Authors: Shawn Chesser
Smiling, Brook said, “Now where have I heard that one before?”
Cade winked at her and continued, “I’m sorry to leave you two again...”
Raven interrupted from the other end of the Quonset. “Mom, can we go see Mike Junior and the twins?”
“In a minute, sweetie,” Brook said holding up a finger. “You were saying, Captain Grayson?”
“I have to leave in a minute... another pre-op briefing to attend. I’m sorry but I promise that I
will
be back.”
“I know you will, I was just venting, and to be totally honest... I’m bored.”
“If you need something to keep you busy while I’m gone, see to it that our daughter gets some practice with the Glock,” Cade said with a sly grin.
Brook playfully punched her man on the shoulder and then embraced him, showering the big bad Delta boy with kisses. “I love you Cade Grayson.”
Cade returned the kisses and said, “I love you too Brooklyn Grayson.”
“Gross,” Raven wailed and plowed her head under her pillow.
Outbreak - Day 9
Driggs, Idaho
The creatures grabbed at Lu Lu as Daymon slowly steered her through their ranks. Greasy handprints and gray slime coated the Scout’s green sheet metal front to back. Daymon put the pedal to the metal after parting the Dead Sea. Two left turns and he was travelling south on Teton Pass Highway which ran parallel with the Teton Range. He couldn’t believe the damage in the center of the city. Broulim’s supermarket had burned to the ground; sagging metal girders and the
pristine sign standing guard over the
parking lot were all that remained. Across the street the Pines Motel had also been torched. The main thoroughfare was an obstacle course of stalled cars and dead bodies,
the majority
of them riddled with bullet holes. The foreboding feeling that he was heading into
the depths of hell was getting stronger by the minute. He drove the next fourteen miles without a zombie sighting and
at Milepost 28 he discovered why. Daymon saw the shimmering black mound from a mile away. He had no idea what he was looking at until Lu Lu’s exhaust
note disrupted
the feeding frenzy. The coal black mound broke apart and took flight. Thousands of crows, ravens, and starlings had blanketed the missing residents of Driggs whose hundreds of bodies were giving back to the food chain.
“Holy shit!” Daymon exclaimed. He had a hard time wrapping his mind around the sheer numbers of dead splayed out before his eyes. It was like he was looking at an old photo of the carnage wrought on the Jews and other “enemies” of the despicable Nazi SS during the holocaust. As he drove past he found it nearly impossible to tear his eyes off of the sight. In the back of his mind he wondered if maybe Heidi was somewhere in the tangle of rigor mortis-wracked bodies.
***
Maneuvering Lu Lu through the
“s”
turns was like driving a metal mattress. With every change of direction the truck listed considerably.
Must get new shocks
, Daymon told himself.
Or better yet, a new truck
. There had to be millions
out there needing a new owner.
The last sweeping right hand turn
allowed Daymon a clear view of the city of Jackson Hole, 8,431 feet below on the valley floor.
Sparkling like an electric wire, the Snake River wound through the abundant foliage. Teton
Pass was only a quarter mile ahead and Glory Bowl stretched up to the left. It used to be one of Daymon’s favorite slopes to hike up and ski down. Locals called the post hole-punching slog uphill through knee deep snow “earning the run;” the last few winters he called it too hard on his old knees. Give him a gondola or tram any day.
The winking muzzle flashes shocked the daydreamer back from his youthful recollections and suddenly the Scout’s sheet metal was vibrating from
multiple impacts. It sounded like someone had thrown a handful of ball bearings at Lu Lu. Thankfully the gunner atop the Humvee had been leading the Scout, and only strafed the road with warning shots. Each .50 caliber round displaced a shovelful of blacktop, showering the Scout’s hood and windshield with rocks.
Goddamn it
, Daymon thought as he stood on the brakes, making the Scout slew sideways. After br
inging the old rig to a complete stop, he thrust both hands out the open window.
Parked in the center of the road, two vehicles blocked his way: the black Humvee with the top-mounted fifty that fired the warning shots and Jackson Police Chief Charlie Jenkin’s black and white Tahoe, which sat perpendicular to the Humvee. The Humvee looked identical to the one patrolling Driggs down to the red stars on the white background. Behind the roadblock loomed a wall of burned out vehicles blocking the roadway.
“Driver... throw the keys out the window. And keep your hands in sight,” an amplified voice ordered.
“How the
fuck
can I do both at the same time?” Daymon muttered as he removed the keys and tossed them into the middle of the road, never once taking his eyes off of the unwavering machine gun.
He watched with growing apprehension as the Patrol Tahoe backed slightly and then rolled forward towards him. Daymon felt his chest tighten as his body received a blast of adrenaline. He recognized and embraced it for what it was--he was entering the fight or flight mode and he had only seconds to make his life-saving decision.
Daymon risked a one-eyed glance to locate the shotgun in case he had to shoot his way out.
I could blast the driver and back down the hill
, he thought to himself. The plan fell apart when he remembered that Lu Lu’s sheet metal was no protection against the machine gun bullets and she sure enough couldn’t outrun them... especially with
her
keys sitting on the ground ten feet away. He came to the maddening conclusion that he had fucked himself yet again.
The Tahoe rolled to a stop next to the Scout and with a soft whirr the driver’s window motored down. Daymon couldn’t believe his eyes.
Chief
Jenkins’ familiar face stared at him from behind mirrored aviator sunglasses.
“Yo Daymon... what brings you back to Jackson?”
“I just came from Driggs. There’s nobody left there, at least nobody living... ”
“You saw the bodies then... on your way out of town.” Charlie said as he removed his shades
and rubbed the dark bags under his
eyes. It was more of a statement than a question. Chief Jenkins knew the answer and the last thing he wanted to do was explain to Daymon what had happened to them. He hated the fact that he even harbored the knowledge.
“I saw hundreds of them...
fuck
, half of Driggs was rotting in the sun. Tell me they were all infected...
right
?” Daymon could feel some of the built-up tension leave his body as he waited for an answer. He and Jenkins had a pretty good relationship. They had worked together coordinating wilderness rescues and also on a couple of fires that had been close enough to Jackson to threaten the city. They weren’t best friends but Daymon had no reason to distrust the man, but the black Hummer... that was a different story.
Jenkins shot a glance at the Hummer and donned his sunglasses. “
They...
happened to Driggs. Anyone that wouldn’t comply and relocate to Jackson...executed on the spot.
Shot in cold blood
, even if they weren’t infected.”
“Why the black Mission Impossible get up? Dressed the same as those guys... sure looks to this country boy like you’re playing for the
wrong
team.”
Jenkins fiddled with something in the Tahoe. “
Listen
... I had no choice but to toe the line.” Then he changed the subject and said, “You didn’t tell me why you came back here.”
“When I found out my Moms and Pops didn’t make it... well I’m pretty sure they didn’t
anyhow,
because I couldn’t get close enough to check on ‘em. I had to come here and check on someone,” Daymon said,
holding his emotions at bay.
Jenkins had an idea but asked anyway. “Who are you looking for?”
After an uneasy silence Daymon said angrily, “I came back here to see if my girl survived this
bullshit
.”
“Weren’t you seeing that Heidi gal...worked at the Silver Dollar?”
“Yeah, the pretty blonde bartender,” Daymon conceded.
Jenkins glanced at the soldiers, and making a show of it, loudly asked Daymon if he had any weapons.
Schriever... here we go again
. Daymon thought to himself. “A shotgun and a bow. Why... are you gonna confiscate them from me?”
“Everyone in Jackson has been disarmed. Second amendment... shredded. Constitution... shredded. I need to take the shotgun. You can keep the bow, it’s one of the few concessions in New America. I guess they expect us to hunt and feed ourselves this coming winter,” Jenkins wondered out loud.
The radio in the Tahoe crackled to life. “Are you going to need help?”
“Negative. I’ll vouch for him, he’s a Jackson native and he is on the
essentials
list,” Jenkins said, trying to sound as if he were in charge even though he was pretty low on New America’s totem pole.
“Is he infected?” the soldier on the other end asked.
Chief Jenkins head retreated into the SUV so he could speak discreetly into the microphone. “Negative. I’m disarming the citizen and I’ll make sure he gets med-checked when I get to the station.”
“Roger that,” said the soldier.
Daymon looked uphill towards the Humvee. “Charlie, why don’t we just take those guys out... take their Humvee and head west?”
“Don’t look up... there are snipers in the rocks above Glory Bowl and they are deadly accurate shooters. It’s too risky to run. Just give me the gun and follow me into town.”
Daymon passed the shotgun through the window. “I need to get my keys.”
“I’m going to turn this truck around and then you can get out and get your keys...
slowly
.”
***
After the burnt out husk barely resembling a school bus had been rolled aside, Daymon followed the Tahoe through the roadblock. Cresting the Teton pass he spotted a lone bald eagle soaring the thermals, a normal sight in the valley. Trumpeter swans floated lazily in the lake and a flock of geese took flight as they crossed the two-lane bridge spanning the Snake River. Everything seemed normal in Jackson, and for a second Daymon forgot that America was overrun by the dead--until he saw row upon row of crucified men, women, and children, stretching as far as he could see down both sides of the blacktop. Some still squirmed, straining against the spikes as the crows and buzzards wantonly fed on their flesh.
Whoever was responsible for this evil roadside attraction was making one hell of a statement by leaving them to die alone, slowly and painfully, facing one of the most beautiful mountain ranges in North America.
Daymon seethed as he drove past no less than a hundred examples of someone’s callous disregar
d for human life. Then he felt a dagger of guilt twist in his gut remembering the way he had allowed Hosford Preston to meet his maker. Finally he made a mental note to steer clear of whoever nailed these Americans to the cross.
I want no part of this New America
, he thought angrily.
Daymon clung to the notion that somehow his girlfriend was still alive, somewhere in Jackson Hole. Except for his folks (who he was sure had already joined the undead ranks), Heidi was the only person left in the world that he cared about. He put the mental blinders on and with that thought in mind, set out to find her...dead or alive.
Outbreak - Day 9
Schriever AFB Quarantine Hangar
Pug glared at his watch, willing the little hand to move faster. He grew tired of War and Peace and cursed this Tolstoy fellow the second he realized the novel was about a bunch of stuffed-shirt aristocrats. Queens, princes and counts were too much like the governmental ruling class that he had recently grown to despise. How in the hell could the, now mostly dead, population of the United States keep electing and re-electing the same jokers from the same family lineages year after year baffled the fuck out of him. Pug pitched the thick book across the room only fifteen minutes into his mandated twelve hour stay. With a title like that it should have been about battles and shit, he thought.
Pug risked another glance at the watch.
Fifteen minutes
. He sighed and leaned back in the chair, resigned to getting some enforced shut eye.
***
Six hours into his quarantine Pug overheard snatches of conversation about a rumored cure for the Omega virus. Interest piqued, he pressed his ear to the wall in order to glean as much info about the breakthrough as possible.