Fade to Grey (Book 2): Darkness Ascending (27 page)

“Crow’s nest to everyone, repeat, crow’s nest to
everyone, can you hear us?”

The sound of his announcement blasting out of several
radios all at once quieted the audience immediately.

“What now,” Michelle hissed lowly.

Eric pulled the radio back to his lips.
“Scott,
this is Eric, we hear you. What’s up?”

“We have headlights coming our way. Two vehicles
approaching from the east.”

“Can you tell what kind of vehicles?”

“No. All we can see are the headlights, but they are
definitely heading this direction.”

“Roger that, stand by.”

“Maybe it’s the army coming to rescue us,” one of the
men from the campground voiced.

“It might be some of the people who left the
campground a few days ago, or maybe the traffic jam out on the road is breaking
up,” another lady offered.

“Whatever, or whoever it is, let’s be a little
cautious,” Sam replied as he hefted his shotgun.

“Everybody try and find a seat away from the windows
until we figure out who this is.”

Michelle strode over to the door next to Lenny and
peeked out through a crack in the garbage bag covered window.

“Sam,” Eric called out in a probably unnecessary
whisper, “go towards the front door and cover us from that direction. You got
the key?”

With the jingle of a key ring and a ‘thumbs up’
signal, Sam pushed through the divider curtain.

“Scott, give us a play by play of what’s happening.”

“10-4. They’re a mile away and heading our direction.
It doesn’t look like they’re going really fast, or really slow either. I guess
just normal highway speed.”

“Have you seen any other movement outside?”

“Negative.”

A lady from the crowd spoke. “We need to make sure
they know we’re here. What if they drive by and leave us . . . I don’t want to
stay here. Please, let them know we’re in here.” Her words began to trail off
into hysterics and sobs.

“They’ll know we’re here, ma’am. My truck is sitting
right outside with the headlights turned on.” Eric keyed the radio,
“Thompson,
you and Scott need to stay quiet. You’re our ace in the hole if something goes
bad, OK?”

“We’ll be church mice, until the hammer needs
dropped.”

Eric edged up to Michelle. “I’m going outside to flash
the lights on my truck when they get close.”

“We’re both going outside.”

No reply was necessary, or in Eric’s opinion, would
have in any way changed Michelle’s mind; so with a final request for silence,
he and Michelle slipped out the door.

Max immediately stood up in the bed of the truck and
swished his tail in low, wide arcs.

“Hey Max, good boy.” Eric reached over the side of the
Dodge and thumped Max on the rib cage. Sliding past, he reached through the
open window and turned the key, starting the truck just in case it was needed.
As soon as the engine caught, the headlights, no longer dependent on battery
power alone, brightened.

They crouched beside the truck and watched as the twin
set of headlights approached. Scott’s voice came through again.

“OK, it looks like they’re slowing down a little bit .
. . yep, they are. The, uh, first one, um . . . I can’t really tell for sure,
but maybe it’s longer, like a truck or something. Alright, they stopped about a
quarter mile away. The first vehicle is definitely longer . . . these binoculars
are hard to use at night, by the way . . . anyway, they’re just sitting there.”

Michelle picked up her own radio.
“Sam, are you in
position?”

“Yeah, I’m just inside the front door . . . I can see
the headlights, kind of, from here. Ready and waiting.”

Michelle nudged Eric’s elbow. “What do you think?”

His shoulders shrugged in reply. “I don’t know, maybe
another RV from the campground?”

“No matter who it is, we’ve got to make sure they’re
not bringing any infected people with them.”

Scott’s voice came over the radio. “
OK, they’re
moving again, slowly though.”
There was a pause of open aired silence that
lasted about fifteen seconds before he spoke again.
“they’re slowing down .
. . I’ll bet they’re seeing the bodies on the road.”

Eric craned his neck partway around the side mirror
for a better view. Two sets of very bright headlights were angled towards the
scattering of bodies they had put down earlier. From the top of the lead
vehicle, a bright spotlight clicked on and swiveled towards the closest corpse.

“Hey,”
Scott’s voice pitched up in excitement,
“I think that’s a fire truck.”
At that moment, the second vehicle cut its wheels and reversed slightly,
temporarily illuminating the bright red paint and gold lettering of the front
truck.
“It is, it’s a fire truck,”
Scott exclaimed.

“Stay below the roofline. Don’t give them an
opportunity to see your silhouette any more than necessary,”
Michelle keyed the radio, and then turned toward
Eric. “What do you want to do?”

“You tell me.”

“I think it’s time to reach in and flash your high
beams a few times. Let them know that someone is alive.”

Eric slid his shoulder upwards over the door panel and
reached in, flicking the high beam lever several times. Immediately the
spotlight on the fire truck swiveled towards them.

“Thompson . . . Scott, can you make it any more
details? Can you tell how many people are in the truck?”

“Hold on. OK, I can see a guy on top of the lead
truck, the fire truck. I guess he’s running the spotlight. I can see some
movement inside the cab of the fire truck, but I can’t make out any details. I
can’t tell anything about the rear vehicle other than it’s smaller—maybe a
pickup or SUV.”

“We can’t just stay here behind your truck, especially
with that big light blinding us. Besides, if there are more of those things out
there . . .” Michelle let her sentence trail off. It didn’t need to be
finished—they both knew the answer.

“The Lord watches over angels and fools, right?”

“Why, are you planning on doing something stupid?”
Michelle shook her head as she answered.

“Not stupid, mathematically calculated.”

“Eric, you’re an idiot. You failed math twice.”

“You wouldn’t let me copy your homework,” he smiled as
he stood.  “Besides, as far as they know, I’m the only one back here. Stay
down.”

Standing up to his full height of almost six and a
half feet, Eric slowly crossed his arms above his head in the attention
getting, repetitive ‘X” pattern. He noticed through squinted eyes that the
spotlight shifted ever so slightly. Good, that’s what he wanted. Sliding to the
left took him out of any protective cover, and he took several steps forward.
Changing his arm position into the universal football signal for ‘time out’
brought another change. The spotlight darted right, and then back left, from
the lake through the parking lot, across the building and out to the road
before snapping back on him. He made another ‘time out’motion, and then
gradually took the Fish and Wildlife radio off his belt and held it in front of
him. No bullets slammed into his body so far—a good sign. Walking slowly, Eric
pointed at the radio and then brought his hand up into the pinky and thumb
cradle at the side of his face that indicated ‘call me.’ He kept walking across
the gravel parking lot, and further to where it met with the pavement near the
road. Every ten steps brought a repeat of the ‘call me’ signal. The heavy
rumbling of the fire truck’s diesel engine reverberated in the cool night air
as he approached the faded white line at the edge of the westbound lane. By his
guess, he was now a little over half way. Eric stopped. Pointing again at the
radio, he walked a few paces forward and set it directly between the yellow
lines, and then reversed direction and headed back. The spotlight followed his
progress like a brilliant shadow the entire way.

“That could have turned to crap very quickly, you
know,” Michelle whispered loudly.

“I know.”

She mumbled something unintelligible in reply. “Stay
hidden, but hand me your radio,” Eric said, lowering his hand toward her.

The searchlight began a series of deliberate sweeps,
overlapping and repeatedly illuminating every area it could reach. Apparently
satisfied, the fire truck slowly crept forward, stopping just a few paces from
the radio. Again, the bright beam swiveled left and right, blasting the night
into daylight for a brief second before moving on.

As the light continued to search, Scott’s voice came
over the radio.
“OK, the door to the fire truck is opening.”

“Shit,” Eric and Michelle muttered at the same time,
both of them reaching the same conclusion.
“Scott . . . and everybody . . .
radio silence. Do not transmit. Listen only.”

“Maybe they didn’t hear that over the sound of their
engine.”

“Maybe.”

Still standing behind his pickup, Eric took a breath
and keyed the button.
“Attention fire truck, attention, fire truck. Please
pick up the radio I have left for you so we can communicate. Repeat, please
pick up the radio so we can communicate.”

The glare of the spotlight prevented him from seeing
the exact action, but he noted a disturbance in the shadows cast by the fire
engine’s headlights as a figure darted in and retrieved the radio.

After a slow count to five, he repeated his broadcast.
The reply came back immediately.
“This is Richland Fire and Rescue, we copy.
Repeat, this is Richland Fire and Rescue, what is your status?”

Michelle reached up from her crouched position and
laid a hand on the outside of Eric’s thigh. “Be very general for right now,
OK?”

“OK.” He paused for a moment, and then keyed the
radio.
“Fire and rescue, this is marina. Our status is currently stable.
What are your intentions?”

The radio remained mute for almost a minute before the
answer came back.
“Marina, is anybody sick at your location,”
the space
of two quiet heartbeats passed before the voice finished,
“anybody at all?”

“Negative. All of our personal are showing no signs of
infection. What about you?”

“Also negative. Can we do a face to face?”

Michelle tapped him on the leg. “Get his name first.
Find out how many people he’s got with him. They may say they’re not infected,
but the less exposure we have, the better off we’ll be.”

“Fire and rescue, this is Eric Coleman. Who am I
speaking to?”

“This is Lieutenant Wayne King of the Richland Fire
and Rescue.”

“Lieutenant King, how many personnel do you have with
you?”

Silence filled the airwaves for a solid thirty seconds
before the answer came back.
“Mr. Coleman, we are fully staffed on board the
pumper truck, and in the RRV. Why?”

“I don’t think he liked that question, Eric.”

“Do you know how many firemen are normally on one of
those trucks?”

Michelle shook her head. “No, and what’s an ‘RRV?’”