Alaskan Undead Apocalypse (Book 3): Mitigation Book 3) (45 page)

When Danny wrapped his arms around Neil’s legs at the school, Neil had never felt more gratified or paternal in his entire life. Being an uncle was completely different; not that he ever saw his niece or nephew.

It was that sense of responsibility which encouraged him to put his foot to the brake and bring the car to a stop. With the high beam lights of the car, there was little that they couldn’t see on the highway, so he felt secure in stopping.

No one asked, so Neil asked calmly, “What are we doing?”

The silence persisted. There was more than one answer to that question. Emma thought that perhaps she understood the nature of Neil’s query but she also wanted to avoid the futility of the answers it might generate.

The simple answer was that they were driving north on the Seward Highway looking for sanctuary. They were surviving and little else. They hadn’t eaten in two days and the last meal they did have consisted of a partial container of fish food Della found which was poured into a warm pot of water and some green grass; not exactly a feast. They were struggling with little to no hope of reward.

Emma realized all of this but was hesitant to acknowledge it. Instead, she simply said, “We’re gettin’ by.”

Neil asked, “Is that enough?”

To which, Emma responded, “There’s not much else we can do. We just have to keep moving. That’s what you used to say.”

Nodding his head, Neil still couldn’t lift his thoughts from his foreboding doubts. Emma didn’t hesitate. She said to all of them, “Do we prefer the alternative? Do we just want to give up?”

Emma’s question hung heavily in the air of the car’s dark interior. It was Danny who first responded, “My dad told me to never give up. When I wanted to quit playing soccer ‘cause I didn’t like not playing with my friends, he told me that I had to honor my commitments.” Danny emphasized the words
honor my commitments
as if he was channeling his father.

Jerry said from behind Jules’ blond head, “Your dad was a smart man.” Realizing his gaffe, Jerry quickly corrected by saying, “Sorry. Your dad is a smart man. Didn’t mean anything by that.” The distinction was apparently lost on Danny who simply nodded to Jerry.

Jess asked, “Where were you taking us?”

“Before we headed down to Soldotna, we were trying to go to Whittier. We thought that maybe Whittier was free of all of this. I guess we hoped that we could find a place where we could go to be able to escape,” Neil admitted.

Without missing a beat, Jess asked, “Escape to where?”

Neil looked over at Jess to ask for clarification, to which Jess continued, “This infection or whatever it is has spread everywhere. At least that’s what we heard before the Colonel’s satellite phone stopped working. That was the last outside contact any of us had with the Lower Forty-Eight. I don’t know about the rest of the planet, but our side of the globe is pretty quiet.”

Emma asked, “But how?”

Jess looked away from them and stared out the window into the dark.

“It started on that first day,” Jess said in a hushed voice filled with surrender. People all over Anchorage were just trying to get away, or that’s what we heard at least. Nobody knew for sure what was happening or what was causing all the chaos. It just seemed like Hell had opened its mouth and was trying to swallow Anchorage whole. Down in Soldotna, all we knew was what CNN or whoever was telling us. The most accepted theory was that it was a terrorist attack. Maybe biological weapons or something. Maybe they were right. Some mad scientist’s experiment finding its way out of the lab. I don’t know.

“Anyway, people were getting onto planes and boats and whatever was available. Some bribed their way on and others fought their way. Some of the last things I saw online were people at the airport or port or wherever all standing in long lines hoping that maybe they’d be granted passage out. Scared faces, young and old, men and women. And then, on one of the reports, there was some screaming and then a bunch of commotion just outside of the frame. I thought that maybe whatever was happening everywhere else had finally made it to them. And I guess that’s kind of what happened. Some folks decided that maybe guns were their ticket out. They started shooting everyone in their path. Policemen, airline people, and just people standing in line. The person with the video camera just kept recording as the massacre unfolded. Kids, women, men, and even dogs...no one was safe from those people. I wonder if it worked for them? I wonder if they got a ride out of town like they wanted?” The last two comments created a pause for Jess, in which she allowed her curiosity to wander a bit.

Finding her way back to her story, Jess continued, “It was like watching some horrible movie. Regardless of how they made it happen, some people found their way out of Anchorage. The problem was that no one knew it was in the bites and that anyone who’d been bitten had been infected.

“I saw more than a few folks pushing their way through who had bloody wounds and dangling bandages. I didn’t know what was going on. No one knew. I was as scared for those people as they were for themselves. Christ, they should’ve left all of them behind, but, like I said, nobody knew.

“The first plane to land was in Fairbanks. Someone on board had been bitten and must’ve died en route and then you know what happened. Could you imagine dealing with one or some of those things at thirty thousand feet? Talk about a fucking nightmare. Jesus, that must’ve been awful.” Jess visibly shuddered as that possibility played out in her mind.

“Well, the plane landed but the pilots didn’t know what was happening in the cabin. Their door was bolted and so they were protected from whatever they’d heard was happening on the other side. When they came to a stop on the tarmac, police and firefighters were waiting, but they didn’t know what to expect either. And when the doors opened, dozens of those things came spilling out, killing everything in their paths. And then the cycle started all over again. Some of that was caught by independent reporters at the airport too. When I saw that happen on the television, I thought...maybe I hoped that I was dreaming, but it was too real.

“Fairbanks only lasted a few hours...less than a day. I guess a lot of people got out of town and headed to the Bush, but most of the population was stuck just like in Anchorage. Eielson and Wainwright held out for a bit, but pretty soon connections were lost with the military up there too. It was like a light going out suddenly. The reporting from up there just stopped.

“That was about the time that I left my house. When I got to the school back there, some other folks told me that planes loaded with those things landed in Seattle and Vancouver and a coupla’ other places too. It was like we were invading ourselves or something; our own worst enemies.” Again Jess paused. She seemed to be lost in a swirl of memories

No one in the car could have known she was thinking about her daughter, though they could all sense her concern and her drifting thoughts. She had been operating under the, now she suspected false, assumptions that Syd was somewhere safe and removed from this tragedy. Hearing her own voice recount those early days and the quick spread of the cataclysm was rekindling her doubts. She tried to picture her daughter’s face but couldn’t dispel the visions of a hundred snarling, decomposing, ghouls which wouldn’t allow her to have peace. She closed her eyes tight but they could never feel as tight as the growing lump in her throat and chest. Tears, scorching her from the inside out, found their way through the tiny cracks between her eyelids. She held the picture of Syd to her chest and cuddled it as if it were a baby.

Not wanting to acknowledge but unable to ignore the probable truth, Jess said in disgust, “I don’t think there is anywhere to run. As soon as this thing got out of Anchorage, I don’t think there was any way to stop it. Nobody’s comin’ for us because there’s no one left able to. We’re on our own whether we like it or not.”

Neil asked, “Are you sure?”

Jess held up her daughter’s picture. “She has been the only reason why I found the courage to wake up most days and go to a job that was slowly killing me from the inside out. She was my world. I had hoped to get away from all of this and find her. I wanted to get to her and make sure that she was safe and...” Jess’ emotion caused her to bite back a sob and stop speaking or lose all control. She breathed deeply, trying to hold back the tsunami of emotion. “Like I said, the same thing that happened in Fairbanks happened in Seattle and Vancouver. Maybe in other cities too. Everywhere a plane went, that plague went with it. There were boats and ships and yachts and who knows what else on the sea too. A whole fleet of death set to sea. Some of them started to make landfall a few days later and the problem just got worse. Sure enough though, most people wanted the military to sink the drifting cruise ships and tankers still on the ocean, but corporate lobbyists forced a discussion in Congress that delayed action until it was too late.” Jess paused again, this time in anger, and continued more sarcastically, “Those big ships represent a huge investment in capital after all.”

Quieter, with a funeral voice, Jess finished with, “The last thing I heard was them talking about bombing our own cities and using whatever force necessary to contain the threat. The voice reporting the plan...reporter...general...spokesperson...whatever...was, I don’t know, a little less than convincing. Probably because he was a little less than convinced. I don’t think they got this thing figured out and I don’t know that they will.”

Jerry, quiet up to this point, asked, “So what does that mean?”

Jess didn’t have an answer to that question. She both wished to have one and dreaded what it might be. Instead, she said, “That means that I need to find a way to find my daughter. We gotta find a place where we can rest tonight and eat tomorrow.” She took a deep breath and summed up for them, “I guess it means we go to Whittier.”

Neil repeated, “
Whittier
. That’s where
we’ve
been headin’ all along. It’s seems so far away.”

Still looking at the picture of her daughter, Jess said softly, “Everything does. We just gotta keep on trying.”

Shangri-La. El Dorado. Camelot. Whittier, Alaska. Each of these places held mythic properties during its time. Well, three out of four did anyway. Whittier was at least real, an attribute the other cities couldn’t claim, though Whittier’s shine was much less shimmering. Each, however, attracted the attentions and affections of some very enthusiastic seekers during its day.

Whittier, again as opposed to its municipal brethren, was also in a position to be able to deliver on its purported promises. This was primarily due to the proverbial expectations bar having been set so low because of the track record of the others. None seemed to ever be able to deliver.

El Dorado was the lost city of gold sought out by Conquistadors from the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries. The lucky soul or souls who happened upon its storied halls was rewarded with untold riches and a lifetime of spending without any care given to earning. Entire fortunes were spent pursuing the elusive city and yet no one was ever able to lay hands on the mythic and epic treasure.

Shangri-La was a peaceful utopia, free of want and aging in a turbulent world full of suffering and loss. A cast of seekers ranging from Tibetan Monks to wayward adventurers sought the undying lands which always managed to stay just one step away despite entire lifetimes devoted to searching.

On the other hand, there was Whittier, Alaska. It wasn’t a bad place, nor did it always deserve the playful moniker “Shittier” to which it was referred by regional locals. The weather was typically lousy but the fishing was most often good. Truth be told, there really wasn’t much Whittier to Whittier.

It was a nice community, once upon a time, but that wasn’t the present draw for Neil and his companions. They sought neither gold nor other treasure. They weren’t even on the hunt for an epic fishing trip as promised by many a charter fishing brochure. Neil, Jerry, Emma, and the others were looking for the peace of Shangri-La without the utopian visions. They wanted to find a place where they could just stop running and let some moss begin to grow.

With Whittier so close but still separated from them by a door of titan proportions, they couldn’t know if the town was a sanctuary waiting on the other side or a Pandora’s Box of suffering waiting to be cracked open. There was no way of knowing, short of finding a way beyond the barrier.

There was nowhere left for them to run.

And so the final leg of the
Alaskan Undead Apocalypse
will play out in Whittier in
Resolution.