Authors: Edwin Page
We drove down
the street amidst the traffic that had been forced from the interstate.
Chrissie had been silent and unmoving in the passenger seat across from me.
Bob’s body was slumped against the door behind her, his presence starting to
make me feel uncomfortable.
‘We need to find some fuel.’
I looked between the front seats. ‘The pumps won’t be working,’ I stated.
‘We’ll have to find a vehicle and siphon it,’ replied Tyreese over his
shoulder, scanning the road ahead as we passed a statue in a fenced enclosure,
its base surrounded by miniature American flags.
Tyreese moved over into the left-hand lane, the traffic only flowing in
one direction and filling the road. A horn sounded behind us as he turned off
the street.
‘Canada Drive,’ I stated as the Falcon growled between the widely spaced
houses.
A gust of wind passed through the trees to either side of the road. They
shivered and loosed a flurry of leaves.
‘Do you think that could be the radiation?’ I asked.
‘What?’ asked Tyreese.
‘The leaves. They’re falling from the trees like it’s fall already.’
‘Could be,’ he said distractedly as he looked for a vehicle. ‘This place
is a ghost town,’ he stated with a shake of his head.
‘This close to the border, they probably all made it across before it was
closed.’
‘We only need to find one damn vehicle,’ he said in frustration.
‘What about pulling over? We could check a few garages.’
‘I’d prefer to stay with the car after what happened.’ He glanced in the
rear-view, gaze briefly settling on Bob’s still form.
‘How you doing, Honey?’ I asked, reaching forward and laying my hand on
Chrissie’s shoulder.
She drew away from the touch. ‘Fine,’ she mumbled without turning to me.
‘There!’ Tyreese nodded to the right and I saw a brown station wagon
parked alongside a whitewashed house.
The V8 stuttered and died, the Falcon rolling to a stop at the end of the
driveway.
‘Perfect timing,’ Tyreese commented dryly as we came to a stop and he
stared out at the house.
I looked to the windows, checking for any sign of habitation. I couldn’t
see anything beyond the net curtains, the nape of my neck tingling in response
to the sensation of being watched. ‘Maybe we should try further along,’ I said.
Tyreese looked at me in the mirror. ‘The engine just died. There isn’t
any choice. You keep an eye out and keep hold of the rifle.’
He opened the door and climbed out, the wind brushing through the interior.
I got out and leant the rifle on the roof, pointing it at the front door of the
house as Tyreese made his way around the hood and glanced back.
‘I’ve got you covered,’ I stated.
He nodded and continued up the driveway to the wagon, trying the doors
and finding it locked. ‘Have you got a tyre lever in there?’ he called back.
‘It’s under all the food boxes,’ I replied.
‘Step away from the wagon.’ The call came from the house.
I scanned the windows again, but still couldn’t see anyone as Chrissie
stretched over and locked the driver’s door before hunkering down in her seat.
‘You’ve till the count of three,’ stated the man, whose rough voice
indicated that he was elderly.
‘We just need some gas,’ said Tyreese.
‘One.’
‘Please, the tank is totally dry and…’
‘Two.’
‘We can’t go anywhere until…’
The top right window cracked open.
‘DUCK!’ I yelled as the barrels of a shotgun poked out.
Tyreese dived behind the wagon just as the blast rang out. Some of the shot
ricocheted off the vehicle’s roof as I aimed the rifle where I judged the
householder to be standing behind the curtain. I pulled the trigger and fired,
the glass shattering and falling to the flower bed below.
As I reloaded, the barrels of the shotgun reappeared and I quickly
crouched down behind the Falcon.
There was another blast and I heard the sound of the rear window
imploding on the far side of the car.
‘Stop shooting. My daughter is in the car,’ I called.
‘Then get the hell outta here.’
‘We can’t. We haven’t got any gas.’
‘Not my problem.’
I heard a thump followed by the bang of wood upon wood and peered through
the car to see that Tyreese had kicked in the front door and entered the house.
‘You okay, Chrissie?’
‘Mommy,’ she replied pleadingly.
I moved to the driver’s door and tried the handle. ‘You need to unlock
the door, Honey.’
I saw her pale hand grasp the button and pull it up. Opening the door, I found
her scrambling over the shift with Ollie clasped to her chest. I reached in, drawing
her too me and out of the Falcon. Knocking the door shut with my elbow, I leant
against the side of the car with my Chrissie held close.
‘Are you hurt?’ I asked, looking her over and stroking hair from her
face.
She looked at me with tearful eyes and shook her head.
Another shot sounded from within the house.
‘Tyreese?’ I called.
The only answer was the sound of the wind in the trees and steady stream
of traffic moving south along the main street.
‘Ty?’
‘I’m okay,’ came his response. ‘We’re coming out.’
I raised myself up a little and peered over at the front door. A few
moments later Tyreese came into view carrying the shotgun, an old man wearing
blue coveralls and with a face-full of white beard walking ahead of him with
his hands on his head.
With Chrissie’s arms wrapped tightly around my waist, I straightened and
watched as they went over to the station wagon. Tyreese stepped to the fuel cap
and unlocked it, the keys now in his possession.
‘You got a length of tubing?’
‘Are you going to shoot me?’ asked the man, who was looking nervously
over at the Falcon.
Tyreese looked at him in surprise. ‘No, we just need some gas.’
‘But I killed your man there.’
He looked to the car. Bob’s head was in plain sight where the glass had
smashed, shards glittering dully in his hair and the side of his face shredded
by shot. ‘It’s your lucky day,’ he said coldly, turning back to the old man,
who looked at him quizzically. ‘He was already dead.’
‘Really?’
‘Why would I lie about a thing like that?’
Relief showed in the man’s expression.
Tyreese looked at him expectantly. ‘Tubing?’ he reminded.
The old man stroked his beard thoughtfully for a moment. ‘In the shed,’
he stated.
‘And a gas can?’
He nodded.
‘We’ll get them together,’ stated Tyreese, indicating for the man to lead
the way with a wave of the shotgun.
They walked along the side of the house and vanished from sight at the
rear. I looked down at the top of Chrissie’s head and absently stroked her hair
while glancing around the street. There was no sign of anyone else, most of the
neighbourhood apparently having been abandoned, like the rest of the town.
‘When will we get home?’
I looked back down to find Chrissie staring back up at me with sad eyes. ‘As
soon as we can.’
‘My head aches,’ she stated.
I crouched and put the back of my hand to her forehead. It was hot and
clammy. ‘How long have you been feeling this way?’
‘Only for a little bit.’
‘Are you feeling sick?’
She shook her head. ‘It’s just my head,’ she replied, stroking Ollie’s
mop of brown hair, the handmade toy acting like a Linus blanket, bringing her a
sense of comfort and security.
I looked over to the house as I heard the men returning, seeing the old
man lead the way back to the wagon carrying a length of tubing and a red gas
can.
‘Now siphon the gas,’ instructed Tyreese, holding the shotgun in
threatening readiness, a deep blue dust sheet slung over his shoulder.
I watched as the old man pushed the tube into the tank and then took the
other end to his mouth. Opening the driver’s door of the Falcon, I reached over
to the far side and grabbed hold of the carryall, dragging it onto the seat
before me.
‘What you doing, Mommy?’
‘Getting some tablets for your head,’ I replied, unzipping the side pouch
and finding some standard headache pills. Searching out the bottle of water
from the main compartment, I then pushed one through its foil seal and dropped
it onto her palm as Chrissie held out her hand.
She took the tablet with a mouthful of the liquid and I forced a thin
smile. ‘You’ll be feeling better in no time,’ I said, brushing my fingers
through her dark fringe.
She nodded as I took the bottle back from her and placed it and the
packet of tablets back into the bag. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll be setting off again
soon.’
‘Do you think we’ll make it back?’
I was taken aback by her forthright question and stared at her for a
moment as I tried to think of a suitable answer. I didn’t want to lie to her,
but neither did I want to scare her. It was a balance hard to strike in a world
gone mad and reduced to survival.
‘I don’t see why not,’ I replied, my answer the best I could think of in
the circumstances.
‘All set,’ stated Tyreese as he came round the trunk of the car, giving
me a start as I looked back at him.
‘I’ve told him to stay out front until we’re gone,’ he said as he leant
the shotgun against the Falcon and opened the cap. Lifting the gas can, he
began to empty the contents into the tank, looking over the roof of the car as
he kept a wary eye on the old man.
‘There wasn’t much in his tank, but it should be enough to get us back to
Burlington.’
I nodded. ‘Why are you carrying a sheet?’
‘Bob,’ he replied simply.
I understood without need of anymore words and was grateful he’d thought
to find something with which to cover the body, especially now that it had been
mutilated by the shotgun blast. Bob’s presence was a constant reminder of my
loss and the atrocity I’d committed on the roadside. I didn’t want to think
about either, wanted to keep my mind as focussed on the moment as possible in
order to avoid confronting both things.
I swallowed as I felt my chest constrict and emotions rise. I refused to
think about Bob’s death. I couldn’t afford to mourn, not yet. I had to
concentrate on getting Chrissie to safety, then and only then could I give in
to the urge to break down, to give in to the grief of my husband’s passing.
We’d been
travelling almost three hours and it was early in the evening as we approached Albany.
Our speed was steady and I was riding shotgun in the cab of the parade float at
the front of the convoy, Dodge driving. The school buses followed next with a
line of fifteen cars to the rear. I knew that the effects of the drugs would be
wearing off and was grateful that we were nearing the first intended stop-off.
‘Isn’t that?’ asked Dodge was we neared a coach parked up at the side of
the interstate.
I nodded. ‘One of Chief Brody’s coaches,’ I confirmed, seeing that a
couple of the windows on the near side were boarded up and spying no evidence
of activity around the vehicle.
‘Must have broken down or run out of fuel,’ I stated. We’d already passed
a number of other vehicles abandoned at the roadside, but had seen no trace of other
people on the highway apart from a couple in a black Cadillac that had sped
past with its horn blaring, as if being chased by the Devil himself.
‘Should we check it out?’
I shook my head. ‘We need to get to Albany and set up for the night.’
‘I thought it was just a brief stop-over.’
‘We need to find some more pure bloods and by the time they’ve made their
sacrifice it’ll be dark.’
‘How are we going to find them?’
I stared out of the windshield at the empty road, the Lord already having
provided me with the inspiration for what I’d do at Albany. ‘How do you feel
about taking a stand?’
Dodge glanced at me questioningly.
‘We’ll set up camp outside the city. You take the float around the streets
and announce that we have the answer, that we have the cure and know a safe
place to go. Let them know we’re south on the interstate.’
‘You think they’ll come?’ he asked doubtfully.
I smiled at him. ‘The Lord will bring them. When they’ve gathered at the
camp we’ll put on a show and do what needs to be done in His name. While you’re
passing through the streets, I’m going to head into the city with Shane and the
Chang brothers.’
‘Who’s going to drive the float?’
‘Someone you trust.’
‘Jacqui,’ he stated without hesitation.
‘There!’ I pointed at a field ahead to the right, a series of four thin
masts rising from the hedgerow behind it set at regular intervals. ‘That’s
where we’ll make ready. When you’re on the float you can announce that we’re
set up by the line of masts.’
‘How far do you reckon to Albany?’
‘Maybe a couple of clicks, at the most,’ I replied as Dodge slowed the
float and put on the indicator.
‘Why don’t we just go in and set up on a park somewhere?’
‘We don’t want hordes of people to arriving, just enough for us to
handle. Besides, out here we control things. Who knows what it’s like in the
city?’
‘And you want me to stand on the back on this thing. I’ll be a moving
target,’ he glanced at me worriedly as he pulled off onto the grass and drove
towards the line of bushes that marked the field’s boundary beyond the verge.
‘Oh ye of little faith,’ I responded.
Dodge frowned. ‘My faith would be stronger if I had a bullet-proof vest
or something.’
I laughed. ‘I’ll see what I can find, but I know the Lord will watch over
you.’
‘Faith’s all well and good, but I’ve ain’t never heard of it stopping
bullets,’ he grumbled as the front of the float pushed through the hedge and
the flattened bushes scraped along the bottom of the cab.
‘I am the Voice of God and he speaks through me. No harm will come to
you.’
Dodge didn’t respond as he pulled over to the right and brought the
vehicle to a halt. He looked through the window by his shoulder to see the
others pulling up in a row beside. The people in the near bus were looking
fragile and I knew the intake of drug-tainted blood couldn’t come too soon if I
was going to keep my hold on the group.
‘I’ll go and let people know what’s happening,’ I stated, opening the door
and jumping down to the ripening corn, the garbage bag that had been stowed by
my feet in my hand. ‘I’ll send Jacqui over, but don’t head off until the tables
have been taken off the float. If I’m not back by the time you return, park up
alongside the hedge,’ I added, glancing over my shoulder at the southern boundary
of the field.
Shutting the door as Dodge nodded, I walked around the front of the cab
and headed on over to the first of the buses, Shane opening the side door and
looking at me from behind the wheel.
‘What’s going on Rev?’ he asked as I stepped up to the door.
‘You and the Changs are coming with me into Albany,’ I replied as I
stepped up and looked to those gathered on the seats. ‘We’re stopping here for
the night,’ I called out.
‘Why are we feeling sick again?’ asked Clive from the rear.
‘You said you had the cure,’ said Bud.
‘Think of it like a transfusion,’ I stated, regurgitating what I’d
already told my small posse of disciples. ‘You’ve only had a taste of the pure
blood and need more to replace the poisoned blood within your veins.’
‘More?’
I nodded. ‘And the good Lord will provide.’
I scanned the faces. ‘Mark, Cheryl, could you set up the foldaway tables?
See if you can rustle up enough food for everyone here, along with some
guests.’
‘Guests,’ asked Cheryl from midway on the right, her jaw tight as she
struggled to fight off growing nausea.
‘There will be pure bloods coming from the city and they will make the
ultimate sacrifice so that we can go on, so that we can survive,’ I expanded.
‘Clive, you and a couple of the other men go over to the float and fetch
down the tables.’
He nodded, his hanging jowls wobbling slightly with the motion. ‘Lenny, Venito,’
he said as he got to his feet, two other men rising and the three of them
making their way down the aisle and off the bus.
‘The rest of you, if help is needed, please provide it. If not, then take
this time to rest up.’
I turned to Shane. ‘I’ll take the wheel. You go over to David and Wade
and tell them to follow and park up in a semi-circle behind.’
He slipped out from the driver’s seat and began down the steps.
‘Oh, and find a small group to take a couple of cars into the city in
search of more gas,’ I added.
‘Sure thing,’ he replied over his shoulder as he moved through the corn
and passed around the front.
I watched him go to each of the other buses in turn before moving on to
the cars beyond. David raised his thumb and I nodded my response.
Starting the engine, I led off, moving over to the left once I’d cleared
the others and then drawing the bus back over to the right when I neared the
other side of the field, bringing it to a stop at an angle. I watched out of
the open door as David and his brother brought the other vehicles to a stop and
smiled when Wade backed up a little before angling his bus as the perfect
mirror of mine, the semi-circle we’d created facing the southern end and bisecting
the field.
‘Mark, you and Cheryl flatten down the corn and set up the tables
alongside the middle bus,’ I said as I turned off the ignition, glancing at him
in the rear-view and receiving a nod of acknowledgement. ‘Our guests will
probably start arriving before I’m back, so be sure to make them feel welcome,’
I added with a grin.