Here We Stand (Book 2): Divided (Surviving The Evacuation) by Frank Tayell

cumbersome to steer around the undead, but it was bulky enough to drive through them, and that was what they’d done. He clambered over the ladder-platform, walking along the roof of the tender to get a better view of the road they’d just traveled. It was empty. He jumped down, inspecting the damage. There were dents and dark stains, flecks of drying gore and pieces of dead flesh stuck to the side and tires, but nothing he would call serious. He walked back to the cab.
    “See anything?” Helena asked.
    “Nothing. No zombies. No people.”
    It was more than just eerie. After being surrounded by so many refugees during their flight from the motel, finding roads almost completely absent of vehicles didn’t seem natural. The few they did pass had crashed, or been abandoned with someone infected in the back who had since turned into one of the undead. There had been no contrails in the sky, or people hitching along the road. The few plumes of smoke they’d seen had been monstrous clouds, squatting over burning towns, almost as if they’d been signs warning the living away. He shook his head, trying to rid it of that grim thought.
    “But there’s a house about a mile ahead,” he said. “Set about fifty yards from the road. It’s not a farm, but it’d be a reasonable place to stop for the night.”
    “We’ve another hour of daylight left,” Kaitlin said. “I’d rather keep going.”
    “We might make another forty miles,” Tom said, “but we’ll have to stop. We don’t want to spend the night in the open.”
    “Rest tonight, and we’ll be in Maine tomorrow afternoon,” Helena said. “If there’s no zombies in sight, maybe there’s none within hearing range. A night’s rest, some food, it’s what we all need.”
     
    “You’re in charge,” Kaitlin said to Soanna. “Make sure everyone stays inside the truck.” The girl puffed up with her deputized authority. Kaitlin closed the door.
    “It’s a nice place,” Helena said.
    Tom turned his attention away from the hills behind the house to give it a proper inspection. She was right. It was nice, but strangely so. The house was large. If it had been built somewhere less remote, it would have been described as a mansion. Going by the windows, there were three floors. Ivy trailed almost up to the eaves on the south-facing side, except around the windows where it had been cut back to within an arm’s reach of the frame. Made of stone and brick, it had the style of a New England townhouse, but set in a rambling overgrown garden. At one time, there had been a wall ringing the grounds. In most places the stones had crumbled and were now covered by a creeping sea of grass. Where the wall still stood, it was only because of the metal brackets propping it up.
    “Yeah. It’s the kind of place you drive past and imagine living in,” he said, “but if it came on the market, you’d never seriously consider buying it.”
    “Are we going in?” Kaitlin asked.
    Three granite steps led to the house. Worn in the middle by the passage of at least a century of feet, they looked far older than the building. He tried the door. It was unlocked and swung open with an almost comical creak. Inside, the light was dim. The doors leading off the hall were closed.
    “Here.” Kaitlin turned on a flashlight that had come from the equipment store on the truck. Dust danced in its beam as she shone it at each closed door, then up the ominously steep staircase. A floorboard gave a creak that would almost have been comical if it wasn’t for the long, echoing scrape that came from somewhere inside.
    “Occupied,” he whispered, trying to place the sound.
    “The power’s out,” Helena whispered trying the switch. “Do we split up to search?”
    “No need.” Tom stamped his foot on the floor. The response, a clattering rattle, came almost immediately, and it came from below.
    “The basement,” Kaitlin said.
    A door at the end of the hall led to an empty kitchen. Beyond