Alaskan Undead Apocalypse (Book 3): Mitigation Book 3) (34 page)

They were running through the loading areas and back parking lots of the businesses that sat along the main highway. Their trek luckily took them clear of any more of the menacing wraiths. The activity at the tanker had apparently attracted every ghoul in the vicinity to the street.

In no time, they were back at the river. Exhausted, with muscles aching and lungs struggling, Jess looked toward the bridge and was disgusted to see a small pack of the creatures standing, waiting in the middle of the road. She counted four zombies who were even then starting to put their noses to the air, and that’s when she realized those things could smell them.

There was no time to hesitate and she knew full well that none of them really had any reserves on which to draw to have another battle. She looked at Simeon, who was already checking the load on his pistol. She had six more shots and six beyond that in her pocket.

They nodded at one another and charged out from behind their cover. It took a moment or two before their movement was detected, which allowed them to get closer and ensure that their bullets hit their marks.

Simeon shot first when he pulled his trigger twice quickly. Both bullets hit the nearest zombie above the shoulders. The first struck the thing in the neck and the second hit it on the side of the head just above the ear. It collapsed into another of the beasts which righted itself only to take a bullet to its forehead.

Jess fired as well, but the sharp cracks from Simeon’s pistol made her wince, and her first shot went wild. The second hit its chosen target, though it only punched a small hole in the ghoul’s Carrs apron. She fired again and was finally able to produce the tiniest of holes in the fiend’s forehead. It appeared to be enough, as the beast shuddered and then slowly fell forward, all of its fire having faded from its upturned eyes.

Simeon finished off the final monster and they all started to run again. The renewed shooting had reawakened the percolating hunger of the zombies still searching for their prey back near the truck.

There was a fair amount of distance between them and the zombies, but there was no time to dawdle. They needed to get back to the school as quickly as possible. They would be coming back empty-handed but at least all of them would be returning.

That was the last time Jess had wandered outside the school or its protective walls. She’d seen enough of what lay beyond. She realized that it could just as easily have gone much differently, much worse for all of them. Not an optimist by nature, Jess could only imagine around which corner she could have met a violent end.

And then there was the guilt, a gnawing, relentless, ulcerous feeling that chewed her insides whether her eyes were opened or closed. She found that she couldn’t close her eyes anymore without seeing Syd’s face. In the quiet solitary moments of night, she could hear her daughter’s voice and her warm laugh in her thoughts.

Jess’ actions never went beyond chastising herself though. During those dreamy moments that hovered between sleep and awake, she could imagine herself sneaking away to head south. The first few steps would be exhilarating. When she started to imagine picking her way alone in the dark, through the string of bumper to bumper cars on the highway, Jess would be jarred back awake, having to attempt her descent to sleep all over again. On some nights she found it impossible to sleep. Instead, she wept silent, painful tears all night long until the glow of morning signified it was time to rise again.

A handful of days later, when the shock of that day still resonated with all of them, the militia arrived. Hauling their own small tanker filled with gasoline, they drove up to the line of school buses. Seeing the military-looking vehicles and the military-looking uniforms and, perhaps most importantly, the military-looking weapons, the gate was opened and the militia was allowed to take over.

While Jess grew closer to Royce, she felt herself drifting further away from both Simeon and Allen over the days that followed. Allen was immediately drawn to the militia’s authority and perceived power. It started with simple curiosity and conversations. Soon though, he was eating his meals with them and standing watch with them.

When Allen showed up one morning wearing a uniform, Jess couldn’t claim to be surprised. It was just a matter of time really. To herself, she wondered what kind of initiation rite he had to endure. With the new black eyes, he looked a little like a raccoon, but he wore those battle scars with pride. It was not unlike joining a fraternity and with his affiliation with the group, he could and would enjoy all the benefits granted. He received better sleeping accommodations and slightly better rations. He was also given one of the much coveted assault rifles to have on his person at all times.

Allen believed it when he was told that sometimes they had to appear cruel in order to maintain both security and order. Of course, those terms were dictated and practiced by those in power who had the luxury of deciding how to provide security and what was the accepted definition of order. And as a very smart man once said, when there is a miscommunication or a misunderstanding, the party under the thumb is always the party that suffers.

Allen didn’t consider this, nor would he have considered it. He simply didn’t think that way. It wasn’t a matter of intelligence or critical thinking; he was just not inclined to consider issues that deeply. He actually thought that his position with the militia might benefit Jess and Simeon as well as everyone else at the refuge. He was a good man and would act accordingly. He hoped that he would be able to make a difference for all of them at their sanctuary.

Simeon, on the other hand, continued to go out on every excursion outside the wall. He ran himself ragged, like he was running from something or possibly atoning for something. He rarely spoke, and when he did he didn’t waste words on such musings. For him, things were simply the way they were.

At first, he chose to sleep outside, near a large metal trash can which he used as a burn barrel. He went into the woods surrounding the school and retrieved pieces of wood to burn and generally kept to himself. When he was out in the town, he engaged no one in conversation and shared few words. He always stepped up to help anyone in need and refused to allow anyone to be left behind, regardless of the danger.

As the temperature continued to edge its way down, he allowed Jess to talk him into sleeping inside. She had to convince him that it wasn’t for his sake but for the sake of those people, likely herself, who would have to care for him if he became ill. He grudgingly consented but then chose to sleep near one of the numerous exits.

Every morning, Jess would go to Simeon’s area to wake him and spend some largely silent moments with him. His quiet nature and flat disposition made her feel lonely. If she was lucky enough to have something warm to bring him to eat or to drink, she would but often she came to him empty-handed. He would smile up at her from his bed of newspapers and discarded towels as she touched his shoulder lightly to wake him. This went on for days and days. It became a bit of a ritual.

One morning she came down to his little nest and found that her tortured bird had flown. Sometime during the night, he’d gathered his newspapers into one tidy stack and his towels in another and departed. It pained her to think that she was the only one who would miss him more than his guns or his nerve. He was gone and she rightly doubted he would ever return.

Despite the growing number of people at the school, Jess felt more and more isolated. Royce was the only one with whom she really spoke and he was a bitter curmudgeon most of the time, which made it difficult to be around him.

And through all of this, her overwhelming fear battled with her overwhelming guilt to determine her daily torment. Her daughter was still out there. She could feel it. Syd was alive and safe. Jess had to find her. But how? There was a world of walking death separating the two of them. She also doubted that her daughter would still be in Ninilchik or Kasilof or anywhere else on the Kenai Peninsula. Jess had to hope that Bob would have taken her as far from this place as was possible. Again, Jess had to ask herself to where they would go. The world had changed and nowhere was safe any longer.

She was nearing the limit of her resolve when the idiot militia guys brought in the captives. When she saw them drag that girl down into the darker end of the hall toward the “secured” portion of the school, she suspected the worst. And when they led those four kids over to the fenced kennels they’d put some of those things in out on the basketball court, she knew there was no limit to their cruelty or depravity.

Jess had reached the end of her rope and wished that Simeon was still around to help her take action. The problem she had...well, actually, she had several problems, but the first problem she had to overcome was resolving herself to do something. She’d gotten so comfortable in her complacency. She, like many of the people at the school, simply needed a catalyst to set her into motion.

Coming closer to Soldotna, Neil let his foot off the gas a bit. He needed to be careful and pay better attention to the gas gauge. He didn’t want to run out of fuel too soon. The truck would make a very handy vehicle in which to make their escape.

Emma asked, “So where the hell is Skyview?”

Della answered flatly, “On the other side of town. Just down the road a bit.”

Confirming, Neil asked, “On the other side of the river?”’

Della again responded without emotion or inflection in her voice. “On the other side of the river.”

Ahead, in the road, Neil spied some movement. There were a couple zekes, looking lost but frightful, wandering aimlessly on the lanes of the highway. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and pressed the gas pedal a little more. With a clenched jaw, he braced himself for the coming impact.

The silver truck growled like an armored war elephant and surged forward. It was almost too late when Neil realized that it wasn’t just two zekes in the road. With their V-8 Hemi engine steadily building steam, they crested a last rise in the road and saw a large crowd of the creatures milling about expectantly on the highway in front of the looted Fred Meyer store. Just beyond the mass of walking dead, was a large, shiny silver tanker truck. It blocked most of the road and what the tanker didn’t block, the zombies did.

Holding his breath and barely controlling his fear, Neil was forced to veer right and continue north on the highway or risk becoming enveloped by the mob.

“It’s that way? Right?” Jerry asked.

Frustrated and a little on edge, Neil snapped, “I’m working on it, okay?”

“Just checkin’.”

In his rearview mirror, Neil watched the terrifying mob become much more animated as they gave chase. The lethargy of the grave was shaken away by their flailing arms and groaning mouths. Like an amorphous plague culture devouring the contents of a petri dish, the pursuing horde filled the road and median behind them. Jerry rubbed his temples and his chest trying to ease the discomfort from the increased density of the undead subsonic buzz.

Steve, their militia hostage, was also massaging his head, suffering from the strain, his eyes widened with surprise. “Where the hell did all these come from?”

“You never seen a big group of zekes before?” Emma asked.

“Zekes, huh? We call ‘em skins. But yeah, I seen ‘em thick and heavy, but...the Colonel...he told us they’d killed or chased all of ‘em off. He said that Soldotna was mostly clear and that maybe we’d be able to go home soon.”

Emma summed up what everyone else was thinking when she said, “Nobody’s ever gonna be able to go home. There’s just no such thing anymore.”

“Well, maybe we can make a new home then,” Steve said hopefully. “I didn’t have much of one before anyway. Anything would be better than what I had.”

Emma warned, “Careful for what you wish for.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It can always get worse than it is,” Jerry said, “and sometimes you don’t even notice until it’s too late and you’re boxed in.”

Sensing the conversation was headed for a decidedly dark philosophical place, Neil punched the accelerator with a very heavy foot. He was trying to ignore all the talk but finally determined his efforts were futile. “This Colonel. Who is he? Is he really military? Does he have any answers?”

“No, he ain’t military or connected to the government at all. He just organized us. He and Carter and Sullivan all lived out on a homestead near Kasilof. They been collecting supplies and preparing for the collapse of civilization. They knew it was comin’. They could see all the signs. They bought guns and ammo and other military equipment. I don’t know how they got what they did. The Colonel was a lawyer and had lots of money, so he could afford to buy all kinds of things and in lots of different ways.”

Neil asked for clarification, “Meaning?”

“Meaning, he had his own contacts in the black market arms trade. Let’s just say where there’s the will and the cash, there’s a way. When it did finally happen, the fall I mean, he gathered all his people out on his property and closed the gate behind them. He had lots of land and a barbed wire fence around all of it. I went along with a friend when my mom and dad decided to go south and leave me a note. They didn’t bother to even look for me. They just took my younger sister and headed out of town without me. They probably were hopin’ to find a place on someone’s boat down in Homer. Maybe they made it. To be honest, I don’t really give a shit one way or the other. I guess I cared about them as much as they cared about me.”