Badlands Trilogy (Book 2): Beyond the Badlands Page 2

  Then, in an instant, everything changed.

  Chapter Four

  Gabriel walked through the former city of St. Louis carrying two tools: a set of large wire cutters and an air horn. With these he intended to carry out his divine work and finally bask in the full glory of God’s approval.

  He had simple instructions from Joshua: cut the fence and then draw the infected inside.

  Fred Dennis, his name before meeting Joshua, would have been nervous knowing the task ahead. A mission from God, however, allowed no such cowardice. Giddy, he anticipated the end of his suffering on Earth and the beginning of his everlasting existence in paradise. Soon he’d be at the foot of God’s throne, standing there alongside Joshua and his brothers.

  No more pain. No more suffering. No more addiction. No more regret.

  Gabriel whistled a hymn to himself to keep his mind focused and to mitigate his joyous agitation. Instead of his normal white robe, he wore street clothes so as to not draw attention to himself. The large wire cutters jutted out from the back of his jeans, the handles tucked under his shirt. The air horn rode in his front pocket.

  He walked quickly, struggling not to sprint. He had time. His brothers wouldn’t detonate the bombs for another hour. At a reasonable pace he’d arrive within a half-hour at the secluded area chosen by his leader. Once on location he’d have more than enough time to complete his work before sounding the air horn.

  Then the carriers would come, spreading God’s holy pestilence upon the sinners.

  Despite the chill in the air, small beads of perspiration collected on Gabriel’s forehead as he walked. He wiped them away with the back of his hand. The few people he passed on the streets didn’t notice him. Divine protection in action. He was doing the Lord’s work, after all.

  Arriving at the location, he slipped undetected through an alleyway running between two small duplex apartment buildings. He quickly found himself behind the buildings, the fence no more than a dozen feet away. Two dumpsters sat near it, creating a pocket between them where he would carry out his work undetected.

  The perfect location, he thought. Joshua has considered everything. It’s no wonder God chose him as His vessel.

  He prayed, muttering the words Joshua had taught him over the past year. Joshua had done more for Gabriel than any drug counselor or rehabilitation clinic had. His nerves calmed with the presence of the Lord at work upon him. Contentment washed over him as the words rolled from his tongue.

  With his prayers spoken and his resolve stronger than ever, he walked to the fence and began to cut. The minutes passed slowly as he snipped away the chain link connections, leaving a wide hole in its place.

  His task now complete, Gabriel backed away from the opening and stared. They would come when they heard the horn. They always followed sound.

  And when they did he would give himself to them. A sacrifice to prove his devotion.

  An explosion roared in the distance, causing him to jump. A plume of black smoke traveled upward, mushrooming out as it dispersed into the air. He smiled. His brothers at work. He couldn’t wait to see them again in the presence of God.

  Screams rose from beyond the fence. The infected grew restless. Poor, damned souls.

  Gabriel held the air horn up high, issuing several loud bursts. He waited. Moments later they came into view. Limping, crawling, moaning, the smell overwhelming.

  Gabriel sounded the horn again, waving his arms and jumping up and down to get their attention. They spotted him quickly, dashing toward him as fast as they could. So many, more than he could count. He felt a brief panic, the way he used to feel between fixes. But now he had God to reassure him.

  Moments later the infected arrived at the fence, crowding the opening as they fought for entry. Closing his eyes, he dropped the air horn to the ground and raised both hands high as he uttered a final prayer.

  Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven.

  Then the carriers overwhelmed him.

  * * *

  Jeremiah walked quickly across the street, his sights fixed upon the large tanker truck parked near the edge of the city. The explosive vest wore heavy on his shoulders, but he could manage. Just knowing he’d be seeing his Maker so soon made the burden that much easier to bear.

  Full of old gasoline, the abandoned tanker would cause a massive explosion, attracting carriers for miles. With any luck, Jeremiah would get that tanker to explode.

  No, not luck. There was no such thing as luck, only God’s will.

  And God willing, the tanker would explode.

  Jeremiah approached the tanker carefully, searching the area for any of the gun-toting military types running the city now. The area was clear. He walked quickly to the tanker, inspecting the valves along its side. A quick search revealed the tool he needed to open them. God’s grace shone brightly on this day.

  Minutes later he had the caps off of the tanker valves. Gasoline spilled, striking the ground and creating a puddle around the tanker. Fumes poisoned the air, burning his nose and his eyes, but he ignored it as he walked a safe distance away from the spill.

  He glanced at his watch again. Less than thirty seconds to go. He waited. As Jeremiah’s synchronized watch struck one o’clock he heard the first explosion in the distance. Removing a Zippo lighter from his front pocket, Jeremiah flicked the flint. He watched the flame burn for a few seconds before tossing the lighter into the puddle of gasoline. The fumes ignited, a bright blue flame appearing above the liquid, enveloping the tanker.

  He ran.

  Moments later the tanker exploded behind him, knocking him down. His ears rang from the blast as heat from the flames licked his back. He pulled himself up to his feet and smiled as thick, black smoke swirled upward, billowing into fat clouds.

  He walked to the fence and waited. It took only a few minutes for the first carriers to arrive. He let them accumulate, their grunts and moans growing louder with each passing minute. They pushed against each other in a filthy, huddled mass. The air stank as their numbers increased.

  It was time. God waited for him.

  Hugging the fence’s support column he stood eye to eye with the infected sinners. “May God have mercy on your souls,” he said before closing his eyes and pressing the detonator attached to his explosive vest.

  Jeremiah disintegrated, the blast taking down the pole and the carriers standing by the fence. A large section of the fence fell, the surviving infected pushing their way through.

  The fence now gone, carriers streamed through, trampling carelessly upon Jeremiah’s smoldering remains. A few of the infected stopped to eat the larger pieces while the rest continued onward toward the city, in search of prey.

  * * *

  After the explosions, Samuel waited until the last of the men with firearms fled the gate, leaving it unguarded. Emerging from behind a rusted delivery truck, he quickly crossed the distance between his hiding place and the fence.

  At the fence he inspected the gate. A simple chain and lock secured it. The cutters he had with him would work. He aligned the tool’s blades with a link of the metal chain, mashing the handles together with all his might. He strained hard, watching with glee as the blades slowly made their way through the metal chain link.

  Then movement flashed in his peripheral and he found himself suddenly on his back, staring up at a snarling carrier. It tore at his face and his neck, raking his chest with sharp, claw-like fingernails.

  It sank its teeth into Samuel’s throat and came away with a mouthful of flesh. Blood ran freely from the open wound.

  He shoved, knocking the carrier away. He clamped a hand on his wound, but the blood leaked right through his fingers. The carrier got to its haunches, chewing on Samuel’s flesh like a dog on a bone.

  The carrier charged. Samuel scrambled toward the cutters, quickly retrieving them. He brought the metal end of the tool down upon the carrier’s head, cracking its skull. It fell, limp, striking the ground with a dull thud. Infect
ed blood poured from a deep laceration in the thing’s head.

  Samuel’s vision blurred as he stumbled and fell. Blood ran from the hole in his neck. Knowing his time was running out, he staggered back to his feet. He walked quickly back to the gate, placing the blades of the cutter back on the chain.

  From the other side of the gate, carriers screeched and howled, clawing to get in. He strained, pushing on the cutter’s long handles as hard as he could, his vision doubling under the strain, dangerously close to passing out.

  The cutter’s blades sliced through the weakened link, the rest of the chain falling slack on either side of the fence. He lifted the latch on the gate and flung it open.

  Snarling and growling, the carriers poured through the fence. They covered him, claws and teeth tearing and ripping.

  And with each piece of him they took, the harder he screamed.

  Chapter Five

  Dave and Annette heard the first explosion at the same time.

  “Honey, what was that?” Annette asked. Pregnant with Dave’s baby, she sat on the couch of their modest home, her hand resting on her stomach.

  “I don’t know,” Dave replied. “Get the packs ready and I’ll take a look outside.” Dave had learned while spending years surviving in the wastelands of the post-virus United States that preparedness meant survival. Both he and Annette had backpacks filled with their most critical supplies, ready to go and with them at all times, even behind the fence.

  He extended a hand and helped Annette to her feet, smiling in an attempt to alleviate her concern. She returned a weak smile before heading off to retrieve the packs.

  Inside Dave’s head, alarm bells sounded as he walked outside to investigate the sound. He made his way down the concrete steps of their small front porch, crossing the entire length of the sidewalk until he reached the curb. He stepped out onto the street and spun in a full circle, looking and listening.

  He heard nothing at first, but then a faint sound caught his ear. He turned his head and listened hard. Some sort of commotion in the distance. The alarms in his head rang louder now. Something was wrong.

  Then he heard the screams. His skin prickled with goosebumps. He knew that sound all too well.

  Carriers.

  When he saw the first of the infected charging up their street he almost didn’t believe it. The dozens more behind it made things very real. Panic threatened to overwhelm him. He knew that he and Annette needed to run, but where could they go? They couldn’t outrun the things, especially with Annette pregnant. Even inside the house, they wouldn’t be safe. Eventually the carriers would find their way in.

  Unless…

  The attic.

  As the screams combined into a horrific roar, Dave turned on his heels and sprinted toward the house. Seconds later he crossed the porch and ran through the front door, slamming it shut behind him. He turned and locked the deadbolt.

  “What’s wrong?” Annette asked, her eyes wide and her voice dripping with panic.

  “Get in the attic,” Dave said, panting.

  “Why?”

  “Carriers, lots of them. Coming up the street.”

  “How did they get through the fence?”

  “I don’t know. But we don’t have time to figure that out. Just get in the attic.”

  Another explosion sounded in the distance. “Dave, what’s happening?”

  “The attic, now!”

  They ran to the center of the house and into the small hallway where all the rooms of the house converged. Reaching above his head, Dave pulled open the attic door, sliding out the ladder. Heat from the attic wafted into the hallway.

  “Go on,” Dave said, the urgency clear in his voice. “I’ll hand up the packs.”

  Annette nodded and began climbing the ladder.

  A loud thud resounded as something struck the picture window behind him. Dave turned to see a carrier dressed in a tattered workout suit pounding on the glass with both fists. “Hurry up!”

  “I’m trying!”

  More carriers congregated around the window now. They slammed fists, shoulders, and heads into the glass, leaving dark streaks behind.

  Annette made it to the top of the ladder, crawling into the attic. She turned and reached for the packs. Dave handed up one of the backpacks, keeping an eye on the window. Each second ticked by like an eternity.

  Just as the backpack made it through the attic door, the picture window shattered, the screams of dozens of carriers echoing throughout the house. Behind him the carriers scrambled inside, climbing over the windowsill and across the broken glass. Razor-sharp shards still in the window frame impaled the carriers first inside, their dying bodies creating a ramp for the others to follow.

  “Dave, hurry!” Annette yelled as she peered down from the attic.

  Dave picked up the second pack and placed a foot on the ladder’s bottom rung. He took a step up toward the attic, shoving the backpack up to Annette. As she pulled it from him he climbed faster, the sound of footsteps right behind him.

  Halfway inside the attic, he felt a hand grip his foot.

  He lost his footing and fell. Instinctively he reached out with his hands, finding the top rung of the ladder and arresting his fall. He pulled himself upward while desperately trying to kick free of the carrier’s grasp on his legs. It wailed from below, the stink of rot and feces drifting up all around him, enveloping him in a horrid blanket of stench.

  Balancing with one leg on the ladder, Dave kicked hard with his other foot, landing a boot in the carrier’s face. The thing’s head snapped backward as the blow connected. He kicked two more times before he felt the carrier’s grasp loosen.

  Seizing the opportunity, he pulled himself up and scrambled into the attic. Below him the carriers swarmed, banging on the walls and against the ladder, screaming with rage.

  Then something happened that he hadn’t expected: one of the carriers began to climb. Dave drew back his leg and delivered a hard kick, planting a foot in the carrier’s face and driving it backward. Locking eyes on Dave, it hissed, baring its rotten teeth like a rabid dog. Dave kicked again, harder this time, smashing the carrier’s nose. It opened its mouth and released a deafening screech, its eyes like black holes.

  “Motherfucker!” Dave bellowed as he delivered a smashing blow to the thing’s head. He heard a snap as the carrier’s body went limp. It released its grip from the ladder and fell back into the crowd of swarming carriers, disappearing into a squirming pit of limbs and teeth.

  Seeing his chance, Dave retracted the ladder and yanked the attic door closed, shutting out most of the noise from the carriers below them. Narrow shafts of sunlight penetrated through vents in the roof, illuminating the attic in a pallid glow. Dave collapsed onto his back upon the attic floor, panting for air.

  Annette crawled to him and held him tightly. “Do you think we’re okay up here?”

  “I think so,” Dave replied between breaths.

  “What about the attic door? Can they open it?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  She paused. “What now?”

  “We wait.”

  “For what?”

  He looked at her in the dim light, searching for an answer.

  He could find nothing to say.

  Chapter Six

  The sound of the explosion pierced the air like an enormous thunderclap. Everyone standing on the train platform jumped. Instinctively Ed gathered his family together.

  “Dad? What’s going on?” Zach asked, his face showing all of his fear.

  “It’s okay,” Ed said, hoping his voice sounded as calm as he pretended to be. His hand fell to the pistol in the holster around his waist as he searched for what had caused the explosion. A hundred yards away, a large dust cloud drifted through the air near the fence line. It dissipated quickly as it rose, revealing the destruction behind it. An entire section of the fence lay on the ground in tatters.

  Seconds later the first carrier made its way through.

 
; On the train platform around them, people darted around frantically, voices loud and panicked. “Carriers!" someone yelled. Guardsmen in black ran toward the invading infected, taking up position. They lined up in front of the platform, laying down a hail of bullets. Carriers in the lead dropped as more filed in behind them.

  “Get the packs,” Ed said, his eyes focused on the incoming infected.

  “Boys, come on,” Trish said, her tone hurried.

  The four of them ran the dozen feet to where they’d stowed their packs. They put them on quickly, each one calling on countless practice runs just like this. None of that practicing had been as real as this.

  While guardsmen continued to lay down fire, Ed searched for a way out. As he scanned the southern fence line another explosion ripped through the air, this time further away. More guardsmen poured out from behind him, sprinting toward the oncoming mass of the infected to strengthen the line of defense.

  Behind them the train lurched, the sound of engaging couplers ringing down the track in an audible domino effect. The attached railcars jerked before slowly rolling forward, heading away from the station.

  Ed knew the train was their only salvation. “Boys,” he said, redirecting their attention away from the oncoming infected. “Get to the train.”

  The four of them pushed their way through the tumultuous crowd of people, away from the oncoming carriers and toward the train. It picked up speed as it rolled out of the station, the railcars traveling along obediently behind.

  Ed ran more quickly, ushering the boys along. They were running out of time. Others now chased after the escaping train, jumping onto empty cars wherever they could. Ed ran after the train, gaining on it, until a flatcar full of people was within reach. Running alongside the moving train, he grasped the handrail and reached out to help Jeremy aboard.

  A foot connected hard with Ed’s shoulder, forcing him to release his grip on the handrail. “No more room!” a large, bearded man bellowed from the flatcar. He blocked the steps with his body.