Hounded | Book 3 | Hounded 3 Read online

  “I don’t really know how to tell you this, son. It seems we have more to deal with than just the zombie dogs.”

  “What?”

  “Well… We now have human zombies,” Calloway heard himself say, even though it sounded unbelievable. Had he not witnessed it himself, he’d have burst out laughing, thinking it was a cruel joke.

  “Sure, sure, fine. Don’t tell me, then.”

  “Kid, your dad isn’t lying. I crashed into the car because I couldn’t take my eyes off them attacking a woman. They tore her apart just as wickedly as those foul-smelling, decaying mutts.”

  “How is that possible? The dogs aren’t turning humans into zombies, so how?”

  “I don’t know, kid. Wish I did.”

  “Dad?”

  “I haven’t a damn clue. All I know is, now we have two kinds of fucking zombies to deal with.”

  Oliver kept his speed at a steady forty miles per hour. He was unable to go any faster because of the ever-growing wrecks, wandering people in search of escape, and the many abandoned cars. He carefully watched the fuel gauge while keeping an eye out for a gas station. Even though he found a few along the way, they were infested with the undead.

  Finally, he came across one that appeared to be clear. He slowly pulled in next to the pumps as his eyes darted left and right. He saw no signs of anything dangerous. It was nearing midnight, and both Callaway and Timothy had fallen asleep. Oliver got out, quickly filled the vehicle’s tank, and then took three cans and filled them, too. Although the air had a bad smell, it felt good on his face. Wanting to stretch his legs, he wandered casually to the front of the store.

  Peering inside, he was unable to see anything. The automatic doors were not opening. He stood on the pad, jumped, and moved sideways, but they were without power and no longer functioning.

  Grabbing a nearby bag of firewood, he tossed it at the bigger window. The sound of smashing glass woke Callaway. Oliver stepped over the broken glass and immediately put a hand to his mouth, also covering his nose. “More death!” he said to himself through his palm.

  He approached the service desk and peered over the top to see two men, no older than twenty or so, decomposing. Grabbing a bandana from the countertop, he pulled it open and wrapped it around his mouth, giving him even more of a cowboy look than he already had. Walking into the back room, he found it was clean. He went back to the car and parked it as close to the back as he could.

  “We’re gonna crash here for the night. It’s the safest place I’ve seen in a while, and I can’t keep driving without some sleep.”

  “I can drive for you if you like,” Calloway offered while rubbing his eyes clear of sleep.

  “No, I think it’s better if we all get some proper sleep.”

  “Where ya gonna sleep in there?” Timothy pointed toward the store.

  “Well, there’s an office, so grab your backpacks. We’re going to rough it inside, unless you want to sleep in the car.”

  Seventeen-year-old Timothy looked at the store, then back to the ‘car’. The leather upholstery was more inviting to him, but he didn’t feel like being alone, even though he knew the dogs couldn’t open doors. Neither could the human zombies, probably. He was more worried about thieves breaking in and stealing the car with him in it.

  “It’s cool. I don’t mind roughing it. Besides, my legs need a good shakeout.”

  “Done deal then. Everyone out.”

  Oliver set the car alarm and they entered the store. He had Calloway help him move boxes in front of the broken window. When they’d each finished with the bathroom, Oliver showed them the back office. Timothy excused himself quickly and soon returned with canned drinks, chocolate, candy, and potato sticks.

  Oliver and Calloway moved the large wooden desk to block the door and make more room. The smaller desk was pushed to the far side. Oliver sat near the window, just watching outside until his eyelids refused to stay open. Then he lay down, placed his head on his backpack, and within seconds was snoring. Calloway tried to engage Timothy in a conversation while downing a can of Coke. Timothy made it known that he didn’t want to talk. Instead, he munched on some candy, gulped down a drink, and then lay down.

  Calloway couldn’t help but notice a permanent glaze in Timothy’s eyes that made him aloof. It worried Calloway a great deal, and reminded him he shouldn’t have left Sleepy Hollow. His guilt ate away at him like corrosion. He found his hand reaching for Oliver’s Glock. That all-too-familiar desire to end his own life invaded his mind, a cataclysmic force he struggled to push away. Releasing his hand from the Glock with a heavy sigh, he slumped to the floor and let out a wheezy murmur. Silently, he wished his son goodnight.

  Callaway’s dreams were dark. He was in a forest of thorny spikes being chased by dogs more grotesque than those in real life. Their heads were larger, with bigger gleaming teeth and much stronger bodies. He ran blindly into a spike, impaling himself right through his body. He was unable to move as the dogs tore away his flesh bit by bit, making way for the human zombies to feast upon his immobilized body. Tossing and turning, he opened his eyes. Sweat trickled down his forehead. His chest and back were wet, soaking his shirt.

  Looking around the room and realizing where he was, he closed his eyes. He found sleep again, only to have more nightmares that were even more lurid.

  Timothy woke to a strange noise, scared it was the dogs trying to get into the room. His body ached as his bruises raged all over his body. Blinking open one eye, he saw a fast-moving object darting up and down, which startled him. He opened both eyes and felt silly as he saw Oliver doing pushups.

  He reached over and grabbed his water bottle. Pouring some into his cupped hand, he splashed his face to wake up fully. Sitting up and still watching Oliver, he wished he were as energized and strong. Looking down at his forearm, he flexed it and saw nothing more than a mild bump. His eyes turned back to Oliver, who was now watching him with a big smile.

  “They’ll grow with an everyday routine. Come on over here and I’ll teach you how to do some pushups.”

  Timothy scooted closer. He got onto his hands and knees, following Oliver’s example, only to collapse. He was unable to do more than five pushups.

  “Every chance you can, get on your knees and practice.”

  “I’ll never be able to do it,” Timothy said despondently, lying down with his arms folded under his chin.

  “You will. It took me years to get to this stage.”

  “How many can you do?”

  “A few hundred.”

  “In one go?” Timothy’s mouth gaped open and his buck teeth shot into view, reminding Oliver of Bugs Bunny.

  “Close ya mouth, boy. You might swallow a fly.” Oliver giggled, trying hard not to focus on Timothy’s buck teeth.

  Timothy closed his mouth while still eyeballing Oliver’s biceps. They were as big as Arnie’s, he thought.

  Calloway had awakened and rolled himself into a sitting position. He wiped sleep from the corners of his eyes while giving his son a warm smile. Timothy frowned, and then smiled back.

  “What was that look for?” Calloway said as he rubbed his forehead, brushing dark blond hair away.

  “Your hair. Let’s just say it looks like a bird took up residency in it.”

  Calloway ran his fingers through his thick hair. It was knotted and became caught between his fingers. He patted it down as best he could, flicking a withering smile back at Timothy.

  “Hey Dad, you should watch Oliver do pushups. He’s like a guru at it.”

  “Come on now, boy, I’m no guru.”

  “An Egyptian god then?”

  They all laughed. Oliver finished his set, then stood and did squats, followed by star jumps and lunges.

  “Do you do this every morning?” Timothy asked.

  “Before the world turned, I was doing it multiple times a day, as well as a ten-mile run, an hour at the gym, and other stuff when I could. If the chance to do it was there, I would take it.”
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br />   Timothy felt very envious, and a desire grew to be just like Oliver.

  Calloway stood and his mouth parted slightly.

  “Better check this shit out,” Calloway said, pointing a finger toward the window. Oliver and Timothy turned to see.

  What they saw had Timothy backing up and ducking out of the way. His cries of fear resembled that of a terrified cat. Oliver stood and observed the human zombies who’d caught sight of him. They started slamming the window with their hands, head, and shoulders, causing the frame to rattle. Oliver, unable to tear his eyes away, stood as motionless as a tower of bricks.

  Timothy pulled on Oliver’s cameo pants.

  “Please, Oliver, move! They’re going to break the window and eat us!”

  “No!” Oliver said as he pulled out his Glock and shot through the window. Both Calloway and Timothy covered their heads, trying to avoid the shower of glass and noise. Unable to see Oliver with their heads down, they heard four shots, then nothing but silence.

  Timothy looked up. A zombie lay halfway through the window, a shard of glass embedded in its throat. Dark mold-colored blood poured from its wounds, coloring the wall as if a drunk had been painting it. Three more lay outside, just as dead. There appeared to be no more.

  Calloway examined the decaying corpse from a distance, noting the clustered pus-filled sores covering its body, the gangrenous areas, and the charred welts spreading like scorched pig skin on a spit.

  “Calloway, you ever teach your boy how to shoot?”

  “Not exactly. He’s had a couple of lessons on the sly. Why?”

  Calloway immediately wanted to slap himself upside the head, quickly realizing the importance of his son being able to handle a gun.

  “He’s gonna need to know how, so he can protect himself.”

  “I realized that after I answered you. But where, and do we really have the time?”

  “I can teach him pretty quick. At least he’ll know how to shoot and be familiar with the safety of the weapon.”

  “You know I’m standing right here, right?” Timothy said.

  “We know,” Calloway and Oliver said together.

  Timothy rolled his eyes. He’d never understand adults. After gathering up his sleeping bag and backpack, he stood by the door and waited impatiently. His need to get the hell out of there grew intense.

  “Come on, let’s go,” he said.

  “Hold ya horses, kid. We need a plan.”

  Timothy shook his head and slid down the door. His stomach growled for food. But when his eyes caught sight of the blood pool, he instantly lost his appetite.

  “First things first. We gotta eat. I already rounded up some food while you two slept.” Oliver handed them cans of baked beans.

  Timothy screwed his face up. “I gotta eat this cold? And with what, my damn hands?”

  “Yeah, boy, or use this.” Oliver threw him a plastic spoon and tossed one at Calloway, too.

  Timothy couldn’t get his head wrapped around eating cold baked beans. His face showed sour distaste, as if he’d just been forced to eat a very bitter lemon.

  “Come on, son, it’s all good,” Calloway said as he scarfed down a large spoonful of beans, the tomato sauce dripping down his chin.

  “I can’t do it. I don’t want to open it and waste it. Just… Um, I’ll have some crackers. There must be some on the shelves.”

  Oliver walked toward the door, looking down at Timothy.

  “Come on then, ain’t letting you rummage around there by ya self. You coming or what?”

  Timothy got up and made room for himself and Oliver to exit. They returned a few minutes later with two packets of saltine crackers and a tin of sardines.

  “At least you got some protein.” Oliver said as he finished his first can of beans and tossing the can into the trash basket.

  Calloway was chuckling, making a real mess of his face. The sauce oozing from the corner of his lips made him look as though someone had smeared watery lipstick from corner to corner, causing Oliver to grin wider.

  “Are you two robots?” Timothy asked.

  “Er, no. Why, son?”

  “Cause you just watched Oliver take out four zombies, Dad, four fucking human zombies, and the both of you are acting like it’s just another ordinary day.”

  “Kid, the quicker you accept what’s happening out there, the better. It could mean the difference between living and dying.” Oliver shoved more beans in his mouth while looking directly at Timothy and giving him a tomato sauce grin.

  “What he said, son,” Calloway concurred. “No one said it’d be easy. Truth is, I’m as scared as a rabbit staring down a double-barreled shotgun. But what can we do about it? Nothing, except stay alive!”

  Timothy’s eyes welled up. Managing to blink the tears away, he stared in shock at his father.

  “Sorry, son, I didn’t mean to yell. I’m just as overwhelmed by all this as you are.”

  Timothy lazily gazed at the dead thing, fixating on it. Horrified, yet fascinated, he shifted his skinny body to face the others, forcing his gaze away from the body. If he looked any longer, he’d puke. He struggled to eat, in spite of his stomach demanding food.

  “I’d have thought there’d be more of them. It makes no sense to me. Not that I wanna see more. Arr, fuck, it’s not making any sense,” Calloway said between spoonfuls.

  “I have a theory, been thinking about it all night. I reckon there’s some kind of incubation period for those that have been infected with SD-16,” Oliver said as he packed up his belongings.

  “How do you figure?” Calloway said as he got up. He stepped around the pooling blood, and packed his gear up.

  “Well, we know the dogs aren’t transferring it. We know survivors like us aren’t turning. So that leaves the infected, the ones in comas.”

  Calloway looked cockeyed at the dead thing hanging half in the window as he replied to Oliver.

  “What you said makes sense, though it’s scarier than hell. Oh, fuck! That means that… It means that Tiffany’s gonna become one of those things?” With burning eyes and a sharp pain stabbing him in the chest, he pointed to the decaying corpse.

  “Sadly, yes. If I’m correct in my theory, then she’ll be one of those things. I just have absolutely no idea how long it takes to change. It could be weeks or months.”

  Calloway bowed his head, unable to look at the droplets streaming down Timothy’s face. His own tears choking him up, his mind jumped to his little princess. Imagining her like that was an impossible thought, one that unforgivingly stung his mind like a parade of army ants.

  CHAPTER 3

  BELLAMY EMBARKS ON A MISSION

  Bellamy handed his watch over to Keith, one of the youngest to stand guard at just eighteen and a former arborist. He and his girlfriend Joanna were just like the others, lured in by the ruthless, murdering, psychopathic rapist Justin Reed. Keith was strong, a true survivalist and fearless, with courage rarely found in eighteen- year-olds.

  Bellamy returned to his room. Lily was on the floor playing a card game with the girls. Anya had gone to her room. He stood by, just watching. Lily noticed Bellamy looking, and she curled her finger around for him to join them.

  “In a sec, hon. I need to clean up.”

  He returned a half-hour later to find the girls playing a hand-held video game. He took that chance to share an idea with Lily that he’d had in the shower.

  “Hon, how would you feel if I took off back to Vermont? I want to go to my house and leave a note for my brother, in case he comes looking for me.”

  “You’ll come back, right?”

  “Of course! I just have a niggling feeling that he’s looking for me. I’d hate for him to get there and find I wasn’t there. I need him to know where we are and that I’m coming for him.”

  “How long do you think you’ll be?”

  “Well, if Nakos can give me directions out of this town, I shouldn’t be more than a full day. Perhaps overnight if I need to rest, but no mor
e than that.”

  “When were you thinking of going, babe?”

  “In the morning at first light. That way I can return sooner.” He gave her a wide smile, but Lily could see the weariness behind his mask. “I’ll just pop over to Nakos’ to get those directions before it gets too late. I won’t be long.”

  “Do you want me to cook you something, or have you already eaten?”

  “Just put the kettle on, sweetheart. We can sit and have a cup together when I get back.”

  “Sounds good to me.” She leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  Twenty minutes went by, and Bellamy hadn’t yet returned. She fixed the girls some supper, ate a sandwich, and washed up. Then she had the girls wash up, and put them to bed with a story. Bellamy got in two hours later. She heard the key and hopped off the couch to turn the kettle back on, feeling grateful for the generators and the solar power giving her the kind of comfort she needed from a life before the virus.

  “I see you got your directions.”

  “I did. But Nakos kept insisting I take him, and I had to persuade him to stay with his family. By the way, his brother-in-law, George, may not make it through the week. He’s gotten bad, and hon, he has those same sores covering his body.”

  Lily made his cup and took it to him. Sitting opposite him, they chatted as he looked over the map. Lily couldn’t stop admiring his different colored eyes, and how they seemed to express such different emotions. One looked happy and the other looked worried.

  “What do you make of those sores, babe?” she asked as she took the map and had a look at it.

  “Honestly, hon, I have no idea. I won’t lie, they scare me. I’ve never seen anything like it, and what really worries me is that they look identical to the ones on the zombie dogs.”

  Lily rolled her lips forward. Her eyes seemed to be thinking as she stared blankly at the little table and toyed with her cup.

  “What’s on your mind, hon?”

  “Well, it’s what you said, that they’re the same as the dogs. What if the people infected with the SD-16 virus are turning into zombies?”

  “That’s ludicrous, surely?”