The Survivor Chronicles: The Risen (29 page)

"We have to go," she panted as they
succeeded in pushing the dumpster over near the door.

"We will," Carl assured her. She spotted the
source of the gas smell when he brought forth a bottle with a rag
hanging out of it. He must have filled it from the gas cans in the
back of the truck. "Give me your gun."

She handed him her gun and took hold of his.
He stepped away from the door, inched it open, and discharged
another round of shots into the building. He dropped the empty gun
on the ground, lit the end of the rag and tossed the bottle into
the building. "Dumpster!" he barked.

Riley threw her shoulder into the dumpster
to push it the last few feet toward the door. John and Xander
jumped forward to slam it into the door with her and Josh. Carl
snatched her empty gun off the ground and pushed John toward the
truck. "What did you do?" John demanded as they ran toward the
vehicles.

"No one is walking into that trap again,"
Carl huffed as he ran.

Riley prayed that was true as she wiped the
blood away from her face with the back of her forearm. She glanced
over her shoulder, but she couldn't see any smoke or flames coming
from the building yet. Opening the door, she slid behind the
steering wheel of the car and turned it over. Xander hopped into
the passenger side and Josh slumped into the back. Carl slammed the
doors on the back of the truck closed and locked them before
running to the driver's side.

A tendril of smoke curled out from the
backdoor as she shifted the car into drive and slammed on the gas.
The tires squealed on the pavement but she didn't ease up on the
gas. Smoke curled up behind them, the smell of burning rubber
filled the air. The car fishtailed before finally gripping hold of
the pavement. She kept her foot on the floor and sped toward the
corner of the building. One of the sick ones burst out from the
corner of the building and threw themselves at the car. Riley
swerved the car at them and clipped them with the left front
fender. It was childish of her, but she couldn't stop herself from
slamming her middle finger against the window as the person bounced
away from the car.

She didn't look away from the rearview
mirror as the body fell beneath the tires of the truck. Turning her
attention back to the parking lot she sped across the empty spaces
and down the back hill toward the fast food restaurant. She didn't
know where she was going but she didn't dare ease up on the gas as
smoke began to rise into the air behind them.

Carl,

"Are you ok?" Carl demanded of John.

He glanced over at his friend but didn't
dare take his eyes off the road for more than a second as they
raced down crowded streets that he didn't recognize. They blew past
an exit ramp he believed they should have taken to get back toward
the racetrack and camp, but an overturned box truck and some cars
blocked the ramp. In the car before them, Xander was turned around
in his seat, trying to work on Josh as Riley zipped expertly in and
out of the abandoned vehicles congesting the road.

"Are you ok?" he demanded again.

John's eyes were almost bugging out of his
head as he turned his hand over to stare at the chunk that had been
torn from the fleshy part of it. Carl didn't think it would ever be
fleshy again as the skin and muscle had been torn off nearly to the
bone from his pinky knuckle to his wrist.

"It bit me." John said as he continued to
stare at his hand. "That bastard
bit
me!"

"Yes I know, I saw. Are you ok?"

"What the fuck? I mean what the
fuck
!" John shouted as he stared at
the blood oozing out of the gaping bite mark.

"We have to get that cleaned up, now."

John was pale as he lifted his head to look
at him. There were shadows under his sunken and frightened eyes.
Then his mouth dropped and his good hand went to his head. "It bit
me," he muttered. He rubbed at his forehead as he stared at the
blood trickling down his arm. Carl didn't know if it was shock over
the bite or over what might happen to him, but John just sat there
and stared at the bloody mess.

Riley made an abrupt right at a set of
lights. Carl had thought she'd been traveling too fast to make it
around the turn but the car didn't even skid. She was forced to
ease back on her speed in order to navigate the car over the bricks
in the center of the road that was more of a hump dividing the
two-lane road from another two-lane road. Carl followed her over
the hump in order to avoid a cluster of abandoned cars.

Brick and wooden storefronts, restaurants,
and a large town hall came into view. Along with the buildings came
the realization that they had to get off of this road. There were
too many vehicles blocking the way, light poles had toppled up
ahead and a brick store had crumbled into the road. But more than
that, as they drove by a pink diner, numerous heads popped up over
the top of the brick wall. Multiple eyes peered out at them from
the drawn and battered faces behind the broken diner windows.

"Hold on," Carl said and slammed on the
gas.

The tires of the truck squealed, John was
thrust back against his seat as the truck lurched forward, but he
had to get ahead of Riley and off of this road. He had a feeling if
they didn't leave this area of town soon they would become trapped
between the vehicles and the people now walking down the steps of
the diner and coming out from behind the other buildings lining the
road.

Down the street, he saw more heads popping
up above the vehicles congested through the roadway. A few of the
sick people fell as they made their way forward and sprawled on the
pavement. Carl found himself riveted on the sight as two of them
turned on the fallen ones. Squeals that had nothing to do with the
truck tires filled the air but he finally caught up to Riley.

He slammed his hand against his window when
Xander glanced at him. He pointed at a road coming up on their
left. A set of lights had fallen across the road but the poles had
fallen along the sidewalks instead of across the roadway that ran
in between a bank and a middle school. On the inside of him, Riley
made the turn onto the road first. Carl yanked the wheel sharply,
sending John into the dashboard with enough force that the air
exploded from his lungs. Riley dropped further back to allow him to
take the lead.

More heads could be seen in the windows of
the school and some of the heads of the sick people lying on the
lawn of the school lifted. Though their heads lifted, little else
of them did and their heads fell limply onto the ground again. At
first he'd assumed that was simply where the sick had decided to
curl up and sleep, but looking at them he began to realize that
something more was going on with them.

"I'll be," he whispered. In his mirror he
could see some of the sick trying to follow them but they were
falling further back as they sped down the road. "I think they're
dying."

John pushed himself off the dashboard and
slumped into his seat. "What?" he asked.

Carl glanced over at him as he eased the
truck to a more reasonable speed on the windy back road. Beads of
sweat trickled down John's pallid cheeks, the purse of his mouth
told Carl he was doing everything he could not to throw up. They
had to get out of this truck and do something about his hand before
John passed out.

"They're dying," Carl said again. "Or at
least they appear to be. We have to find somewhere to stop."

John shook his head and braced his hand on
the dash. "We have to get as far from them, and that store, as we
possibly can."

"We've put a fair amount of distance between
us. We have to stop. At the very least we have to get that cleaned
up and the bleeding stopped. For you
and
Josh." John glanced at the car in his side
mirror and gave a brief nod. "Plus I'd prefer it if you didn't
vomit in the truck."

"Me too," John muttered as he bowed his
head.

Carl glanced in his mirror again, he didn't
see any of the sick back there but he still went a couple of miles
before pulling the truck into an empty lot on the right hand side
of the road. They climbed a small hill and drove past the remains
of some concrete blocks buried beneath the overgrown grass. There
were charred marks on the blocks that stood testimony to whatever
had once stood on the open lot. He drove to the edge of the woods
line, turned the truck around and parked it five feet away from the
trees.

Even if someone came up the driveway, there
were plenty of ways for them to escape the lot without having to
return to the pavement of the drive. To the left of them were
nothing but woods and power lines. To the right was a swimming pool
and a grouping of at least thirty bungalows. There was one large
building in the center of the bungalows, apparently the main
meetinghouse or something, around the property stood a six-foot
high chain link fence. Carl had no idea what the property was, if
it was a camp or something, but he kept a wary eye on it as he
shifted the truck into park and turned it off.

There was enough open space between them and
the bungalows that they would be able to see anyone approaching
them from there, but they wouldn't see someone hiding inside the
buildings, possibly with guns. He braced himself for the
possibility of getting shot before opening his door and climbing
out. The breeze tugged at his hat as he scanned the buildings but
the only thing he saw amongst them was a scrap of garbage blowing
across the pool area before getting caught up in the fence.

He turned when the backdoors opened on the
truck and Riley jumped into the back. Turning away from the
bungalows, he walked to the end of the truck. "How's Josh?" he
inquired of Xander when he appeared around the other side of the
truck.

"He'll be ok if we can get the bleeding
stopped. That thing took a chunk out of him."

Carl nodded and turned to look back at the
buildings. There were so many places for eyes to be staring out at
them from, but if any of the sick people were over there, they
would already be coming forward, that much he knew. Xander reached
into the truck and grabbed a black t-shirt from the tumbled pile
near the back doors. He pulled it over his head and tugged it into
place. Riley jumped out of the truck with an armload of bandages,
peroxide, rubbing alcohol, some hand towels, and a bottle of
aspirin.

"Can you find me some needle and thread?"
she asked briskly of Xander before turning to John. She winced as
she studied his hand before handing out a couple of bottles and
some bandages to Carl. "You take care of him and I'll get
Josh."

Carl nodded as he took the supplies from
her. John looked at him like he was carrying an armful of scorpions
when he approached him with a bottle of peroxide. "Let me see your
hand," Carl commanded.

"All of the medicine's at the camp," John
said. "You're just wasting supplies on me. We'll never make it back
in time to take anything to help us."

Carl couldn't bring himself to look at John
as he uttered those words. They'd lost so many already but he
didn't know how he would take losing John. The kid grated on his
nerves more than anyone he'd ever known before, but he was his best
friend. Ignoring John's words, he unscrewed the cap on the peroxide
and shoved in the protective cover.

"Carl come on," John said. "You guys will
need these things, to waste them on us is…"

"You don't know that it's a waste," Xander
interrupted briskly as looked over the sideboards at them from the
back of the truck. "I was bit and I'm fine."

John turned to look at him. "But you were
able to get some medicine into you. Those pills are at the camp,
we're not making it back there before nightfall and we're not going
to travel at night. Not for
any
one. Risking all our lives is complete stupidity."

"That medicine could have just been a
coincidence. My leg could have been infected."

"And this won't get infected?" John demanded
and thrust his hand at Xander.

"Not if you let me clean it." Carl grabbed
hold of his hand and jerked it toward him. Before John could
protest he dumped half the bottle over the bloody mess of his hand.
"They're not zombies John, they die, they stay dead, and they
are
dying."

John's eyes burned into his when he lifted
his head to look at him. "Aren't we all?"

"Not today," Carl said fiercely. "Not
today."

He wiped the blood away with a hand towel to
examine the ragged edges of the wound. The imprint of the teeth was
clearly visible on John's flesh. Turning John's hand before him, he
realized there wasn't enough flesh left for him to sew closed.

Grabbing the bottle of rubbing alcohol he
twisted the top off of it. "Wait, hey now, the peroxide should be
good enough," John protested.

"Do you want this to get infected?" Carl
demanded.

"I think I might prefer it to
that
." John waved a finger at the
bottle in Carl's hand.

"You're such a wimp."

"Hey, hey wait! OW!" John protested when he
dumped the alcohol over his hand. "Son of a
bitch
!"

John jerked his hand away from him. Grabbing
his wrist he began to jump up and down, cursing as he shook his
hand in the air. Carl was trying not to laugh as John's face became
the color of a tomato. "You're acting like a baby."

John cursed vehemently at him; he kept hold
of his wrist as he bent over and tucked his elbow between his legs.
"You enjoyed that."

"A little," Carl admitted.

John shot him a look before bending back
over his hand. "That hurt worse than the freak's bite did."