The Zone: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Infection Chronicles Book 1) (7 page)

“You stay close to me, and don’t take off that mask until I tell you to,” Steele said.

Chloe saluted. 

Steele grabbed a duffel bag in each hand. He strained to lift them. The veins in his neck bulged and he groaned. Steele was a big guy—6’2” and full of muscle. Still, two, 200 pound bags full of titrillium bouillon was heavy—even for someone with bio-mechanical assistance. 

As tough as Parker was, she couldn’t lift one of these bags by herself, much less two. 

“I’ll come back for the rest.” Steele staggered up the steps to the ground floor and lumbered through the house. Chloe and Parker followed behind him. 

At the front door, he set the bags down. The bars clanked against the tile as they shifted. Steele peered out the door, surveying the property. It looked clear. 

Steele knelt down beside Chloe and helped her take off the gas mask. “Stay here with Parker, I’ll be right back.”

Chloe nodded.

Steele made two more trips, and by the time he was finished, Delroy was in the driveway with a Range Rover. He leapt out and dashed to the house, leaving the engine running.
 

Steele carried two bags and loaded them in the back of the SUV. Parker led Chloe to the Range Rover and put her in the back seat.
 

Then she and Delroy started with the bags. Between the two of them, they could only handle a bag at a time—and even that was a struggle. It was clear they wouldn’t have gotten very far on foot. 

After a few trips, the titrillium was safely stowed. The SUV sank down on its shocks, fully loaded. 1200 extra pounds in the ass end made it look like a lowrider. 

Steele shut the back hatch. “How much gas?”

“Half a tank,” Delroy said. “Should be more than enough.”

“Let’s move out.”

“One thing, sir. Parker and I have been talking.” Delroy exchanged a nervous glance with Parker.

Steele knew where this was going. “And?”

“We think a renegotiation of terms is in order,” he stammered.

“Do you?”

“Since the situation has changed—and our employer is no longer with us—we thought it would only be fair if we split things equally.”

Steele’s eyes narrowed. “Equally, huh?”

Delroy gulped and nodded.

“Fair enough.”

Delroy gleamed and ear to ear smile. 

“Let’s get going,” Steele said.

“Yes, sir.” Delroy climbed into the driver’s seat.
 

Steele hopped into the passenger seat. Just as his door clanked shut, Chloe spoke.

“We can’t leave Mr. Carlisle,” Chloe said.

“Who’s Mr. Carlisle?” Steele asked.

“He’s a tiger and we can’t leave him behind.”

“Where is Mr. Carlisle?”

“Back in the bunker. He’s very valuable.”

“I’ll buy you a new stuffed animal when we get out of the zone.”

“I don’t want a new stuffed animal. I want Mr. Carlisle.”
 

Steele sighed. “Okay, you stay here, I’m going to go find Mr. Carlisle.” He never imagined that he would be rescuing a stuffed animal today.

Steele dashed back inside and down into the bunker. In the room where Chloe had been hiding, he found a dirty and matted stuffed tiger on her bed. He shook his head, snatched the animal, and ran back outside.

When he hit the doorway, he saw Delroy in the driveway, aiming his weapon at someone. Delroy was shouting at them to stay back.

STEELE DROPPED THE stuffed tiger in the yard and drew his weapon. He angled around to Delroy, catching sight of who was coming up the driveway. A woman staggered toward them. She had two young girls in tow—one was six, the other eight. The eight-year-old was the same girl they had seen earlier.
 

 
The woman was mid-30s. She was pretty, but haggard and tired from months in the zone. Blue eyes, dark hair, full lips, and sculpted cheekbones. She’d look great in high heals and a cocktail dress, but there wasn’t much occasion for that in the zone.
 

A man followed closely behind. Probably her husband, Steele thought. They both wore wedding rings. He had dark hair, brown eyes, and a medium build.

“Please help us,” the woman said.

“I said stay back,” Delroy shouted.

Chloe saw the tiger lying in the yard. She pushed open the door and leapt from the SUV, darting for it. 

Steele caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye, distracting him for a split second. “Chloe, get back in the truck,” he growled. His eyes flicked back to the refugees who were still treading closer.

“Get back, or I will fire,” Delroy said.

Chloe grabbed Mr. Carlisle, then rushed back to the SUV.

“Please, take us out of here,” the woman pleaded. “We’re not infected.”
 

“I’m sorry ma’am, we can’t help you,” Steele said. “Now back away before someone gets hurt.” 

“Please, we can’t last much longer in here. You’ve got to help us.”

“There’s food, water, and supplies in the house,” Steele said. “Take what you want.” 

“Then at least, take our children to safety. Please.” Her eyes flicked to Chloe, watching from the SUV, then back to Steele.

“I’m sorry. I can’t,” Steele said.

“We may have a problem, Major,” Delroy said. His eyes were focused in the distance. At the end of the block, an armored personnel carrier had pulled up. It was fitted with a .50 caliber machine gun on top. It was an Army vehicle, but the guy manning the machine gun wasn’t Army. Enough tanks, APCs, and munitions to outfit a small country had been left behind when the Army took a retrograde position. Now they were in the hands of the warlords of the wasteland.

Tension hung thick in the air. Delroy had the gunner in his sights. “Should I take him out? I’ve got a clear shot.”

“Hold tight,” Steele said.

The gunner just stared back at them. He called down into the APC. A moment later, the vehicle lurched forward and rumbled away.

“You see what we’re up against,” the woman’s husband said. “We have some weapons, but we’re no match. They take our women. They kill all who resist. Please, you must do something.”

“I promise, I will speak with my superiors when I return,” Steele said. “But I can’t take you out of here now.”

The man looked heartbroken. His eyes filled, on the verge of tears. “My name is Xavier. This is my wife Sarah.  My children, Abigail and Ava. We’re American’s. Doesn’t that mean anything?” Xavier was smart. Using names personalized them. Steele knew what Xavier was trying to do. 

“Please, mister?” Abigail, the eight-year-old, said. 

Steele clenched his jaw. He hated to be in this situation. He felt for these people, but he just couldn’t take them. “Delroy, saddle up.”

“Yes, sir.” Delroy climbed into the driver’s seat. Steele hopped in on the passenger side. Parker and Chloe sat in the backseat. 

Delroy dropped the car into gear and rolled backwards. But Xavier stood in his way. Delroy lurched the SUV back a foot, but Xavier didn’t flinch. The rear bumper was inches from his kneecaps. 

“I will run you over,” Delroy yelled out the window. 

Xavier stood firm. 

Delroy lurched the vehicle back again. 

Xavier jumped back a foot. 

Delroy mashed his foot to the floor. Tires screeched. Blue smoke billowed and the air filled with the smell of burning rubber. 

Xavier leapt aside, tumbling to the ground, narrowly escaping. 

The Range Rover sped into the street. Delroy slammed the brakes, shifted into drive, then peeled away. Steele could see Xavier in the side mirror shouting and cursing at them. 

Chloe was visibly shaken by the ordeal. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “Why didn’t you help those people?” she said, stammering in between jerking sobs.

“We don’t have room on the transport ship for them,” Parker said, trying to comfort her—it wasn’t working very well.

“Make room,” Chloe cried.

“So, Major, is crying allowed in this squad now?”

“Shut up, Delroy.”

The major kept his eye on the side mirror, watching the family linger in the middle of the street. As Delroy was about to round the corner, Steele caught a glimpse of the APC in the mirror. It had doubled back and rolled up to the family. The gunner had the .50 caliber drawn on them.

“Stop the vehicle,” Steele said.

“Why?”

“Because I said so. Stop the vehicle.”

Delroy glanced in the rearview. “Sir, I think it’s a bad idea to get involved in local disputes.”

“Stop the vehicle.”

The brakes squealed and Steele sprung from the SUV, his weapon ready to fire. 

The APC gunner was menacing the family. Another gang member climbed from the vehicle and was scuffling with Xavier. He was trying to drag away Sarah, and Xavier wasn’t going to let that happen. There was screaming and crying, pushing and shoving. The thug shoved Xavier away and drew his side arm. He brought the gun to Xavier's head. Just as the thug  was about to squeeze the trigger, Steele fired. 

CRACK!

The bullet zipped through the air, echoing off the nearby houses. The thug’s head burst open, spewing blood. His body smacked the ground. 

The gunner swung the .50 caliber toward Steele. But the major already had the gunner lined up in his sights.

CRACK!

Steele fired again.

SPLAT!

The gunner’s head exploded, spraying a cloud of blood. His body slumped in the turret. His head looked like a rotten tomato that someone had stepped on.
 

The APC swung around and rambled toward them. Another man inside the APC pulled the gunner’s body out of the way and took his position in the turret.

Xavier and his family scattered away to safety. The APC roared, and the new gunner took aim at Steele. 

The .50 caliber machine gun entered service in 1921. There was a reason it was still in service today. It was a multi use weapon and packed a helluva punch. There was even a version made specifically for snipers. Micro processors in the rounds would allow adjustments in mid-flight trajectory. Kyle Meeks held the current world record for longest-range confirmed kill. 2956 meters, during
Operation Eagle Fury
in 2029. The .50 caliber was fast, reliable, and accurate. One well placed round could easily rip a man in two.

Soon, several hundred rounds would be heading straight at Steele. Each one racing at nearly 3000 feet per second.

THE MACHINE GUN blasted off rounds exploding at Steele’s feet as he dashed back into the passenger seat. Delroy mashed the pedal, and the SUV squealed around the corner.

A flurry of shell casings pinged against the concrete. The APC gunner kept firing at the SUV. Bullets smacked into the tempered glass and body panels. 

The bullets should have blasted through the windows and pierced the sheet metal, but they didn’t. Parker gazed at the window, webbed with cracks. A slug was lodged in the glass at eye level. It should have split open her head. 

“Bulletproof glass,” Parker mumbled to herself. “I guess Ferris was on the paranoid side?”

“CEOs get kidnapped all the time. Makes sense he’d have secure vehicles,” Steele said. 

The SUV was lurching along, pulling to the left. Something was wrong. 

“Well, he didn’t get bulletproof tires,” Delroy said.  

The rear tire was shredded and ripped completely from the rim. Despite the run-flat inserts, a shower of sparks sprayed into the air as the bare rim ground against the concrete. On a good day, the inserts provided the rims with a half inch of clearance without a tire. Today, the extra weight of the back end compressed the rubber inserts. 

“Keep moving,” Steele said.

Steele glanced through the rear window. He could see the APC lumber around the corner, coming after them.

Ahead, the commotion had roused the lurkers. Several were staggering into the streets. Delroy weaved around them at first. Soon there were too many, and Delroy was plowing over them. Infected splattered against the windshield like bugs. It wasn’t long before bloody sludge coated the windshield. The stiffs growled and clawed at the SUV as it barreled through. Delroy flipped on the wiper blades. But it only smeared the bloody sludge, decreasing visibility even further.

The APC trudged after them. Bullets whizzed by, smacking at the back glass. The ballistic glass cracked and webbed around the slug, but still held together. But the SUV wasn’t going to hold up for long. It wasn’t made to survive this kind of assault. 

Delroy mashed the pedal, putting some distance between themselves and the APC. 

BAM!

The right rear tire exploded, fraying from the rim. The SUV teetered and slid. Delroy regained control and kept plowing forward. Both rims were spewing sparks. All traction was gone from the rear wheels. Delroy swung a left at the intersection, and the rear end fishtailed. The four wheel drive kept pulling the vehicle along.