Into the Badlands (24 page)

He watched his son's chest rise and fall in the dim light from the sliver of moon high above. He thought about all the things Zach should have been allowed to experience. He thought about the man his son should have become. Ed remembered holding him right after he was born, and in that instant he saw his son's life pass before his eyes. None of that would come to pass now. It was just a ghostly vision, an imagined screenplay of a life that would be cut well before its end.

Ed began to sweat, and his stomach seemed to twist into knots. His face became hot and flushed. Adrenaline poured into his bloodstream. Emotions he hadn't felt in years rushed in, reminding him of Sarah. Killing his infected wife was the hardest thing he had ever done. The time had come for Zach to die; did he have the fortitude to carry it out? Could he pull the trigger and kill his own flesh and blood?

His finger squeezed the trigger slightly. He held it there for a moment, feeling the firing pin on the very edge of striking the cap of the shell. One click, then oblivion; a tiny scrap of lead to send him on his way. He had brought this human being into the world, now he would take him out of it.

His finger tightened slightly, then relaxed. Had they spent all the time they could together? They still very likely had another twenty-four hours. The virus hadn't shown any signs yet, so time was still available. It would come of course, but there was still precious time left. How could he end his son's life if he still had just a bit more to squeeze out of it? Was that fair to Zach? Or to Jeremy?

Ed released the trigger, and reapplied the safety. Not tonight. He placed the pistol back into its holster, then lay back down. Tears leaked from his eyes, his chest convulsing as the sobbing wracked his body. He held his doomed son closer. Jeremy stirred in his sleep, then reached out and hugged his father.

After some time Ed fell asleep; his face still covered in tears. He slept through the rest of the night, sleeping the fitful yet dreamless sleep of the damned.

Tammy awoke the following morning before the rest of the group. She opened her eyes and saw Dave, his back to her, finishing up the tail end of his guard duty. She closed her eyes again. Her best friend was still dead. That knowledge was like a dull ache, affecting every part of her mind and body.

It was all meaningless; all their effort, all their struggle, all their successes and failures, they all amounted to nothing in the end. None of it mattered up until now, and none of it would matter going forward. Another day of pontification and consideration hadn't changed that. It never would. She was sick and she was tired. She saw only day after day of the same worthless grind, only to ultimately become food for the deadwalkers, or to catch a bullet from a sniper as Brenda had.

She opened her eyes again, then sat up. Dave heard the movement behind him and turned around.

“Morning,” he said.

She grunted a response, too lethargic and apathetic to provide much more than that. She looked over and saw Ed sleeping with his two sons. It was only a matter of hours before the oldest one would start turning. And, after Zach was dead, how long could Ed expect to protect the younger one?

She stood up, surveying the camp once more. Everyone else was asleep, blissfully and temporarily unaware of the pain that permeated through each one of them. They'd remember it when they woke up, and they'd suffer through until sleep could bring more peaceful relief.

She looked at Ed and his boys once again. How could anyone expect Ed to carry on after the death of his son? Would he allow his son to turn into one of those...things? Surely not. And that meant he'd have to do the job himself. How could a father live with killing his own son, even if it was a mercy killing?

She knelt down, then picked up the rifle.

He shouldn't have to find out
, she thought.

In his dream Ed was home. Sarah was there, healthy and happy, sitting on the couch of their living room. Bright light streamed in through the picture window behind her, nearly blinding in its intensity. Zach and Jeremy sat on the floor, playing with toys together. They were seven and five respectively, as they had been just before the virus struck.

Her face was obscured by light that grew brighter and brighter every second. He tried to speak to her, but found he couldn't. Her mouth moved as if to say something to him, but he could hear no sound. She was smiling, her mouth turning up into a slight sneer on the right side like it always did when she was happy. They'd often called it her “Elvis” smile as a joke.

He tried to run to the couch, to his wife, but his legs were nearly frozen. It was as if his feet were trapped in deep, wet mud and his legs too weak to lift them out. He tried to speak again without success, then he tried to scream. No sound came out.

Sarah then began to drift away. Ed looked down in his hand. It was filthy, stained with years of travel, and in it he held his pistol. He raised it, pointing it toward his wife, and the expression on her face changed. Her brow furrowed, her smile turned into a frown, and her eyes seemed to lose focus. She bared her teeth like and animal, then opened her mouth to scream.

Suddenly Ed was jolted awake by the sound of a gunshot.

“Tammy!” Dave yelled. He turned to the rest of the group. They were wall awake by then, jolted upright by the sound of the gunshot.

“That was Tammy's rifle,” he told them.

“Where is she?” Trish asked.

“She went to the woods to pee.”

“With her gun?” she asked.

“Of course with her gun. We gotta go check it out; she might have run into a carrier.”

Trish looked at Dave. “Honey, I don't think she took a shot at a carrier.”

“What do you mean?” he asked. Then a look of sick realization passed over his face. “Oh, no.”

“I'm sorry,” Trish replied.

Dave sat down for a moment, lost in realization. The rest of the group waited, aside from Ed. He was numb to most everything outside of his children anymore. Dave stood up, drawing the pistol that had once belonged to Brenda from his front pocket.

“I'll take care of it,” he told them, then promptly disappeared into the woods. “She's my responsibility anyway.”

He found Tammy lying face down on the forest floor, her rifle lying beside her lifeless body. A large exit wound had destroyed the back of her head. He felt he should have been more shocked, but things were happening so quickly he barely had the time to feel anything anymore. First Sandy and Jim, then Brenda, then Zach. And now Tammy too. Just another horrible thing in the course of another horrible day.

And life went on all the same.

He recovered the rifle from the scene, then walked back to camp leaving the body where it lay. There was nothing else he could do for her.

Ed remained distant, spending all his time with Zach and Jeremy. It had been almost two full days since Zach was attacked by the carrier. The wound on his neck showed the first signs of healing, but strangely enough the boy wasn't yet showing signs of the disease.

Ed kept up appearances, but inside he felt he was dying. He knew what was waiting for both of them that night. It was constantly there in the back of his mind all the while; a nagging, sickening reminder. He began to feel more and more like a thief, stealing time for himself from his son. He was putting off the inevitable, but was it at Zach's expense? He couldn't be sure. Maybe it was stealing, and maybe it was unfair, but it was all the time any of them would have together. Wasting it seemed worse biding it.

Throughout the day Mitchell and Dave took turns running scouting trips in an attempt to get a read of the land and what lay in the direction they were heading. As they began to venture further and further out they ran into more city structures; buildings, streets, stoplights, and more. They were getting close to the city, but with the situation being what it was there was little to celebrate. They needed something to do to keep their mind off all the horrible things that happened, and what was still to come.

Trish brought Ed and the boys food throughout the day, despite Ed having food in his backpack. She would then excuse herself, allowing them to eat together without her. She wanted to give Ed the time he needed, but it was also just too difficult for her to deal with. She had grown so fond of all three of them, and it was killing her inside to watch them all suffer as they were.

Ed paid close attention to Zach as they spent time together throughout the second day. There should have been signs of the virus by the second day, but none appeared. Ed watched all through the day and into the evening, yet Zach showed not a single symptom of infection.

As he lay with his two sons in the darkness he felt a sense of both relief and dread. Without signs of the virus he would not shoot his son. Maybe they would get one more day together? Or maybe a few more hours? He could only wish and hope for whatever time they could get.

The following morning Ed awoke before the others. Mitchell was coming off guard duty, sitting with his back against a large tree. Ed rose, being careful not to wake the boys, and walked over to where he sat. It was the first interaction he had with anyone other than Trish in the past two days.

“Good morning,” Mitchell said to him as he approached. He motioned for Ed to take a seat on the ground beside him. “Good to see you up and about.”

“Morning,” Ed replied.

“How's he doing?” Mitchell asked.

“Well enough, given the circumstances.”

“How are you doing?”

“I've been better.”

Mitchell paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Ed, I've been watching,” he continued, “and that boy hasn't showed any of the signs yet.”

“I know. I can't explain it.”

“I think maybe I can.”

“How so?” Ed asked. His interest was piqued. He tried to keep his spirits in check.

Mitchell continued. “That virus shows itself in a day, maybe two, tops. Am I right?”

“Yeah, that's what I've seen. Your point?”

“So nobody ever got infected by it and didn't show symptoms within two days. Nobody. But your boy, he's outta the first day, even the second day, and he seems fine.”

“So far, yeah.”

“Well, that sorta thing hadn't happened before, least not that I'm aware of. And I seen a lot folks get sick with this.”

Ed's brow furrowed. “What are you trying to say?”

“What I'm sayin' is I saw this comin'.”

Ed was puzzled. “How so?”

“Think about it. Why aren't
we
sick? You and me, those girls, and the rest of us? That virus...almost everybody got it. If somebody sneezed in your direction, it was curtains. Touch a shopping cart or an escalator, and you got it. It was
everywhere
.” He leaned forward and looked directly at Ed. “I'm sayin' I think it's
still
everywhere.”

“But how could it be?” Ed replied. “We would have picked it up a long time ago. Unless...”

His eyes widened; the revelation was like a kick to the chest. His mouth went dry as his mind raced to comprehend the impact of the next words he spoke.

“Unless we're immune.”

CHAPTER 18

Ed, Zach, Jeremy, Trish, Dave, and Mitchell left their impromptu camp around midday. They headed west, in the direction of the city, leaving their two dead companions well behind. Zach continued to show no symptoms of viral infection and the wound on his neck continued to heal as expected.

Ed tried to remain cautious; after all, there was no guarantee they were right about Mitchell's hypothesized immunity. Despite all that, he couldn't help but be overwhelmed with with joy. All signs pointed to Zach getting a second chance at life, an eleventh hour reprieve from what Ed had been sure was a death sentence.

Mitchell and Ed had told Zach the news after he awoke, then they told the rest of the group. After all the horrible things they'd experienced over the past few months, news of Zach's eminent survival left them completely overjoyed. A buzz permeated the camp before they left, as if a spark had ignited a fire that had been smoldering to the point of extinction just days before.

They walked for most of the day, stopping only for food and similar calls of nature. Ed kept both boys close as they walked. Trish watched all of this with nothing short of absolute joy. Her happiness seemed to almost numb her of the horrible things she'd experienced up to now. She thought that the feeling wouldn't last, but for the time being it was magical.

Mitchell kept up well, despite his earlier claims of geriatric inability. After watching him take the carriers down at the farmhouse with machine-like precision everyone knew his self-deprecating style was that of humility. Mitchell spoke softly, but he carried a very big stick.

After they ate, Ed cleaned Zach's wound again. Afterward the boys walked off a short distance to play in the dirt. Ed made sure they didn't get too far away. The sight of both boys playing again filled Ed with euphoric glee. Seeing the makeshift bandage wrapped around Zach's neck only served to elevate his joy, a reminder of the bite his son had beaten.

Mitchell sat down beside him on the ground, groaning as he sat. They watched the kids play. In his fingers he held a bullet, spinning it around and around. It seemed to be a trick he used to keep his hands busy when they weren't doing the kind of work they did best. Dave and Trish joined them where they sat.

Mitchell watched Zach and Jeremy play for almost a full minute before finally speaking. “He's gonna be fine,” he told them. “Ed, I know I don't need to tell you this, but you got the second chance most people don't.”

“I know,” Ed replied. “You don't know how much I know that.”

Mitchell paused then spoke again. “I had a daughter, you know?”

“You mentioned that before,” Trish added. “Do you know what happened to her?”

Mitchell shook his head. “She was older than Ed's boys, but you know that really don't make a difference; your babies are always your babies. Her mom and me, we divorced some years back. I was known to hit the bottle a bit back then; could be that had something to do with it. Hard to say now, so many years later. Maybe we were just too different to get along.

“Her mom moved away, took my baby girl with her. I didn't get to see her much, but I tried to make the most of it when I did. She was a good kid; good grades in school, listened to her mom and me, everything you'd want.

“Then the virus came along. Everything went crazy, and her and her mom disappeared. I tried to find her, but I couldn't. I made it to their house eventually, by that time it was long since empty. No word on where they went, or if she even survived.”

“That's terrible,” Trish said.

Mitchell continued. “You know, a lot of people from my generation didn't like computers and cell phones, but it's not until something is gone that you appreciate it. Before the virus my daughter had set me up with e-mail, and I could even figure out how to send her text messages on her phone. I could reach her anytime. I started to take all that for granted. I wish we'd have talked more often.

“After the Internet and cell phones went down there was no way to talk to her. I wandered around for months, looking anywhere I could. People huddled up for a while in stores and whatnot, like refugee camps, but I never found her in any of them.”

“How long did you look for her?” Ed asked.

“Couple years. Eventually I just accepted what I knew was true; she was gone for good. After than I walked for a while, shaking up wherever I could find a place to sleep. Not too long ago I settled in that warehouse and all you folks showed up. Seeing those boys again, well, it sort of brought things back.”

“Why did you follow us?” Ed asked.

“Maybe that feeling I got was God's way of telling me I still had some kind of purpose left in me.”

There was a long pause as they all watched the kids play. Eventually Dave spoke. “Immune. It's mind-blowing. Why'd we never think about that before?”

“I suppose maybe we all thought we were just lucky,” Ed replied.

“It's also not a theory you want to test out,” Trish mused.

“No, I suppose not,” Mitchell commented. “What happened to your boy back there, although I'd never wish it, was the test we needed.”

“But there's no guarantee that we're all immune,” Dave remarked. “I mean, some of us could still just be lucky.”

“True,” Mitchell said, smiling. “I think we'll all still want to be careful, just in case.”

They continued heading west, toward the city. Mitchell began to slow a bit, but the rest of the group matched his pace. Nonetheless they continued making good time. After another meal and several more hours of walking they saw a sight that made them all stop in their tracks.

The Gateway Arch, made of shining stainless steel and standing over six hundred feet above the city, beckoned to them from the distance. They could only see the top over the trees and hills, but it was enough to cause them to catch their breath. The city Ed and his two sons had spent years walking toward was real and tangible now. At first Ed felt as though it might disappear like a mirage in the desert, but it remained in the distance, steady and strong.

“If we keep walking until nightfall, we can probably cross that distance by tomorrow night, you think?” Dave asked out loud.

Mitchell spoke up. “I think so, provided my bum legs hold out.”

“We'll keep our fingers crossed that you won't have any blowouts,” Trish said smiling.

Mitchell chuckled. “Honey, nothing's guaranteed by the time you get to this age, but we'll sure hope for the best.” He looked over at Ed and saw him standing there, holding his sons' hands, staring at the stainless steel structure in the distance.

They camped that night after walking another four hours. As they walked, the landscape began to change from farmland and residential suburbs to industrialized city. Abandoned buildings, exhibiting the appearance of neglect beginning long before the virus destroyed their caretakers, loomed on either side of them. Forest and fields gave way to weedy parking lots, decrepit city houses, and tattered apartment buildings.

They walked until nightfall was almost upon them, taking refuge alongside the base of an old wall, standing sadly by itself, its three counterparts long since demolished and carried away. They lit no fire so as to not draw any attention to themselves. Luckily most of the deep chill had disappeared from the nights by then. The temperature was mild, as most late spring nights were.

Late in the night the screams began. Ed counted eight or ten of these, each one bone-chilling in its agony and fury. They were moving into carrier territory it seemed, and Ed wondered just how safe they were camping with only a crumbling wall to conceal them. The cities and the houses were the last refuges of the infected, and they were were surrounded by houses and city now.

Ed sat against the wall, holding Zach and Jeremy tightly, gripping them harder with each scream they heard. Everyone was awake; sleep would no doubt be hard to come by this evening. Trish walked to them then sat down, leaning against the wall herself.

“We're going to make it, you know,” she told him.

“Yeah,” he replied. He hoped it was true.

“Dave's taking guard duty for now. Mind if I stay here with you guys?”

Zach and Jeremy smiled. “We don't mind at all,” he told her.

He put the boys down to sleep, then moved a few feet away with Trish in order to speak in private. “Back there the camp, after Zach was bitten,” he began, “I wanted to say thanks for your help.”

Trish smiled. “No problem. It was the least I could do. You don't know how happy I am.”

“I am too,” he told her.

They sat for a few moments, their backs against the rotten wall, staring in the darkness toward the city over the hills. Trish eventually broke the silence. “What do you think we'll find once we get to the city? For real, I mean. Not necessarily what you hope for.”

Ed thought about the question for a moment. “I don't know. I'm afraid it'll be like all the others; overrun. If it is, I'm not sure how we'll get back out again. Maybe this is the end of the line, either way.”

“I'm still holding out hope,” Trish replied.

Ed reached around her shoulders with one arm and pulled her near to him. “So am I,” he said. “So am I.”

Two hours later Dave woke Ed for his turn on guard duty. Two hours after that it was Mitchell's turn. Then came Trish's rotation. Eventually the sun rose, basking the ruined city in bright, orange light and warming the air around them. They had made it through the night, but they were still well outside the city. What they would find there was still a mystery.

They began walking shortly after dawn, finishing five cans of beef stew and two cans of corn before taking their leave. They were making the push to the city today, stocking up on calories was the first step. Their canteens were running low, however, and the natural streams they'd used in the past to refill them were now non-existent. Finding potable water in the city was proving difficult.

They walked along the highway, which now led them directly into a city once known as East St. Louis; now it was an even more crumbling and disintegrating relic of its former pathetic self. Roofs were collapsing into buildings, broken glass lay everywhere, and the bodies of the dead began to increase in number. Many of these were old, hollowed out and bony corpses. Others were more recent. This worried everyone, but they continued onward as planned.

After walking several more hours they heard another scream; this one, however, sounded close. They all stopped, looked, and listened. Ed drew his pistol, as did Dave. Trish carried Tammy's rifle now, but kept it slung over her shoulder. Zach and Jeremy remained ready, but didn't draw; they were waiting on word from their father. Mitchell's hand moved closer to the pistols he carried strapped to his hips.

“I don't think we should use the guns,” Ed recommended, holstering his own pistol. He removed the baseball bat from his backpack. “If there's just a few then can take them out without them. If we start firing we might as well blast a trumpet to announce our arrival.”

“I agree,” Dave said, holstering Brenda's pistol and removing his own baseball bat.

“I'm gonna need something here for myself,” Mitchell said, sounding disappointed.

“How about a tire iron?” Dave asked.

“That'd work, if I had one.”

Dave looked at Ed. “Keep an eye out.” He handed the baseball bat to Mitchell, then reached into his backpack for the tire iron he'd collected at the 7-Eleven. He felt a pang of sadness as thoughts of Brenda and Tammy crept in. He swapped Mitchell the tire iron for his baseball bat. Mitchell took it, looking out of place without his pistols in hand.

Suddenly from behind them they heard a carrier scream. It had stumbled up onto the highway from an embankment, then bellowed out when it caught sight of the group. It ran toward them, its arm hanging limp. It was dressed in tattered, blackened rags. Ed ran forward to meet it. He swung the bat as hard as he could, striking the thing in the mouth. The carrier put its hands up to block the blow, but it made no difference. The thing's lips and teeth disappeared into its mouth, its head snapping backward with with sickening momentum. It fell instantly on the concrete highway, then lay there twitching. Blood oozed from the thing's destroyed jaw.

“Ed, look out!” Trish cried. Ed looked up from the dead carrier to see two more charging him. One had a severe limp, the other was reasonably able-bodied. Dave ran toward the carriers, taking out the spry one first with a baseball bat blow to the side of the head.

The carrier with the limp screamed, then Ed smashed its head with the bat, silencing it. “We gotta get outta here!” he yelled. They regrouped, then ran. Ed looked back to see two more carriers climbing up onto the road from the embankment, but they were too sick or paralyzed to catch up.

They continued to run for several more minutes, but eventually they had take a rest. They were still shaken; all of them were out of breath and pumped full of adrenaline. As they stood, catching their breath, Mitchell shot Dave an approving look. Dave's inability to act back at the farmhouse was now ancient history, it seemed.

“That was close,” Dave said as they stood catching their breath.

“I know,” Ed responded.

Trish stood with her hands on her knees, catching her breath. “We need a plan.”

“Trish is right,” Mitchell added. “Walking right into that city ain't gonna be easy.”