beside him and slammed the door shut. Sean pressed heavily on the horn and both vehicles squealed their tires as the drivers floored the accelerators. The force of the forward momentum pushed the passengers back into their seats.
As they rounded the slight curve that led to the front of the school, he was relieved to see that the infected that had previously occupied the courtyard had all headed into the building after they heard the screaming girl. As they pulled onto the main road, shouts and cheers erupted inside the car. For the first time in two days, Mike Allard could feel the warmth of happiness course through him.
* * *
The streets held no signs of life save for the ambling forms of infected people that attempted to chase after the vehicles, but proved no match for the speed at which the survivors travelled. Without incident, the small caravan reached the Chancer home and pulled into its long, curving driveway. Set far off the road, Mike hoped they would attract little notice from the infected that certainly lurked in the area.
Rolling to a stop, Erik stepped out of the SUV, with Mike quickly following. Exiting through the driver’s door, Sean moved around the front of the still-running car and joined with them. With an increased familiarity, Mike removed the empty magazines from the guns and replaced them with the last two that remained to him. As he approached the minivan in front of him, Derrick rolled down the driver side window and wordlessly handed him the keys to the house.
Though agreeing that they would stop at the Chancer house, Mike did so with one condition. Derrick was to remain outside until he, accompanied by Erik and Sean, could make a sweep of the residence. He did not want to risk the young man finding his parents dead, or worse, still living but infected. Once he could rule out those two possibilities, Mike would signal the all-clear and Derrick would then be allowed to enter.
Easing through the now unlocked door, the three slid silently into the unfamiliar home. The entryway opened into a small living room on the left, dining room on the right, and a large staircase leading to the second level. Moving room to room, they made a cautious search of the first floor, and then headed up the stairs. The home showed no apparent signs of an attack, but also no sign of Derrick’s parents. Making their way back down, Mike followed Derrick’s verbal floor plan and located the door in the kitchen that led to the basement.
Since his adolescence, the history teacher suffered from a crippling fear of basements. His youthful imagination had always created fanciful monsters that for some reason chose to live in basements and waited anxiously to attack little boys that wandered into their lairs. With the rationality that came with age, Mike had always told himself that such things were impossible. Given the events of the past two days, he began to think his childhood fears deserved a bit more credence than his adult mind had previously given them.
Descending the wooden steps, Mike felt about for the string overhead to turn on the light. Thankfully, Erik thought to improvise a flashlight with the blue glow of his cell phone. The faint light provided enough illumination for him to locate the string and with a gentle tug, an exposed bulb sprang to life above them. Reaching the bottom step, Mike found and flipped on the switch that controlled the rest of the lights in the basement. The room was small; a well-worn work bench stood at the center, and one wall was filled with shelves of tools. The other walls, however, were lined with the unmistakable rectangles of giant steel gun safes. Mike counted fifteen as his eyes scanned the room.
“Damn,” Erik exclaimed, the utterance matching Mike’s own amazement.
“Sean, go get Derrick so he can open these things up.”
As they waited for Derrick, Mike opened a tall metal cabinet that stretched to the eight foot ceiling. Stacked neatly on shelves were
As they rounded the slight curve that led to the front of the school, he was relieved to see that the infected that had previously occupied the courtyard had all headed into the building after they heard the screaming girl. As they pulled onto the main road, shouts and cheers erupted inside the car. For the first time in two days, Mike Allard could feel the warmth of happiness course through him.
* * *
The streets held no signs of life save for the ambling forms of infected people that attempted to chase after the vehicles, but proved no match for the speed at which the survivors travelled. Without incident, the small caravan reached the Chancer home and pulled into its long, curving driveway. Set far off the road, Mike hoped they would attract little notice from the infected that certainly lurked in the area.
Rolling to a stop, Erik stepped out of the SUV, with Mike quickly following. Exiting through the driver’s door, Sean moved around the front of the still-running car and joined with them. With an increased familiarity, Mike removed the empty magazines from the guns and replaced them with the last two that remained to him. As he approached the minivan in front of him, Derrick rolled down the driver side window and wordlessly handed him the keys to the house.
Though agreeing that they would stop at the Chancer house, Mike did so with one condition. Derrick was to remain outside until he, accompanied by Erik and Sean, could make a sweep of the residence. He did not want to risk the young man finding his parents dead, or worse, still living but infected. Once he could rule out those two possibilities, Mike would signal the all-clear and Derrick would then be allowed to enter.
Easing through the now unlocked door, the three slid silently into the unfamiliar home. The entryway opened into a small living room on the left, dining room on the right, and a large staircase leading to the second level. Moving room to room, they made a cautious search of the first floor, and then headed up the stairs. The home showed no apparent signs of an attack, but also no sign of Derrick’s parents. Making their way back down, Mike followed Derrick’s verbal floor plan and located the door in the kitchen that led to the basement.
Since his adolescence, the history teacher suffered from a crippling fear of basements. His youthful imagination had always created fanciful monsters that for some reason chose to live in basements and waited anxiously to attack little boys that wandered into their lairs. With the rationality that came with age, Mike had always told himself that such things were impossible. Given the events of the past two days, he began to think his childhood fears deserved a bit more credence than his adult mind had previously given them.
Descending the wooden steps, Mike felt about for the string overhead to turn on the light. Thankfully, Erik thought to improvise a flashlight with the blue glow of his cell phone. The faint light provided enough illumination for him to locate the string and with a gentle tug, an exposed bulb sprang to life above them. Reaching the bottom step, Mike found and flipped on the switch that controlled the rest of the lights in the basement. The room was small; a well-worn work bench stood at the center, and one wall was filled with shelves of tools. The other walls, however, were lined with the unmistakable rectangles of giant steel gun safes. Mike counted fifteen as his eyes scanned the room.
“Damn,” Erik exclaimed, the utterance matching Mike’s own amazement.
“Sean, go get Derrick so he can open these things up.”
As they waited for Derrick, Mike opened a tall metal cabinet that stretched to the eight foot ceiling. Stacked neatly on shelves were
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