Apokalypsis | Book 6 | Apokalypsis 6 Read online

  The stairs were squeakier than the first-floor hardwoods, and it made him cringe every time they did so. A disgusting odor lingered in the air like death and moldy newspapers. On the second-floor landing, it opened up into a wide hallway with three doors and a corner that went to the right down another hall.

  Tristan pushed open the first door and didn’t find anything, just a bathroom. It was filthy and smelled stale and foul like an old porta-potty, so he pulled the door shut again.

  The second room proved to be a bedroom, and it was in complete disarray and was also empty. No sheets were on the mattress, which was turned onto its side against a wall. Clothing and blankets were on the floor, as well as drug paraphernalia and empty beer bottles. The third was the same but was totally cleared out, nothing whatsoever in the room other than an area rug and used needles scattered around. They turned the corner and faced the last door, which was closed.

  Roman turned the handle and pushed, but it didn’t move like the others. He twisted the doorknob. It was locked. He found a deadbolt at the top of the door, which was an unusual place, not to mention a door that locked from the outside, but even after Tristan slid it unlocked, the door wouldn’t budge. It was also locked from the inside somehow. He nodded to Roman and indicated he should stand aside.

  “Let me,” Roman suggested, to which Tristan agreed. He didn’t really want to break his stitches open anyway. Avery would be upset. And the way that thing was sniffing the air earlier made him wonder if they could smell better than a normal human now. He knew they could hear better but that their vision was poorer. He also had an odd feeling they could smell better than people, too, and if one of them sensed an open, bloody wound, maybe that would draw them in.

  Roman kicked one time and sent the door crashing in, but only about an inch because something heavy was on the other side. Together, they pushed until something was knocked over onto the floor behind the door. It was a tall dresser that crashed over loudly.

  “Jesus!” Roman swore and rushed in.

  Tristan followed and wished the kid would’ve let him go in first. On the floor was a girl in a t-shirt and underwear. She was handcuffed and also leg-shackled to the brass bed leg and lying on her side. There was about a four-foot length of chain connected to the ankle cuff. Roman was kneeling at her side before Tristan even had his flashlight out and shining around. He spied the heavy wooden dresser she must’ve pushed against the door to prevent anyone from coming in and wondered how such a slight girl could’ve pushed it at all.

  “I think…” Roman said as he rolled her over. She didn’t move, didn’t moan, nothing. “I think… wait! She’s alive. I’ve got a pulse. I think this is her sister.”

  Finally, she made a tiny sound.

  “What? What is it?” Roman asked her.

  Alex and Stephanie joined them in the room a second later. Stephanie gagged. The room reeked of human waste and many other offensive smells. As in the other bedrooms, there were clear signs of alcohol and drug use littering the room. Near the girl’s prone body were empty cans of tuna and chicken broth, which was what she must’ve survived on for God knew how many days. The cans were mangled and dented, the tin lids pried open rustically as if she’d had to use some tool other than a traditional can opener to get at the contents inside.

  “Shit,” Alex remarked. “Is she dead?”

  “No,” he answered.

  Stephanie said, “There’s one turned in the basement. Looks like someone killed it.”

  “Where are the others? Was the one in the basement the man who had her tied up here?” Tristan questioned aloud, not really figuring on getting an answer because none of them would know any more than he did. “Where’s the other girl? He had two.”

  “Dead,” the girl in Roman’s arms whispered. “All dead. Turned. Sickness.”

  Then she passed out.

  “Jesus,” Roman said. “How long has she been in here like this?”

  “Is she sick?” Stephanie asked. “Does she have it?”

  It didn’t matter. They couldn’t leave her behind. Tristan stepped forward and pulled a face mask over the girl’s head and secured it there. If she were sick, maybe that would keep them from catching it from her. They all had their masks on, but he usually opted for a bandana or neck gator so that he didn’t use up their cache of masks.

  “I’ll carry her,” he offered only to have Alex step up.

  “No, you were shot. Let me. I’m good,” he said and handed off his rifle to Roman. “I got this.”

  Stephanie grabbed a sweatshirt from another room and helped pull it over her head.

  “Shit, she doesn’t even have on shoes,” she remarked.

  Alex said, “It’ll be okay. I won’t put her down.”

  “Damn,” she swore with what seemed genuine sympathy. “Wish the assholes who did this were still here.”

  Outside, something screamed. It wasn’t a human- at least, not anymore. With Alex forced to carry the weak girl, he couldn’t run.

  “I’m going after the truck,” Tristan explained after he spied through a nearby window a night crawler run past the house and keep on going. A moment later, two others zipped between the two houses across the street and disappeared in the shadows and snowfall. “We’re down one person, so I’ll take Roman with me. Stephanie, stay with Alex and help guard the girl. Shoot anyone who isn’t us that comes into this house.”

  “Got it,” she answered.

  “And Roman’s coming with me. You lock this house after we’re out.”

  “Yes, sir,” Roman said, which was mirrored by her nod of agreement.

  They went down the stairs again and out the front door since nobody seemed to be around other than crawlers. Then he and Roman ran as fast as they could back to the truck in the park, taking the same route. They vaulted over the chain-link fence again and across the field, nearing the park. Unfortunately, when they got there, it was surrounded by four or five night crawlers who were smelling and circling it.

  He and Roman skidded to stops in the slick snow and threw themselves to the ground behind a jungle gym apparatus on the playground.

  “Shit,” he swore.

  “What do we do?” Roman whispered.

  He thought a moment before saying, “We need to draw them off so one of us can get to the truck.”

  “They’re so fast, though,” Roman said.

  Tristan nodded and considered that. He was right. The snow made them less sure-footed, too, but the monsters might not be. They needed silencers on their weapons because firing them would only draw more, and this town clearly had no shortage of them. After tonight, he planned on figuring out how to make one homemade.

  “Can’t we just shoot them?” Roman asked.

  “It could draw more,” he said. “A lot more.”

  He knew Roman was waiting for an order, but Tristan was unsure. This was new territory for him. Typically, decisions came fast and were always right, or most of the time were right. Other times, he improvised. This could not be one of those times. Too much was riding on it. Plus, he never cared before whether he lived or died. Now he was responsible for a lot of people, including Avery and the kids. Alex and Stephanie were waiting with that girl, and Alex could hardly just carry her all the way home. He knew he couldn’t just wing it this time.

  “The bathrooms,” he said, inspiration striking.

  “What about them,” Roman asked.

  “C’mon,” he told him and nodded over his shoulder.

  They ran quickly but stealthily until they reached the building. Unfortunately, the bathrooms were locked with padlocks for some reason.

  “Damnit,” he swore and dug out a tiny screwdriver he kept in his pack. Working in the dark was difficult, but he managed to get the lock undone and removed. “Get in, Roman.”

  The bathroom must’ve been treated with antifreeze because none of the pipes were burst yet, probably the reason the city must’ve locked them up.

  “What are we doing? Hiding?”
>
  “No, let’s create a diversion,” he said.

  Like most public park restrooms, the tops of the stalls were open to the outside for cheaper ventilation. There was probably a good two feet of open space at the top around the entire wall of stalls.

  He whipped his pack to the ground, “Hold a flashlight for me.”

  Roman quickly took his out and aimed it at Tristan’s pack as he dug around to find what he needed. Then he grabbed handfuls of paper towels from the dispenser, found a whole unopened roll of them sitting on top of it, and some toilet paper rolls, which he unfurled, and stacked against the outside wall, which was rough-cut painted pinewood. Working swiftly, he unrolled a lot of the paper products until he had a pile about three feet high.

  Next, he took out his lighter and flicked it to life.

  “Once this takes, we’ll clear out and wait where we were before,” he said. “This ought to bring them this way.”

  “Got it,” Roman agreed.

  “Ready? We’re gonna have to be fast,” he said.

  Roman nodded, “Yes.”

  “Here we go,” Tristan said and lit the pile in front of him.

  Within seconds, the dry paper products were blazing.

  “Let’s go!” he whispered and rushed to the door, where he paused and slowly opened it. “Come on!”

  He left the bathroom door hanging wide open to allow more oxygen flow for the fire. They ran back to the playground and squatted again behind the large jungle gym made of wood and having multiple plastic tube slides, bridges, and climbing apparatuses. Tristan could see the orange flames and puffs of dark smoke through the open space above the bathroom walls. Soon, it seemed as if the walls themselves were lit, as well, which was his intention. A fire this size should garner the attention of every night crawler in a one-mile radius.

  He could see them still looking at the truck. A few were rummaging the dumpster. It was taking too long. If his fire fizzled out, they’d miss it altogether.

  “Get ready,” he warned right before he whistled loudly.

  That got a few to look, and when they did, they screeched like damn hyenas or something. It was awful. However, it worked, and all of those things went running for the building.

  “Now,” he whispered fiercely and rose with Roman.

  They ran for the truck as fast as possible with the slippery conditions. He hit the remote, which, unfortunately, made a shrill beeping sound as the security system disengaged. It pissed him off, and he made a mental note to remove whatever part of the vehicle that made it do that.

  “Crap!” Roman shouted as he ran to his side of the truck.

  His shout was followed by a quick pop of gunfire, a single round.

  Tristan ran toward the front of the truck past his door in case Roman needed help.

  “Get in!” Roman yelled. “Go, go!”

  He ran back and hopped in, hitting the locks and firing it up.

  “What happened?”

  “Crawler,” he said. “Sorry, it startled me. I didn’t have a chance to do anything but shoot. It was right on me, squatted on the ground on my side.”

  “It’s okay,” he said and backed up, spinning out.

  A loud thump made the truck shake.

  “One of ‘em’s in the bed!” Roman yelled.

  He hit the 4x4 button, let it engage, and stepped on the gas. The truck jolted forward.

  “Wait till we’re out on the road,” he said to Roman, who knew what he meant.

  Once they were moving and on the street again, Roman rolled down his window, twisted backward, and leaned out it. He fired one round, which was followed by an inhuman scream.

  “It’s gone,” he yelled and eased back in, rolling up the window. “Jesus!”

  “It’s okay,” he said, trying to reassure the kid. “We’re good, right? You okay? You hurt?”

  “No, sir. I’m fine.”

  Tristan drove as fast as he could, given the conditions, and hurried back to the house where men had done horrible things to young women.

  Alex literally walked out the front door carrying the girl the second he pulled into the driveway before he’d even put it in park. Tristan noticed that Stephanie was doing a good job covering him, too.

  “Get lost?” she asked in a snide tone once they were all in the truck and on the road again.

  “Steph, we had trouble,” Roman told her as if irritated by the girl with the bad attitude that was always lurking beneath the surface. Tristan had known girls like her before, and they usually had a reason for the chip on their shoulder. The thread of commonality was because they’d been abused or mistreated. This girl was probably no different. She was downright mean, but he didn’t mind her. She was still alive and was probably a pretty tough cookie to be so. She had fire, and Tristan admired that. The meek would now perish. They would not, in fact, inherit the earth, not in this scenario.

  “What kind of trouble?” Alex asked as he cradled the girl on his lap in the backseat.

  “Night crawlers,” he answered. “Had to create a distraction.”

  “Nobody hurt?” Alex asked.

  “Nah, we’re good,” Roman answered as Tristan navigated their way back to the main road.

  “Let’s get her home,” he said quietly and turned up the heat a little since she wasn’t wearing much.

  Beside him, Roman removed his coat and handed it back to them. Stephanie covered the girl’s bare legs.

  “We have another one to go find tonight,” he told them. “We’re far from done with this.”

  Chapter Two

  Jane

  She’d been snoozing on the sofa in Avery’s living room when the driveway gate’s intercom system that connected to the house buzzed. Roman told her to send Abraham up with a shovel because the snow had drifted the gate shut. Then she’d gone downstairs to awaken Avery’s brother, who was the same age as her, but who somehow seemed older. Maybe it was because of what the family had been through losing their parents and siblings, or perhaps she was just more naive. Jane felt bad about Abraham having to open the gate, but she also didn’t want to go out and do it by herself since she’d seen one of those things while looking out the back window of the Andersson home. It had been chasing stray dogs in Elijah and Alex’s field. She did, however, put on her coat and gloves and offered to go with him to watch his back, which he accepted. By the time she and Abraham had their coats and boots on, Avery and Kaia had come into the foyer, as well. Everyone looked tired.

  The snow was falling hard now and coated her hat and gloves quickly as she held a flashlight for Abraham while he shoveled. It didn’t take too long, and they hitched a ride in the bed of the truck back down to the house.

  It wasn’t very long after they’d left that they showed back up again, maybe a little over two hours, and everyone who was waiting at the house rushed outside to see them. Mostly, she needed to see that Roman was safe. She was quite sure the others had their own agendas on that front, as well. Even Spencer and Renee came down from the apartment to see them.

  However, Alex got out carrying a small, nearly naked girl, and their concerns for people in their respective groups flew out the window.

  “Oh, dear Lord,” Avery exclaimed and ushered them all inside.

  “Clara!” Remmie screamed and pushed her way through the crowd toward the girl, who was presumably her sister.

  “She’s sick,” Tristan said and held out his hand to stop Remmie. “We think she’s sick. There wasn’t any heat where she was. Barely food or water, either. She woke up long enough to tell us that the others died. I think they got RF2, and she locked herself in the bedroom where they had her shackled to keep them away from her. The back door of the house was open when we got there. I have no idea how long she’s been there by herself. She could have the virus or just pneumonia.”

  As he explained, Avery led Alex toward a room down the nearest hall. She opened the door to a small, quaint guest bedroom, and he laid her on the bed. Avery quickly snatched a throw bl
anket from a nearby chair and covered her. Jane could tell the girl was wearing other people’s garments. Roman’s coat was wrapped around her bare legs.

  Tristan kept on, “I figure whoever survived took off and forgot she was in there. Lost interest or something, maybe got killed while they were gone. I don’t know when the last time she ate or drank was. Seems like she’s burning up. I’m not sure if it’s the virus or if she’s just sick from exposure or dehydrated.”

  “Oh, dear,” Avery said again. “Everyone out!”

  There wasn’t enough space in the room anyway as most were loitering in the hall.

  “Go wash up!” Tristan ordered. “We don’t know if she’s infected.”

  “I can help,” Jane offered quietly.

  “No, dear,” Avery said. “Just go now. I’ll tend to her. I’m immune.”

  “Ave,” Tristan pleaded.

  “Go,” she told him, too. “I’ve got this. Alex, you can help. We’re the only two who are immune, right?”

  “Yes, I am,” he answered.

  Avery added, “Spencer is, too, but he’s not going to be able to do much with a broken arm. We need to get her cleaned up and try to get some liquid and food into her.”

  Jane retreated with the rest, although she wanted to be of some help.

  “Jane!” Avery called. “Make sure everyone washes up, and also make sure Tristan disinfects the truck.”

  “Yes, I will,” she promised and went about that chore.

  Roman was waiting for her in the hall.

  “What happened?” she asked as they went to the small bathroom near a room that was always closed up. Kaia told her that it used to be their mother’s home office. Tristan was already carrying a bottle of some sort of disinfectant and a rag toward the front door, and she could hear Abraham telling Alex and Stephanie where they could also wash up.

  Roman told her everything while he scrubbed his hands up to his arms before removing his face mask. She washed her hands, too, although she hadn’t touched the girl.