In the Lone and Level Sands (15 page)

“Your video game logic isn’t going to help
any of us,” Lacie said from not far off. Dex looked hurt.

“Well, how else do we explain it? Two
perfectly rational people just died—”

“Dex, enough,” Layne said.

Dex looked at him. “All right, but I for one
would like an explanation for what’s going on here. I want to know
why we crashed, I want to know why nobody found us, and I
really
want to know why people are starting to eat each
other!”

“I don’t know, Dex. I don’t have any answers
for you. All I know is that we have a man with two broken legs, and
he’s going to die if we don’t get him some help, and soon.”

Layne left Dex and brought some water to the
injured man.

“Thank you,” the man said, carefully
drinking. It wasn’t hot out, but he was sweating.

“What’s your name?” Layne asked.

“Scott.”

“Scott, try to relax. Just hang in there.
We’re going to carry you to safety.”

Everyone gathered their things, and then
they were off. Layne worked out a system for carrying Scott,
rotating the most able-bodied people two at a time.

“How do we know where we’re going?” Dex
asked, carrying Scott on the makeshift gurney.

“We’re going north,” Layne said from the
other end. He faced forward, carrying Scott behind him.

“Why north?”

“Because we were headed for Seattle, which
is north.”

Dex laughed. “You’re basing our direction on
that? We could be walking away from the nearest town for all we
know!”

“You’re right, Dex. We could be. Do you have
a better idea?”

“Lead the way, Cap’n.”

The group stayed quiet, for the most part.
The rough metal that served as handles for the stretcher was
digging into Layne’s hands. Suddenly, Paul stopped up ahead. Jessi
walked close to him, carrying Kara, and she stopped as well.

“We have to keep moving,” Layne said.

“I hear something,” Paul replied. Layne
listened. For a minute, he didn’t hear anything over his own
breath, but then he heard it, too. There was a very low buzz, and
it was getting louder. “Choppers!” Paul said. “Those are choppers!
They found us!”

“Run ahead, get to a clearing,” Layne said.
Paul and the others started jogging to get out of the trees. Layne
and Dex picked up their pace, but tried to be as careful as
possible.

The trees parted into a clearing, and then
Layne saw them: Three choppers, flying low. The survivors jumped up
and down, waving their arms and shouting. Two of the choppers
continued on while one slowed, circled, and hovered above the
clearing.

“Hey! Over here!” Paul said. “We could use a
hand!”

There was a loud crackle as the helicopter’s
megaphone clicked on. “Clear a space so we can set down.”

The other two choppers returned and circled
the area. The group moved out of the way, and the first chopper
landed, but kept running. Layne carefully put Scott down and headed
to the chopper to talk to the pilot.

“We were in a plane crash!”

“We’ve been picking people up all over the
area, and we saw the wreckage about two miles away,” the pilot
said.

“Think you can fit us all?” Layne asked. Dex
joined Layne and the pilot.

“Or at least take our injured and point us
toward a town.”

“You guys were heading right toward Astoria.
Maybe six miles away.”

“I thought Astoria was in New York,” Dex
said.

“Oregon, but close. Put the injured guy on
here, and we’ll see how many more we can fit.”

“Who are you guys?” Layne asked. “You
haven’t picked up any strange people, have you?”

“We left the Air Force base yesterday. Our
orders were to pick people up, but radio communication went out
shortly after we took off. We were told to look for survivors, but
we weren’t told what was going on, and we haven’t been in contact
with base. You guys are some of the first people we’ve found,
besides a small group out in the ocean this morning.”

A voice broke in over another chopper’s
megaphone.

“Oh my God! We’re going to go dow—”

Layne looked up and saw one of the choppers
spiraling to the ground.

“What the hell?” the pilot said.

The chopper hit the ground sideways atop a
hill. The propellers snapped, cutting deep gashes into the earth,
and something on the bottom of the chopper caught fire. The body of
the chopper rolled down the hill, toward the survivors. People
scrambled.

Layne could hardly bear to watch. It hit at
least four people, crushing three and sending one flying through
the air. He could only imagine surviving a plane wreck only to be
crushed by a helicopter crash. The flaming metal body came to rest
against a group of trees.

“Check on everyone!” Layne said.

The four it had hit were dead, and there was
no one left alive inside the chopper. Layne and the survivors
regrouped.

“What the hell just happened?” the pilot
asked.

“Something is going on,” Layne said. “I
don’t know what it is. Some people are just… They’re turning crazy.
Then they attack people, and sometimes those people turn crazy,
too.”

“Jesus Christ. Are any of you going
nuts?”

“No, not since this morning,” Layne said.
The pilot looked at him.

“Why the hell should I lift any of you out
of here? You could freak out and kill us all at any minute!” The
pilot started flipping switches.

“Wait, wait!”

“We’re heading back to base.”

“Bullshit!” Dex said.

“Look! We have someone injured!” Layne said.
“For God’s sake, at least take Scott! He’s infected, he’s going to
die if you don’t! His legs are broken, if he flips out, he won’t be
able to get to you anyway! God damn it, be
reasonable
! We’re
human beings!”

The pilot sat still for a moment.

“There’s a case of water in the back. You
can take that with you. I’ll take this guy back to base, and we’ll
treat him there. The rest of you, keep heading northwest, and you
can reach Astoria by mid-afternoon. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Layne said. He helped Dex load
Scott into the back of the helicopter, across a row of seats.

“Thank you so much,” Scott said.

“Don’t worry. You’re going to be all right.
Just take care, okay? We’ll be fine. We’re going to get to Astoria,
and we’ll sort this whole thing out.”

The choppers left, and Layne had about a
half-dozen people to whom he had to explain why they’d be hoofing
it to the nearest town.

“This is seriously bullshit!” Lacie
said.

“Thank you!” Dex replied.

“Look, guys, I know we’ve been through a
lot. Whatever’s happening, clearly it goes beyond our plane.
Something seriously messed up is going on. But we’re not very well
off out here. We’re going to get to Astoria, and we’ll figure
everything out once we arrive.”

The others seemed calmed by that, but Layne
wasn’t. Whatever had afflicted their plane and the helicopter could
easily be waiting for them in Astoria, but he had to let them keep
their hope.

Layne turned north. He wasn’t sure what to
expect. A six mile hike didn’t sound fun, but compared to what they
could be hiking toward, it might be the best six miles of his
life.

Screams in the Night

The sounds of panic, bloodshed, and screams
echoed off of the cold walls of the prison.

The ones who had changed in their cells
stumbled around them, trying to get out. They were unable to, but
they viciously attacked any normal person who passed by. After the
first night, there were no more normal people passing by at
all.

The man in the cell had hoped someone would
have opened them; his chains assured that he could not have gone
anywhere, but he was curious to see whether the creatures would see
him as prey and brutally murder him, or if they’d see him as one of
their own.

But the cells
didn’t
open. Likely,
the guards had no idea what to do, and letting the prisoners starve
in their cells seemed a better idea than letting them all run
loose. Not all of the prisoners had been in their cells when the
hex went out, and surely some of them and even some of the guards
had turned. Hence, the screams. But Norman couldn’t see any of
this, so he couldn’t know for sure. All he could do was sit in his
cell, and listen to the screams.

That was all right with him.

Part
Three

In the Middle of Hell

20

In the City

Still unable to believe her eyes, Zoe
continued down the street. All around were the still-burning
remnants of car crashes and telltale signs of last-ditch efforts of
survival. Bullet cases littered the ground, gunshots rang in the
distance, some not far at all.

And in all of this, she was still alone.

After a moment that seemed like a lifetime,
it occurred to her that she wasn’t safe. Those things were
everywhere, devouring anyone they could get their hands on. She
decided it would be best to get off of the street.

The buildings nearby didn’t appear to be any
safer. Windows were broken, a body hung from a high story a few
blocks ahead.

Before she could settle on a safe place, Zoe
was spotted by a few of the crazies, who began a mad shamble toward
her from all directions.

With the city to her left and an open
stretch of dead field to her right, Zoe decided to make a dash for
the field. There was little out there. Zoe picked up her pace and
jogged down the hill and into the field, where the grass was longer
the deeper she went out, but never reached past her waist. The
creatures followed for a while, but as the distance between them
and their potential meal grew, they lost interest and headed back
to the city to hunt for closer potential meals.

Zoe continued through the field until the
chaos of the city’s edge faded away. Once or twice, she thought she
saw someone or something among the grass and quickly thickening
trees, but second glances yielded no sign of anything else out
here.

Zoe made her way through the trees, and even
though it was midday, it was getting darker as she progressed.
Finally she convinced herself to stop running, and collapsed to her
hands and knees. She wanted food, had thrown up what little she had
in her already, and felt like she would only throw up more.
Regardless, there was none around. She was alone in the woods, with
only the clothes on her back and an MP3 player, and headphones
still wrapped around her neck. She reached into her pocket and
retrieved it while unwrapping the cord. The screen of the MP3
player was cracked. Zoe tested it to see if it still worked, prayed
that she could at least have music in this nightmare world. The MP3
player turned on, it would work for her, so she slipped it back
into her pocket.

Zoe knew the city surrounded the wooded area
on all sides, and that it wasn’t very big. There were probably even
some houses dotting its edges. She decided to stay within the
shelter of the trees and collect her thoughts, hoping that those
things wouldn’t pour out of the city and into the woods.

As the hours passed, deciding to collect her
thoughts turned into deciding to camp for the night. The woods
didn’t seem to have much wildlife, and it was summer, so it
wouldn’t get too cold. Her biggest worry was the zombies, as she
had finally convinced herself to call them. And why not? They ate
people, they were dumb, and if Zoe believed her instincts, being
bitten by one of them would turn her into one. “Zombie” was as good
a name as any. Her thoughts turned back to being bitten, to
becoming one of them, and how close “zombie” was to “Zoe”. It was
almost humorous; at any given time, she was only one bite and three
letters away from being a zombie.

She debated whether to make a fire. It could
keep animals away, but it could draw the zombies in. She had always
wanted to spend some time around a campfire out in the middle of
the woods, preferably with someone to talk to, but not in a
situation like this. In the end, there was no one to talk to, and
safety was a large factor, so Zoe decided against building a
fire.

It grew very dark in the woods when night
came, but as Zoe suspected, it didn’t get very cold. She supposed
her plan would work; she could wait out in the woods until morning
and then seek help in the nearby houses.

Falling asleep would be difficult. The
ground was soft, but it was no bed, and the zombies could appear
from any direction at any time.

Before she even attempted sleep, she heard
something in the woods. It began with a simple snapping of twigs
and rustling of leaves. She had heard similar noises all day, but
this was different somehow, and after a few moments, Zoe realized
that it was in the consistency. The sounds followed a pattern as
they grew louder.

It sounded like footsteps. Someone had
ventured into the woods after all. Zoe reached for a nearby stick.
It was thick enough to pack a punch, but small enough to wield with
ease. She was lucky it had been there; the darkness made it
difficult to see anything.

A young man stepped into Zoe’s tiny
clearing. He had blood on his shirt, but he was unarmed, and he
seemed normal.

“Hello?” he said. “Is someone there?”

“Don’t come any closer,” Zoe said. “You’re
not one of
them
, are you?”

“Of course not. They don’t talk.”

“Of course,” Zoe said, though she had no
idea whether it was true. She lowered her stick.

“I escaped into the woods,” the man said.
“Came from the city.”

“So did I, only from the other side. Guess
it doesn’t get much safer, does it?”

“No. This is happening everywhere. No idea
what caused it.”

“Well, those things don’t seem too
interested in coming out here.”