Alaskan Undead Apocalypse (Book 3): Mitigation Book 3) (13 page)

“Coupla’ seconds later, we saw ‘em. There was maybe four or five of ‘em lookin’ in the windows of a service station. And then they started to get all...agitated and excited. They started to bang on the glass until I heard a scream from inside. All of a sudden a woman ran out the back of the building and down the direction we just come from and them things take off after her. A few seconds later, we heard another scream and then nothing else. Lucky for us, all those things chased after her, so we could get movin’ again.

“We spent the next few days just movin’ from place to place. We ate when we could, but mostly we just wanted to hide. We just laid low. Movin’ like that, from hiding spot to hiding spot, until we found DB.”

Della looked up at the darkening skies. “One of those days after we left the hotel, we saw some cycles that looked like maybe they coulda’ made the kind of noise I heard on the night that the hotel was attacked. They was big and shiny and, I bet, loud. The bikes was just sittin’ there in the middle of the road on their kick stands like they was horses waiting outside the saloon for their cowboy riders to return. They wasn’t abandoned though. They looked too particular and neat. They certainly looked out of place, like they didn’t belong. Lookin’at them, I kinda’ hoped that maybe God still had enough vengeance left in hisself to visit a little on some of those evil men. Maybe they had to answer for their sins after all. Truth be told though, them bikes coulda’ been sittin’ there since the beginning of all this hell on earth. It was fun to think that maybe there was still some justice left in this big, ole, broke world.”

“Back then, we seen some other folks still around. Normal folks, ya know. They was lookin’ around for food and such just like us. Some looked okay but I wasn’t chancin’ nothin’, so like I said, we just laid low.”

The story wasn’t anything new to any of them, other than the specific details. They had, unfortunately, lived through similar events recently and would hopefully continue to live through the harrowing times in front of them. Neil did have one question for her. He waited patiently until he was certain she was done speaking, and then inquired, “After all those days and all the other people, why DB? What was it about him that was different?”

Della sidestepped the question at first, letting it bounce away like an errant ball hit out of bounds. She wasn’t sure if she had an answer that would either satisfy his question or her own curiosity. If she were honest with herself, she would have to admit that there wasn’t a single factor that led her to trust the old man, but if there was one thing that she could name it would have to be the man’s eyes. There was no malice in the fading blue orbs. The wrinkles to either side of the light blue pools were honest and harbored no spite. They were eyes worthy of trust and so she had done that. She felt no compulsion to immediately answer Neil’s question, and decided in the end to leave it unanswered. She simply stirred the fire with another of the longer sticks and let the inquiry slip away from the conversation and disappear into the encroaching night.

But what did it really matter? She and those two kids were cold, hungry, and desperate for salvation when they happened upon the man, the boy and that old dog. She had thrown caution to the wind and put her faith in a complete stranger. By the grace of God, it had worked out and there she sat amongst these strangers as living proof of her successful gamble.

Finally, when everyone else had given up on hearing an answer, Della spoke defiantly, “Steve, if I knew I guess I’d tell ya. As it is, we here because we went with them two. That’s all. Nothin’ mystical or profound really. Steve just done his job and got us here.”

Emma’s eyes betrayed her exhaustion, despite the air of excitement around the camp. She said, “We all got stories about how we got here. Maybe we should put off any more of this until tomorrow. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I could sure use some sleep.”

Her suggestion was met with nodding heads, stretching arms, and yawning mouths.

Jerry stood with his rifle balanced across both of his shoulders. “You folks have been on the move all day. Maybe you should get some shut eye. Me and Claire and Meghan can keep first watch. We’ll get you up in a few hours to take over.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Neil said gratefully. “Thanks. I could use the rest.” He was exhausted and the spell of sitting had only made him understand that reality that much more clearly. His legs ached, and it felt as if he was wearing cement shoes.

He scanned the campsite and found his sleeping bag still rolled tight and anything but ready. He decided it was too much effort and so elected to simply zip his coat closed and cross his arms across his chest. He closed his eyes and let the calmness of the moment tempt him to sleep. When he felt his legs being lifted and moved slightly, he barely cracked his eyes to inspect the source.

It was Meghan. She was coaxing him as gently as possible into his sleeping bag. He complied, and was soon wrapped in down-filled comfort. Inside his warm cocoon, he was once again isolated with his thoughts. He thought about the day now behind them. He missed his friend Dr. Caldwell’s company and judgment, but, for a change, things seemed to be on an upward swing.

“Neil. Neil.”

He was being shaken awake, but he resisted. Neil had been dreaming, or maybe more accurately described as
remembering
, in his sleep where memories weren’t forced to parade themselves through the filter of his conscious reality. He was revisiting his wedding day. The marriage notwithstanding, the actual wedding ceremony and, more specifically, reception were pretty good.

His recollection lacked clarity, coming to him as familiar yet hazy forms. It was like looking at a picture from a distance and through flowing water. All around him in a happy swirl were smiles and laughter, music and dancing, and, of course, the prospect of a lifetime of happiness and love. He relived his brother’s rambling but sincere toast, though the specific words, like the images, defied coherence. His parents’ approval, evident in the warmth of their presence, was perhaps the most fulfilling memory that graced his dream. And his bride...she was gorgeous. There was no other way to describe her. Her dark, elegant curls and soft, feminine features were enough to take his breath away on that day so long ago and were still stirring to him in his dream. He couldn’t have been more in love.

His dreamy reality, perfect and pristine, was interrupted by a voice, then by shaking and finally by a face floating above him. At first, the face was foreign and accompanied by a staccato beat resembling the sound of a thousand out of sync woodpeckers banging out a thousand confused rhythms all at once. This was not a face he remembered from his wedding and the noise wasn’t even a part of his hangover the morning after. The face was young but lacked naiveté and had hints of dirt and grime over its splotchy red cheeks. Recollection was slow, but when he finally recognized Jerry, his wariness raged to pure terror in an instant.

The near absolute darkness and the roaring cacophony all around further fueled his disorientation driving him nearly to a panic. The air kissed Neil’s cheeks with its cool, salty wetness forcing his breath deeper into his lungs. He could smell the moisture and realized that the woodpeckers were actually raindrops hitting upon the tarp that had been laid over him to keep him dry. Neil started to shuffle and move under the tarp, making a bit of noise in the process.

Jerry touched Neil’s shoulder to get his attention. He held his finger over his pursed lips to quiet Neil as he awoke. The younger man leaned closely and whispered into Neil’s ear, “We got company over on the road. I don’t think they know we’re here, but I think we should get the others up.”

From his semi-dry blue plastic cocoon, Neil couldn’t see anything other than Jerry’s shadow-enshrouded face. He fought back the urge to retreat further from the waking world into his current sensory-deprived surroundings.

Neil rose slowly, as if the heavy world would have it no other way. His weariness had hidden from him the hard uneven surface of his makeshift bed, but the resulting aches and pains were all too eager to point themselves out. He was thankful he wasn’t already on the run, allowing him the opportunity to stretch. Neil eased himself out from under the tarp, careful not to make any more noise than was unavoidable.

He realized he was the last adult to be roused. The others were already kneeling in various intervals around the camp. In the modest moonlight, Neil was only able to discern the most basic shapes and forms of individuals, but defining features and characteristics were absent. Della was hovering near the still sleeping children. She didn’t have a firearm, but she was sporting a baseball bat that cast a bit of a metallic glint against the darkness. DB and Alec, an honorary adult, were the furthest away and were both now armed with rifles given to them by Neil. Emma and Claire were a little closer but still several feet away. They too were armed and ready, looking out toward the highway beyond.

Finally, Meghan, waiting patiently next to Jerry, handed Neil his shotgun and then fell against him. Her cheeks were wet with rain, but he could tell that the rain was doing its level best to conceal the warm tears that were also present. With her fragile vulnerability pleading from her eyes, Meghan could not possibly have looked more beautiful or precious to Neil. Despite her matted, dripping hair and the filth of living on the go and largely in the wild clinging to her, Meghan was every bit as beautiful as the still fading dream image of his long ago bride.

It didn’t seem to matter that the world was dying in violent convulsions all around them when he looked at her. He begged for the power or the insight to make things better for her. Neil did the only thing he could think to do. He wrapped his arms around her and tried to hug away the fear and the accompanying tears. He kissed her forehead and professed his love with a knowing look and a second kiss on her lips.

She tried to smile, but Meghan was nearing her limit, that much was clear to Neil. And like his past failed attempts at resolving problems in relationships, he was at a loss as to what to do. It wasn’t as simple as stopping smoking, remembering to take out the trash, or taking constructive criticism and advice more seriously. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to figure a way to stave off the horrors of the world for Meghan.

For the moment, all he could do was help them all to see another sunrise. That would be something at least. To that end, he leaned against the dark, wet curtain of thick slate slabs screening them from the passing horde.

Jerry motioned toward the road with a head nod and whispered, “There’s a big group over there...on the road. I think they’re moving north. That’s how it sounds anyway. With any luck, they’ll pass us on by.”

To Neil, that wasn’t necessarily a sound gamble. He worried aloud, “I hope we’re not counting too much on our luck. Last time I checked, our luck wasn’t serving us too well.” Neil paused for a thoughtful moment and then said quietly, “Why are they on the move?”

Jerry considered Neil’s question and then answered with a whisper, “Maybe your shooting down the road? If I were to venture a guess, I’d have to say that’s as likely a cause as anything.”

Neil felt the frustration in Jerry’s words. He was, after all, more than likely right in both his assessment as well as his irritability. Neil could easily have pointed out that it was Emma who started the shooting in the first place, but stopped himself before the juvenile excuse of
she started it
was given voice. Instead, he asked, “So where are they going then?”

Jerry shrugged his shoulders. “They probably don’t even know. They heard the gunshots and their brains told them to follow the sound to find food. Once they get going, it’s really just one of Newton’s Laws of Motion. They’ll keep heading in that direction until some other force causes them to stop or turn around. They’ll just go and go...probably right off a cliff if something doesn’t stop them first.”

“Do you really think it could be that simple?”

Shaking his head in doubt, Jerry replied, “I really don’t know. So long as they keep passing us by, what does it matter? If they’re not in front of us, isn’t that a good thing? Rather them in the rearview mirror than the headlights, know what I mean?”

“Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

Jerry’s judgment was logical and entirely possible. It was also something that they might be able to use to their benefit in dealing with the undead in the future. Despite this possibility, Neil was finding it hard to be comfortable. Regardless of the direction in which they were heading, there were still scores and perhaps more of the walking corpses passing them a mere handful of yards away. He was worried that he and the others would never be granted the opportunity to explore Jerry’s suppositions. The peril of their situation was staggering.

Neil was right too. The dragging shuffle of feet on pavement and the occasional tortured grunt or moan emerging from the darkness was unnerving to say the least. Some of the sounds were coming from disturbingly close and led many of them to start, chewing on fingers already gnawed to the quick.

He wondered to himself if there was anything he could do to improve the odds. He imagined, for a moment, running headlong into the pack. He’d have his guns blazing and when they were all emptied, he would start swinging his bat. In a heartbeat, he envisioned him successfully bludgeoning enough of the fiends to rally support from the others until they had killed them all. And then, in the same instance, he imagined him swinging the bat a few times until his exhaustion and the sheer numbers of the ghouls overwhelmed him beneath a pile of decaying, but still clawing flesh. That’s just how it was with Neil and even the end of the world hadn’t changed his self-defeating nature from emerging during his own redemption fantasies. He was, instead, frightened to inaction once again, choosing to allow circumstance and chance to determine his fate. He was the master of passivity.