Authors: Kevin L Murdock
“Get in and get out,” he answered almost robotically. As he turned to take a step, he then swung around and said, “Oh, a couple more things, guys. We are going to hightail it down the railroad tracks. We can get within a half mile of LeapMart and cut through the woods. That should reduce our risk somewhat. It was Samantha’s idea. If the coast looks clear, we can use shopping carts and load up supplies and try to get through the apartments on Plantation Road before people start waking up. If it looks hostile, we will take what we can carry and go back the way we came. Agreed?”
I suddenly didn’t like this. The railroad idea was fine and prudent. We should avoid the apartments altogether, but if we could get a lot of supplies back, we just might be able to justify the risk of going through an area we knew refugees were being ambushed in. Strength in numbers, I reminded myself as we began walking in the general direction of the railroad tracks. It was pitch black outside and silent except for an occasional bird chirp and the distant hoot of an owl. Hopefully any vagrants we might come across had gotten their fill of excesses the night before and were winding down by now. Luck would be on our side, I was sure. Just what kind of luck would it be?
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This gave new meaning to the phrase “slow but steady.” What was normally a quick hop through the woods to the train tracks took nearly an hour. Maybe ancients could navigate by the stars at sea, but a guy walking in the woods couldn’t use them to avoid smacking into branches and falling into holes. We stayed close together and were able to maintain a vague sense of direction, but our advance was slow. It was no wonder armies attacked at daytime, this was our safe zone to pass through, and we could barely function. I thought about those scenes on TV before when it was nighttime and bombs zoned in on the unsuspecting enemy until the camera went black. As we advanced, I wondered if I was the missile homing in on its target or if I was that Joe that was the star of the show that could explode at any second. The creepiness and silence of night makes you think of all possibilities as you walk through the woods.
We finally reached the train tracks and began advancing at a more reasonable pace. The large gravel might make for some awkward steps on occasion, but it might as well have been a road. We had a clear direction and a path. Our speed quickened to a fast pace after Miller stated we were behind. As we advanced more rapidly, I could hear Randy panting. His oversized body might be ideal to stave off hunger, but it wasn’t helping him go out to obtain resources. I guess that was nature’s balance at work again. We walked each in our two-man teams with about fifty feet of space between us. Nothing needed to be said; we knew the dangers we potentially faced if we came across anyone.
I clenched my gun tightly in both hands in front of me as we steadily covered ground. I had brought my Winchester because I thought if we had a firefight, I needed more punch with each bullet, and this gave me the best chance. Mohammad held his loaned hunting rifle tightly and didn’t look well. His face was impossible to see, but every glimpse I could see brought images of a man that looked either overly perturbed or in some kind of pain. Something clearly wasn’t right with him. He kept walking, so I kept my mouth shut. Miller had what appeared to be an AK-47, while his partner Nana was brandishing something the military would carry, but I wasn’t sure what it was. I didn’t bother to ask where they got their guns. I was content with mine. Randy wielded dual pistols and had them both tucked into his front pants. Even I knew that two pistols only worked in Hollywood, but it gave him a confidence or ego boost, and I wasn’t in a position to object. Tom had his shotgun and used a strap it came with to sling it across his back. For now, Tom was holding up the rear while Mohammad and I led the advance.
Humans fear what they don’t know, and I am no different. I was worried we could come across some hobo or kid who thinks we are out to get him and start a gun battle. It wouldn’t take much, and we could be in a pickle or, at best, have our cover blown and have to retreat. As we carried forward, my thoughts turned to what I was doing a week before and what I would have been doing now had the storm not hit. Stacy probably would have been watching some garbage TV show about some celebrity that had a movie hit ten years before but now lived a dysfunctional life and put it all on the air for everyone’s pleasure. God knows why she and so many people watched that trash. I swore I lost IQ points every time I was in the room and it was on, but that at least was our sense of normalcy.
Those celebrities were probably scrambling for food like the rest of us. I wondered how many of them scoured Beverly Hills for jars of caviar and whatever else they could find already. Los Angeles was ridiculously crowded and probably had already experienced horrors worse than here. Where would the people there go for refuge? The city was surrounded by desert. I then thought of the strip in Las Vegas. Anyone living there was probably already more concerned with water than food. I guess we all have our own problems, and this was Darwin’s way of figuring out who should carry the torch forward and who would make it into pages of a history book. No matter what, my family deserved to live, and I was determined to ensure our survival.
During our walk, I had discreetly asked Tom why he volunteered to come along, and he only laughed. He then had stopped me and whispered in my ear that he was out of beer and needed to restock. Tom had appealed to Randy’s sense of adventure, and he’d bitten it, hook, line, and sinker. Tom may have had many flaws, but at least he was a decent guy that just wanted to get drunk and enjoy life each day. Hopefully we could all get what we needed this day, safely.
Miller Bradford finally broke the silence. “Guys, I think we are here.”
I accidentally kicked a big piece of gravel just as I stopped and watched in the darkness as I caught glimpses of it bouncing forward and making noise. “Looks all the same to me,” I answered him as I thought aloud. I noticed Mohammad holding his gun in his left hand and using his right hand to massage the front half of his neck and chin as we finally halted.
Randy was out of breath but had concealed it as we walked. When he finally spoke, it came out broken. “We . . . we . . . how do we know . . . how do we know this is where we go?”
“I can’t see anything,” broke in Nana.
“Huddle close, guys,” said Miller authoritatively, and we all came together. He looked around to make sure we were alone. With only the owls looking upon us, he started. “I’ve walked this path before. I used to come down this way and go over to spray paint the walls of some of the buildings when I was a kid. See that pile of trash over there?” as he pointed to a few old plastic lawn chairs that were half decayed and had probably sat in a heap for twenty years.
We all nodded our heads and acknowledged him. He then put his arms around me and Randy as we all formed a close circle and spoke. “I used to come down this way as a kid, man. That pile of trash is still here, and it’s where we knew to turn and walk the woods. It’s a half mile to the LeapMart from here. We need to get moving. Silence, guys, and good luck.” He tapped Nana on the shoulder to go with him, and they led the way. We started back into the woods, following close behind. An old path was visible that would guide our way forward. Just as I started to get excited over that, I noticed a distant faint glimmer of light. It was almost sunrise.
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Our advancement through this forest was almost at hyper speed. At one point, we passed under a main road through a storm drain that was large enough to stand at full height. Miller must have traveled this path a thousand times as a child. It came naturally to him, and we were all close on his heels. Randy was breathing heavily again and was in danger of waking any sleeping person we might stumble near. Onward we went, trying to keep pace with the man in front. Suddenly I felt a tinge of fatigue but knew I could muscle through it.
This must be how the first few days are at basic training
, I thought. One man running fast and everyone else trying to keep up. Some feel tired and the rest are broken down only to be built up again. Would we have time in this new world to build up again? Maybe, I thought, and getting supplies for planting crops was step one. Focus, Josh, and forward I pushed.
After all of us except Mohammad avoided stepping into a large mud flat, we arrived at the base of a small hill that was probably thirty feet in elevation. Miller turned around and put his finger over his mouth and shushed us. The last ten minutes had brought quite a change as the sun still hadn’t appeared above the horizon, but its long reach was already being felt. A vague orange tint filled the sky, and we could each see around finally. All of us looked a bit whipped, with Randy appearing as though he had just rediscovered exercise for the first time in ten years. Mohammad was definitely in pain; there was no mistaking it now. He appeared as though he was grinding his teeth and didn’t want to be here. I wondered what was wrong with him but held back asking because I didn’t want to alarm the other guys. He was still keeping up, but his tumble in the mud a few minutes before showed that his performance was quickly becoming ragged.
“We’re here,” Miller said quietly. He then gestured to Nana to go with him up the hill. He looked at me and Mohammad and gave us a two-finger sign and then gestured to follow him. He then pointed at the Randy and Tom team to follow behind, which they duly did. We climbed to the top of the hill.
Upon reaching the crest, there was another fifty feet of forest and then a parking lot. We approached the edge of the forest and looked forward. A massive parking lot with the jumbo box store stood in front of us. To the right was a couple of restaurants, and in the distance was Plantation Road. The highway was off to the left behind more forest, hidden from view and now eternally silenced from traffic. We gazed upon a lot that had some scattered cars, with a few displaying their broken windows. A couple of sedans were burned down to a twisted and charred pile of metal. It reminded me of when I would take a paperclip at work and twist it a thousand ways until it was knotted up and unusable. Those cars were like that now, except black and burnt.
The LeapMart was ahead, though we were looking at it from the side. Nothing out of the ordinary stood out at us except the newly added graffiti on its walls. We all probably spent two minutes looking around and across the great sea in front of us, only to see a whole lot of no movement. Miller glanced over my way, and we made eye contact. His eyes displayed a hardness that was probably learned in prison. I doubted he had looked at anyone that way since he had been freed from shower visits from “friends.” He gave a nod of the head, and I acknowledged with a gentle bow that a Japanese businessman would have found polite but emphatic.
First, Miller moved out with Nana, and then it was Mohammad’s and my turn. My foot reached out and connected with the pavement. There was no going back now. We were moving forward and come hell or high water, we were going in. We advanced quickly across the barren parking lot, our steps echoing out with gentle thuds as we marched in a formation that would have almost made an army lieutenant happy. We used a couple of cars as cover and then advanced, moving toward our goal of the wall. As we ran, my head swept around the parking lot, expecting to see masses of people or flickers of gunfire coming our way. Only my imagination saw them. The coast was clear.
We each popped against the side of LeapMart, breathing heavily. If our pace at times during the journey had been quick, this had been an Olympic sprint. I was winded as well but not as bad as my comrades. Randy looked as though he might keel over, while Tom was sucking wind. Mohammad was barely standing, using the wall to prop himself up as he continued to rub his chin.
I tapped him quickly on the shoulder to get his attention and asked, “You okay, bud?”
He gave a gentle shake of his head to say no but said nothing to me. Our eyes locked on and his said he was in trouble, but I also saw more. A determination to get through this and then get home and rest. Much like a wounded animal protecting its family, it will fight on as long as it needs before it settles into a rest. Mohammad was giving that vibe now. He then pulled down on his shirt below the neck to show a bloody and infected wound on his shoulder.
Crap
, I thought. He was suffering from some kind of infection or probably tetanus from that piece of metal that struck him on the train. We would need to get him home soon before he got worse and couldn’t continue.
Miller was still in the lead. He took off his light jacket and threw it to the ground. The air was almost hot now, probably from our running. Even without the additional body heat, a front had come through quietly and warmed it up from a near freeze to somewhere in the sixties. Now that we were moving and hot, layers added an undue burden, and we each peeled some off. Randy tied his jacket around his waist, while Nana made his into a cape that hung from his neck. I rolled my sleeves up but didn’t take anything off yet. It was suddenly hot, but I knew that it would pass. Miller began stepping forward slowly, looking down to make sure he didn’t crunch any glass or make noise while then looking up and around for people. It was a constant head check as we all moved in a long line down the wall. The morning air continued to fill with light and what had been a vague haze was now illuminated well.