The Infected (Book 2): Karen's First Day Page 14

  Glass windows stood floor to ceiling around the entry. Given the level of chaos that was only a block away from this building, Karen assumed the doors would have been littered with dead bodies. The grounds were clear. No infected in sight. It was their best and only bet.

  “Run for the station,” Karen said as she got Botchy back into her bag.

  Troy opened his door and slid out, his weapon at the ready as he double-checked his surroundings. “Valerie, come on.” His broad shoulders waited at the open door. She popped her seatbelt, crawled across the driver’s seat and climbed up onto his back.

  Karen managed to unlock her belt and pop open her door. Every move she made was agony. She got to her feet and reached out for Robin with her good arm. The little monkey climbed up into her Mama’s only working appendage. Karen screamed out in pain as she stood upright.

  “You okay?” Robin felt responsible for her Mama’s pain.

  She kept the bad wrist tucked up tight against her body, “It wasn’t you baby.” Karen jogged around the back of the truck and joined her brother. Troy had Valerie set and was ready to roll. They got on the move as soon as Karen rounded the end of the truck. She did her best to stay with him as they crossed the street and made for the station’s front door.

  Karen gave birth naturally to the girls, no drugs and no pain relief of any kind. Their births were beautiful, yet hardcore and painful. The human body does an amazing thing after it gives birth. It gives you a wonderful euphoric high that helps you forget the fact that nearly seven pounds of baby just squeezed itself out of your crotch. There was no high coming from her wrist. No feeling of accomplishing something amazing or primal.

  Only pain.

  A mountain of pain stacked on top of another mountain of pain. Sweat had started to accumulate all over her body.

  When was the shock going to set in and dull some of the pissed off nerves in this wrist?

  They stepped off the street and onto the sidewalk. A thigh high chain-link fence separated the sidewalk from an area covered in shrubs that led to the front door.

  Troy crossed over it easily, paused and braced his sister as she stepped over the obstacle. They ignored the paved path and ran across the decorative, bark dust covered, garden of shrubs and short trees. The plant’s branches and leaves dragged across their calves. Their heavy feet kicked the sun bleached little chunks of wood.

  Over Karen’s heavy breath she could hear the sound of the three flags flapping in the wind. The United States flag clung to an aluminum pole twenty feet in the air above them. The primary red and blue colors popped brightly against the white in the spring sun. On two shorter poles were two more flags that waved proudly. A dark green one with old George’s head sitting in the dead center of it for the State of Washington. The last bit of colored canvas was for the Vancouver Police department.

  She focused on the sounds they made and tried to ignore the pounding headache that accompanied the outrageous pain in her wrist.

  On the same property next to the main building was a playground Karen had brought the girls to many times over the last few years.

  Valerie spied the play equipment, “Mama! Look! Can we play?!”

  Kids. She had already forgotten that their lives were in danger. Karen was completely unable to form a sentence and respond. All of the power in her brain had been diverted to fight through the pain and keep basic life support functioning. She had less than a hundred yards to go and it felt like she was about to pass out.

  Troy kept a fast pace and his shotgun was pulled tight into his shoulder, ready to strike down anything that moved and was not human. Every ten seconds he would look back to check on his baby sister. Karen looked like she was drifting into another dimension her face was so wracked with pain.

  Troy rounded the corner and faced the first set of double doors that led into the building. It was clear. He pulled open the door and let Karen in first. The blast of AC felt like a miracle sent down from heaven. It was so cold against Karen’s sweat covered skin. She had to wait for Troy in a little three-foot by ten-foot room made almost completely of glass. Troy pulled the slow moving exterior door shut until it clicked.

  Karen’s eyes had stayed focused on the ground ever since she left the truck. It was a survival mechanism that she was not even aware of. Her primal mind had taken over and it knew that if she tripped over a shrub or rock that there was no stopping her fall and she, or her child, would be seriously injured. Her eyes had remained down even as she entered the first set of doors into the station. Troy opened the last set of doors that let them enter the police station. Karen felt a huge sense of relief as she crossed the threshold.

  She did it.

  She made it through all that pain and now she was safe. The police would protect her and her girls.

  “We need help! Please, someone help us!” Her voice echoed back to her. Karen looked around the front lobby for the first time. It was completely empty.

  What the shit?

  No officers. No help. Just a large, empty, sterile room that looked more like the waiting area of a dentist office than the police station she was expecting. A bloody skull cracked hard against the outside window across the lobby. The double pane glass would hopefully keep them safe. For now.

  Come on universe! Stop fucking with us!

  Chapter 16

  The color scheme of the Police Department was a soft sky blue. The walls had old photos of officers spanning the decades. A bronzed statue of a beautiful German Shepherd sat on the far wall. A plaque hung below the dog’s chest and spoke of its brave K-9 work from the years 1997 to 2006. The dog’s name was Johnnie.

  Across from the statue was a bullet proof glass window that might have led to a call center, but a steel roll-down door was pulled shut just on the other side of the glass. Karen could not see any farther than the steel door.

  Pamphlets littered the counter in front of the glass window. They told of the dangers that might befall the citizens of Vancouver if they were not diligent against crime. An old picture of McGruff the Crime Dog was telling kids to help take a bite out of crime. It hung on the wall next to the front door. It looked out of place and out of date. Not too far from the poster of McGruff was a computer terminal that was designed to be used by people that needed to report law breaking. A laminated piece of paper was taped to it. The words “Out of Order” were printed in black.

  Karen and Troy’s dead buddy on the other side of the glass had a few friends join in on the fun. They crept around the building, stumbling over the short plants, but making their way slowly to the front door.

  The two thousand square foot room’s only furniture was made up of four sky blue low-backed recliners that faced each other in a circle. Plus there were four standard sized, darker blue, waiting room chairs that sat by the wall next to the glassed off front desk.

  Karen spotted the legs on the waiting room chairs. Each leg was a black metal rod, independent of each other. She looked back at the doors behind her.

  The doors had waist high metal handles that ran horizontally across them.

  “Troy, use the chair to lock the doors,” she said as she headed over to the seats and set Robin down in one of the extras.

  Troy figured out what she was talking about and dropped Valerie off next to her sister. He muscled up the chair and raced it back to the doors. The back legs slid perfectly down into the handles. He pushed on the doors and they only opened an inch before the chairs rigid frame stopped it.

  “It’s solid.” Troy stepped away from the door and began to case the room for anything that could help them better block the doors.

  Karen had taken a seat next to her girls. She kept her eyes closed. Her mind begged to drift anywhere but here. In Troy’s walk around the room he found a hallway that led to a set of public restrooms. A door to an office that had the words “Vancouver Permit Office” stenciled into the glass. He pulled on it, but it was locked. Didn’t need to pull a permit anyway.

  Past the bathrooms
there was only one other metal door. It was solid black and eight feet tall with no window. Another laminated sign was sloppily taped to it. This door was for “Authorized Personnel Only”, according to the taped up paper.

  “Mama, do you need to cry?” Valerie stared at her Mama with a deep concern.

  “Yes baby. Mama wants to cry, but it won’t help.” Karen lowered the timber of her voice to power through the sentence.

  “Doctor needs to give you medicine?” Her little eyes darted around the room looking at the dog statue, then to the infected sliding along the window and back to her Mama.

  “Mama, dog.” Robin pointed.

  “Yep baby, a dog. I do need medicine, but what Mama really needs is for you two to be quiet.”

  “Why?” Valerie asked. Karen couldn’t answer any more questions. She looked around for her brother.

  Troy hammered his fist into the black door, “Open up! We need help!” he hit it a few more times.

  Nothing.

  “There’s a door, but its solid metal!” He called to his sister.

  “Sheetrock. Shoot it.” She called back to him. Something about her wrist being so messed up had calmed her. Instead of being scrambled and unfocused she was channeling her thoughts. It somehow helped her think clearly.

  Troy sized up the wall that surrounded the door. Three feet of blank wall on either side. He chose the left.

  “Fuck it,” Troy said as he licked his lips and opened fire.

  BOOM, knee high.

  BOOM, waist high.

  BOOM, chest high.

  The girls flinched with every shot. All three of them. The noise got the monsters outside excited as they rounded the corner and found the front door. They crashed into the glass door, but couldn’t figure out how to pull it open.

  White dust exploded out of the new hole Troy had created. An exposed two-by-four sat at the edge of his new passage way. Chunks of sheetrock fell to the industrial grade carpet. He used his boot to kick out the few bits that still clung to the wall.

  “I’m heading through!” Troy ducked down and pushed his big body through the small hole. The dust caused him to cough like crazy as he crawled through. He kept his gun ready in case someone or something jumped out at him.

  Once he breached the other side he quickly reloaded the spent three shells. Troy’s eyes panned around the room. This room had half a dozen desks scattered throughout. Paperwork everywhere. Someone left in a hurry. Framed photos of young families sat on most of the desks. He listened for the faintest sound.

  It was empty.

  No one was there. A doorway sat at the far wall. “HOLDING CELL” painted in gold letters across the top of the door. Troy jogged over to the door and pulled at the handle. Locked, but from this distance he could hear the faint sounds of someone yelling on the other side. The walls around the door were painted white concrete blocks. It would take too many rounds to get through it. The voice continued to yell. It sounded like the person was calling for help.

  A keycard panel sat to the right of the steel-door. An LED light blinked red. What was the chance that one of the officers left their card on their desk? Slim. None. Most likely they were long gone.

  Suddenly the red led light went black and a green light flashed. The locking mechanism clicked and the door was opened from the inside. Troy aimed at the new moving target. A man in his sixties stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the burly, shotgun lugging, man in his office.

  Both men froze with fear.

  Unsure what the next move should be. Troy noticed his dark blue uniform had shinny spots speckled all over. Wet blood. It was the badge on the man’s left that caused Troy to drop the barrel of his gun down. The nametag claimed he was Sergeant Poole.

  “Sir, my sister needs medical help!”

  “Get the fuck out of here,” the old officer said as he propped the door open and stepped past Troy. He made a beeline for a vending machine on the far wall.

  “Sir, she has a seriously injured wrist and we have two young children with us. We need help!”

  Poole pulled his Glock and fired a round into the corner of the glass that separated him from his snacks. It made a ton of noise as the glass fell. Poole picked up a garbage can from under a desk belonging to an officer named Peterson. He yanked out the plastic bag and tossed it to the ground.

  “Sir.” Troy took a step closer to Poole.

  “I told you to get out!” Poole worked left to right and pulled out the food from their spiraled racks.

  “We need your help!”

  Poole continued to efficiently empty the food into the wastebasket.

  “Troy!” Karen called from the makeshift doorway.

  “I’m okay. There’s a cop here,” Troy said as he stepped closer to Poole.

  “It’s Sergeant and I’m not here.”

  A male voice from the holding cell called out, “Someone, let me out of here!”

  Troy whipped around, “Who’s that?”

  Poole had the top two rows cleared out.

  “I’m coming through.” Karen helped guide Valerie through the hole in the wall.

  “I told you people to leave!” Poole slammed a pack of beef jerky into the garbage can.

  Valerie stepped through the dusty hole and let out a horrible cough. She waited on the other side for her baby sister to come through next.

  “Robin, it’s dusty.” Valerie reached out to steady the toddler.

  “Dusty?” Robin coughed a little to copy her sister. Karen was right behind the little ones. She screamed out in pain as she ducked through the hole.

  “Can someone please let me out?! I don’t want to die here!” The mystery man’s voice begged.

  Valerie raced to Troy’s side and went to hold his free hand right away. Robin wanted up into her Mama’s arms, but Karen would not pick her up, “Not now baby.” Robin accepted it and was easily distracted by their new environment.

  Poole ignored everyone in the room. He finished filling his can, grabbed another one from under the next desk, tore out the bag and started filling it with the last three rows of food.

  Karen walked as fast as her rubbery legs could carry her.

  “Officer, my wrist! I need…help. Please!” Karen raised her arm up to the man. Like a child wanting a parent to kiss it better.

  Poole never turned to look. His only mission was clearing the vending machine.

  “Hey! I’m a human! Please let me out!” The man’s voice called to them.

  The mystery finally got to Troy and he marched out of the office and into the holding area with Valerie in tow. At the end of the hall was a left turn that led to the cells.

  A man in his forties dressed in a messy gray suit stood on the other side of the bars. He was tall, slender and sported jet-black hair. His arms were fed through the metal barrier. He reached out for Troy the second he rounded the corner. Not like he was trying to attack Troy. More like a hug.

  Troy kept his distance from the man’s reach and tucked Valerie behind his legs. He was the only prisoner in the small jail. The holding room consisted of four cells total. The bars and the walls all painted in beige.

  The man’s voice sweetened, “Hey. Hello. Can you get me out of here?”

  Troy noticed a set of extension cords that ran along the wall next to him. They powered up a medium sized lunchroom refrigerator, small microwave and a thirty-two inch TV. All of the electronics were crammed into the cell across from the man in the gray suit. An antenna was Duct tapped up high on the wall and hooked to the back of the TV. Its volume turned down but it had the local news playing.

  It looked like a news crew was being chased by a group of infected. The camera was all over the place and would flip from pointing at the infected to back at the news anchor that led the escape. The infected were closing in on the fleeing humans.

  Poole stepped around Troy with a garbage can in each arm. He entered the furnished cell and set the pilfered food down next to the fridge. Karen was right behind Poole and she
joined Troy as they stepped deeper into the holding area.

  They could see now how much Poole had collected for his new room. He had extra guns and ammo stacked up on the bed. A computer tucked in a corner. The local news was pulled up on the screen. Photos scrolled at a rapid pace, they were of the nightmare taking place across the northwest. A folding table leaned up against the toilet. A pile of new toilet paper rolls sat in the tiny sink. A water cooler was placed at the foot of the bed. A small walkway was all that was left of the floor. Every other inch of floor space was taken up by something to help Poole stick it out.

  “What are you doing?” Karen pressed.

  Poole took a moment and looked over everything he had in his room.

  “Sir?” Troy raised his voice.

  Poole stepped to the door, grabbed the bar and pulled it closed with a hard metal slam.

  Karen and Troy shared a look of confusion.

  “Sergeant Poole, what are you doing? People need your help!” Troy’s face turned flush with anger. Poole began to set up the folding table next to the bed.

  “He’s a coward.” The prisoner leaned his body up against the bars. The siblings looked back at the man in the gray suit. His eyes softened with a look of sadness. It was clear that he wanted his new audience to pity him. The five o’clock shadow on his face told them he had been there the night.

  Karen turned back to Poole, “Can you please help us?”

  Poole snapped the last leg of the table tight and set it into place. Every inch of the cell was now taken up.

  “Sir!” Troy spit the words at the man. Poole dropped a deck of cards on the table. His hand hit the flimsy furniture so hard it almost collapsed.

  The man in the gray suit spoke in a descending musical scale, “Here he goes.”

  “Mama’s hand needs medicine.” Valerie tried to save the day by explaining the situation better.

  Poole closed his eyes and turned his back to them, “I asked you to leave.” He said it so coldly that it made the hair on the back of everyone’s neck stand up.