“We don’t want any trouble,” Carla called out.
“Neither do we.” It was an older gentleman with what must have been his daughter or much younger wife. “There is no reason to head that direction,” the man said, giving Carla a hard look, trying to evaluate the situation.
“Why?” Carla half-yelled back.
“California has sealed its borders. We just came from there and there’s no way around it. We even tried the back roads; everything is blocked or blown up. You can keep going, but
we
couldn’t find a way through.”
Carla waved and shouted, “Thanks for the info!” The man smiled, waved, and then drove away, rolling up his window.
“So, now what do we do?” Lauren asked from the backseat.
Conner chimed in, “I say we go for it. If this route is blocked, we can head for the coast.”
Carla hadn’t started moving yet. She sat there with her head on her hands, leaning forward against the steering wheel.
“It’s already five o’clock. By the time we get down there and look around, it will be too late to start on a different route. Let’s look for someplace secure to spend the night and think about our next move.” She stepped on the accelerator and started looking for the next exit, which turned out to be a little town by the name of Halsey. It didn’t look like much, which suited Carla fine.
“Okay, guys, look for a small building with as few windows as possible.” It took about twenty minutes to find what they were looking for: a small auto repair shop about two miles from the interstate. It was a cinder block building with a rollup door and small windows set high off the ground. They stopped in front and looked around for any signs of life.
“Looks like nobody is home,” quipped Conner.
“I hope not,” Carla said.
They got out and walked around the entire building. All the doors were closed and the windows unbroken. “Okay, let’s see if we can get in—and pay attention, there could be one of those things inside,” Carla warned.
They found the rollup door locked; there was a hasp on the main entrance door with a sturdy padlock. It took Conner several tries, but he eventually broke the lock with a large rock. They cautiously entered the dimly lit office. It smelled of grease and tobacco, and it was obvious that no one bothered to do much janitorial work; but it had a couch, a desk, a few chairs, and a couple of vending machines. The repair bay was empty, and once they found the locking mechanism, they drove the Rover in and parked it on the lift.
As twilight fell, they settled in and secured the building. Conner stacked boxes of lead acid batteries outside in front of the main entrance door, then came in through the rollup door and locked it from inside. The space was small, but they felt safe and sat down to a meal of cold canned ravioli. Conner said a short prayer over the meal and asked God to watch over their family wherever they might be on this night.
They took turns staying awake, and the night passed without incident. In the morning, Conner went outside to pee and found footprints around the exterior of the building but wasn’t sure if they were from last night or not. He’d heard the things shrieking in the distance, but not close to the building. He finished his business and went back in, where he didn’t say anything about the footprints. He didn’t want to freak out his sister.
They broke into the vending machines and had Pop-Tarts and Danish for breakfast with warm sodas. It was Carla who finally raised the question that none of them wanted to address.
“If we can’t get into California, we will have to head north, to Seattle or Whidbey Island, and see if we can locate any of the others who may have made it to the reunion before this all started.”
Conner still wanted to try to make it back to San Diego. “Mom, we can’t just take the word of some stranger we happened across on the road. We need to try and get home.”
Lauren agreed. “Mom, I want to go home.”
Carla sighed. “Okay, so what if we get to the border and can’t find a way across?”
Conner smiled. “Then we will head north; what do we have to lose?”
Carla reluctantly agreed and they broke camp, which consisted of looting the rest of the goodies from the vending machine and all of the sodas.
They headed back to the interstate and stopped at a gas station they had seen the night before. Conner got busy siphoning gas from an abandoned pickup truck while Carla and Lauren went to check out the station’s convenience store.
With Jake’s .45 in hand, Carla peered through the glass door and saw that the store looked like any other she’d ever seen. She tried the door and it swung open. The stench hit them like a wave: both of them began gagging.
Lauren held her hand over her mouth. “Oh man, I’m going to spew!”
Carla let the door close. “Obviously, there is something ripe in there. Let’s go get something to wrap around our faces.”
“I’m not going in there, you’re crazy!”
Carla was already walking to the Rover and said over her shoulder, “Quit being a drama queen; we need supplies from in there, and I’ll need your help.”
They both found T-shirts and tied them around their faces. “Okay, kemosabe, let’s go rescue that rotting corpse,” Lauren said.
Carla laughed and headed toward the store. Carla entered first and shined a flashlight down the aisle by the door.
“Stay right with me, okay?”
“Okay,” Lauren said, breathing through her mouth. She was still having issues with the smell and was focusing on not throwing up.
Carla moved across the front of the store, shining the light down each aisle. She leaned over the front counter and shined the light behind it.
“Nothing here, grab some bags.” Lauren got the bags and started filling one with beef jerky.
“Don’t forget to take all the batteries you can find.”
Lauren finished stuffing every piece of beef jerky she could find into the bag and then started on a new bag with the batteries. Carla concentrated on making sure nothing snuck up on them. “Okay, Mom, I’m going to set this outside, I’ll be right back.”
Lauren stepped out the door and Carla moved down the first aisle toward the cooler. The odor changed subtly; it still smelled like death, but now she detected a hint of sourness. Maybe it was just her imagination. She stopped and listened—still nothing. She opened the cooler door, reached in, and started unloading bottles of water, stacking them on the floor. She heard Lauren come back in and looked back up the aisle toward the front of the store.
There were bottles around her feet and she held the mini-flashlight in her mouth, the pistol in her right hand.
She talked around the flashlight, “Hey, grab some more—”
Carla was suddenly pulled from her feet; something clenched her left arm inside the cooler. Her head slammed into the cooler door. She pushed against the frame with her right hand, losing her grip on the pistol.
“Lauren, help!” she screamed, and one of those things shrieked back at her from inside the cooler.
The only thing between her and the sicko’s mouth was the bottle rack. The thing pulled her into the cooler up to her shoulder, as far as it could. Lauren screamed for Conner and ran down the aisle toward her mom. Carla tried to gain some traction, but her head slammed into the doorframe repeatedly. Her vision narrowed and she felt herself slipping into the foggy tunnel of unconsciousness. She thought she heard an explosion just prior to everything going dark.
Conner splashed water on Carla’s face, slapping her gently until she came around.
“What happened?”
“Lauren blew a hole in that guy who was trying to squeeze you through the shelves.”
Lauren had grabbed the .45 off the floor and went to the side door of the cooler, opened it, and unloaded all six rounds of hollow-point ammo into the thing. Luckily, it was the only one in there. Carla would see some bruises and she had a cut on her temple, but she was okay.
“Where is she?”
Conner chuckled. “Outside puking her guts out.”
They collected all the supplies they could carry and pulled out with a full tank of gas and with Lauren somewhat nauseated. They made it as far as Grants Pass before running into a problem.
“Why the hell would they do that?” Conner marveled, staring at the scene in front of them. The bridge that once crossed over the Rouge River was destroyed.
“It had to be either the governor of Oregon or California, trying to stop the spread of the virus,” Carla said. “Let’s backtrack and try some other crossings; they couldn’t have destroyed them all.”
Five hours later, after driving every back road and even one train track, they gave up.
“We can head west and try the coast,” Conner suggested.
“Look, Conner, I want to get home as much as you do, but from what we have seen, I think it would be a waste of time,” Carla argued.
Lauren joined the discussion. “What about heading east, then south?”
Carla was tired and just wanted to get out of the car for a while. “We can try, but we are talking at least a week to get home at this rate.”
Conner was visibly upset. “So, what? We’re just going to give up?”
Carla rubbed her temples. “No, but what do you expect to find if we do make it back home?”
The question hung in the air like a fart. No one would claim it, or comment on it. Carla finally broke the silence.
“Let’s find some maps and a place to crash for tonight and figure out what to do.” She turned the Rover around and they started their search for a suitable place to spend the night.
Barb was tired. She kept an eye on her husband of fifty years and was amazed at how quickly the wound on his leg was changing. She didn’t know how long ago they had left the scene of the accident. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours ago. In that time, Grampa Don’s leg had turned from a bloody mess into a hotly infected combination of corruption and decay. The smell turned her stomach, but she used the alcohol she found and tried to clean it.
She lay her hand on his forehead and whispered, “I think we are at the end of this part of our journey, honey. We’ve done our best and I know that we will just be a burden to everyone from here on out.”
She lay down next to him and thought about her family. Her oldest, Hope, was gone. She’d no idea where Carla was. Josh, her oldest boy, was trying valiantly to save his dad; and Tobie, her youngest, was in Virginia with his own family. The many grandchildren passed through her thoughts as she said a prayer.
“Please watch over them, Lord. I know I have failed them often in life but I always loved them without condition. I don’t know why this plague has befallen us, but I trust in you. Keep them safe, and if that isn’t possible, please don’t let them suffer. I’m ready to come home, Lord.”
A feeling of peace settled on her as she reached down and held Don’s hand. She noticed he wasn’t breathing any longer, but that was okay, he wasn’t suffering—an answer to her prayer. She drifted off into a peaceful sleep and dreamed of heaven.
Josh had a sudden urge to pull over and check on his mom and dad. He couldn’t find a hospital and was becoming concerned that his dad’s wounds would turn him into one of the crazy ones. He pulled to the side of the road and got out. He noticed immediately that the light in the rear of the ambulance was out. Maybe he shouldn’t disturb them; they had been through a lot. His fear overcame his desire to just get back in and drive.
He approached the doors, and as soon as his hand touched the handle, he knew. He bent his head and took a deep breath. The door swung open, almost of its own volition. He turned the overhead light on and knelt beside them. His mom had a peaceful smile on her face; he put his fingers on her neck and found no pulse. His dad was obviously gone, already gray and cold. There was no sign that he was turning into one of those things like Dale. Apparently, suffering a bite was fatal but not transformative.
He leaned back against the interior and felt like giving in to the moment. This was just like the last ten years of his life. He was alone again, and then he heard something. His mom’s voice, as plain as if she were alive.
Get off your duff and move. Quit feeling sorry for yourself. You aren’t Job; go find Uncle Ryan in Washington.
It startled him so badly that he literally jumped and then double-checked her pulse.
That was just way too freaky,
he thought, as he closed the back doors of the ambulance.
They sat in the comfortable main salon area of the coach. Thomas was showing them some highlights of the onboard communications systems. The group was parked at Thomas’s home, ten or so miles out from the Marathon factory.
“These images are real-time satellite photos of Sydney, Australia, taken by the Skylark system. A private company recently launched their thirty-third satellite into orbit. The company’s brain trust owns a Marathon coach, is on the board, and provides this service at a greatly reduced fee to their fellow Marathon family members. The satellites are much smaller than those that belong to telecommunication giants or governments. They are about the size of a mini-fridge and cost about 350 thousand dollars a pop—not a billion dollars, like Uncle Sam’s. They don’t do anything but take high-resolution photographs. Their main clients are corporations and those interested in day-to-day changes in large areas of the globe. With improvements in their software, they can take more chances with maneuvering the satellites without risking huge losses. In other words, if they lose a satellite, it is not the end of the world.”
Maddie interrupted him. “So what good is it to us? I don’t need to know what’s going on in Sydney.”
Thomas waved his hands back and forth. “No, no, the reason we are looking at Sydney is because it is daytime there right now, not because we are restricted in what we can see. I wanted you to be able see more than the lights of the cities in the U.S., or should I say the lack of lights.”
He made a few taps on the tablet he was holding and the picture changed to a view of Florida. The only reason Maddie knew it was Florida was because it was printed right at the bottom of the screen:
Miami, Florida
.
“Two days ago, you would have seen a clear demarcation between the coast and the sea. Today, as you can see, a large percentage of the lights in Miami are no longer burning.” Thomas let that sink in for a moment.
“What you are saying is that there are already large power outages,” Maddie answered. It wasn’t a question.
Thomas typed away at the tablet and the picture changed again. This time, the screen split to show two pictures.
“Here is a side-by-side comparison. The one on the left is from two nights ago, the right is about three hours old.”
“Oh my God!” Maddie exclaimed. The difference was stark.
“Normally we wouldn’t be able to get actual real-time pictures because there is a queue for requested overflights assigned by your company code. I signed in with Larry’s code, the communications director at Marathon and a board member of Skylark. I just happen to know the admin password for Marathon’s network—please don’t ask how. The satellite dishes on the coach track multiple satellites and autocorrect as we drive. Your friend Mr. McClure spared no expense on this beauty,” Thomas said, patting the armrest of the chair he sat in.
“When I said multiple satellites, I meant hundreds. There are at least six hundred purely commercial satellites in orbit, not to mention those that are government-owned and privately operated. While we don’t have access to spy satellites, we do have access to many that are government-owned.”
Harry interrupted this time. “You said you didn’t know much about this stuff. Sounds like you know it pretty damn well.”
Thomas smiled. “My knowledge is skin deep. If Larry were with us, he could log into the Pentagon’s network.”
“What else can you get on that dad-blame thing?” Maddie said in her thickest country drawl.
Thomas smiled again. “More than we can discuss in one sitting, that’s for sure.”
Harry rubbed his chin, as he was wont to do. “So, Thomas, we haven’t officially asked you this, but how would you like to sign on with us permanently?”
Thomas mimicked Harry’s chin rubbing. “Well, I don’t have any family around here, and if you wouldn’t be opposed to it, I would love to join your merry little band.”
Maddie clapped her hands and got up. “Well, stand up, Thomas. We’re a hugging family.” Thomas blushed, stood, and accepted his hug.
They were all tired from the long day full of stress and said their goodnights. Thomas headed to his house from the driveway; he stopped to listen to the sounds of the night. The canopy of stars was always a sight out here away from the city, but somehow they seemed even brighter tonight. He stood there for a few minutes, smoking his last cigarette before bed, wondering when the zombies would show up this far out in the boonies. He stubbed out his smoke and went inside.
A black figure bounded across the room and slammed into his chest, attacking his face. Thomas laughed as the chocolate lab licked and chewed on his ears.
“Stop it, stop it,” he chuckled, which did nothing to halt the attack. He bent his lanky six-foot frame down and hugged his best friend, Rico, by the neck. He stood the Remington in the corner next to the door.
“Hey buddy, looks like we’re going on an adventure.” He went into the kitchen and checked on Rico’s food and water. He wandered into the bathroom and relieved his bladder; he looked at his reflection in the mirror as he washed his hands. The gray hairs were more noticeable than they had been just a year ago. He spoke to the image looking back at him.
“You’re never going to snag another one like Trina with that mug.” His wife, Trina, had died of cancer the year before.
“Especially now that the zombies are out and about,” he continued to himself while brushing his teeth. Rico followed him into the bathroom and stood staring at his friend, who looked and sounded funny, talking with his toothbrush stuck in his mouth. Thomas spit in the sink. “Let’s get some shuteye, Rico; tomorrow’s gonna be another day.”
*****
Thomas woke to the sound of Rico’s low warning growl. Rico was as friendly as any dog Thomas had ever owned, but he was also one of the best watchdogs ever. He didn’t bark when he sensed danger. He would alert Thomas, then stand ready to attack whatever the threat was without making another sound.
Thomas lay there listening. He didn’t hear anything, but Rico was good at his job and Thomas trusted him. He looked over at his alarm clock to find that the power had gone out. He quietly got out of bed and padded into the living room, Rico following close behind. He retrieved the shotgun and went to the front window. Rico stood as still as a statue, his ears and tail up, nostrils working overtime.
“What do you smell, ol’ buddy?” Thomas whispered. “One of those zombie things out there?”
*****
Maddie woke up. She’d been dreaming of her cousin Barb. In the dream, they were standing in the kitchen of the old homestead on Whidbey Island, chatting while Barb made something in the oven. Barb walked over to the window, looked out, and said,
“It’s time to wake up, there’s something outside.” Maddie looked at her watch and saw that it was 3:18.
She nudged Harry, sleeping next to her, and whispered, “Harry, wake up, I think there’s something out there.”
Harry woke up and realized he was in an unfamiliar place. A second later, he heard Maddie whispering to him.
“Okay, I’ll go check it out.”
He got out of bed, went to the main cabin area, and put on his boots. Maddie came out of the back room fully dressed, carrying her rifle.
“How’d you do that?” Harry said, pointing at her clothes. She looked at Harry standing there in his boxers, boots, and holding his shotgun, and burst out laughing.
“What,” he said, “you’ve never seen my security outfit?”
Maddie shook her head and picked up the tablet that Thomas had used last night to show them the satellite photos.
“I wish Thomas had shown us how to use the security cameras instead of the satellite stuff.”
“Come on, we’ll do it the old fashioned way. Probably just a coyote or something,” Harry said as he went to the door.
*****
Thomas had a flashlight but didn’t turn it on; he knew his land like the back of his hand. He crept around the pine trees in front of the house, making his way to the driveway. He’d just cleared the pines…
*****
Maddie and Harry had just climbed down from the coach and were hunched down and listening. Harry heard something off to his right. He turned on the flashlight attached to the shotgun with a flick of his finger and spotted a naked figure hiding in the trees. He started to squeeze the trigger, but Maddie knocked the barrel away a millisecond before it went off. A loud scream and a stream of cuss words followed the boom of the shotgun. Maddie was running toward the trees, shouting “Dammit, Harry, you just shot Thomas!”
*****
Harry felt like a complete ass. Thomas was sitting on the couch with a robe on while Maddie examined a couple of scratches from the near miss on his arm.
“You’re lucky Maddie deflected my shot. I am so sorry, man!” Harry said.
Thomas shook his head. “Should have put on some pants before I went out to investigate. I can’t sleep with clothes on.”
Maddie chuckled. “You’re probably going to have to learn how; can’t have you two out traipsing around naked, shooting at each other.”
They all laughed while Rico tilted his head and growled. Thomas was the first to notice. Although the coach was insulated well, he heard a faint shrieking sound and knew exactly what it was. Before he could say anything, there was a loud bang and the coach shook. Rico was at the door, scratching to get out, his hackles at attention. There was another loud bang. This time, as the coach shook again, the shrieking was hard to miss. Thomas grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. He pushed a couple of buttons and the TV showed the infrared feed from outside on a tiled screen.
“That would have come in handy about a half hour ago,” Maddie said
The screen showed a 360-degree view of the area around the coach. What they saw was a group of twenty-plus attacking. There didn’t seem to be any coordinated effort to suggest high intelligence. They just kept coming.
“Rico, come, sit.” He did as his master bade him, but he did not look happy about it. He was shaking and whining, with a growl thrown in for good measure.
“He woke me up about a half hour ago. I guess you sensed something after all, buddy.” He bent and scratched him on the neck. “Good boy!”
Maddie stood looking at the things bashing into the sides of the coach. “Can they get in?”
Thomas laughed. “No, there is no way in hell they can get in, unless we open the door.”
Harry spoke up, “I suggest that we don’t do that, then.”
They all exchanged looks. “I don’t like that we’re stuck in here without being able to do anything about them ravaging the coach,” Maddie said.
Thomas pulled a binder from the desk drawer. “Here is the hard copy manual for everything this coach has installed. Let me show you a couple of features that might help our current situation.”
“Well, unless you have a 30mm Gatling gun or flame throwers around the exterior, I don’t know how. Do we have either of those?” Maddie asked hopefully.
Thomas shook his head as he leafed through the manual. “No, nothing like that, sorry—but we do have some options.” He got on the computer at the desk and started clicking on the desktop. “I could do this with the Crestron remote or the tablet, but I prefer working on the computer.”
A diagram of the coach was now on the screen, and Thomas held the cursor over a specific spot on the exterior and right-clicked. The drop-down menu came up on the screen, from which he selected “outside lighting.” When he clicked the left mouse button, the area around the coach lit up like a football stadium. The cameras automatically changed from infrared to HD, and the group saw the attackers blasted by light. It kept them at bay for a minute, until they discovered that the light did not hurt; then they redoubled their attack.
“Well, that doesn’t seem to affect them,” Maddie offered.
Thomas then right-clicked another part of the diagram and left-clicked a lightning bolt symbol.
“What does that do?” Harry asked.
The words were barely off his lips when one of the creatures ran toward the coach, hit the side, and was blown back about five feet. It looked stunned.
“I wasn’t sure how that would work,” said Thomas. “It’s called the zapper. It delivers 50,000 volts and is adjustable from ten milliamps to 50 milliamps. I had it set to the max. It won’t kill a normal person, and apparently it won’t kill one of these.”
The thing had gotten back on its feet and attempted another run at the coach, with the same results. This time, though, it did not come back for more. They watched as various others tried their luck, only to get shocked. After about five minutes of this, Thomas sighed and turned it off.
“Why did you turn it off?” Maddie protested.
“Because we don’t want to drain our battery bank completely, and it isn’t going to kill these things. I may be able to reengineer the system to actually be lethal, but we couldn’t do that at the plant for obvious legal reasons. Harry, could you please start the coach? It will help recharge the system. There is one other thing we can try,” Thomas said.