The Last Infection: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (25 page)

“Keep your feet on the
poles and watch every step,” he said. “Follow me.”

They crossed the rails
on the top of four poles and reached Jake. A noticeable rise in the moans of the dead struck Chris as he tried to wake the boy. Jake shuddered after a few shoves. Then he tried to open his eyes. Chris pressed down on his chest as he strained to get up.

“Relax. Don’t move just yet.”

The boy’s eyes sprang open once he realized his body was wedged between two railing posts. There was nothing directly under him to keep him from a long fall into the Pacific. Chris looked up on the deck, and his view beyond the bolted crates painted an ugly picture. Several doors lined the long side of the cabin area. Most of them were open and figures crawled out of each at an alarming rate. A number of undead had reached a series of nets strewn out on the nearside of the deck. Chris’ sights settled on one ray of hope.

He pointed toward the aft of the ship at a single lifeboat. The tiny vessel was clinging to the release assembly by a chain, dangling off the side of the ship, its oars connected by a strap. “Get up,” Chris said. “Get up now.” He grabbed hold of Jake’s sleeve and gave it a yank.
Alicen tried to push past him and they both wobbled on the railing posts, trying to maintain balance. “Keep your damn shirt on.” He had to grab her with his free hand to keep her from going over the side.

Jake pushed off the deck and
attempted to settle his feet on the posts that saved him from falling in the ocean. He swayed a bit before Chris felt confident enough to let go. There was a good sized patch of blood matting his hair to the back of his head.

“We
have to get all the way over there?”

Chris was already urging him to walk. “Yes, now go.” He held his place as Jake started off. Chris let
Alicen get around him before he moved. He tried to keep his eyes on the railing posts, the mounting number of dead caught in the expansion of nets, and the kids out in front of him. “Steady with your steps. One post at a time.”

It wasn’t long before the nets
were dangling above them. The mass of knotted material was spread out well over a hundred feet. They were moving along the railing underneath the nets when Chris and the kids realized how many decaying bodies were moving through the mess. Some of the dead were caught in the wires, while others were stuck underneath, but the sheer numbers were beyond counting. A majority were dressed in the torn and bloodied coveralls of former crewmembers. Others were clad in the jeans and t-shirts of survivors who had found their way on board in search of safety.

“Don’t look at them,”
Chris ordered. “Just keep moving.”

Jake was running as fast as his legs would carry him.
Alicen was struggling and her hesitation lengthened the distance between her and Chris to Jake. The moment she started to pass under the nets, she couldn’t take her eyes off the dead. Zombies lashed wildly as the living ran into view. The thrashing had an instant and terrifying effect.

Chris broke his own rule as his eyes drifted upward toward the high side of the deck. The figures trapped within started to slip from their binds and those still free rushed out of the remaining cabin doors like mad dogs. The result was a showering display of rotted corpses. The first bodies fell from the
doorways, slamming down on the railings. Alicen came to a sudden stop as a zombie hit a few feet ahead and managed to keep from dropping between the posts. The next few bodies splashed into the water, which caused her to cry out.

“It’s raining dead people
!”

Chris worked his way around her, using the top banister for
footing. He smashed the heel of his boot on the head of the zombie as it tried to pick itself up off the posts. The skin tore apart across the nose. Then its face cracked open. The diseased remains of the brains smeared across the pole and the bottom of Chris’ boot. The body gave way and fell, leaving only a streak of blood smeared across the post.

Chris
grabbed Alicen’s hand and pulled her along. He took slow, but determined steps not wanting the girl to lose her balance behind him. The bodies continued to rain down, several striking the posts and toppling over, but some managed to grab hold. Numerous undead littered the railings in front of Chris and Alicen before they could do anything about it.

Jake reached the lifeboat
and he was yelling at Chris, but the words were lost among the chaos. The boy went to work on the remaining chain when a zombie fell and smacked into him from behind. The creature flipped over the top rail and continued on, but the impact pushed Jake out over the side. He grabbed hold of the lone chain connecting the lifeboat to the ship in a fevered desperation.

Chris tried to keep one eye on Jake and the other on the dead laid out in front of him. He had half a mind to tell the boy to let go
, but he wasn’t sure he could tread water long enough to survive. Two of the four zombies in the way tried to get up on their feet, but then slipped over the side. One of the remaining looked to have broken her back and she lay bent over on herself, trying to reach out for Chris. The skin on the woman’s face was peeled off from the nose to the chin revealing a set of pearly white teeth highlighted by surrounding bloody tissue.

Chris grabbed the woman’s outstretched hand and pulled her over the post. The move resulted in the cracking of bones and a horrifying twist as her back bent in the opposite direction. He let go when her body unfolded and she slipped helplessly in the space between the post
s. Chris took a cautious step on the bloodstained bar then quickly dispersed the lone zombie with a few kicks as it tried to get up.

They were moving fast, spurred on by another scream from Jake. The
shower of bodies forced Chris and Alicen to start and stop several times. By the time they reached the lifeboat, Jake had slipped further down the chain and the only thing keeping him from falling was his foot wedged inside the boat. Chris did a hasty search of the hook ups and found the release lever.

“You’re going to have to jump.”

Jake’s eyes shot up to meet his.

“The hell with that.”

Chris had to look past him and into the water to understand his reluctance. Several of the dead were thrashing in the churning tide, some in pieces, torn apart by the fall. Jake was too far out for Chris to reach and he was left without another choice. The bodies were falling at an alarming rate. Zombies pushed out of the cabin doors in droves, all of them focused solely on Chris and the kids. If the living didn’t get off the ship now, there would be nowhere else for them to run.

“You have to,” Chris said
, “push off as hard as you can.”

“No way.”

“When I release this safety switch that damn boat is going to fall,” Chris looked back at the growing multitude of dead working its way through the nets. “The impact will probably kill you.”

“But-”

“Do it.”

Jake clenched his
teeth, and then moved without thinking about it. He brought his feet up as high as he could and bent close to the edge of the lifeboat. One good push thrust him back and he let go of the chain as he went. Jake turned his body in the air and managed a diver’s form as he hit the water.

Chris didn’t wait. He pulled on the
safety, and unhooked the chain in one quick motion. The safety clip released and the boat dropped and hit the water, crashing into several bobbing figures in the process. Chris grabbed Alicen around the waist and lifted her without instructions. She screamed and hollered as he tried to spot Jake in the water. The boy was treading as best he could, but his attention was on several hands reaching up for the side of the boat.

A
licen hit Chris in the face as he lifted her over the railing. He aimed for Jake as best he could, and then tossed the girl out. She screamed all the way down. Alicen hit the water a few feet from her brother. Jake grabbed hold of her and helped her get righted. Chris readied himself to jump, when something slammed into his back and pinned him to the rail.

He felt it clawing at him before he realized what was happening. Pinned down with his knees spread across two posts
, Chris couldn’t force himself up. The first tear came at his side. His skin ripped under his jacket and a burning sensation radiated from his ribs. He felt the warmth of his own blood as it soaked through his clothes.

A gnarled hand g
rabbed hold of his face and pulled his head. He saw the exposed teeth of the zombie clinging to his back as it brought its open jaws down toward his face. Chris reacted the only way he could. He pulled one knee over the post, nearly dislocating his hip in the process. The move left his body with no support and as he slipped through the open space, the zombie’s neck struck the railing, pulling its head clean off.

Chris hit the water chest first and the pain of the impact rivaled the burning in his side. He felt hands grabbing on to him under the water and he struggled to swim back up to the surface. His lungs begged for air as he swept his arms
downward, trying to push himself through the water. His chest was about to explode when he burst through the surface gasping for air. He reached up for the side of the lifeboat and discovered Jake standing on the inside trying to pull him in.

#

The boat moved at a painfully slow pace. Chris had both oars in the water and was doing his best to keep rowing. Alicen’s eyes were closed. She’d curled up next to her brother and used his legs as a pillow. Jake was facing Chris, his eyes still glazed over. The water was calm and the ship and dock were barely visible in the distance behind them.

Chris looked down at his soaked map unfolded in the center of the
lifeboat between his seat and the kids. He knew the distance between the dock and Catalina Island was twenty-eight miles. He had no idea how long that trek would take in a rowboat. His mind was blank. He gave no thought to what lay ahead until Jake’s first question broke the silence.

“You think we’ll be safe now?”

Chris stopped rowing, but he didn’t answer. He was cold, wet, and hungry. Other than that, he wasn’t sure of much else. He pulled the oars from the water and rested his shoulders for a minute. He rubbed his hands together trying to get some life into his fingers.

His side hurt with every pull
, but Jake had drained his strength getting Chris in the boat and rowing them away from the dock. Chris guessed that he’d been at the chore for nearly an hour. His thoughts were on Jenn. She was the dedicated one. She was the one that told him he had to believe they’d be safe. He finally gave Jake an answer, although he wasn’t sure he believed it.

“I think so.”

Alicen’s eyes popped open. She stared at him for a moment, waiting for him to acknowledge her.

“You promise?”

Chris grabbed the oars and pushed them back in the water. He was quiet for a while, but both kids kept their eyes trained on him. Finally, he looked back at them as he started to row again. He smiled, but avoided the question.

“Get some sleep,” he said. “We should be there soon.”

THE END

Read on for a free sample of
The Hand That Feeds
The terrifying prequel to
The Last Infection

1

Evansville Kansas …

Alex’s lungs burnt in desperation as he vomited a powerful rush of the rotten, black mulch. Unable to control his body, his bowels released and he felt a warm rush as he struggled for consciousness. In a fit of madness, he pushed with his arms, finding only enough strength to lift his head. Pain wracked his ten-year-old body.

He heaved with another powerful purge, the force of the motion giving him enough movement to flip himself over on his back. He coughed and gagged on the spewing sludge. The stench clung to him, filling the pores of his skin. He lost the strength to move and laid in the darkness trying to catch his breath, as a slow burn rose from his feet, up his legs, and into his thighs. Terrified and alone, he cried in-between violent purges calling out for his mother.

Alex fought against the pain. His feet were numb and the burning sensation sent writhing throbs into his spine. It reached his waist and he felt like his skin was on fire. He dug his fingers into the ground and turned over.

He dragged through thick muck, struggling with every inch. Shrouded in darkness and guided by his memory, he pulled over piles of bones buried in the ground. By luck, he reached the chamber’s edge below the tunnel entrance. It took every ounce of strength he could muster to get to his feet.

His fingernails bent and split as he fought against his body to get up into the tunnel. The climb ahead felt impossible. In near blinding madness, he wept, his face buried in the dirt. The heat was in his chest and his lungs cooked with every breath. He was sure he would never see his parents again and the pain of it crushed his will.

There was no sense of time down in the hole. Alex lost his grasp of reality as the maddening heat worked its way into his neck and face. He pulled his way into the first chamber without the use of his legs. The final burrow remained and the smell of fresh air hit him with a powerful reaction.

Alex pulled by instinct as the heat consumed his face and stole his sight. Visions filled his mind of death and decay. He pulled free as the burning took control and he screamed wildly in the night. He rolled on his back and howled like an animal baying at the moon. The guttural growls coming from him carried in the air and desperate ears heard his cries.

#

Angela Mason
was consumed by her own madness. Her son was missing and she waited with a frantic hope as her husband, John, searched the surrounding farmland. She heard Alex’s voice like an eagle picking out its young’s first cries for food.

“Alex,” she said, screaming. She ran from the back door out into the yard. Hysterically, she scanned the moonlit grass. “John, for God’s sake, I can hear him.”

She ran out into the grass and found her son. He was covered in a vile mixture of vomit and mud. She collapsed to her knees and grabbed his head. His breathing was shallow and his stare wild.

“I have you, sweetheart,” she said as tears streamed down her face. “I’ll never let you go.”

#

John Mason kicked open the back door and carried his son in the house. His arms and legs hung limp, dangling lifeless and unresponsive. Horrible cries filled the home as Angela
was consumed by agonizing grief. She burst in the house behind her husband.

“God, no,” she said. “Please, not my baby.”

John laid his son on the dining room table and Angela wiped frantically at the black ooze covering the boy’s face and chest. The smell was awful, enough to cause John to gag.

“Watch him,” he said.

John ran into the kitchen and grabbed the phone. His wife was still screaming in the background as he tried to remember Doctor Taylor’s phone number. He knew calling 911 was what he should do, but Dr. Taylor could get to the house a lot faster.

“Oh, God.”

“Shut the hell up,” John said in frustration. He looked at the phone numbers and had a sudden epiphany. “Just let me freaking think.” He dialed the number and waited.

One ring, two rings, three rings…

“Hello.”

“Dr. Taylor, something’s happened to Alex.”

“John, John Mason?”

“Yea, Doc, there’s something really wrong. He’s barely breathing, can you get over here?”

“I’m on my way.”

John hung up the phone and walked back to the dining room table. Angela was inconsolable. She looked helpless trying to rub the ooze off Alex’s skin. She held onto a rag covered with the black muck, but her effort was having little effect.

“He’s going to be okay,” She said in a faint voice.

“I know,” John said.

“He’s going to be okay,” she repeated as she climbed up on the table and pulled Alex in between her legs.

John felt useless. He stared at his son’s chest and watched it slowly rise then fall. He felt like curling up on the ground.
There was nothing either of them could do, but wait for Dr. Taylor. Angela got down off the table and dragged Alex toward the edge. Her eyes bulged as she stared at John.

“Grab his feet,” she said.

“Honey, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to get this mess off him.”

“I don’t think we should move him.”

Angela’s face flushed red with rage.

“Grab his damn feet,” she said.

John took a hold of the boy’s legs at the ankles. They lifted him from the table and his body hung limp in the space between the parents. John focused on the boy’s chest, praying each time he gasped for breath. Angela’s eyes were wild. She moved in jittery steps as if the processing of what was going on
hadn’t caught up with her thoughts. They carried him in the bathroom and Angela struggled to flick on the lights. She balanced Alex’s head and shoulders on her lap as she sat on the edge of the tub and turned on the water.

John watched his wife’s lips. She was talking to herself, her mouth moving silently as she went about her task. Her hands shook violently as she tried to turn the knobs. Water burst from the spout a moment later and she ripped Alex from John’s grasp. She fell back into the tub with the boy on top of her.

“Good, God, Angela,” John said, reaching for her.

She growled at him, pulling Alex’s head up to her chest.

“Give me the towel,” she said.

John did as he
was told. He sat on the toilet and watched Angela wipe feverously at the black smears on their son. When she was done, she picked Alex up and carried him across the bathroom floor. Water covered the tiles as their soaked clothes dripped with her every step.

It was over an hour before the doorbell rang and John rushed to the living room. Dr. Taylor let himself in and met John at the end of the hall. John’s face
was filled with dread and the doctor did not bother with pleasantries.

“Where is he?”

John turned to discover Angela was not behind him. He rushed back down the hall and found her sitting on the edge of Alex’s bed. The boy was underneath the covers. The bed was drenched.

The look on Dr. Taylor’s face spoke volumes. He approached the bed in a series of cautious steps and peered at Alex
with bated breath. The black ooze left the boy’s skin darker than normal. The covers were pulled up to his chin and the boy was shaking underneath.

The doctor sat on the edge of the bed. His silver hair
was disheveled and out of place. He’d dressed in a hurry, and the undershirt revealed a bulging waistline normally covered by a crisp suit. He set a small, leather bag down on the floor between his feet and rummaged through it for a moment retrieving his stethoscope. He leaned over Alex and pulled the covers down to his waist. John stepped through the bedroom doorway and closer to the bed, glancing at his wife, then at Alex.

Dr. Taylor checked Alex’s pulse at the wrist then listened to his breathing. His expression was difficult to read. He felt Alex’s throat and then shined a small pen light in his eyes. He rubbed his hand along the edge of his chin and sat back, looking at Angela.

“His pulse is slow, but steady.”

“What about his breathing?” she asked. “He’s going to be alright, isn’t he?” Her voice was controlled, but anxious. “He’s going to be alright,” she said quietly.

Dr. Taylor glanced at John before answering.

“I need to know what happened,” he said.

Angela did her best to explain the events surrounding Alex’s disappearance. John heard little of his wife’s recounting. His mind was focused on the look Dr. Taylor gave him. He knew it had little to do with Alex.

Dr. Taylor was a counselor of sorts to Angela.
She’d suffered from severe depression for over a decade. The only thing that kept her on the better side of sane was Alex. They didn’t have the money for good insurance and Dr. Taylor was the best help John could get for her. She’d made progress after Alex was born, although she had her good and bad days. John didn’t want to consider what might happen to her mind if something happened to their son. Silently, John bet Dr. Taylor was thinking that very same thing.

“So you don’t know where this dark substance came from?” Dr. Taylor asked.

Angela shook her head.

“I’d like to get a sample of it and take a blood sample as well.”

“We can’t pay for any tests, Doc,” John said.

Angela scowled at him.

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out,” Dr. Taylor said.

He removed a pair of plastic surgical gloves from his bag and a small kit. It took him a few minutes to get what he needed. When he was finished, Dr. Taylor covered Alex with the blankets and put his equipment away. He pulled off his gloves and patted Angela’s hands.

“You can get a little of that black stuff out of the tub,” John said.

Dr. Taylor nodded. He gave Angela a warm smile, followed John out into the hallway, and then to the bathroom. Both men kept quiet while the doctor scooped up as much as he could of the black liquid around the tub drain. Once he had everything he needed, the two men headed for the front door. They stood outside on the porch, their breath circling around their heads as they exhaled into the cold night air. John kept his hands in his pockets, not
sure if he really wanted to know what Dr. Taylor thought.

“Alex needs to be in a hospital.”

John nodded. He’d seen that one coming.

“I have no way of knowing what that boy ingested,” Dr. Taylor said. “It could be anything. I saw traces of it in his mouth. He’s not responding like he should.”

“You sure as hell didn’t make that known in there.”

“I didn’t want to in front of…” Dr. Taylor looked through the window in the front of the house, and lowered his voice. “I didn’t want to upset Angela any more than she already was.”

“I can’t afford a hospital bill, Doc. Hell; we can barely pay the mortgage now.”

“Would you rather be homeless or childless?”

John’s gaze fell to the ground. Dr. Taylor took a deep breath. His cheeks were cherry red from the cold.

“I apologize. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You’re just being honest,” John said.

Dr. Taylor thought for a moment. “Let’s do this. You stay close to Alex. Watch him. I’ll run some tests and once we have the results, we’ll make a decision then.”

“Do you think he’ll be alright?” John asked.

“Just watch him. Call immediately if anything changes.”

Dr. Taylor started to walk to his car. He got halfway across the yard and turned back to John.

“And Angela…”

John nodded. “I know. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

He gave John a half-hearted smile and waved. John waited until the doctor pulled out of the driveway before going back in the house. He tried to shake off the cold as the heat hit him walking through the living room. He had never been any good at making decisions. Angela took care of most of the major issues in the house. When she went through one of her spells, he
was practically paralyzed; with no other family to depend on, she was his only support.

He passed down the hall and reached Alex’s door. Angela had moved herself around the bed and gotten under the covers.
She’d wrapped her body around Alex and had his head resting on her stomach. She never looked up at John even as he stepped into the room.