Alaskan Undead Apocalypse (Book 3): Mitigation Book 3) (32 page)

The Chevy was resting on its driver’s side. Steam from the engine was creating a malodorous cloud that clung to the truck and the area around it. She could hear movement in the truck, although from this angle all she could see was the vehicle’s suspension, transmission, and axles. She walked through the noxious vapor, using her hands in a fruitless attempt to fan it from her face.

Hank’s head was partially visible through a shattered opening in the front windshield. His skin was torn and his skull was partially broken. His blood was spilling down the glass in efficient streams which spread into web-like tributaries the further it got from the source. A small dark puddle was forming on the ground just below the leaning truck. Despite the grievous wound, Jess saw that he was moving. Perhaps he was still alive but stuck and unable to extricate himself.

“Hold on, Hank,” she said aloud. “I think I need to get some help. Just hold on. I’ll go get Simeon and Allen.” Hank said nothing, though his head came forward a little further into the jagged gap in the glass. “I’ll be right back.”

As she ran back, she thought she heard a grunt or possibly a groan. She knew she needed to hurry. She also knew that she couldn’t help the men alone. She needed help. Jess’ life didn’t demand a level of fitness above the most rudimentary level and if the rescue was going to require significant physical exertion, she wanted to make sure that it wouldn’t be up to her solely. She would get the job done, but it wouldn’t be pretty or efficient. With a little assistance, she knew she could get those guys out of the truck.

Simeon was already on his feet as she emerged from the cloud.

“They need help. Hank looks hurt real bad,” Jess said to him.

Simeon leaned his head back trying to stretch his injured neck. “Did you see anyone else?”

“No. I saw Hank’s head through the windshield and came back to get you. I didn’t even take the time to look. Sorry, guess I should’ve.”

He shook his head and followed her back. A concealing shadow hung over the truck and obscured their view in. They approached and, from just above the glass, peered inside. Jess was confused by what she saw. Someone was moving inside but she was having a hard time discerning what he was doing. Whoever it was, he seemed to be rooting around looking for something.

Pressing her face against the window, Jess was finally able to see in clearly. Trey was the one who was moving. He was digging into the side of the passenger seat but she could not make out what he was trying to get. When his hands re-emerged from their errand, he was holding what appeared to be Hank’s slick, dripping innards. Trey shoveled the oozing bits of flesh into his chomping maw and swallowed them down only half chewed before he forced in more.

Jess was frozen in utter terror, incapable of processing what she was witnessing. Her brain didn’t seem to want to register or acknowledge what she was seeing. She also couldn’t look away or even blink. She finally flinched, blinking rapidly when a geyser of blood sprayed from a newly punctured pocket of flesh between Trey’s teeth. Her sudden movement caught Trey’s attention, and he paused momentarily, his mouth still full of Hank’s skin and organs.

Seeing her, he lunged straight for her, slamming his face into and further shattering the windshield. Jess retreated, falling backward as she did. Simeon caught her by the arm and steadied her before she completely lost her balance. They shared a look between one another as the growling and rustling on the other side of the glass rose in pitch and intensity.

With her terror filled blue eyes darting between Simeon and the windshield, Jess asked, “What is going on? It looked like Trey was...was eating Hank. I think that’s what I saw.”

Pressing the inside, Trey began to force the shattered glass from its frame. Hank’s head fell from the opening in the windshield and disappeared from sight. When the glass finally fell away, Trey spilled out of the vehicle’s cab. His back obviously broken and his legs not working for him, Trey flopped around on the ground in the horrific soup of blood, organs, and human detritus. His face was spattered with blood and small pieces of tissue from Hank and possibly Justin, both of whom were still strapped into their seats by their seatbelts.

Jess screamed and stepped back behind Simeon, who pulled another, larger pistol from a concealed shoulder holster under his jacket. He pulled the trigger three times, unleashing a storm of nine millimeter bullets which seemed to do little to discourage Trey’s rage.

He squirmed around like a predatory lizard, his legs resembling a long trailing tail. Simeon and Jess retreated a few steps as Simeon discharged a handful more shots, none of which had any more effect than their predecessors. When Trey managed to turn himself around so that he was again facing the two of them, Simeon finally raised the pistol barrel and sent a bullet through Trey’s forehead, producing the desired result. With a single bubbling gurgle, Trey’s head dropped to the ground and ceased moving.

By that time, Hank had started to move as well, though he no longer appeared to be himself. His dilated pupils burned with ravenous aggression while his face was twisted into an animalistic snarl. He reached out toward them, but his seat restraints held him in place. He stretched his arms to their fullest length and worked his fingers desperately, hoping that his manipulation would help close the distance between him and them. A frustrated quake rippled through his body. He was so close to his prey, but just out of reach.

Simeon raised his pistol but Jess touched his arm in order to forestall his action. She said, “Shoot him in the chest. Shoot him in the heart.”

“Why?”

“Just do it. I want to see something.”

Thinking that perhaps this cute blonde girl wasn’t nearly as innocent or as helpless as she originally seemed, Simeon followed her directive and shot his friend squarely in the chest. To his surprise, the gunshot seemed to have no effect whatsoever.

Jess demanded over the horrible moan coming from Hank, “Shoot him again.”

Simeon again listened to her and shot Hank in the chest. The second bullet passed all the way through Hank’s body and struck some metal piece on the truck behind him. Regardless of the mortal wounds inflicted upon him, Hank seemed not to notice. If anything, he became more excited and animated in his efforts, straining against the seatbelt but to no avail.

Simeon looked back at Jess, who was as incredulous as he was. He wanted to ask her something, but couldn’t form the words of his elusive question. He just didn’t know what to think.

She finally said to him, “Now shoot him in the head just like you did Trey.”

Simeon raised the pistol and squeezed off a single round. The bullet struck the squirming Hank just above his left eye, scattering the gray matter inside his skull upon the seat behind him. With this final bullet, Hank or, more precisely, the beast who was once Hank, fell limp against his restraints and struggled no more.

When Justin started to squirm similarly, Jess simply said to Simeon, “We need to get outta here.”

They ran over to Allen, who had just gotten the bleeding from the cut above his eye under control, collected the rifles and ammunition from the back of Simeon’s wrecked truck, and climbed into Jess’ car. The three of them sped away with Justin still hungrily fighting to free himself from his simple but seemingly effective prison. They drove south and couldn’t put enough distance between themselves and the horrible revelations behind them fast enough.

Simeon kept looking over his shoulder, afraid of what might be following them. He wasn’t much for believing in fairy tales or ghost stories, but the things he had seen over the past day or so was changing the way in which he thought about the world.

Not too long thereafter, the three of them riding in Jess’ little blue sedan came upon the tail end of a solid wall of cars and trucks all stopped end to end and packed tightly asshole to elbow as her father used to say. There was no driving through it and no driving around it. It may as well have been a brick wall. But all of the cars were empty; there wasn’t a soul to see in any direction.

Allen wondered aloud for all of them, “I wonder what happened to all the people. Where the hell is everyone?”

Simeon suggested, “Back up the car a bit and maybe turn around.”

Jess looked over at him, her face screwed into a question. “What the hell will that accomplish? Homer’s that way...in front of us...not behind.”

“But what else is in front of us?”

Frustrated at having become no closer to Syd and possibly putting more distance between the two of them again, Jess had to grudgingly admit that it was probably a good idea. If they had to get out of there quickly, doing so in reverse could prove both difficult and dangerous.

While she turned the car around, Simeon climbed out with his hunting rifle, which looked as weathered as he did everywhere but in its metallic action. Those parts that were the truly functioning pieces of the rifle looked immaculate and well kept. He walked cautiously over to the first truck he encountered which happened to be a couple of ranks of cars into the mess. He checked in the rear windows of every car he passed, hoping not to encounter another creature as terrifying as what Trey and Hank had become.

Simeon walked like a hunter on the prowl. Jess watched him in her rearview mirror as he picked his way through and finally leapt into the bed of the truck. It was a big Ford that sat well above all of the cars immediately around it. Simeon hoisted the rifle to his shoulder and peered through the powerful scope. He stood as still as possible, letting his eye adjust to the incredible magnification produced by the optic device.

He was able to see well down this open, straight stretch of road. There were dips and slight rises, but overall the road ahead was a fairly direct path forward. He saw cars and trucks and dozens and dozens of boats that had never made their way to water.

Some of the boats more than others caught his eye. He admired some of the amazing water craft to which he would never have access. Of course, he had proven time and time again that he didn’t need a fancy boat or expensive equipment to catch fish or to hunt moose or any other outdoor pursuit he chose. His father had often told him that being a hunter was in his blood and having those expensive gadgets wouldn’t make him a better hunter, always warning him not to become a slave to modern devices because they were fleeting and would only thin his blood and make him forget his way. Looking out at all the vehicles sitting uselessly on the road, he couldn’t help but think about his father’s wise words. His father wasn’t a mystical shaman, but he did understand nature and man’s place in it. Simeon wondered what his father would have had to say about what was happening.

Satisfied that he had seen all that there was to see, he hopped back down and trotted back to Jess’ car. He sat down heavily and handed his rifle back to Allen, who instinctively checked the rifle for live rounds in the firing chamber. Seeing nothing there, Allen leaned the rifle next to his on the floor of the back seat.

Simeon said without much inflection in his voice, “Cars and cars. Miles of cars. But no people.”

Shaking his head, Allen asked, “Where could they all be? It’s not like they just disappeared or somethin’. Did they?”

Overwhelmed, Jess gushed emotionally, “My daughter is down there somewhere and I’ll be damned if I’m just gonna—”

“D’you guys hear that?” asked Allen suddenly.

Jess answered, “Hear what?”

“That. It kinda sounds like a buzzing, but I’m feelin’ it all over.”

Jess admitted, “I don’t hear or feel anything. You’re just distracting me. I need to find a way to get to my...”

Allen was looking over his shoulder by then and could see some movement amongst the cars that were now behind them. He was seeing it in the narrow spaces between the vehicles. He quickly surmised that the noise was coming from whatever was moving. He rolled down his window just a crack and the buzzing became louder but it was accompanied by something more.

They could all hear a screeching groan that sounded almost human. It was definitely coming from somewhere within the traffic jam and was getting closer by the moment.

Simeon said to Jess, “I think we need to be moving.”

“But Syd is down that way goddamnit!”

Simeon’s face became very serious, and he said again, “I think we should get moving.”

Jess put the car into gear and reluctantly let it inch forward. Moments later, three and then four enraged, terrifying people, who all shared common characteristics with Trey and Hank, emerged from the jam and started to sprint toward Jess’ car.

“Please get movin’!” Allen said, agreeing with Simeon.

Jess, still watching in her rearview mirror as the people got closer and closer, could see that all of them were either painters working with shades of red or that each was spattered to differing degrees with blood. She could also see, even from the rapidly declining distance between her and them, that their eyes were as steeped in fury as Trey’s and Hank’s had been.

She pressed the accelerator and asked over and over, “What is happening? What is happening? What is happening?” As she repeated the phrase, Jess’ words found themselves steeped more fully in desperate sorrow and agonizing, like a bitter tea that left a sour taste in the back of her mouth. She needed to get to her daughter, but there didn’t seem to be an immediate way to make that happen.