown feels his heart go cold and stomach clench at the sight of a middle-aged infected man crouched just a few feet away.