Tracking Blood: Episode 17
An apocalyptic serial
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If a week ago, someone had given Ryan a list of things he might witness in his lifetime, seeing his mom shoot a handcuffed guy in the head would be pretty close to the bottom.
He didn’t mean to watch. In fact, he’d turned away and faced the window the second his mom stepped into the bedroom. But when Donegan started yelling at her to let him out, yanking on the handcuffs so hard Ryan thought he would either break his arm or the wall heater, he turned to look. She was in danger, and without dad around to protect her, the responsibility went to him.
It was no time to be a little kid, hiding under his sheets from the monsters.
The look in her eyes when she turned to see him standing behind her, with that horrified expression on her face, was proving hard to shake. Hours passed, and his mom had barely said ten words. She just sat on the couch, scribbling on a notepad she’d found in a drawer. The bedroom door was closed so they didn’t have to look at it.
“It’s starting to smell,” Ryan said, breaking the silence.
She looked up at him with dark circles around her eyes. “It’s just your imagination, honey. That stuff doesn’t happen for a while.”
“It’s called decomposition. It usually takes two or three days, but with the heating it can start in a few hours. Plus he was already sick, so that could speed things up.”
She put down the notepad. “Those movies teach you some strange things.”
“Kind of useful, though, the way things are.”
“If horror movies are educational films, then that’s truly scary.” She paused. “Maybe I can find some air freshener,” she added, getting to her feet.
Ryan followed her into the kitchen. There was nothing else to do, and his mom didn’t seem all the way there yet. He didn’t want her to cut her hand digging through drawers full of junk. He noticed her shoulders tense up when she saw the gun. She’d put the revolver back on the counter after using it, but now she was staring at it, images flashing across her eyes.
“What do you think he’s doing right now?” Ryan asked.
She spun. “Who?”
“Dad.”
She smiled, grateful for the distraction. “Fighting like hell to get back to us.”
“You really think he’ll find us?” Ryan opened the small cabinet under the sink and looked around inside.
“I know he will. It’s bad out there, but your dad’s the smartest guy I know, and he’s tough as nails.”
Ryan popped up from under the sink. “Can I ask you an honest question?”
“Sure.”
“Why did the Army kick him out?”
The question clearly surprised her. They had always avoided the subject whenever it came up, which wasn’t often. Ryan had never asked outright, but after all they’d been through, it seemed ridiculous to be scared of something as simple as the truth.
“He’s strong, and smart, and really organized,” Ryan went on. “So why didn’t they want him?”
“He doesn’t like to talk about it.”
“Yeah, I noticed.”
“I guess I don’t like to talk about it, either.” She looked around uncomfortably.
“You know what? Don’t worry about it,” Ryan said. “If dad wants to tell me, he can do it himself.”
His mom smiled. “It’s better that way. I’m sure he will.”
Ryan nodded. Then he held up the aerosol can he’d found at the back of the sink cabinet. “I found the air freshener,” he said.
It was just after midnight, and the forest was still.
The only sounds that could be heard were the wind moving through dead branches and the occasional hoot of an owl. There was an eerie silence in the air that didn’t sit well with either Will or Stan.
Their boots trudged over hardened snow, eyes scanning for movement in the trees. Aside from the obvious threat, there were still the old ones to worry about. Black bears were common in the area, as were bobcats and coyotes. There was no shortage of teeth in those woods, and neither man wanted to wake any of them up.
Stan stopped to catch his breath. It was a tedious climb, uphill over uneven ground, and he was feeling its effects. Will did the same. There was no point in over-exerting themselves. The moon cast veiny shadows onto the white ground, dark fingers reaching out to strangle.
“How much further do you think it is?” Stan asked, adjusting the backpack over his shoulder.
“This is your backyard, not mine.”
“Yeah, well, I usually take the road,” Stan said sarcastically.
“Roads are too out in the open. Too much light.”
“You’re right, this way is much scarier.”
Will snorted under his breath. Stan had always been funny- not that he was about to admit it- especially under stress. It was a trait he’d developed as a kid, his coping mechanism for when things got bad at home.
They got moving toward the cabin again. Will pulled his collar up to his chin to keep the wind off his neck. The temperature was dropping, and they had to be careful not to over-expose themselves.
Eventually, they came to a clearing. They eventually reached a clearing, where a wide open space stretched out before them. In the center of the space stood a large storage building. It was a few stories high, windowless, with a corrugated metal roof and sliding garage doors, all of which were closed. There were probably dozens like it spread across the state, stocked with piles of salt and sand for the spreaders. The road they’d been avoiding cut in from the trees on the left and led straight to one of the building’s sliding doors.
“Maybe we can warm up in there,” Stan said. “Just for a bit.”
“We don’t know if it’s unlocked.”
“I’m willing to take a minute and check if it means getting out of the cold.”
Will considered it. “Alright, but stay right behind me. And keep your head on a swivel. Just because we can’t see it, doesn’t mean it’s not there.”
As they walked across the clearing, they noticed a set of car tracks in the snow. Further snowfall had mostly covered the tracks up. Halfway between the storage building and the tracks, a mound stood out in the snow.
It was the size of a man.
Will signaled Stanley to stay back as he approached it. “What if it’s one of them?” Stanley whispered.
“It’s not.”
“But how do you know?”
Stan hung back as Will closed the distance and nudged the mound with the tip of his boot. It rocked a bit, but otherwise it didn’t move. He cleared some of the snow off it. Underneath he found more snow that had been stained pink, then the body.
“It’s alright,” Will said, and Stan joined him by his side. The infected had absolutely demolished the body, its face chewed down to the skull. Bloody sockets frozen over with ice stared up at them, the exposed teeth screaming silently.
“Looks like only one of them made it,” Will said, motioning to the tracks leading to the road. He got down and started carefully searching the body and the ground around it for keys or anything else useful.
His hand hit something solid. He knew what it was before he even pulled it out of the snow.
It was a gun, a Glock 19, freezing cold to the touch. Though he wasn’t normally one to rely on guns, he’d never been more relieved to see one in his life. He held it up for his brother to see, but something behind him, something beyond the storage building, had already distracted Stan.
“Oh my God,” Stan said. Will turned to see what he was looking at, though he could venture a guess.
A silhouette shifted between the trees, a woman by the look of it. She wandered aimlessly, eyes and ears waiting to pick up a sign of prey.
Stan whispered something, but Will didn’t have time to hear it. He needed to take care of the woman-thing quietly, before any others that might be nearby were alerted.
He pulled the Glock’s slide back and checked that there was a round chambered, then released the clip and counted brass through the witness holes- ten bullets. Eleven total, including the chambered round. He slapped the clip back in as the infected walked faster through the snow.
“Check the body for keys,” Will ordered. He took a firing stance as Stan dropped to his knees and started searching in the snow. The infected woman was running now, only fifty feet away. She screamed at Will in that same horrific scream he already knew so well. Without hesitation, other screams rose up in the distance, a twisted battle cry echoing through the trees.
“So much for being discrete,” Will sighed. He lined up the sights as the infected woman ran at him full speed, kicking up snow in her wake.
Will steadied his aim, focusing on the center of her chest. He fired off a round, hitting her in the shoulder just above the heart. She shrieked and rocked to the left, but she kept coming. The wound barely slowed her down.
He pulled the trigger a second time. This time, he brought it down. The snarling woman-thing crumpled and slid in the snow, stopping ten feet from them with a loud exhale of final breath.
“Good shot,” Stan said. The source of the other infected screams was hard to locate, but they seemed to come from the direction of the road.
“Please tell me you found something we can use,” Will said, trying to stay calm.
Stan held up a set of keys. The tag read PennDOT Sand/Salt.
Just then, four infected came into view on the road, running at them like a pack of wolves. Just as Will had suspected, they’d been following the small road through the forest. Even wild animals will take the easier path if presented with one, and these things had recently been human beings, people accustomed to using roads. Who knew how much of that programming was left, and how much of it had been whittled down to base instinct.
But Stan and Will didn’t have time to debate these things. They ran past the dead woman-thing and toward the storage building, following the tracks she had made in the snow. Will didn’t look back until he reached the building’s sliding garage door.
The infected were close, and only getting closer. He swore he could see the reds of their eyes.
“Come on!” he yelled as Stan reached him. There was an electrical box next to the door with two buttons, one over the other, and a metal keyhole. The top button was green, the other red. It was the one and only way to open the large door in front of them.
Stan fumbled the first key he could get a grip on into the keyhole. Surprising both men, it fit. He turned the key and the two buttons lit up.
Will was so happy to see the lights, he almost shouted. Instead he jammed his thumb into the top button, engaging the motor. The large corrugated metal door lifted up to reveal the darkness on the other side. Meanwhile, the infected had nearly closed the distance, all four of them coming in like a stampede.
Stan and Will looked at each other. They both had the same idea. Stan pulled the key out of the electrical box and the two of them dropped to the cold ground to crawl under the rising door, practically clawing at it as they forced their way inside.
“Over here!” Will called to his brother, pointing to the box over his head. He pushed down on the sliding door, trying hard to force it closed as Stan scrambled to his feet and groped in the dark for the electrical box.
He found it. The key turned, and the buttons glowed to life.
Will glanced out the space between the door and the ground. The infected were just a few feet away now, pushing each other to reach the meat first. As Stan engaged the button, the motor kicked on for a second time. The door descended, but not quick enough- the infected in front reached a bloodied hand out just as the door pressed down on it.
The sliding door couldn’t close all the way with the shaking, writhing hand blocking its way. The others used the chance to push their dirty hands underneath, but the door was too heavy for them to lift with the motor still pushing against them.
Will stomped on the arm, pounding it again and again with the tread of his boot, but the infected didn’t retreat. It kept trying to claw at him as the others shrieked and slammed into the metal door. If he didn’t do something soon, the four monsters would get in and make quick work of them, murdering and eating them in the dark.
A large hunting knife stabbed down on the hand. The creature screamed in agony and pulled back, allowing the heavy door to close the rest of the way. Three fingers danced and twitched in a puddle of infected blood.
Will looked up at his brother holding the hunting knife. “You took that from the hardware store,” he said in shock. Stanley nodded, his breath still heaving in his chest.
“Yup.”
“But I told you not to.”
Stan grinned. “Oops.”
Will held his hand out like a disappointed parent. “Give it to me,” he said, and Stan handed it over, handle first. Then he stumbled over to the massive pile of sand, pulled his backpack off, and collapsed onto it.
On the one hand, it was the first time Will was actually relieved his brother hadn’t listened to him. On the other, it didn’t make them any less trapped.
Tune in next week for the next episode. For more Bleeders action check out the two books on Amazon, with the third on its way.