The boy lifted a hand, and then his head, and when he saw River he appeared to brighten a little. The poor kid had probably resigned himself to the fact he was the youngest survivor, and therefore more alone than any of the grown-ups – including his parents.
'Hey Saul,' River said, waving gingerly. She wasn't a shy girl, normally, but Shane was sure he saw her cheeks redden.
'Are we cool?' Lukas asked. He was still holding his arms aloft as best as he could, but it must have been uncomfortable; the grimace painted across his face said so.
Shane thought for a second, looking towards the girl – Abi – and then Saul, whose gaze had reverted to the ground.
Just a family
, a voice inside his head informed him, and it was Megan's voice.
'Yeah, we're cool,' Shane said, slowly lowering his pistol before tucking it into the band of his pants. He pointed towards the wreck which was half-on half-off the road; the portion overlapping the forest was nestled in shrubbery. 'Thank God you all made it out of that okay.'
Lukas turned. 'Yeah, that was a bad one. I fucking
loved
that car. Bet we don't come across another one anytime soon.'
And then Shane realised just how much their plans had been altered. They had been so close to getting out; so near to leaving the past behind in Jackson and heading for a place of promise, to potential safety, and now. . .
'Hey, look, I'm sorry,' the tall, muscular guy known as Lukas said. He reached down and plucked his shotgun up from the road. 'Coulda happened to anyone, I guess.'
And as Lukas walked away, heading to where his wife/girlfriend and son were standing, Shane was certain he caught a whiff of alcohol on the guy's breath. It was a baleful smell; one that reminded Shane to keep his wits about him at all times, for you never knew what was actually going through a person's mind any longer. He cast the overturned Olds a final glance before joining the rest of the group, though he immediately wished it was just the four of them again.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
When the rain finally stopped they were all suitably wet and miserable. . .
And they would have been lost if Lukas had had his way; lost, wet and miserable would have been too much for one day.
Shane hadn't told the newcomers about the jets, about how he had heard a helicopter hovering overhead shortly after their collision rendered both of their cars useless. Even he didn't know why he retained this information; though he didn't trust the man – Lukas – and there was something about the way the kid looked, unloved and apprehensive, that made Shane wonder if everything was right with these people.
Perhaps, he thought, the apocalypse had broken them. What had once been a tight-knit family were now practically strangers, surviving together only because they have to, through necessity and not love. The stresses and tribulations of the past few weeks could be directly accountable for their lack of familial traits, though it seemed to be the boy who was suffering the most.
Abi and Lukas were all over each other like love-struck teenagers. It was embarrassing, and Shane could see that neither Terry nor Marla were comfortable.
It was a good thing; it meant it wasn't just him being stupid and reading into something that wasn't there.
Something was definitely odd about the trio, and Shane couldn't quite put his finger on it just yet.
'This road should take us all the way to Brookhaven,' Shane said. 'We're probably looking at a whole day, maybe longer depending on the terrain.' The pack on his back was already digging into his shoulders and armpits, and the thought of eighteen hours of solid walking wasn't just daunting, it made him feel physically sick. He could only imagine what Terry, with the other pack, was feeling. And Lukas was carrying a Bergen filled with ammo; Shane had watched him fill It from the overturned Oldsmobile's trunk. Truthfully, it frightened him how many shells the guy had. It also made him wish that he had more. . .
'It's three now,' Lukas said, checking his watch. 'We're gonna have to find somewhere to sleep before dark, which only gives us five – maybe six – hours of walking-time.'
Shane sighed. Even that sounded too much. 'If we come across somewhere to rest for the night between now and nine,' he said, 'I think we should take it and start early in the morning. That way we'll make it in one go.' He hoped it didn't sound like he was making excuses, but they weren't carrying the weight he was. . . so
fuck
'em.
Marla dropped back so that she walked between Terry and Shane; River was up front with Saul, talking at him, bombarding him with questions that he couldn't answer. Marla felt sorry for him.
'What do you think?' Marla mumbled, though she was pretty sure that Lukas and Abi were out of earshot.
'About what?' Terry asked, oblivious to the fact they were being quiet so as not to alert the newbies. Abi turned and smiled; Terry smiled back. It was an exchange that suggested nothing was wrong, even though Marla thought there might be.
'About
them
,' Marla whispered. 'I don't know about you but I've been treading on eggshells this last hour. It's as if the air around them is twice as dense. I don't even know how else to explain it.'
Shane knew what she meant. The atmosphere had changed since the arrival of the new family. It was tense, as if they were in the company of unwelcome relatives that they just wanted to leave.
'We've not come across anyone else,' Terry said, his voice low enough to be audible to only them. 'I don't think we have the luxury of picking and choosing our allies, not in this world.'
'I know,' Marla sighed, 'but I don't know whether I like it. I was talking to the girl – Abi – and I got the distinct impression she'd been drinking. She was slurring, though it might have been from the crash.'
'I smelt booze on the guy,' Shane said. 'I don't think you were imagining things.'
Marla's mouth fell open. She couldn't believe that two parents would endanger their own son's life by driving drunk. With the roads treacherous enough as it was – with broken-down cars haphazardly scattered and burnt out vehicles from the riots that followed the outbreak – it was impossible to fathom why they would put themselves at increased risk by pounding the good stuff. . .
'We don't know anything,' Terry said. 'All we know is that we have three survivors, and I sure as hell feel a bit safer with the amount of ammo that guy's packed.'
Shane thought about telling Terry that, for him, it was the complete opposite. It put him on edge; Lukas, for all they knew, was a loose cannon, a maniac liable to shoot anything that moved before turning the gun on himself.
He was built like a mercenary, and Shane didn't think it was unfair to treat him as such until they could be sure of his fealty.
'We're screwed, by the way.' Marla said it as an aside.
'We're no worse off than before,' Shane said; now seemed like a good enough time to tell them about the fuel. 'We wouldn't have made it much farther on the gas we had. The crash only slowed us down a little.'
Marla shook her head. 'So you hotwired a car with enough fuel to run a zippo? That's just precious.' She was angry, but Shane's grin lightened the mood and her intense expression eased.
'What we need to figure out now,' Shane said, 'is where to bed down. We'll need to keep watch, so as long as the bullet-hoarder up front doesn't mind taking in turns with Terry and me, we should be able to get through to morning in one two-hour post each. Four hours sleep should be enough for us to hit the dirt again tomorrow.'
'You know me,' Terry said. 'I only sleep when I have to, anyway. I've got no issues with going first, either.'
Thinking about sleep this early in the afternoon was not the best idea, and Shane felt his pack expand with the merest thought of throwing it off and calling it a day.
They still had miles to cover, and with the rain turning the ground to mulch beneath their feet it was best to keep moving, or risk making up for it tomorrow.
The rest of the group up ahead had slowed to a halt on the road and were examining a bullet-pocked brown sign. River was gesturing frantically for them to hurry; whatever it was, she deemed it as quite a find and couldn't wait for the lagging trio to see.
Though they didn't know it, that filthy, pock-marked sign was about to shape their immediate future.
*
'What do you think?' Lukas said dusting the light coating of rainwater from his leather jacket. 'Worth checking out?'
Shane reread the sign, as if it might tell him something new on a repeat viewing. It didn't.
CN FREIGHT YARD
. It was pretty self-explanatory.
'There might be lurkers there,' Shane said, slipping the pack from his shoulders and lowering it to the road. It felt so good that he was already dreading the thought of putting it back on.
'Lurkers?' Abi asked.
Marla stepped up and examined the sign. 'Yeah, lurkers,' she said. 'You probably call them something else. It's what we call those things.'
Lukas laughed, unexpectedly, and it caused them all to start. 'I like that. . . Lurkers.' He laughed again; this time, nobody flinched. 'You make them sound like paedophiles.'
The distaste on Marla's face suggested she was about to respond. Shane got there before she had a chance.
'What do
you
call them?'
Lukas thought; he looked surprised that he was being tested. 'We call them fucking dead bastards. Zombies, though I guess you think zombies are the shit from films. Well, they're exactly like the things we used to watch in the movies, so it's a good enough name for us.' Then, under his breath, he added, 'Lurkers, for fuck's sake.'
'Look, it doesn't matter what we call them,' Marla spat. Shane could see that she was doing her very best to show restraint. They all were. 'What matters is that if we go there,' she pointed to the sign, 'there might
be
some, and we don't need to put ourselves in needless danger.'
Lukas cocked his shotgun and smiled. Abi huddled up to him – her
hero
– and fluttered her eyelashes like some wannabe pinup from a bygone era. 'Ain't no danger,' he said. 'Not any longer. I don't know what these gentlemen have been doing for you,
honey
, but Lukas is here now, and ain't none of your lurkers gonna be fucking with you while I'm here.'
Terry thought about intervening, and Shane was too busy staring at the sign to hear, but when it came down to it, Marla needed no help.
'Wow,' she said, biting her lip as if his flattery had done something remarkable for her. 'Well, I'll try to bear that in mind when you're getting your ass chewed off by one of
our
lurkers.'
'The sign says it's only a mile off the road,' Shane said, interrupting what was quickly turning into a nasty exchange. He turned to face them. 'If there are lurkers there, I doubt there'll be many, not enough to worry about.'
He was asking for opinions, and all he got in return was blank expressions. Lukas's frown and twitching eye suggested that Marla's words had affected him, though he would never admit it.
'Your call,' Terry said as he slowly unfolded his arms and wiped his damp palms on the seat of his pants.
Marla nodded. 'If you think it might be worth something,' she said, 'then, sure.'
Shane didn't know whether it would be worth a
shit
, but the road ahead was a long and arduous one; a few hours rest and a look around an abandoned freight yard was as appealing as a fortnight in Greece to him right then.
'Let's get walking,' Shane said. 'River, Saul, no more going off ahead. We need to stay close now.'
River turned to Saul and shrugged as if they had been told,
sure
you can play out, but don't be crossing the road and I want you back at four for dinner. . .
Lukas and Abi went up front and were whispering surreptitiously to one another, though Shane caught two of the words that passed between them, and he knew that he would need to remain vigilant while they were around and remained a part of the group.
The words were
shoot
and
bitch
.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
James “Dredd” Foster landed on the Bay St. Louis to the usual gathering of disinterested people. They were busy eating and talking amongst themselves, and as the Wave Hawk's rotors slowed, revealing the incessant drone of chitter-chatter, he wondered if anyone actually cared about what he did day after day.
Not for much longer.
Tomorrow, with a bit of luck, he would be on board one of the ships leaving the port; a new life ahead with Emma and Gabriella, one where the constant threat of being bitten, infected, was no longer a threat at all.
The survivors here, in the bay, were fortunate enough to be surrounded by trained personnel. Snipers were positioned on eight towers running the length of the North Beach Boulevard; if any creatures wandered off the beaten path – which they sometimes did – they were quickly and expertly dispatched with a single shot to the head. Such was the rarity of a shambler, though, that the eight snipers maintained radio-contact just so they could argue which one of them got to take the shot.
It was technically the safest place in America, though not safe enough. The menace was still there, and none of the survivors would rest until there was an ocean between them and the creatures.
Which was exactly what they were doing.
'Took your goddamned time,' a voice said. Dredd turned to find Frank Pimlico striding towards him through the detached crowd. 'Thought you'd stopped for ice-cream.'