Containment (16 page)

“Have you ever seen one of things sneak up on anyone? I think Neil’s right; they don’t plot and plan. They just come right at you. I don’t think an ambush is something they could manage.”

“Okay, let’s just get this done then.”

Malachi adjusted his hands slightly so that he was still able to support the can with one and get the other to his hip holster. He didn’t remove the pistol yet, but having his hand there made him feel slightly more comfortable.

The sounds grew louder and seemed to expand, as if there was more than one source creating the racket. And then they could hear a growl, though they all agreed that it wasn’t the same sound emitted by the zombies. It was more naturally animalistic.

Art shook the can a little. “We’re almost done. Let’s get ready to move.”

They all wore concerned expressions like familiar masks that are never out of reach. Kim looked down at the hose, which was moving and threatening to emerge out of the top of the can as the container neared capacity.

When Art suddenly turned and ran, it caught both Kim and Malachi by surprise. Kim raised her free hand and was barely able to balance the gas can and keep it from toppling onto the ground.

Just a heartbeat later, Malachi saw what had spooked Art. A pack of dogs was almost upon them. The dogs were a variety of breeds and sizes, but one thing they all shared in common was a look of bloodlust that preceded them.

Without warning, Malachi stepped back and pulled his pistol. In so doing, he forced Kim to try and hold the gas can herself, which she was unable to do in the position in which she found herself. The can fell heavily to the ground but not before landing squarely on Kim’s foot.

“Owwwwwww fuuuuuccckkkkk!!!!”

Kim still hadn’t seen the dogs, but she knew that trouble was fast approaching. She took a step, trying to follow the now fleeing police officer. Her first step though delivered a chorus of pain that rippled through her legs and up her spine. Her vision, too, was colored with tiny florets of pain, dancing like imaginary fireworks before her eyes.

She fell to her knees and was finding it extremely difficult to get back to her feet. She forced herself up onto her one good foot and tried to hop, but she was too off-balance to take more than a couple of steps before she fell again.

She screamed, “Helllllp meeeee!”

Malachi turned to see Kim sprawled on the ground with her hands reaching out to him. He started to step toward her but then saw the dogs that were nearly upon her. Malachi fired his pistol three times, bringing down the closest of the dogs. Even after having done that, he was still frozen in place.

The terror in his eyes matched the same that was in hers. They looked at one another for a mere second but that torturous second seemed to stretch on and on, seeming to span a lifetime. His furiously pounding heart demanded that he act; Kim was doomed if he didn’t. His feet felt planted though. He tried to force them up. He tried, but he just couldn’t. His fear was making him lightheaded and that only contributed to the already formidable presence that paralyzed him. His mouth opened and closed as if he was trying to speak, but the words didn’t find a voice. He teetered forward on the balls of his feet, but then he leaned back and straightened his stance slightly.

Kim could see all too well that Malachi wasn’t coming to help her. The fear was palpable all around him. Even her panic-filled voice desperately screaming, “Nooooooooooooo! Don’t leave meeeeeee!” couldn’t break the wall.

Malachi turned and ran back toward the van. Dr. Caldwell and Jerry met him at the edge of the line of cars.

Dr. Caldwell asked, “Malachi? Where’s Kim? What’s out there? Where’s Kim?”

Too ashamed to even speak, Malachi pointed out toward the cars and toward Kim’s cries. He felt sick and weak. He needed to sit before he collapsed. He couldn’t handle the emotions that were gripping his chest and clouding his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he was crying or not but it didn’t really matter, he couldn’t control it anyway.

Art said from already in the van, “Dogs. We were attacked by infected dogs.”

“Where the hell is Kim?”

Almost in answer to that question, three hurried gunshots rang out from somewhere amidst the cars.

Malachi shook his head and then hurried on over to Maggie’s car. He climbed into the passenger seat, closed the door, and bowed his head into his hands.

Neil jumped into the driver’s seat of the van. “Let’s get loaded up. There’s no time to spare. They’re still coming. Listen!”

And when they all stopped speaking, they could hear the approaching growls and something more. They could hear Kim. The anguish and the agony made her words close to unintelligible, but hear the words they all did.

“Nooooo!!!!!. Ohhhhhh Goddddddddddd!!! I’m not readddddyyyyyyyy!!! Ohhhhhhh Jesuuuuussssss!!!! Nooooooo!”

There was a final gunshot and then all they could hear were the growls from the dogs that were now within sight. There were a variety of breeds and mutts coming at them. Some were big and some were small, but they all shared the same savage, aggressive appearance. They were no longer man’s best friend by any stretch of the imagination.

The van’s doors closed as the first of the dogs cleared the line of cars. The animal didn’t even hesitate. It threw itself against the side of the vehicle with a thud and then stood up to do it again and again and again. With each impact against the door, everyone in the van jumped.

Meghan and Emma both said to Neil, “Just go.”

Neil shut his eyes for a second. The sorrow was as heavy as it ever had been, but he couldn’t find tears. The reservoir of his pain was as arid and salty as the Dead Sea. He put the van in gear and steered them away.

In the van heading toward downtown Anchorage, the questions came fast and furious.

Meghan demanded, “Art, what happened?”

“We were just getting gas and those dogs...they snuck up on us. It all happened so quickly. I just...”

Claire finished with a bit of a snarl, “You just had to save your own ass. Isn’t that right? You got scared and left her, didn’t you?”

Stung, Art didn’t bother to even look at her. “I did all that I could. She just couldn’t keep up. If I would have stayed with her, there’s no telling what would have happened. What could I have done?”

Meghan looked at Claire and stifled her next comment. She could see that Claire was holding resentment toward Art that wasn’t only stemming from this incident. There was something more going on. She looked over at Emma who was casting sideways glances over her shoulder at the car following them. Meghan already knew about the animosity Emma bore for Malachi.

Meghan said, “Art, tell me exactly what happened.”

“What does it matter? She’s gone and no amount of my telling you how it happened is going to change that.”

“I just need to know.”

“Okay. We had to go into the cars kind of deep to find enough gas to fill those cans. And then we found a big truck with two tanks on it and one seemed to be pretty full, so we started to fill the cans. The gas was only coming out so fast, though. So we just stood there trying to fill up as fast as we could.”

“Who was doing what?”

“What does that matter?”

Claire interjected, “Just answer the goddamned question!”

Art started to vocalize a response to her barb, but bit it off still in his throat. “Kim fed and held the hose into the can while Malachi and I held it up.”

“Held it up?” asked Meghan for clarification.

“Yeah, the truck had a lift package on it, so the tank was up kind of high. We were just standing there talking and filling the tank when the dogs attacked us. They were just there all at once.”

Emma, sitting in the backseat next to Claire, thought to herself that if Kim was only holding the hose in the mouth of the can then it is only logical to assume that she would have been the first to be on the move. She dismissed her suspicions, however, as merely being products of her distrust of Malachi. She didn’t bother to mention her thoughts out loud. She looked over at Art to see if she could detect any malfeasance. The side of his face held no clues whatsoever.

Refusing to look anyone in the eye, Art asked, “What does any of this matter?”

Dr. Caldwell, who had been sitting quietly but listening intently, said calmly, “Because, Art, if we know what went wrong this time then maybe we can avoid the same mistakes in the future.”

“Mistakes? What mistakes?”

Meghan, her distrust on the rise now, asked, “You tell us? How did it all go so wrong?”

“What do you mean wrong?”

Claire shouted, unable to contain her frustration any longer, “She died you fool. She’s dead and you were with her. You were there.”

Seeing his opportunity to turn the tables, Art shouted back, “That’s right. I was there. I was putting myself at risk while
you
stayed back here at the van...safe. Who the hell are you to judge me? You weren’t out there when those goddamned dogs were coming at us, were you?”

Claire wanted to shout back at him but she could see that it wasn’t going anywhere and now she felt like she may have disrupted Meghan’s questioning enough to let him off the hook. She couldn’t know for sure that Art had anything to do with Kim’s death, but when he appeared from the line of cars well before the cop she couldn’t help but wonder. And now, he seemed to be getting awfully loud and adamant about some pretty basic questions, but this wasn’t going anywhere, so she dropped it.

Art too dropped it. He was satisfied that he had deflected blame from himself. While Art knew that he could have done more to help Kim, he was also fairly certain that in so doing he might have put all three of them at risk. As it was, two of the three of them had made it out and, in his mind, he felt that perhaps his actions had saved his and the police officer’s lives. If Art hadn’t recognized the danger and taken to flight, then those dogs might have caught them and they’d all be dead. In fact, his running probably saved everyone’s lives because his sudden appearance put them all on alert. Would they have been loaded into the van already had he not warned them? And yet, these women and that doctor were berating him. Who the hell was he kidding? Art could see right through doctor’s ploy. He didn’t want to know how to make them all safer the next time something like that happened. No. He was fishing for any excuse to blame Art for Kim’s death and that was clear.

Well, to hell with him. Art had dealt with people like that all his life; people who would twist and distort every detail of what everyone says just to prove themselves right. Kim’s death wasn’t his fault and he wasn’t going to let anyone try and figure out a way to blame him for it. He figured the best thing for him to do was to not give them any fodder with which to work. He leaned back into the seat, crossed his arms, and closed his eyes. If he was asleep, even if he was faking it, they couldn’t ask him any questions and use his answers against him.

Neil hadn’t said a word. As he drove, he watched in the rearview mirror as the dogs tried to pursue them. Several had stayed with them for a bit, but in the end the two vehicles proved to have too much speed and too much stamina for the dogs. One by one, they slowed down and then stopped the chase.

As the infected dogs disappeared behind them, Neil relaxed his foot from the gas pedal a bit and started to breathe normally again. With the immediate danger gone, he surveyed the cabin of the vehicle. Down Meghan’s cheeks spilled silent tears and in her eyes was a very familiar sorrow. To Neil, Kim’s death felt like losing a family member and judging by Meghan’s tears, she must have felt the same way. All the passion and anger and accusation melted away with each salty drop.

Downtown Anchorage resembled many cities of similar size and age. There was a multi-lane thoroughfare or two; there were some good-sized office towers with names like Key Bank and ConocoPhillips at their tops. The government buildings and courthouses were large granite structures that seemed to serve as landmarks for navigation as much as they did actual civic function. Usually, the streets were mostly clean and the shops were mostly open. The restaurants were typically busy and the several hotels were absolutely hopping during the busy summer tourist months.

Once away from the city center, Anchorage was as beautiful and well plotted as any city. The Delaney Park Strip, just south of downtown, ran for several east-west blocks and served as a median separating the commercial from the residential portions of the old city. Amongst the small houses and cottages with finely groomed yards, flower gardens, and yard swings, it was easy to forget that a bustling commercial district that catered to tourist needs was just a handful of blocks away. Adding to the fairytale quaintness, it was not unusual to see a horse drawn carriage with sightseeing passengers skirting the edges of these largely idyllic neighborhoods. It was as peaceful and safe a place as its residents desired.

Of course, that had all changed for the inhabitants on that fateful morning several weeks ago. People, young and old, fled the vicinity like every other corner of Anchorage. And like the rest of the city, the vast majority of those people, both young and old, met their doom while trying to escape it. The chaotic desperation that had claimed most of the city’s inhabitants visited itself upon this peaceful corner as much as it did everywhere else. There seemed to be no escaping it.