Survival

By H.V. Purvis

In the first book of the Extinction series, the Roberts family established a small foothold in the new violent world populated by murderous mutants. In book two, Survival, they must now move forward to expand this foothold. Each day is filled with deadly adventures as they push to find and rescue other survivors. Along the way, they discover mutants are not the only danger. Other survivors are just as deadly.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Second Wind Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Mar 2, 2015

Book preview

Chapter 1

Of the small group of survivors, only Jason, Frank and William still stood beside the mass grave that cut like an angry rust-red scar across the landscape. The winter chill pressed against them as they tried to cope with the knowledge that they had been forced to kill friends and family in order to survive.

Are we ready? William looked around. William had been a high-school principal before the plague and now he was using those skills to organize the survivors into a secure community.

Don’t we have to be? Should we get some others to go with us? Frank was not keen on the idea of going into another hostile situation. They had just laid to rest over three hundred of the victims of the mutation virus.

I do not think so. We will not encounter as much resistance as we did here and we need to save room in the trailer in case we find other survivors. Jason, a member of a special unit that worked for the President and Joint Chiefs of Staff, had background and experience in hostile rescues.

Jason headed for the trailer. Pop, before we head out let me get something to eat and go to the bathroom. He went into the church.

Frank was looking at a trailer tire when he heard the Links scream.

Frank, get in the trailer! From inside the bobcat cage William grabbed the hatch and yanked it closed.

Frank dashed for the trailer door less ten feet away, but the Links closed fast. Before he jumped inside, the first Link grabbed his leg and yanked him down. Frank had drawn his revolver as he ran and rapid fired all five shots into the Link’s chest. The Link screamed again and relaxed its grip on Frank. Just as the other Links scrambled to climb the trailer’s rails, he slammed the door closed, flipped the door’s latch and grabbed a box of ammo.

The Link Frank shot howled in anger and slammed into the trailer knocking it sideways. Two females reached through the rails trying to get at Frank. He emptied the reloaded gun into one of them, hitting her in the chest. Blood poured from the wounds. The first Link, bleeding from five bullet holes, finally sank to its knees. The female slumped. The remaining two Links pounded the rails denting the metal tubing. Frank struggled to reload his pistol.

Jason burst through the church door running full throttle toward the bobcat. On the opposite side of the trailer the Links did not see the unprotected man charging them. Jason cut at an angle, which put him twenty feet away from the Links, when he rounded the corner. Reaching the spot he had picked in his mind, he yelled at the two creatures, both fully capable of ripping a man to pieces. Hey!

The Links screamed and lunged toward Jason. Both pistols leapt to his hands and he fired two shots. The hollow points created small holes as they entered each forehead and took a chunk of each skull with them when they exited. Both Links fell face first on the pavement and slid to a stop near Jason’s feet. He knew how to kill and he excelled at it. As he put it, It is what I do.

I can’t leave you two alone for five minutes to use the bathroom in peace without you getting in trouble. He laughed. Give me another five. He ran toward the church.

You all right? William called out.

"Yeah, it’s a good thing I didn’t need to use the bathroom, Frank answered. I almost did anyway."

Frank stayed in the rusty-red cattle trailer to wait for Jason. The stench of blood soaking into the wooden floor was strong and unsettling. Frank suppressed a gag. He had been utterly terrified since his wife had turned, killing his daughter and forcing him to kill her, and he was no less terrified now. After all, he was a mechanic and, even when the army drafted him, he spent all his time stateside working in the motor pool. He had never had to kill anyone. He wished he had followed the others into the church instead of agreeing to make this trip, but these men were family and they needed him. The whole community needed him, and he would not let them down.

Jason returned. William started the bobcat and maneuvered it down the narrow country road toward Neal Martin’s house. Because of the great strength, speed, deadly claws and violent nature of these mindless creatures, the men needed some sort of armored truck to pull the trailer. The bobcat was secure, but it traveled too slowly to be effective. They needed a truck secure against the Links to expand the search for survivors. Neal had a work truck with a heavy-duty metal material rack, perfect to continue the fighting.

Along the way, they pulled into the yard of an older frame cottage to check on Dave Parsons. Dave was a feisty old gent in his eighties and always talked about how he needed a young wife. The trailer swayed violently as it bounced from pothole to pothole. Loose gravel crunched under the tracks. Large, overgrown azaleas landscaped Dave’s house. A flock of partridges took flight at the intrusion in a flutter of wings. The doors to the house were closed.

This is William Roberts. If anyone’s inside we have come to help, William shouted. They waited. No one answered. William frowned. He had done the math. If nine out of ten people mutated as scientists said, figuring two and a half people per house, they should find a survivor on the average of every four houses, but such had not been the case. He considered little children and bedridden seniors in the number, even though they might have no way to alert potential rescuers. However, factoring in this group could not account for the small number of survivors they had found so far. William understood the devastating and depressing truth. Mutated family members had already killed many of those immune to the virus.

The second driveway led up to the Quick’s, a young family with young children. Even from a distance William saw that the front door stood open. He pulled the bobcat close and yelled. This is William Roberts. If anyone’s inside, we have come to help.

No one answered or came to a window. However, his call did alert a group of Links behind the house. Two adults and two preteen mutants rushed, snarling and screaming, around the corner. Even infected children were dangerous. The men had seen too much evidence of an infected, mutated toddler having killed an adult. The Links met four rapid pistol shots; each left a small hole in their foreheads—Jason’s trademark. Frank had no time to draw before Jason killed all four.

Jason holstered the pistols and looked into his cartridge bag. Damn, I need to start checking for ammo. He jumped out of the moving trailer.

Frank clambered after him, trotting to keep up with Jason’s long stride.

What’re we doing? William called from the cab of the bobcat.

Frank shrugged. William exited the bobcat and fell in line.

I’m running low on ammo, Jason yelled. If we run completely out, we’re pretty much fucked. We have to check every house from here on out. Take any weapons, ammo and anything else related to weapons. We need to check Dave’s on the way back.

Jason crossed the yard; his face etched with concentration. Twenty feet from the door, he pulled his pistols.

He looked back at the two men who followed him. They were very unsure of what they should be doing. Form a triangle about ten feet behind me. When we go single file, Dad, you follow behind me; Frank behind dad. Frank, you watch our rear and call out hostiles. Jason grinned. And remember, I’m in front. Don’t shoot me.

Jason moved quickly, effortlessly, before anyone had time to respond to his last comment. He reached the stoop of the small seventies-style brick house and stood listening, his back pressed against the wall to the right side of the door. Nothing moved. He pushed the door and it opened easily. Warm air engulfed him. The furnace still ran. Beside the front door a table lay on the floor; framed photos of the family littered the room around it. Other than the one overturned table and the pictures, the living room was undisturbed. Most likely one of the infected had overturned it leaving the house. Maybe the metabolism change that left the Links immune to the cold made it uncomfortable inside a heated house. Whatever the reason, they had seen few Links inside a closed building. Over the brick fireplace hung a large family portrait. Jason didn’t know this family, but the scattered photos showed the parents with four children. Jason held up two fingers and made a little circle with his hand. His dad and Frank stared at him.

Two what? William mouthed.

Jason sighed and hung his head in defeat. He chuckled. Two more, somewhere, he replied in his normal speaking voice and slid inside the house. William and Frank gave each other nervous looks and followed. This was something they had never done before. They had no experience at anything resembling this situation so they mimicked what they saw people do on television police shows.

Jason stalked forward and William took his place beside the open doorway. Frank took up position on the steps. They had no way of knowing what lay just beyond the next opening. Their hearts pounded and their palms sweated. They were no longer behind the protection of the metal cages of the bobcat and the trailer. Here they were out in the open, completely vulnerable to attack. William took a deep breath trying to steady his nerves.

Jason moved forward again. William and Frank slid into new positions. Jason stood at the entrance to the hallway and peeked around the corner. No Links. He motioned to his dad to check the kitchen. William nodded and, crouching low, moved to the swinging door. Frank jumped into William’s vacated spot, trying to keep watch on William and Jason as well as behind them. William looked in the kitchen and signaled it was clear.

Jason turned the corner and slowly proceeded down the hall. A thump from ahead. Jason dropped into a crouch, ready to fire at anything. Seeing his reaction, William rushed to the hallway and raised his revolver. They waited. Nothing appeared.

Jason did not hear any other noise. Pistols ready should something move, he stood and silently inched forward. Reaching the first doorway, he glanced around the corner. No Links. Across the hall, the remains of a teen boy lay on the floor of the bedroom. His arm was missing. His mutated family had gnawed the remaining arm and his legs as well as his face. Near the closet the missing arm, completely stripped of meat, lay on the rust-colored carpet.

Jason slipped back into the hall and turned his attention to the last bedroom. One child was still unaccounted for. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door. Nothing moved. He holstered his pistols.

It’s clear.

At the sound of his voice, something rustled inside the closet. Jason’s guns leapt into his hands as if by magic. One second his hands were empty and the next, guns pointed toward the closet. He ripped open the door.

Chapter 2

The jagged knife wound across Nicole’s’ right palm left her in no shape for fighting. She needed a chance to heal…at least some before trying to fight again. Luckily, she could move all her fingers and eventually the gash would heal. Her hand hurt badly, but she could live with it. What other choice did she have? Aspirin was the strongest painkiller in the shelter’s first aid kit and there were very few of those. She would ration them and hope the cut did not become infected. She chuckled at the irony. She was stuck inside one of the best hospitals in the country and yet she could not access any of the drugs located on the other side of the double doors.

The thought of the second Link scream she had heard the day she yelled into the duct preyed on her mind. The only explanation was that someone uninfected yelled back to her. There could be other survivors nearby, but they would have to survive on their own for a while longer. She had to heal.

Lying on her cot she felt content that they secured the hallway outside the fallout shelter. That was a significant step forward. The claustrophobic atmosphere of the institutional green walls faded away. They had lived safely inside the medical center shelter; however, as days turned to weeks, the confinement of the windowless space took a toll on their nerves and dispositions. Laura cried most of the time. Danny became despondent and withdrawn. She realized they must do something. With makeshift spears and a few rounds from her pistol, they attacked the Links in the hallway and the deadly gamble paid off. Gone was the trapped feeling of being in a windowless box. Sunlight flooded through the windows on the security doors at the end of the hallway and she could see the outside.

She and Danny had escorted Laura into the hall and showed her the bodies of the dead Links before dragging them to the doors and pushing them outside and off the loading dock. With the risk of being seen and attacked, they dared not try to move them further. Danny mopped the pools of drying blood. At least her wounded hand exempted her from having to help clean the bloody mess covering the floor. They talked about the fight with Laura, explaining what had happened and how dangerous it had been in hopes it would help her understand the seriousness of the situation. If it gave her nightmares, then that was a regrettable but necessary price for her realizing just how dangerous her world had become.

Nicole and Danny decided not to investigate the closed rooms opening off the hallway until later. There was no real reason other than curiosity. The supplies in the shelter were adequate for years. They did knock on the doors, talk and make noise, but none of that elicited any response from inside the rooms. Links seemed unable to open closed doors and could not work even simple mechanisms. If any were trapped in the rooms without water, they would be dead in a few more days.

Laura and Danny turned the hallway into a one-on-one soccer course for a game they invented with a new larger tape ball. Nicole placed cots and blankets near the security doors to enjoy the sunshine. In the mechanic’s closet they found several pairs of coveralls. The clothes were too large for Nicole, but, by cutting the arms and legs to fit, they were certainly better than having only one outfit. Much better than nothing, she had said.

You’re wearing nothing works for me, Danny chuckled.

Danny was too muscular to fit into the coveralls. Nicole created a robe by sewing up the sides of a blanket so he could wear something more than the makeshift toga he had been using. Having him do his little marching dance chanting, Toga, Toga, Toga every time he put it on had been cute the first time but now, not so much. Nicole’s pullover became an outfit for Laura. Now they waited for Nicole’s hand to heal enough to begin clearing the building.

Chapter 3

Officer Dave Patterson sat at the main desk of the small police station in Eula. The other three desks in the room were empty; the radio silent. He had hoped there would be others immune to the virus, but everyone in town seemed to have mutated. He felt utterly alone. He looked around at the room. The walls seemed to be drawing in around him. He wanted to run away, to find someone not infected, but he was afraid to leave the building. His service revolver lay on the desk in front of him. He stared at it.

When the CDC made its announcement for everyone to stay inside, the Chief of Police let the two prisoners go and closed the station. All the personnel and officers went home to their families. All over town stores closed and people shut their doors and pulled their curtains. No one ventured outside. Eula became a ghost town.

Despite Dave’s precautions, one morning a week ago, his wife stopped speaking. She wrote him a note please kill me, but he couldn’t. He could not kill anyone, much less her. They kissed and said their goodbyes. She went outside and walked quickly out of sight to be sure she wasn’t a danger to her family. Dave sat there with the kids as she left. That afternoon, all three of his children stopped speaking. He knew what the news reporters said. He understood that in a few hours they would become violent and attack him. He didn’t know what to do. What could he do? There was no cure. They would change and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. He put his head in his hands and cried. The idea of having to kill his children was beyond his scope of acceptance. He couldn’t do it. What man can just kill his children? He didn’t know what else to do so he grabbed several bags, packed some clothes and the food from the pantry and freezer and left for the police station.

Partially dressed people wandered along the streets, but he was far enough away that none of them saw him. He pulled into the back parking lot, propped open the rear door of the station and returned to the trunk of his car to unload. He was filling his arms with the supplies when a mutant screamed. Dave jerked around at the horrible sound to see the Link, an old grey haired man, rushing toward him. The old man was Bob Cagle, the former postmaster and a deacon at the church. He was over seventy-five years old and walked with a cane. Yet today, he had no cane and ran faster than Dave could ever have imagined. Dave pulled his gun and shouted for him to stop. The old man kept coming. Dave was a big man, but he was not particularly athletic. His heart raced as he stood there and watched as Bob got closer and closer. He managed to duck just as Bob swung at him. Bob missed, but before Dave could react, Bob grabbed his arm. Dave had gone through basic police training thanks to the chief, his father’s best friend pulling some strings, but he had never been in a real fight. His training deserted him and fear took over and he stood there. The old man’s grip was like being caught in a vise. Dave began to struggle. He had to get loose. In panic, he fired three times, point blank into the attacker. The last bullet caught the Link in the face and it let go. Other Links, including Dave’s wife, Lucy, attracted by the scream, charged from all directions. Dave had no time to reload or even think about options. He left his things in the car and rushed for the open rear door of the building, knowing his only chance for survival was to get inside. The mutants quickly gained on him. He heard the sounds of their footfalls closer and closer. He was only twenty-five feet from the door when they attacked and they were catching him. How can they run that fast? He dared not look back. He bounded through the rear door slamming it hard behind him. The building shook when the Links hit the reinforced door. He leaned against it, holding his breath, until they stopped and wandered away. His heart pounded in terror as he sucked in a long overdue breath. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since last he breathed, but he was light headed. His hands trembled as he staggered to his desk. Sweat mingled with tears ran down his face. He had never been as terrified as he was at this moment.

Dave collapsed in his chair and struggled to regain control. Finally, he calmed enough to think. Nothing came to mind. He had no idea what to do. He was not a leader. He did what the chief told him and followed the rules. If a situation was unusual or required a non-standard response, then he called on his radio and…the radio. He picked up the mike and tried calling the others on the police radio. He tried not only the local channel but all of them over and over, but he was unable to raise anyone. The news reports

Reviews for Survival

[Carolyn Bloom · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

EXCELLANT!! Is there a 3rd one? PLEASE!!