Infected (Book 1): The Fall (15 page)

“Here’s my gun, Katie.  If they figure out how to unblock the hole, can you keep them out?”

“I’ll shoot like my life depends on it,” she said with a slight smile, maintaining some of her sense of humor in the humorless situation.

Matt and I picked up the canister, moved it to the north wall and gave it a mighty swing. Like our first attempt in the other room, the sheetrock was left with an impression from the bottle, but nothing more.  We moved down the wall in case we were hitting a stud again.  The result was the same.  Nothing. 

We moved to the west wall and Katie fired my gun.  I looked over my shoulder and saw a man slump to the ground.  No sooner had he stopped moving than his body moved jerkily backwards into the other room. I could see two infected pulling him by the feet.  Another body entered the space in the wall.  I turned my attention back to trying to batter a hole in the wall as Katie continued firing.  It was useless.  The wall was solid.  We set the bottle back on the floor.  Matt moved to the other side of the table and took a position next to Katie. 

The gun fire wasn’t continuous, but it was fairly steady.  The jarring thumps on the door were non-stop, one after the other.  It was only a matter of time before the door gave way like the first had, or we ran out of bullets.  I looked around the room for something I could use. There were three chairs, a stool and an extra large fire extinguisher which was hanging beside the door.  There was nothing to help.

Suddenly an idea occurred to me.  I wrangled the green oxygen canister across the room and laid it on the floor against the metal stand of the examination bed. The valve was facing the door and the end of the bottle was facing the north wall.  I positioned two chairs with their backs against the bottle and wedged the third chair between the wall and the other two chairs for stability.  The two chairs and base of the table created a channel which was aligned with the north wall, the outer wall.  

The room was a rectangle and was much longer than it was wide.  At some point, there must have been some use for the extra ten feet at the end of the examination bed.  Whatever the extra space had been used for in the past, it was open now.  I urged Dr. Kemp to move out of the empty space beyond the table.  I tried to convince him to stand beside Katie.  He objected. It was only feet from where the intruders were trying to enter the room.  Not having time for debate, I basically drug him across the room. 

I removed the fire extinguisher from the wall and yelled, “Cover your ears!”  Matt and Katie turned to see what was going on.  They simultaneously grasped what I was doing and plugged their ears as I slammed the extinguisher down on the valve of the oxygen bottle. 

There was a deafening
whoosh
as the valve broke off the bottle. Oxygen rushed from the confines of the bottle under the force of twenty-two hundred pounds per square inch of pressure.  The bottle turned into a rocket and squirted across the floor in a blur.  As it traveled, the front of the bottle bumped up slightly.  The pressure escaping the end of the bottle propelled it off the ground and smashed it into the wall three feet off the floor.  Had it been a normal wall, the bottle would have punched a small circular hole through it.  This wall was made of cinderblock which was much stronger than the drywall we had penetrated with the bottle minutes before; however, the wall wasn’t strong enough to withstand the impact entirely. A three foot by four foot piece of the wall was knocked loose by the collision.  It fell to the ground outside in a single chunk, leaving a gaping hole in the wall. 

No one waited for an invitation.  We all bolted through the new exit.  Even Dr. Kemp’s decrepit knees seemed to have lost twenty years, based on the speed with which he moved.  I took my gun back from Katie. 

“Get to the van,” I said urgently as I fired at a head coming into the twice shattered room through the first hole. “I’ll hold them off.  If they get into the open before we get to the van, it won’t be pretty.  You’d better not forget to pick me up as you leave,” I chided, my sense of humor returning as the situation started to look hopeful again.   

“Take my spare mag,” Matt offered, reaching into his belt and withdrawing his last fresh magazine.

In my peripheral vision, I saw the trio quickly disappear around the corner. I continued firing at heads that popped through the wall.  The door wavered increasingly with each impact.

And then it gave way. 

Three male and two female infected burst into the room.  They parted at the exam table like water flowing around a boulder in a stream, two going right and three going left.  The closest to me was on the right so I shot there first.  The female went down.  The leader on the left side of the table was a male.  He stumbled on the chairs laying on the floor and fell.  The female behind him tripped over his sprawled body.  I shot the third one on the left, the only one still standing on that side of the table. I turned my attention back to the approaching beast on the right.  It had passed the end of the table and was less than ten feet away at a dead sprint.  I fired twice.  The second bullet hit its forehead.  It fell to the ground and slid across the slick tile, coming to rest at my feet.  I put another shot in the head to pay the insurance.  The slide of the gun locked back.  I slammed a fresh magazine home, and released the slide as the two on my left that had tripped on the chairs were coming erect again.  I heard tires squeal around the corner and heard the thunder of the engine.  I fired repeatedly, dropping the final two infected that were in the room.  As they hit the ground, another group burst through the splintered door frame.

“Get in, Connor!” Katie screamed.  I backed into the open sliding door and sat on the floor, still firing. The gun went dry again. I loaded the spare magazine Matt had given me as he poured on the gas.  Infected spilled through the hole in the outer wall.  They accelerated faster than the van.  I continued firing as they closed the distance.  My gun went dry again and I didn’t have any more magazines.  The distance between us and them was starting to grow. The van quickly outmatched their top speed.

As they melted away into the darkness, Dr. Kemp blurted out, “That was rather exciting.”

Chapter
19

As the adrenaline rush began to die away, my heart rate slowed and I was left with a queasy feeling in my stomach.  After everything I had experienced today, I was starting to wonder if there was a limit to how much adrenaline my body could produce.

The van jolted sharply as one of its tires bumped in and out of a pothole in the road and Katie moaned in response.

“Connor, we need to get some pain medication for her.  The anesthetic is going to wear off soon and she is going to be in agony," Dr. Kemp said.   "What she’s feeling now is nothing compared to what is coming in the next half hour.  She's likely going to need some antibiotics as well."

"Okay, what do you need and where is the best place to get it?" I asked, somewhat frustrated.  I wanted to do what was best for Katie, but we had been pressing our luck to the limits.  Eventually it was going to run out. 

"Well, the hospital is out.  The drug store on Main Street should have everything she needs," Dr. Kemp answered, his face deep in thought as he compiled a mental list of things Katie would need.

"You hearing this, Matt?" I asked as I moved from where I had been sitting on the shaggy carpet covered floor to the bench seat which was covered in cheap, scratchy fabric. 

"I got it,” Matt answered, slowing the van as he positioned it at the far right side of the lane prior to beginning a three point turn which would point us back to town.  "One question," he added as he started a left hand turn which, ended as the front wheels of the van touched the gravel shoulder at the edge of the opposite lane.  "How much ammo do you have left?  I’m out of pistol bullets. I have three mags for the rifle with me, but my rifle is back at your place by the patrol car."

"I have four rifle mags,"  I answered, feeling the bulge they created in my pockets.  Matt pushed the gear shift into reverse and pulled the wheel back to the right while tapping the gas.  He stomped on the brake when the back wheels reached the edge of the lane behind us.  The rapid braking lurched Katie back in her seat, nearly sending her into tears.  "My rifle is back there, too.  I have my backup pistol with ten rounds and that's it," I said as he finished the maneuver by pulling the gear shift down to drive, pointing the wheels toward town, and pounding the gas pedal to the floor. 

"Matt, if you don't start driving like a normal human being, I'm going to do the driving," Katie moaned as she was slammed further back into the seat again.

"I don't like this," Matt said.  “If we run into trouble, we're finished.”

"Relax," I said. “I have ten shots.  What could possibly go wrong?"  Inside, I was silently thinking of a lot that could go wrong.

The landscape rushed by the side windows in a cloak of darkness.  Unseen monsters lurked in that darkness.  Or perhaps nothing lurked in the darkness.  There was no way to tell and that was what made it so unnerving.  As Matt guided the van back into town, the first of the streetlights came into view, painting the road in circles of harsh, yellow-orange light. 

Katie's chiding was enough to convince Matt to relax his maniacal style of driving.  He gently rounded the corner onto Main Street and two blocks later, eased into the parking lot and gingerly brought the van to a stop in front of the entrance.  The main lights were off and the interior was bathed in the cool glow of the overnight security lighting.

The glass sliding doors had been smashed in.  The bench that normally sat in front of the store lay just inside the entrance on its back.  A million fragments of the door glistened in the headlights like so many diamonds strewn carelessly around the bench. 

"That's weird.  The store is supposed to be opened until 11:00.  Why are the main lights off and the door smashed?"  Katie asked with the strain of increasing pain showing through her voice as the local anesthetic wore off. 

"Gordy took a lot of biology to become a pharmacist," I answered.  “He knew that by staying open, he was risking exposing himself to the disease.  People still wanted stuff so they helped themselves after the doors were locked." 

"And now we are going to help ourselves?" she asked.  "I would rather endure the pain than loot the store."

"We aren't going to loot the store.  I'm going to call Gordy and tell him the store has been broken into and ask him if we can take the meds and pay him later," I answered as I pulled my backup gun out of the ankle holster where it had comfortably resided for the past five years, waiting for such an occasion as this when it would be needed.  I opened the sliding door and stepped out of the van into the cool night air, quickly scanning the perimeter for threats as half a dozen crickets harmonized around me. 

"I don't have a clue what she needs," I said, facing Dr. Kemp.  “If you don't mind coming in, it would speed up our shopping trip and limit our exposure.” 

"As always, I am happy to be of service," he said, waving his hand in a flourish.  "Besides, I would prefer to be where the guns are.  Had I known what kind of trouble was out here, I would have brought mine with me."

He exited the van with a smirk on his face.  It was clear that he was enjoying the feeling of being needed again.  After his wife died, there was no one left to depend on him.  Now he was reveling in the fact that the skills he had spent half his life to develop and hone were needed again.

We walked toward the rear of the store where the pharmacy was located.  Our progress was limited by Dr. Kemp’s maximum speed, which seemed to have increased as the night had progressed, but was still very slow.   It was clear which aisles had been traversed by whoever had broken into the store.  Some aisles were littered with packages ripped from the shelves and discarded on the floor. Others were clear of any debris.

When we reached the back and I looked over the pharmacy counter, a wave of shock and anger washed over me like a wall of water in the rapids I rafted as a teenager.  In the dim light I saw Gordy, the pharmacist and owner of the store, laying on his back, his white coat soaked through with blood.  His right hand was still clutching a bloody knife.  He had what appeared to be a gunshot wound to his chest.  Judging from Clay McGuire's dead body laying next to him, it looked like Gordy's life had been taken as he attempted to protect the contents of the pharmacy.

Clay's shirt was drenched in blood which had flowed from a cut to his throat.  The baseball bat laying next to him suggested Gordy had acted in self defense.  The fact that there was no gun present indicated that Clay had not come alone and his accomplice, who was likely the shooter, had escaped.  I was pretty sure who the missing partner was.  Clay never did anything without his cousin Curtis; both of them should have been in prison, but for one reason or another, most of their crimes didn't stick or they were given lenient sentences in the county jail.

We walked around the counter and entered the pharmacy through the swinging gate, which squeaked as it swung back and forth after our passing.  My fears were confirmed when Dr. Kemp looked at me and said, "Someone cleaned out the narcotics.  There isn't a bottle left on the shelves."

"There must be something left," I said incredulously.

"There is plenty of medication left, just not what she needs.  The pain medication I was looking for is all gone.  She may need this though," he said, taking a bottle from the shelf and tossing it in my direction.  "These are the antibiotics she needs in case her wound becomes infected.  She will have to settle for Ibuprofen for the pain.  It will take the edge off, but it won't do much more." 

As the van pulled away from the pharmacy, I hung my head in my hands, rage building within me.  I was paid to protect these people and they were being murdered one after another.  Order, the fabric that holds society together, was gone.  I felt that I should be looking for Gordy's killer, but right now, I needed to take care of my family.  Tomorrow, when our families were secure, Matt and I would work on restoring order to our town and administering justice.