Dan placed the last bag of food in the trunk. “Is that everything?”
“Yep,” Meredith answered.
The others hovered near the vehicle, keeping a close eye on the property. The sky had turned a rust-colored red, the sun hidden by a swell of clouds. Since the others had sighted the helicopter, they’d seen no further signs of humanity.
If Dan had seen the chopper himself, he might’ve questioned his sanity, perhaps chalking it up to exhaustion. But John, Quinn, and Meredith had all laid eyes on it.
He reminded himself of that fact as they prepped the vehicle, stashing the last of their belongings into the cargo area in back. He just hoped they’d make it before dark. Being outside after nightfall was a circumstance he’d rather avoid.
Meredith insisted on Ernie riding up front, though they’d taken a crate just in case. They’d also taken their remaining food, their weapons cache, and spare clothing.
If things went well, they’d never return.
With the SUV packed, the group got into the vehicle. Meredith offered to drive, as she was most familiar with the area, and Dan sat in the passenger seat with Ernie. John, Quinn, and Tim rode in back.
Once they were all in the car, Meredith cranked the engine. The SUV roared to life, breaking the silence that had settled over the farm.
Meredith glanced at the Sanders’. “I’m going to miss this place.”
“It’s been nice,” Dan agreed.
Meredith sighed and backed down the driveway. Dan watched the building recede, his mind skipping ahead to the journey. No longer would they have the four walls of the building to protect them.
They were on their own.
The drive began peacefully—rolling fields dominated the landscape, with an occasional farmhouse dotting the areas between. Abbotsville was west of Settler’s Creek, opposite the way Dan had driven with Tim for gas. Dan recalled traveling the same road when he’d come in from Arizona. He picked out several landmarks he recognized: several houses and some cars that had been abandoned.
Meredith glanced at the scenery, probably immersed in memories of her own. He could sympathize with her. Dan had been sentimental leaving St. Matthews, too. It had been difficult knowing he’d probably never return.
“How were the roads in Abbotsville? Do you remember, Tim?”
Tim leaned between the seats.
“They were pretty clogged,” he replied. “But that was a few days ago. I’m not sure what they’re like now.”
Dan nodded and glanced out the window. Several infected emerged from the tall grass, as if they’d been summoned. They stared at the passing vehicle, their heads turning like swivels on a stick. Dan tried to recall what Abbotsville looked like, but it was just another faded memory, another dead town in a slew of dead towns he’d passed.
Ernie whined. Meredith reached over and scratched his ears. “It’s all right, Ernie,” she consoled.
“How big is Abbotsville?” Dan asked her.
“Larger than Settler’s Creek. We should have a few options to get in if some of the roads are blocked.”
Dan fell silent. Although they’d settled on getting to Abbotsville, he had no idea what would happen when they arrived. In the ideal scenario, they’d find help waiting, ready to assist with food, shelter, and provisions. He had no idea what to do if that wasn’t the case. They’d be back where they started.
The last thing he wanted to do was turn around.
For days, Dan had planned their departure, envisioning what it’d be like to leave Settler’s Creek. As secluded as the town seemed, danger lurked in all directions—there was no true safety in a lawless land. Even if the infected were to die out, there’d still be the matter of looters, lunatics, or worse.
He owed it to his companions to get them to safety.
Meredith took the turns with practiced ease, leading them through the rural roads. Dan was already accustomed to the scenery. The endless fields were as commonplace to him as the desert shrubs or the White Mountains had once been. It seemed like months ago that he’d left St. Matthews, though it’d only been a week.
He still recalled moving to St. Matthews a decade ago. At the time, Dan had been a fresh-faced cop, a young father building his family and his career. St. Matthews had been small and quaint, and he’d enjoyed getting to know the town and its residents. His dream had been to move up the ranks, to provide a stable life for his Julie and Quinn. He’d never imagined it all being stripped away.
His definition of stability had changed since then, in addition to the scenery. Now a secure life was as simple—and as fragile—as breathing, eating, and surviving.
They’d just taken a turn when Dan saw a water tower in the distance. The bulbous white structure loomed over the landscape. There was a small building next to it. He recalled passing it on the way from Arizona.
“Daddy, didn’t we drive by that on the way to Meredith’s?”
He glanced in the backseat to find Quinn watching it in awe. “Yep, we did, honey.”
“It looks different.”
“What do you mean?”
Dan leaned forward, peering out the windshield, trying to determine what his daughter saw. He cupped his hand over his eyes to reduce the glare. The tower rose several hundred feet in the air and was supported by a pole in the center. Four ladders led to a railed, circular area where people could stand. A black logo was emblazoned on the side. Dan hadn’t recognized the company name.
Now, the logo was covered by a message in red paint. Dan squinted as they approached. He stiffened when he read the word.
“Help,” he said aloud, as if he was interpreting for the others.
Dan tightened his grip on the pistol. He glanced around the roadway, empty except for the tower hovering in the distance. Either someone was here, or they had been in the past few days. He studied the water tower, but saw no sign of life. It wasn’t until they got closer that he saw movement. Something was on the ground at the base of the tower.
“Stop the car,” he said suddenly.
Surprised, Meredith coasted to the side of the road and parked. The water tower was about a hundred feet from the road. A cluster of infected were stationed at the bottom, tearing into a body. Their movements were slow and laborious. A pair of shoes wiggled at the center of the commotion.
The victim was moving.
“Stay here,” Dan ordered, getting out of the vehicle. He grabbed a rifle to complement his pistol. Then he shut the door.
Dan crept onto the road’s shoulder, his shoes crunching pebbles and sand. He kept his eye on the grisly scene, ready to flee at the first sign of trouble. The infected were moving slowly—there were only five, and he wasn’t worried about outrunning them. But he’d have to be careful just the same. When he got closer, he caught a glimpse of the victim. Judging by the build, the person underneath them was male.
“Hello?” Dan called.
The victim—if he was still alive—was silent. The only sounds were the wind whipping through the grass and the guttural moans of the chewing infected.
They turned their heads and looked at him, starting to stand. One of the creatures let go of the victim’s leg. It stopped moving. The man hadn’t been moving, after all.
He’d been dead for a while.
Dan grimaced at the gory scene. The man’s features had been torn off and eaten, his stomach eviscerated. His neck and arms were bent at irregular angles. Dan gazed up at the water tower, then back at the ground. The man had either jumped or fallen.
Either that, or the creatures had somehow gotten up and torn him down.
Dan noticed a larger horde in the distance. It looked like this group had broken off from the pack. He envisioned them surrounding the base of the water tower, pawing at the rungs of the ladder. He could only imagine the victim’s terror.
The infected had broken away from their meal and were starting toward him. Dan covered his mouth, giving the scene one last glance, then jogged back to the car. The red letters on the water tower were seared into his mind. Help. Another person had needlessly died.
If they’d happened by earlier, perhaps the man would still be alive.