(Book 2)What Remains (30 page)

“The range is only a few miles, right?”

“Three or four, I think.”

The vibrations I felt in the walls changed, we
were slowing down. A loud crinkle of the map let me know that our
deceleration was from Sarah examining the map. “If this old thing
is correct then we’ll be on the Blue Ridge Parkway in a just a few
minutes. The road is narrower and not nearly as straight so I’m
planning on playing it safe with the speed. When we reach Fancy Gap
we might be close enough to try the radio. Thirty minutes, maybe
less.”

Blue Ridge Parkway had a reputation for being a
scenic route. I couldn’t attest to the scenery from the back of the
mail truck, but I did feel the twists and turns. The three of us
made a game out of guessing which direction the centrifugal pull
would be next. Two more collisions with infected road hazards came
in quick succession of each other.

“More speed bumps?” I timidly called.

“Yup. Couldn’t avoid them.”

I think Maddox read between the lines.
Thankfully Calise didn’t seem to catch on. The second hit felt
hard, enough for me to be concerned. “How is the truck after that
speed bump?”

“It’s fine. We’re still okay. Did you know the
wiper fluid works even with the fencing on there? Amazing,
really.”

I stifled a laugh. Maddox confirmed he was onto
us while supporting his place as a smart ass. “Can you believe they
put speed bumps out on the main road like that? I think someone is
playing a joke.”

“Here comes Fancy Gap. Go on, sweetheart. Give
the radio a try.”

The little red light flashed as I twisted the
volume knob. Both kids hovered above me eager to hear a line of
communication with their grandparents. While holding the black
walkie talkie in front of them I advised, “Don’t talk over me. Got
it? Weeks have passed since I gave the radio to Grandpa. We don’t
know that they will even have it on.”

“Sweetie, stay positive,” Sarah said. “There’s
no point to that. We’ll try to call them and if that doesn’t work
we will still be there really, really soon. So it doesn’t matter
one way or another.”

Unconsciously I rolled my eyes. Maddox spotted
it and snickered. “Mommy is right, I’m sorry for being negative.
Let’s give it a try.”

I pressed the transmit button. “Dad? Mom? It’s
us. Are you there?” The light cut off. We waited on pins and
needles but there was no response.

Insightfully, Maddox suggested, “Is it on the
right channel? They won’t hear you if it’s not.”

It was on channel three, the one we had used
more recently for close-to-home communications. I clicked it over
to channel four since that was the one I had originally used back
when the walkies were nothing more than a paranoid purchase.
Although I couldn’t remember it clearly, I felt fairly confident
that the one I handed my dad was also on four.

After displaying it for the keenly observant boy
at my side, I tried again. “Hello? Can you guys hear me?” Again we
heard nothing back.

“Why won’t Grandma or Grandpa answer?” Calise
inquired timidly.

“I wish I knew, baby girl. Could be that their
batteries died. It doesn’t matter because we’ll see them really,
really soon.”

I triple checked that the light was on when the
transmit button was depressed, then I made a final try. “Not sure
if you can hear me, but we’re coming. All four of us will be there
really soon. We’re in a funny looking mail truck - can’t miss
us.”

“No luck?” Sarah called from up front.

The worried little girl beat me to it. “Their
batteries died, Mommy.”

“Don’t worry, sweetie. We’ll be there in no time
at all. I promise.” Both kids beamed at Sarah’s comforting words.
“Daddy, if you’re feeling up to it, I’ll want you up here when we
are close to the turn.”

“Alright, sweetheart.” I turned to the kids.
“Most of our stuff will stay in the car until tomorrow. Get your
personal backpacks ready with anything you took out. I doubt we’ll
come back to the truck today so keep that in mind with what you’re
bringing. Later tonight I’m not going to tolerate any sob stories
about something you left out here.”

Calise grabbed hold of her kitties like her life
depended on it. Maddox nonchalantly returned three books to the
zippered pack. The difference between the two of them was
astounding. My boy had gone from a little boy to a teenager in the
span of a week.

“One last thing,” I cautioned, “watch the noise.
Of course we’re all happy to be there. I miss Grandma and Grandpa
as much as you two so I understand you’ll be excited. However,
noise can draw the monsters. That’s a lesson you have to remember
whenever you’re outside until I say otherwise. Got it?”

With us all on the same page I wobbled my way up
to the front to see where we were. I leaned against the rack
holding some of my gear and the shotgun to examine the map. We were
close, very close. I could see the road open up ahead for an
overpass.

“I think that’s the highway overpass your dad
talked about. The turn is coming up right after, correct?” I could
hear the anxiousness in my wife’s tone. Like the rest of us, she
was very eager to have this exodus a thing of the past.

I’d only been to the farm once, and I wasn’t the
one who drove here. On one of the early trips my dad took after
they bought the property I was volunteered to join him. He had to
make sure the previous owners had left the place intact before
signing the paperwork. Their real estate agent swore that it was in
‘suitable condition’ for the price they were paying. Unwilling to
settle for a description that sounded like the lady said it in
quotation marks, he had to qualify it with his own eyes. Dad’s
always been like that, the cautious one.

I strained to remember that rainy day two years
ago when we drove here. We talked the entire way down about life,
career choices, the need to finish college, money management, and
the other topics that a good father has the right to pester about
when his children are in their thirties. I regretted that I
resorted then to retreating within myself in order for my sanity to
survive the day. As I attempted to recall the details of that trip,
I knew nothing would have made me happier than to have him lecture
me again.

A frustrated grumble left my lips. Sarah raised
an eyebrow, probably not expecting that kind of response to her
question. “Sorry, babe. I don’t really remember. My dad was driving
and it was raining. I didn’t pay as much attention as I should
have. At the time I probably thought I’d never have a vacation from
police headquarters long enough to come down here.”

We wheeled over a high overpass. Every one we
came across on this drive could be classified into a spectrum with
two sides. Beneath it was either a sea of cars with their undead
owners or an eerie absence of activity all together. This one fell
into the latter category; underneath it was a vacated enough to
wonder if the road was open before the world ended. Considering
this would be our last highway to drive over, I was relieved to see
the roadway close to our final destination wasn’t a major artery
for the infection.

“I think that’s it!” Sarah excitedly announced.
Her finger extended towards a tiny road that I could have been
missed with an unfortunately timed blink.

There was no street sign, no indication that
this turn would lead us to anything at all. It veered off next to a
solitary oak tree through an open field that bordered a dense tree
line. Although it looked felt familiar, the intense pounding in my
temples made me second guess everything. I pulled the map closer to
my face, intensely scanned every detail for confirmation before
speaking. “Yeah... Yeah I’m pretty sure it is! The turn for the
farm should be over there at the start of the woods.”

“Hold on, babies,” Sarah called back. “This will
probably get bumpy. I want both of you on one of those wall
handles. I’m not turning until you tell me you’re ready.”

“I’m all set, Mommy,” Maddox answered.

Calise giddily replied, “Me too Mommy. My
kitties are ready too.”

A laugh simultaneously echoed from everyone but
Calise. Her persistently adorable qualities were a cherished
highlight in any tense situation. Sarah eased the wheel over for
the rocky turn. Everything shifted towards the left then slowly
switched to pull to the right as the new road veered again towards
the wooded area ahead.

“Daddy, it’s really bumpy!” Calise cried. “It’s
hurting my tummy.”

Sarah glanced back at me with a look of worry.
“Will it be like this for long? We made it two hundred and thirty
miles without anyone getting car sick. After a thousand stalled
cars, psychos, and zombie speed bumps this is what does her
in?”

I tried to hold back my laughter. “Just ahead.
See where the trees thicken? The road forks up there. According to
the map we’re supposed to hang left. That road will go past another
farm then finally ends at my parents’ place way down.”

“Hang in there, baby girl,” Sarah said. “We’re
close but the road is going to be bumpy for a few minutes. After
that we’ll be there so try to stay strong. Monkey, do you have any
gum you can give your sister to help her tummy?”

The loud foil crinkling from a blister pack of
gum could be heard. “It’s okay, Calise,” he said. “Chew this piece
of gum and you’ll feel much better. Grandma and Grandpa are going
to be really proud of how much of a big girl you’ve been. I’m proud
of you too.”

Sarah and I exchanged proud smiles. I felt
confident that our family wouldn’t have made it this far if it
wasn’t for our amazing children; it was safe to assume that my
bride was thinking the same thing. Our attention realigned to the
front as we passed through the tree line. A minute later we saw the
fork in the road.

“There it is,” I said pointing to the space.
“Hang to the left. If we miss it and go right then I’m not sure how
easily we’ll be able to turn around without going up the way to
another house.”

The trees were dense. Lots of pine and holly
trees occupied the outer line of the wooded expanse. It created a
natural wall that made this place all the more perfect for long
term survival. In the spring I imagine the fork in the road would
become even easier to miss once the seasonal trees regained their
foliage.

Sarah slowed as she guided the wheel to the
left. Then she slammed on the brakes shouting, “
HOLD
ON!
”

Some expletive escaped my mouth and I jerked
forward into the dashboard. Screams came from the back where the
kids hopefully had a good hold of the handles that had been
installed in place of seat belts. 522 had just enough speed to
slightly fishtail when Sarah slammed on the brakes.

“Everyone in one piece?” I called out. Shaken
replies came from all three of them. Fragile nerves were shaken but
no one was hurt. If we had been going faster injuries would have
been unavoidable.

“Did your dad mention a damned roadblock?” Sarah
angrily said, offering her middle finger towards the obstacle
ahead.

“I don’t know what the hell this is, hon. I’ll
go make an opening big enough for the truck to squeeze
through.”

“Let’s just drive through it! I don’t want you
going out there.”

“Come on, Sarah. We’re practically in their
driveway. If my dad put this out here then he probably wouldn’t
want us flattening it with the truck. When was the last time you
saw one of the infected? There hasn’t been one for at least two
miles that we could see. Even if one happens to be out there then
I’m not going to let it stand in the way of us getting to the
house.”

She folded without a fight. “Go. If a bear comes
after you then poke it with your damn sword.” She unbuckled and
moved to the middle so I’d have room to scoot by.

With a quick kiss I said, “Sarcastic to the
bitter end. That’s one of the reasons I married you.”

She stuck her tongue out, like any adult would
in a dire situation. “Such a smart ass. And you wonder where the
boy gets it?”

A second later my boots landed on the gravel of
the street. I was struck by how remarkably quiet it was in those
woods. Grinding pebbles beneath my boots was the loudest thing my
ears could detect other than the loyal hum of the modified vehicle
that brought us there. The winds that brought a lick of winter
weather to our region the day before had long since dissipated into
a faint breeze. Snow cover had diminished much like the winds,
leaving trace highlights of white around the forest floor’s most
shaded spots.

I slowly walked to the roadblock that had
stopped us so abruptly. It was comprised of a line of seven metal
trashcans. This waist-high line stretched between two trees that
were so perfectly paralleled on each side that a gate could have
been affixed between to block the single lane road. On the other
sides of the two trees was a prickly expanse of holly thick enough
to make skirting around the road an uncomfortable endeavor for
anyone in their right mind.

When I got closer I started to think that there
was more to this barrier than just trash cans. That was confirmed
when I lifted the rusted top off the fourth barrel in the center. A
chain ran straight through the can, then beneath it the thing was a
third of the way full with muddy gravel.

“What the hell, Dad?” I muttered aloud.

I examined the side where it brushed up against
its neighboring canisters. The chain that went through the interior
also connected to the other ones. From end to end, a long chain was
strung through like a giant fucked up charm bracelet. Each end of
the chain looped around the border trees and was secured by a
combination padlock. I tried to test the tensile strength of the
entire concoction by pulling the fourth can towards the truck. It
didn’t budge more than an inch but as it did the entire thing
rattled loudly through every metal component. I cringed as the
brief clatter echoed through the otherwise silent forest.