Badlands Trilogy (Book 2): Beyond the Badlands (3 page)

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.

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.

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.

Determined to get his children on the train, Ed took hold of the railing again. He took Jeremy’s hand and attempted again to guide the boy onto the flatcar’s steps. The bearded man reached down and shoved them both away.

Ed lost his footing, falling hard on the platform. Jeremy landed next to him, dangerously close to the platform’s edge. Ed quickly pulled his son away from the moving train. Lying prone on the platform, Ed watched the flatcar roll away, the bearded man staring at them with his arms crossed.

“You okay?” Ed asked, lifting Jeremy to his feet.

“Yeah.”

Eyeing the end of the train fast approaching, Ed and his family ran toward the closest car they could find. This time there was no one to stop them. Trish hopped aboard the passenger car, reaching out a hand through its open door. Zach made it to her first. She pulled him on board and reached out her hand for Jeremy.

Shorter than his brother, Jeremy needed Ed’s help to reach her. Ed picked him up and shoved him toward her. Locking hands with the boy, she hauled him aboard, ushering him in behind her.

By now the train had begun to pick up significant speed. Ed attempted to run faster, but he began lagging behind. He pushed himself harder, taking two long steps before jumping toward the open door. His right foot made it onto the step, but his left foot missed, sending him flailing backward.

Trish reached out and gripped Ed by his shirt collar, arresting his fall. He gripped the handrail and pulled himself aboard as the train left the platform behind.

After nearly an hour in the attic, Dave peered through a small window at the front of the house, surveying the scene below. Dozens of carriers wandered the streets, some ambling about randomly, others running in circles as if searching for anything on which to release their fury.

Beside him Annette crouched on all fours, looking through the same small window. “Does it look like they’re thinning out?”

Dave shook his head. “Not really.”

“They’ll eventually leave, won’t they?”

“Maybe.”

“How long can we stay up here? The only water we have is what we have in our packs. And there’s no bathroom.”

“We have plastic bags,” Dave reminded her.

“Well, there’s that,” she said, flashing a weak smile. She paused. “I just hate sitting here doing nothing.”

Dave placed a hand on her shoulder. “I know, babe. There’s not much else we can do for now.” He went back to staring out the window again, watching the swarm of deadwalkers standing in his front yard and thinking of what to do next.

A few moments later he heard a sound in the distance. “You hear that?”

“Hear what?”

He held up a finger and cocked his head. “I think I hear an engine.”

“The guard!”

Dave nodded.

Annette furrowed her brow. “Well, look outside and see!”

Dave poked his head through the small double-hung window and looked around. At the end of his street a camouflaged army truck headed their direction. “It’s them,” he said.

“Flag them down!”

Dave pushed himself out through the window until his belly rested upon the sill. He waved his arms wildly, yelling at the men in the truck. Below, carriers howled in response.