Roads Less Traveled (2 page)

“Alright,” Mia whispered, taking on the same tense hush as I had. “If you need anything, well, good luck to ya, ‘cause I can’t help.” She laughed in that snickering way you do when you’re trying to be quiet in church.

I smirked and said, “Gee, thanks old buddy,” as I headed up the steps. I wasn’t really surprised the zombies hadn’t found me yet. I lived in the country, about ten miles or so from the nearest town. Sure I had neighbors, or I should say
a
neighbor, but he lived about two miles down the road from me. I made my rounds upstairs, through the four bedrooms and two bathrooms, and saw nothing outside. No deadheads, no neighbors, nothing.

“Okay, it’s all clear here. Everything still holding there?” I dreaded the answer, and a slow- moving guilt began eating its way into my guts.

“I’m not sure how many there are, but they’re all around the house. They’re slow, have you noticed that? And they act like they don’t really know what to do. I mean, they’re pounding on the windows, but there’s rocks and stuff all around them and they aren’t using them to break the glass. But let me guess, you already knew all this. And I have a feeling it’s not because you’ve witnessed it yourself today.” Amusement began to creep back into her voice, and I was very relieved to hear it.

I didn’t reply, only chuckled and tried to think of ways to stall the inevitable. I couldn’t get to her. She couldn’t get to me. She had one shotgun and a single box of shells. She was surrounded and most likely only had a few days of food and water. My rough and tough demeanor was in danger of turning into despair and hopelessness. Fortunately she saved me from spelling out the obvious.

“Listen, Kasey. I know I won’t last long, and I know you can’t come and rescue me. It’s just a terrible fact we both need to accept. Don’t feel guilty, and don’t do anything stupid. You know me; I may get myself out of this yet. You do what you need to to survive: do not hesitate, show no mercy, yadda yadda yadda, and every other cliché I don’t have time to say. Get yourself in gear, and maybe I’ll see you down the road.” Her voice was reassuring as she said her goodbyes, and at that moment I didn’t doubt I would be seeing her again, somewhere down the road.

* * *

After what I’m sure would not be my last crying fit, I went back out to the garage to grab the tools and batteries. Then I figured while I was at it, I might as well bring in the canned goods, some non-perishables, and the six cases of water that were stacked in the far corner. I made three or four trips carrying all this into the house, and I have to admit, it went a long way toward keeping my mind occupied.

I made sure the garage door was locked, then remembered to look out the garage windows to be safe before heading back into the house. Gus, poor little loyal Gus, followed me the whole time, not sure what we were doing, but knowing something bad was going down and he wasn’t about to get left behind. I checked my watch again and saw it was time to check in with Ben. I took the phone from its cradle and dialed his number, then pulled out a kitchen chair and dragged it into the hall where I could watch the front door and the large living room window. I placed the pistol I had been carrying around on my lap, my hand resting on it comfortingly as the phone rang on the other end.

“Hey Kasey,” Ben said in a quiet and subdued voice. It almost sounded like he was in a closet. I had to ask.

“Are you in a closet?”

“No, but I guess my room’s not much bigger than a closet, is it?” He was away at college, and yes, I would say dorm rooms are about the size of closets.

“Things are still okay here; I think I’ve got everything together and ready to go. Now I’m just waiting,” I said as casually as I could, even though my eyes kept darting back and forth between the front door and the living room window. Gus had taken up his spot at my feet and had just begun to snore.

“Things are going to hell in a hurry here, Kase, but I finally heard from Jake. He was on his way to his first class when it hit the fan this morning, and now he’s barricaded in a room with four other students in the building next to my dorm. We’re figuring out a plan now to get out of here and get to the city limits. If we can get there, our Z-Plan will be back on track.”

“Good, good, just don’t take any stupid chances. I’m assuming neither of you have any weapons?” I asked, kicking myself for not asking the first time I spoke with him. Not that it made any difference; I couldn’t change the fact neither of them had the foresight to buy a damn gun. But in their defense, they were on a college campus. Probably wouldn’t have been in their best interests to have a dorm room full of weapons.

“You would assume right. But Jake and I plan on hitting the local sporting goods store on the way. That is if we can get out of here first.” Ben was finally starting to sound confident, less afraid than earlier, and that was good.

“What are we going to do about the ones stuck with Jake?” I asked, hoping like hell they wouldn’t be joining Ben. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t want them to die. But being slightly anti-social, I wasn’t too crazy about the idea of having four more strangers thrust into the mix, and into my house.

“I’m not sure, Kase. As of right now, I’m thinking Jake is bringing them along. At least that’s what it sounded like the last time I talked to him. He was in a hurry, so all he really said was ‘They’re comin’ with me.’ So I don’t know if that means they’re coming with us to West Virginia, or they’re just hanging around until we get out of town. I’ll definitely find out later, so I’ll just have to let you know.”

Dammit.

I sighed, a mixture of relief and aggravation, knowing they just might make it out of this alive even though they were making last minute changes to the Plan, then instantly felt a stab of grief and guilt over Mia.

“I spoke to Mia,” I said, my hand tensing around the gun grip. He was so quiet for a moment I thought the connection had been severed. “Still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here. I think I know what you’re going to say about Mia, and I’m so very sorry, Kasey.” If a person’s voice could be any more emotional than his was at that moment, I think tears would have bled through the phone. Then of course I would’ve puked from all the sappiness, or at least gagged a great deal.

“We’ll talk about it later,” I said as I cleared my throat and forced back the lump. “Let’s stick to the plan. I’ll sit tight here, watch for developments, and wait for you to call me. Just let me know when you’ve figured out how to get off campus, okay?” I knew their school’s campus was very close to the outskirts of town, so it wouldn’t take them long, once they figured a way out of their buildings, to escape to relative safety.

“Alright, will do. I’ll make sure to bring my laptop, and if my cell doesn’t have service, I’ll check for you online. I’ve got the rest of what little supplies I had in a backpack and an old fire escape ax as well. I know it’s not much, but it will do in a pinch. I know Jake and the people with him are scavenging whatever they can use as weapons from the room they’re in, and I packed his backpack while doing mine earlier. Just for the sake of saving time and all,” he said in a half-hearted attempt at humor. I could hear the grin in his voice, and wondered what that said of us if we could still joke at a time like this. I checked my watch again - had it been an hour already since talking to Mia?

“I’ll be waiting. Check back in one hour, if you can.”

“I will, be careful and keep your eyes open. I don’t have to ask if your doors and windows are locked. Just be safe and I’ll check in soon,” he said and hung up before I could throw a little sarcasm his way. Holding the phone in one hand, the pistol in the other, I sighed and looked down at Gus, who was still snoring.

“I should shower,” I said to the empty room and sleeping dog. And so I did, looking out at the new world through nothing but a couple of panes of glass as I made my way upstairs.

Chapter Two

October 1
^st
: Ben’s side

As the sun rose high above the hills of northwestern Pennsylvania, the smoke of burning cities and towns choked the air. The once beautiful landscape of fall leaves noticed by all this time of year now went ignored as folks ran for their lives. Or drove. Or crawled. The interstates were packed with dead vehicles, their owners most likely sharing the same fate. The number of infected dead (that’s what the news anchors were calling them by this time), increased and spread quickly thanks to the aid of public transportation and the blind stupidity of the general public. Scientists were saying it was a virus that killed the host within hours, and then reanimated the body via the brain. They also said it was transmitted by bites. Yeah, tell us something we didn’t already know. Almost everyone who had ever watched a zombie flick or read a zombie book knew how it was transmitted and that if a zombie bit you, you were toast. Put a bullet in your brain, end your suffering before it began.

Regardless of where or how this virus had started, it was able to spread quickly because the folks who hadn’t watched or read the aforementioned zombie fare didn’t have a clue what was going on. They believed the stories the local, state, and federal governments were spinning. Looters, riots, terrorists, pick one - there were several theories. The government waited until it was too late, waited until local reporters from around the country were already covering the stories, waited until the number of walking dead was so high a successful counter-strike was nearly impossible. But I couldn’t really blame them. Zombies rising up and wiping out our species was a pretty fantastic notion; humans in general couldn’t help their narrow-minded ignorance.

The point is, people thought they could either close their eyes and make it all go away, or outrun it. Jump in their cars, and just drive. Except it only took a day or so for it to basically spread across the country, and the odds of running into a pack of zombies increased with each minute. So the ignorant masses packed the interstates, creating a deadhead all-you-can-eat buffet. Those “in the know,” however, battened down the hatches and prepared for a fight, or loaded up with supplies and headed for the hills. Unless they were trapped, which let’s face it, was the more probable scenario.

Such was the case with Ben in northwestern Pennsylvania. From his third story dorm room window overlooking the parking lot, he watched as students were ripped from their cars. Not knowing that the half-eaten things were trying to open their car doors, the students would either try to flee out the opposite door, only to be grabbed by another waiting out of sight, or open their driver’s door and attempt to knock the zombie away.

Either way, the result was the same: torn faces, dismemberment, and guts on the wrong side of the body. Ben watched the carnage for several minutes, his hand slipping to his cell phone each time a length of intestines was ripped from one of his former peers. He also watched as those who were just attacked and eaten re-animated. It seemed to him at that very moment, the patron who had just been dining would suddenly recognize the change and stop. Then they would both move on to the next victim.

* * *

The smoke had started to move in his direction, though the fire was downtown and still some distance away. If all went well, Ben, Jake, and anyone left living would be long gone before the fire reached them. He turned from the window, a shadow of panic working in his chest. Ben grabbed his cell and started pacing the room. “Why hasn’t he called yet?” he muttered, his steps quickening as the panic worked deeper. He listened to the moans and the screams coming from outside, then noticed another sound coming from the hallway: the hitch and drag of a being walking with a slow limp.

Ben walked over and pressed his ear to the door. His instincts were telling him to open it, there was someone out there hurt and in need of help. He clenched his hands into fists, heart hammering as he fought to ignore his gut and listen to his brain. After what seemed like an eternity, the zombie dragged itself past his door and down the hall. Ben sighed, resting his forehead against the door as he pulled his cell from his pocket and dialed.

“Dude, can’t talk right now. Gettin’ ready to blow some shit up,” Jake said, then immediately hung up. Ben looked at his phone, then looked at the door, then cursed his parking lot view. Jake was coming from the Science building, located on the north side of Ben’s building. His window, however, faced south. Meanwhile, a couple hundred feet away, Jake was lighting the fuse of his recently constructed Molotov cocktail.

* * *

The Science building housed the Biology, Chemistry, and Physics departments. When panic first spread across campus, Jake, a chemistry major among other things, was initially trapped in one of the laboratory rooms on the second floor with four of his classmates. After several minutes of Oh-God-Oh-God-we’re-all-gonna-die, he pulled them together and gave them certain things to do, certain duties to keep them focused. One thing of particular necessity was a quick inventory of the chemical locker, where they ended up finding seven bottles of 100% ethanol which, given an incendiary, is highly explosive.

After a quick lesson in the art of bomb-making, he had them all tearing strips from their clothes and stuffing them into the necks of all the ethanol bottles. Jake had initially wanted only the girls to prepare the bombs, hoping they would be topless by the time they finished tearing fuses from their shirts. Unfortunately his lab partner, Zack, had put a stop to that. So instead he emptied his backpack, dumping his day’s worth of textbooks and notebooks onto the floor, then tucked all the homemade bombs inside and secured the bottles by stuffing rags around them.