Chapter 21
Several days passed before Jonathan returned to work, staring at hundreds of papers, most of which were useless. The rest of his time was spent wondering what he was doing with his life. He realized he didn’t let Emalynn go, because he didn’t go after her in the first place, and the worst feeling was knowing that he should have.
His father had urged him to attend church, and this is the reason why. It would be easier to tell himself she went on to a better place, but Jonathan could not believe that. The pain from losing this girl, someone he had barely known, was almost unbearable. Suicide never crossed his mind but he thought about giving up and accepting his life as it is. To just live as a lone survivor seemed simple to Jonathan. It was obvious to him now that Roger had it figured out.
He knew that would be selfish, though, as there were people counting on him, so he kept reading. The acidic paste he had created was as strong as it would become. He had tested it on a few things lying around, but wanted to test it on the undead flesh.
Guillermo and Deacon had gone out the day after Emalynn’s death, and brought back a dark green Toyota Tundra. They needed something a little larger than the BMW to work with, and the four door pickup with a lift kit and thirty-five inch tires was a bit excessive, yet Deacon found it too beautiful to pass up. Jonathan’s plan to leave, however, wouldn’t require such a large vehicle.
The truck was fitted with a cage in the bed, made from stainless steel pipes they found in a small maintenance shop just a few blocks away. Pipes were welded to the frame and run through the truck’s body. Some of these pipes were welded to spots that would protect the body from impact. The cage weighed the truck down quite a bit, but luckily the powerful engine barely noticed.
Deacon’s craftsmanship came through when he fabricated a plow that resembled what old trains had on the front of them. Jonathan recalled reading that train engineers referred to them as “cow catchers”. This would serve the purpose of clearing the road of fiends and other debris, reducing time spent out of the vehicle clearing the path. It would also push sharp objects away to protect the large tires.
“Wow! That looks amazing,” Jonathan said excitedly at the sight of the Tundra. The big truck brought a smile to his long-frowning face.
“Thanks, mate.” This complement made Deacon feel overly pleased with himself.
“Can you do that to the BMW?” asked Jonathan.
“I can do this to anything. I would hate to butcher that beaut though. Why would you want it done to the BMW?”
“Well,” Jonathan started, glancing down and away, “we need to talk about something.”
Both men shared a look of concern and confusion. “What’s the problem?” Guillermo asked.
“There is no problem. It is just that I have to move along.” Deacon and Guillermo both stared blankly at Jonathan as they took in what he said. “Basically, I am leaving.”
“Right. You’ve already talked about this. Here’s my questions: first, where are we going to go, and second, what’s the plan?” Deacon asked.
“I am going to head for the Midwest. Iowa to be exact, as I have said many times it was the last place my mom and brother were before this all went down. I would like to try and find out what happened to them. I want you to come with me, Guillermo. Deacon, you need to stay here with Sophia and the twins.”
“What the hell, mate?” Deacon jumped down off the tailgate of the big truck. “I’ve been here for you since you took us in. I owe you. You can’t make me stay here while you two go out there.” He pointed beyond the wall. The pain was visible on his face.
“You do not owe me anything. You have followed me through shit that most people would never even want to hear about. You have the most important job of all. You need to look after Sophia and the kids.”
“So you leave me behind like the weak little boy. Too damn small to fight, so I get the ‘important job’ of guarding the fort,” His voice was raised, yet he wasn’t quite yelling, and judging by the look on his face he would burst with rage. His muscles bulged slightly, and Jonathan couldn’t help but think it was to prove a point.
Jonathan felt awful, but he knew it would be for the best. “I need you Deacon. I truly do, but Sophia needs you even more. Andy and Amie need a father. Someone who can protect them and make sure they grow up healthy and strong. That is important in this world, now more than ever,” Jonathan put his hand on Deacon’s shoulder.
Deacon nodded his head in agreement. He could not argue with that, and he wanted nothing more than to settle down and have a family with Sophia. “You sure are wise for someone so young. If I find out you two had a totally awesome adventure, I’m kicking both of your asses,” and without another word, Deacon stormed into the garage.
“It’s for the best,” Jonathan said glancing to Guillermo, more to reassure himself than anything.
“I agree. Besides, the more of us that go out there, the more of us there are to be eaten.” Guillermo patted Jonathan on the back as he said this.
“Thanks.” Jonathan sat on the tailgate next to Guillermo. Several minutes passed before he finally moved. Returning to work, Jonathan let all his other worries slip away. He knew Deacon would be fine. Guillermo would be, also. These guys were his family, and he would go down fighting before he would let them be harmed. The one thing he regretted most in his life was standing by while his father was taken from him. Coming in at a close second, falling in love with Emalynn and letting her slip away, but that’s all in the past.
As the sun rose the next morning, Jonathan sat at the table reading over more of the research documents. Nothing he read so far was new to him. For years now companies had been growing organs in labs. They have also been taken out of people, cleaned out on a cellular level, and prepared for a new body.
What did surprise him, however, was reading that BCRC had actually regrown body parts on living humans. Never an arm or leg, but on a few occasions they were successful in the regrowth of ears, fingers, and toes. One document tells of an instance of fully re-growing a tongue.
Why was this not headline news?
he thought.
It seems weird that they did not make this widely known. I imagine news like this would have brought in fresh research grants.
He was correct in assuming that Greg Taylor had taken notes regarding Sam. Greg referred to the boy as a “Specimen”. Probably to keep anyone who may read these notes from knowing exactly what he was talking about. Jonathan couldn’t help but notice that in most cases the ‘s’ in sample was capitalized, which made him wonder if it was to keep the boy’s name in use.
“Do you ever sleep?” Guillermo asked as he walked in from the garage.
“I try. Never seems to happen anymore,” Jonathan said with a smile.
“Deacon should be in any minute. He is about finished with your car.”
“Already?” Jonathan was amazed by how fast Deacon works. He had heard them out in the garage welding and hammering. “I would like to grab a couple of gas cans if we can find them, five gallons each or larger. Maybe we can syphon some gas out of the gas station’s tanks. We’ll need as much as we can carry to get us started.”
“I still can’t believe you assholes are going to leave me here,” Deacon hollered as he walked through the door. He wiped oil off of his right arm with a rag, and his mood had improved since yesterday. “I found a few spare oil filters your ol’ man must have picked up, along with some oil. The Beemer should be good for a cross country trip.”
“Thank you for all your work. Both of you,” Jonathan said sincerely. “I also would like to apologize. The BCRC trip seems to have been a bust. Although there is plenty of interesting things in these documents, there is nothing that will help me understand this. It is truly a freak accident that caused it, or at least it seems for now.”
“No harm in trying, mate. Besides, we killed a whole bunch of fiends, got to shoot the hell out of things, and had a pretty spectacular time.” Deacon almost always looked on the bright side of facing the fiends.
“Here is the plan so far,” Jonathan began. “We are heading to the gas station where I am hoping we can get enough gas to fill up several cans. I am not sure how easy gas will be to find out on the road or how good any of it will be. We will take the truck so we can bring back any extra supplies we can come across.”
“That’s it?” Deacon asked. “I really expected something a bit more exciting. You know, like, ‘Hey guys, today we are going to fight off a hundred fiends as they rise out of the ground in an old cemetery.’” Deacon said the last part in an upbeat impression of Jonathan.
“I’m tired of exciting,” Guillermo exclaimed. “I just want a quiet life from here on out, so let’s not do anything exciting, get the gas, find your family, bring them back, and never go out there again.”
“I doubt it will be that easy.” Jonathan turned to Deacon, “Also, fiends do not rise out of the cemetery. The people there could probably be considered lucky.”
Deacon gave Jonathan a sarcastic look before saying, “Let’s mount up and move out then, mates. We haven’t got all day.”
Deacon climbed into the driver’s seat of the large truck while Guillermo took the passenger’s seat. Jonathan climbed into the cage in the bed where he sat on a bucket seat they had taken out of the neighbors car and bolted down. Several rifle cases and ammo boxes were back there, also, as well as four empty five gallon gas cans that had been emptied over the last few months. He would be able to shoot in any direction while inside the safety of the cage.
“This is great,” Deacon said enthusiastically. “It’s like I’m Han Solo, and you’re Chewy,” Deacon said as he looked at Guillermo with a smile.
“I have a cousin named Chuy. At least, I
had
a cousin named Chuy,” Guillermo said flatly. He enjoyed Chuy’s stories about how he would drink tequila, fight thirty guys at once, and then kiss all of their girlfriends before walking away unharmed. He really hoped that he was still alive.
“Awesome,” Deacon said to himself. He started the engine and rolled toward the gate.
The gate slid open and the big Tundra rumbled through. The block was clear for the most part. A few fiends could be seen roaming about further out into the town, however. Deacon looked into the rearview mirror and watched as the gate shut behind him. He could see Jonathan sitting vigilantly on a bucket seat, rifle in his lap.
As Jonathan sat facing the rear, he watched his home shrink into the distance. They had turned a corner before it could shrink completely. The fiends out in the street turned to follow them as they drove past, but none could keep up with the truck despite their cruising speed.
“You mind if we drive past my place once? I just want to see it again,” Guillermo asked. The work was not easy, between running the business and doing the landscaping, yet he loved every second of it.
“Tell me where to go. We can stop if you want. I’ll go in with you.” Deacon only knew these guys for a short while, but he would gladly follow them to hell and back. Friendship meant everything to the former firefighter, as he knew all too well that friends were closer than most families.
Chapter 22
Smoke drifted lightly into the sky from behind the garage that Guillermo used for his landscaping business. Although he knew he couldn’t find much use in the building now, his heart leapt into his throat at the thought of it being on fire. It was not on fire, however, as he noticed upon pulling up next to it.
“What’s going on here?” Guillermo asked, more to himself then Deacon, as he knew Deacon would know just as much as he did at this point.
“The smoke is coming from the yard around back,” Deacon pointed out.
The truck stopped, and Deacon put the transmission in park. All three of them looked around, examining the area before anyone could step out. Jonathan lifted a small hatch on the top of the cage and climbed up for a better view.
“Looks clear,” he said to the others.
“Let’s do this,” Deacon said as he opened his door.
Guillermo stood in front of his garage. The Alvarez Landscaping sign hung proudly over the door to the small office. Most of his work day was spent on a job somewhere, so having a cozy office wasn’t important to him. Besides, he used his cell phone for his company, allowing him to do the full extent of his job from anywhere.
“It feels good to be here again,” he said. Guillermo missed this place. His eyes began to water, but he held back the tears. His business was thriving before this all happened, and now he would never know how far he could have taken it. He never wanted to be a rich man, yet he wouldn’t have complained about it, either.
“Let’s head around back to see what’s burning,” Deacon said. “Jonathan, let us know if you see anything. We’re not going far.”
The smell of burning flesh wafted past their nostrils with the breeze. Deacon and Guillermo looked to each other, both unsure of what this meant. They slowed their movement and crept along the wall of the garage. Guillermo had taken the lead, as he felt it was his responsibility.
As he looked around the corner of the building into the yard he saw a small pile of burnt bodies. He estimated between fifteen and twenty all together. From the looks of them, they were burned last night. Glancing quickly around the yard, Guillermo confirmed that whoever had done this was gone now.
“Someone’s cleaning up the neighborhood?” Guillermo wondered out loud. After examining the bodies, he felt confident they had been fiends and were not other survivors.
“There must be another group close by,” Deacon suggested. “Do you think they could still be around?”
“Well, I’m no tracker, but it doesn’t look like anyone was here for very long,” Guillermo responded. He moved around the yard looking for any obvious signs of who was here or where they may have gone.
Deacon walked back around to the front of the garage and told Jonathan what they found and that they believe there is another group of survivors. As Jonathan thought about this, he found that he was rather excited to think there could be others close by. This increased the chances of his family surviving. It also increased the possibility of survival of the entire human race.
He was always pretty sure that if they managed to survive then others must have as well, but this would just confirm that. Jonathan began to think about what could be accomplished by a small group of survivors. A portion of the town could be blocked off and cleared out, allowing lives to be rebuilt; as their community grew they could expand the blockade. Jobs could be established to provide food and clothing.
Upon returning to the truck, Guillermo tossed one bag of fertilizer and two bags of fresh soil in the bed. He had done wonders with the small garden in the basement greenhouse already, and looked to do so much more. Thanks to Guillermo, the plants were producing more in terms of both quantity and quality.
Deacon dropped off one more bag of fertilizer and various seeds and gardening tools, as well. He was happy to do some labor again. Of all the things he missed, working with his hands was at the top of that list. Working on the truck and Jonathan’s car was like a blessing to him. “Just what the doctor ordered,” he had said on several occasions before flipping his welding hood back down in front of his face or firing up a cutting torch.
“Could you guys see anything from up in the apartment?” Jonathan asked.
“Someone was up there. Not really sure how they found the place unless they knew about it. None of the plants survived, so I doubt they found much to live off of. They probably only camped out for a day or two. Just long enough to pile up a few bodies and hit the road again. We couldn’t really see any signs life out in the city from up there,” Deacon explained.
“Roger?” Jonathan asked, hoping to hear that there were signs that he was alright.
“Perhaps. It was a small group if it was more than one person. If it was Roger, and I assume he is the only one who would know to go up there, then it is safe to say he’s surely still in town,” Deacon responded once more. “Moving on.”
“Was there any gas here?” Jonathan asked.
“No, sorry. With a gas station a few blocks away, I never really kept gas here. Just a few empty cans,” Guillermo responded.
The Tundra fired up, and Guillermo looked at his garage. Deep down he hoped he never saw it again, but on the other hand he hoped he did. Most of all, he hoped it would be of use to someone someday.
They rolled into the gas station and pulled around back to where the tanks were filled. A couple of fiends wandered the parking lot and moved sluggishly toward them. Climbing out of the cage and dropping to the concrete, Jonathan turned and grabbed his gas siphon pump and an empty can.
“Don’t fire your weapons. It’s only a few of them. We should wait until they get around the side of the building and out of view of the street. Take them out silently,” Deacon suggested.
After pulling the cap off of one of the gasoline tanks, Jonathan began pumping the flammable liquid into the can. The manual pump resembled a bicycle tire pump. The gas was sucked up into the tube, and then pushed out into the gas can with each motion.
Deacon and Guillermo took care of the fiends as they came along. Only the ones that saw them drive back there came around. Alone, or in small groups, the fiends were easy to handle. The two men did check periodically around the corners to make sure a large group wouldn’t walk back by chance, but for the most part they tried to stay out of view.
With their gas cans filled and put away into the truck, the group decided to check inside of the gas station for supplies. The building was dark and dusty. Most of the shelves had been emptied. Guillermo had said that he was in here a few times himself scavenging. Their needs now were different, though, and with different needs came a new perspective on what is useful.
While scanning the empty candy bar rack, Deacon said, “This is awful. Not a single Take 5.”
Thump
…
thump
… The guys ducked behind the isles while trying to maintain a full view of the room. Guillermo snuck around into the isle where Jonathan was. He slowly lifted his head up over the shelf and looked to Deacon, who pointed at the cooler door directly across from him with a huge smile on his face.
Thump
…
thump
.
On the other side of the glass door was a fiend trapped in the cooler. He was bloody and rotting, as they all are. His right side was split open from the combination of his rotting flesh and the pressure caused by being smashed between the door and the drink racks. There was not much room to move, but he was able to lightly pound his fist on the glass.
After a look around, Deacon confirmed that the rest of the store was clear, and Jonathan and Guillermo followed him up to the glass. Deacon tapped lightly on the glass where the fiend’s face was pressed up against it. He seemed to be enjoying seeing the dead man like this.
A mop was pushed through the handle of the cooler door, running along several other handles to keep it shut. A thick brown film lined the inside of the glass around the fiend.
Thump
. He continued to hit the glass with his fist. The moans he let out were muffled, and the skin on his face rubbing against the glass created a squeaking sound.
“He must’ve been forced in there,” Guillermo observed. “He wouldn’t have just fit himself in there like that.”
“It is damn funny,” Deacon said. The smile on his face had not faded.
“Yeah. It kind of is pretty funny,” Jonathan expressed as his own smile spread. “I wonder if it was the same people that are piling them up.”
“Too bad the power is out. How much more funny would this be if he was all shivering in there?” Deacon added with a hearty laugh.
Jonathan and Guillermo both laughed with him. The three of them really need this, a time to laugh right in the face of the problems of the world. The horribly grotesque man behind the glass tried to move his arms, but it was too cramped for him to do much more then slide his hands around at about chest height.
“It would be even funnier if he had icicles hanging from his face.” The female voice came from behind them, causing them all to spin around quickly. They had been so caught up with the cooler fiend that they had not heard the woman walk right into the store and stop directly behind them.
The warm smile on Mrs. Johnson’s face as she stood there before Jonathan was enough to make his eyes water. He made quick work of the six steps between them and wrapped his arms tightly around her.
“Easy now,” she conveyed happily. “I’m an old woman, you know.”
“I am glad to see that you are alright. Are you out here alone?” He asked with concern.
“No. There are a couple of others with me. However, I am far from alright. The loss that we have all endured is terrible. We may survive this thing, but we will never again be alright,” she stated firmly.
Jonathan took this in for a moment, and then realized he had not introduced the others. “This is Deacon and Guillermo. It is because of them that I am here today.”
Deacon reached out to shake the woman’s hand. “He’s just being modest ma’am. He saved us.” He decided against mentioning the house until Jonathan does. Although she seemed like a good person, Deacon would hate to be the one to tell a group of bad people that they had a safe house with years of supplies.
“It’s nice to meet you, Deacon,” she replied, “And it’s nice to see you again, Guillermo. My yard hasn’t looked the same since you stopped coming around.”
“Sorry Mrs. Johnson. My schedule has been full, but I’ll get around that way as soon as your neighbors stop trying to eat me,” he said with a smile.
“Who are you with?” Jonathan finally asked. The question has been on his mind the whole time.
“I’m with a young couple from Thousand Oaks that survived the attacks on a tour of Alcatraz Island. As it turns out, they were there touring the prison when the disease hit San Francisco. They managed to stay safe there. Hungry, but safe. Until one of the dead washed up on the island.
“There’s also a man who was an army ranger before landing a job with the secret service protecting the president,” she replied, seemingly proud of this man’s accomplishments. “I survived the attack locked in the attic of my house. The moment everyone started killing each other and breaking into houses, I climbed up, pulled the steps up behind me, and didn’t come down until I was sure I was going to starve to death.”
“I am sorry to hear that. While surviving alone in my home, I thought many times that I had it bad, but now I see that I was wrong,” Jonathan replied, feeling ashamed that he could have ever been so selfish.
“My husband had gone into work early that morning. As a police officer, he was called to come in when things went out of control.” The pain she still felt for the loss of her husband was evident on her face. “I didn’t even wake up to say goodbye to him. There isn’t much crime around here, so I assume he didn’t want me to worry about him, or he thought it was just a training exercise.”
Deacon took her soft hand in his, but no one said anything for several moments.
Thump
. The soft thuds coming from the cooler reminded them that this was not the place for heartfelt reunions, yet they were interrupted as they continued their search of the gas station.
“You won’t find anything else useful here,” the strong deep voice said.
Deacon jumped and spun around. “Jesus. How does everyone sneak up on us? Even more important, how did we survive this long with everyone sneaking up on us?”
“My name is Master Sergeant Elliot James, former Army Ranger and Secret Service agent.” The tall African-American man reached out with his strong hand to shake theirs. His face was cleaned shaved and showed signs of aging, however, gray streaks were subtly taking over his short black hair. He was about four inches taller than Deacon, who shook his hand first.
“Deacon Belle, Clay Hills Fire Department. This is Guillermo Alvarez, and Jonathan Sawyer.” Deacon introduced them while keeping a protective stance as he did so.
Elliot picked up on it, and he had to respect a man who would protect his friends from an Army Ranger, especially one his size. “Sawyer, huh? Name sounds familiar. Pretty common name, I suppose,” he said as he shook Jonathan’s hand, “Let’s talk somewhere else, shall we?”
The group walked out through the front door of the gas station, and out into the light of the warm day. Parked just around the side of the building was a white Prius. Standing next to it was an average sized man with blonde hair, much younger than Elliot, and he was holding a small caliber rifle.