Rolling Thunder - 03 (5 page)

The female that tackled me hadn’t screamed or done anything
else to alert me to her presence.  I didn’t know if she had come out of the
office with the male, or had been skulking around the store waiting for an
opportunity to attack.  Regardless, she was obviously one of the smart ones and
she had hit me hard in the side when she tackled me.  Most of the wind had been
knocked out of me and my head bounced off the hard floor when I went down, stars
popping to life in the darkness before my eyes. 

I felt hands grasping for my throat and I pushed everything
else aside and started fighting.  I got a grip on her hands, but she was strong
and moved with a speed that was frightening.  Every time I shifted my weight to
try and gain some leverage she responded before I could take advantage of the
new position.  She was trying to reach my face and throat with her teeth while
she struggled to break her arms free, and I was having trouble maintaining
control.  Shifting again I was prepared for her move and moved with her,
succeeding in rolling her underneath me where I could use my greater body
weight to my advantage. 

Forcing her arms into a cross I locked in the leverage and
used the weight of my upper body to press forward, rewarded with a snap as her
right arm broke.  A normal human would have reacted to the injury, but she kept
fighting like she hadn’t even felt it.  She squirmed under me, bucking and
twisting and nearly succeeded in throwing me off as we scrambled on the floor. 
Finally getting around her broken arm, I got my forearm on her throat and
leaned into it as hard as I could while trying to draw my knife.

She fought harder, trying to twist her head to get away from
the pressure I was applying but she couldn’t overcome my strength.  I couldn’t get
a grip on my knife, needing my hand to fend off the slashing nails that were
aimed at my eyes.  We kept struggling and after close to a minute she started
weakening from lack of air.  I was compressing her throat so hard there was no
way she was breathing.  From that point she went quickly.  Less than another
minute later she went from fighting to twitching as her brain died from lack of
oxygen.  Finally she lay still underneath me and I wasted no time in flipping
the body over, drawing the knife and stabbing into her brain to make sure she
stayed down.  Not having time to celebrate my victory, I climbed back to my
feet, grabbed up the boards and headed for the exit.

Rachel and Dog were still on watch and fell in on either
side of me as I exited the front of the store and headed for our stuck
vehicle.  It was raining even harder and the sun was long gone, making it about
as dark as could be.  The only respite were the widely spaced street lights
that ran down each side of the road, so the power was still on.  The bad thing
about this was the street lights were set so far apart that the light one shed
didn’t meet up with the light from the next one, leaving dark areas between
each pair of poles.  The unlit areas appeared to be all the darker because of
the light on either side of them. 

“Watch the dark spots between the lights,” I said to Rachel
as we walked. 

“Got it.”

I walked with the two boards on my left shoulder, my pistol
ready in my right hand.  With the extra, ungainly weight I carried I wouldn’t
be winning any pistol shooting competitions, but I knew I’d be able to hit
anything within forty feet or so.  We covered the distance to the truck
slightly slower than we had made it to the store, but we made it without
encountering any more infected.  I stopped fifty feet from the truck, lowered
the boards to the ground, raised my rifle and flicked the flashlight on.  First
I checked under the truck to make sure there weren’t any surprises waiting for
us, then slowly worked my way forward and checked the bed.  All clear.

Scooping up the boards I put one in place on each side,
jamming an end under the front edge of each set of rear tires.  As long as I
could drive the truck up and onto the boards we’d have a solid path to the
pavement, but if I gave it too much throttle the tires would just grab the
boards and spit them out behind us without moving an inch.  Ready to go, we all
climbed into the cab and I started the engine and shifted into drive.  I
pressed on the accelerator like I had an egg under my foot, applying just
enough pressure to change the engine note.  We didn’t move and I didn’t hear
any indication of the rear tires spinning, so I gave it just a fraction more throttle,
then we were moving.  Slowly at first as the tires came up off the grass and
onto the lumber, then faster as we rolled up the hill.  I pressed a little
harder to get some speed and momentum so we didn’t bog down when we came off
the front edge of the boards.  We bumped off the end and the truck kept going until
we were back on asphalt and heading deeper into town.

“Everything ok in the store?  I heard some noise.”  Rachel
asked, drying her rain soaked hair with a towel she had taken from the house
we’d stayed at earlier.

“I won’t be going back there.  They have a lousy approach to
customer service.”  Rachel looked at me, grinned and shook her head then went
back to blotting the water out of her hair.  “Actually, I think one of the
smart females I told you about was in there.  She was absolutely silent until
she attacked.  I can’t say for sure.  She may have been in an office with a
male that broke through the window and let her out, but I think she was
stalking me from the moment I entered the store.”

The grin on Rachel’s face disappeared.  She well understood
the impact of female infected having enough intelligence to actually hunt the
survivors rather than just scream and attack.  Up to now we’d been able to
count on any infected attack being announced in advance by a scream, but it
didn’t seem we had that luxury any longer.  Survival had gotten a lot tougher.

I glanced at the dash and noted the time on the clock.  We’d
lost nearly an hour due to our little mishap.  Four hours left and we still had
to get into downtown Nashville.  By nature I’m fairly optimistic, but was
having a hard time thinking we were going to make the last train out before the
herd showed up.  I pressed harder with my foot and pushed our speed to nearly
80.  Driving this fast in the dark and rain was risky, but I didn’t think it
was as risky as not getting on that train.  With no other way to cross the
Mississippi we’d be stuck between three herds that were converging on the
state. 

“So what’s Plan B?  What do we do if we can’t get to the
train, or get there too late?”

“We do what the pioneers did.  We use a boat to get across. 
Of course they had time to build rafts, time we won’t have, and I’m having a
hard time imagining we’ll have much luck finding one.  Anyone that can get
their hands on one has probably already done so.  Also, we cross on a boat and we’re
on foot when we get to the western shore.  We can always steal another car or
truck, but…” I trailed off, not really sure where my train of thought was
going.

We blasted through Gallatin without seeing any other people,
infected or healthy, and quickly reached the highway the GPS voice told me to
turn onto.  State Highway 386 turned us to the southwest and would connect up
with I-65 in a few miles.  I kept our speed up, wipers on high.  The rain was
falling even harder, torrential best describes it, and the wipers did their
best but couldn’t keep up with the volume of water that was falling out of the
sky.  The headlights barely pierced the gloom and I had to jam on the brakes
and make some fancy maneuvers to avoid a pile up of cars that appeared when we
crested a small rise.  After much skidding on the wet pavement I got us back
under control and decided to lower our speed a bit.  Reaching I-65 we turned
due south towards Nashville and started seeing an occasional car speeding away
from the city in the north bound lanes.

“Where do you suppose they’re going?”  Rachel asked.

“I don’t know.  This freeway goes up to Kentucky, and from
what we’ve heard things aren’t any better up there.”

We watched as two more SUVs passed us going north.  Both
were heavily loaded with people and supplies.  One of them was flashing his
lights and honking his horn.  I didn’t know if this was for the other SUV or if
he was trying to warn me about something, but it definitely didn’t give me a
warm fuzzy.  I checked the time and our speed and turned the radio back on,
scanning AM looking for any update Max might be broadcasting, but he was off
the air.

As we continued south we started seeing more businesses
along the interstate.  After only about 15 minutes of driving we merged with I-24
that also fed into the city, and I had to slow more as we started regularly
encountering wrecked or abandoned vehicles.  With the darkness and rain I
couldn’t see them sitting there until we were almost on top of them and wasn’t
happy that I had to hold our speed under 40. 

Some of the areas we passed through still had power.  Most
didn’t, but there were some that were brightly lit as we drove past.  Every one
we passed that had light also had large groups of infected stumbling around.  I
suspected the dark ones did too, we just couldn’t see them.  The navigation
screen showed the freeway we were on splitting a short distance ahead and the
voice told me to get on I-24.  Approaching the interchange where the road split
I stepped on the brakes and came to a stop.  Ahead were two lanes that swept up
onto a ramp and was the direction the GPS wanted me to go, but the ramp was
jammed with tangled wrecks.  Looking at the screen it appeared that I-65 could
get us where we were going, it just dipped farther south before getting us
there.

All three of us jumped when a female slammed into my door,
beating on the glass with bloody fists.  A second later two more were pounding
on Rachel’s window and I stepped on the throttle and started us moving forward
again.  We quickly left them behind, but as we slalomed our way through the
wreckage on the pavement we started encountering more infected.  We were
running many of them down and crushing their bodies under the heavy tires. 
There was no power in this area and they would just suddenly appear out of the
rain, right in front of us.  Even if I had wanted to avoid them I couldn’t
have.

“Is this a good idea?  Going into the city, I mean.” 

I kept my eyes glued to the road ahead and a tight grip on
the steering wheel.  “If I said I wasn’t having second thoughts I’d be lying,
but the situation hasn’t changed.  We need to try and get to that train.” 
Rachel didn’t say anything, just stared ahead as intently as I was.  Dog might
have had a different opinion, but he kept it to himself.

We drove like this for another mile, then the wrecks started
thinning out and I was able to put on a little more speed.  I still didn’t want
to be going too fast and damage the truck by crashing into a large group of
infected.  Directly ahead of us there was a pale glow that strengthened as we
approached.  When we crested a rise I hit the brakes, bringing us to a complete
stop.  Less than a mile in front of us a defensive barricade had been set up,
looking much like the wall I’d built in Murfreesboro, and it was lit up like
Christmas morning.  Pressed up against the base of the wall were thousands, if
not tens of thousands, of infected.  They were trying to get to the men on top
of the barricade that blocked our route.

For the moment there weren’t any infected in our immediate
vicinity.  Shutting off the headlights so we didn’t draw attention, I sat and
stared at the barricade.  Rachel was mumbling something I couldn’t understand
and I didn’t bother to ask her to repeat it.  We could either turn around and
try to find our way to the river and hope there would be a boat we could steal,
or we could find a way around this and get to the train.  The existence of the
barricade encouraged me, gave me a little hope that if we could get around it
we could make it to the train.  Forward.

I messed with the navigation screen and found an exit a mile
behind us that looked like our best way around.  We were eight miles from the
train station and while I fully expected to have to cover some of that on foot,
I didn’t want to walk any farther than absolutely necessary.  The more time we
spent on foot, the greater the chances of a lethal encounter with a group of infected. 
Or survivors, I reminded myself.  Shifting into reverse I backed up until the
crest hid us from the barricade before turning the lights back on.

“What are we doing?”  Rachel asked.

“There’s an exit a mile back.  We’re going to try and get
off the freeway there and work our way to the train station.  This looks like
an industrial area and I’m hoping there won’t be that many infected roaming
around.  If we’re lucky all of them in the area have been drawn to the
barricade.”  I got the truck turned around and started driving north in the
southbound lanes.  I wasn’t particularly worried about running into anyone as
we had only seen a very few vehicles moving and they were all going away from
Nashville.

Reaching the exit, I swung wide and made the turn onto the
ramp which quickly took us below the level of the elevated freeway on which we
had been driving.  At the bottom of the ramp two pickups and a police car were
smashed into each other, the metal so mangled that it was all but impossible to
tell where one vehicle ended and the other began.  Bouncing over the concrete
median I slowly drove around it, moving under the cover of the freeway and out
of the rain.  The sudden absence of what had become incessant pounding on the
sheet metal roof was almost a physical relief.  The wipers finally caught up
with the rain and quickly started squeaking their way across the glass.

Glancing at the navigation screen I made a left, splashing
through several inches of water that had accumulated on the road.  All too
quickly we left the protection of the freeway and the wipers stopped squeaking
as they were once again overwhelmed by the rain.  Driving slowly down a wide
road I tried to watch for any threats but it was too dark and visibility was
only a dozen or so yards in the deluge.  Driving between rows of gigantic, two
story warehouses we were making good time, but I wasn’t about to push our speed
and get us into trouble. 

All of the warehouses had massive parking lots to
accommodate the 18 wheelers that routinely visited them and these lots were
surrounded with tall, sturdy chain link fencing.  The truck’s headlights
spilled enough illumination to the side that I was able to see the fencing and
in many of the lots there were infected pressed up against the fence trying to
reach us.  Rachel stared at them out of her window as we slowly passed, then
reached for the dash and turned on the heat to drive off a chill.  I run hot by
nature and wasn’t chilly, but didn’t protest. 

We had covered almost two miles and according to the
navigation system had less than six to go when the road forked at a river.  We
needed to take the south fork, but the road had been barricaded with trailers
stacked five high.  The barricade ran from the river bank to the brick wall of
a warehouse and it looked like whoever had built it had the time to do it
right. 

Stopping the truck with a curse, I turned my attention to
the navigation screen, looking for a side road that might get us around the
barricade.  There were plenty of smaller roads we had crossed since leaving the
freeway, but all of them dead ended on the screen.  Not particularly good news. 
I looked at the screen some more, trying to memorize the layout of streets we
needed to follow to get to the train station.

“We’re on foot from here, aren’t we?”  Rachel asked, also
looking at the screen.

“Looks that way,” I answered in a distracted voice. 
Breaking my attention from the screen I checked the clock.  “We’ve got about
three and a half hours left to cover just under six miles.”  I started to
finish that sentence with something upbeat and positive about how easy it was
going to be but bit back the thought for fear of jinxing us.

Gathering up our gear, we stepped out into the rain, both of
us soaked to the skin in moments.  Dog stood next to me, looking absolutely
miserable, squinting his eyes against the falling water.  After a moment he
shook and if I hadn’t already been drenched he would have corrected that
oversight.  Closing the truck up tight I hit the lock button on the key before
pocketing it.  I didn’t really expect to ever see it again, but if we couldn’t
make it to the train we would fall back to the truck to head west.

Raising my rifle I looked through the night vision scope and
scanned a 360 degree circle.  I didn’t see any immediate threats, but then
night vision doesn’t let you see any further through the rain than normal
vision.  Rachel had moved over to stand next to me and Dog, and after I
finished a second scan of the area I led the way towards the river.  My hope
was that the barricade didn’t go far into the water and we could wade around
the end of it, or at the worst swim, but as we approached I had to discard that
idea. 

From the edge of the pavement to the river was a 40 yard
swath of grass and as soon as I stepped off the pavement my boots sank into the
saturated ground.  Halfway to the river and the water was over the tops of my
boots.  I only needed to take a few more steps to realize the river was
flooding and already over its banks.  The swollen water was running fast, way
too fast for any of us to risk going in.  There was an occasional banging noise
coming from the barricade and I peered through the scope to try and identify
the source.  Eventually I happened to be looking at the right spot when the
noise sounded again.  The rushing river was carrying bodies along with tree
limbs and other debris.  I watched as a body slammed into the metal barricade
before being whisked away by the water.  OK, not going that way.

Turning, I was happy to see Rachel with her rifle up and
watching our rear.  I stepped next to her and filled her in on what I had
seen.  “Could you tell if it was infected or not?”

“No.  All I could see was lots of bodies being carried on
the current.  Couldn’t even make a guess.”

“Couple of males crossing the road near the truck.”  Rachel
said, keeping her rifle up and aimed as she watched them through the scope.  I
spotted them easily enough, but decided to conserve ammo since they were moving
parallel to us and seemed to be unaware of our presence.

“I think the only option we have left is to try and go
through the warehouse this barricade butts up against.  I’m sure there will be
doors on the far side, and hopefully they aren’t welded shut.”

Rachel nodded and I headed back toward the pavement, Rachel
on one side of me and Dog on the other.  He was completely soaked by now and
walked with his head hanging down, a constant stream of water running off the
end of his muzzle onto the ground.  I tried to feel sorry for him, but I was
just as wet.

The warehouse we needed to get through was one of the
largest buildings I had ever seen that wasn’t a sports stadium.  It was built
from red brick and as tall as the barricade.  The wall that faced the river was
at least 400 feet long, but the wall that fronted the road was closer to 800. 
The longer wall was fitted with a loading dock that ran its entire length and
had more roll-up doors than I could count.    Every 100 feet there was a ramp
up from the parking lot with a metal access door at the top.  None of these had
a handle on the exterior and had most likely been put there to meet the local
fire code for emergency exits.

Our first obstacle was a 20 foot high chain link fence that
surrounded the parking lot.  There were also a couple of dozen infected males
shambling around the parking lot, bumping into parked trucks or trailers as
they moved.  The parking lot itself was a maze with semi-trucks parked all over. 
There were probably a thousand hiding places for the infected and we’d have to
be very careful as we moved through, but first we had to get over or through
the fence.  Over was out.  There was no good way to get Dog over the fence. 
That meant through it or under it.  We walked along the perimeter, looking for
a gate.

We finally found it at the far end of the parking lot.  The
gate was actually a large guard shack with motorized sections of fence that
with the push of a button the guard could roll out of the way for incoming and
outgoing trucks.  The shack was wooden construction for the first four feet off
the pavement, then rows of windows above that to give the guards a good view of
the area.  It was dark inside the building, but using the night vision scope I
spotted three infected males wearing security uniforms.  They were all just
standing there as if they were still on duty.

I also spotted the two doors in the shack.  One on the
outside of the fence, the other inside so the guards could move in and out
without having to open the gate.  Here was our way in, we just had to deal with
the infected.  Moving quietly I stepped up to the exterior door and gingerly
tried the knob, but it was locked tight.  The door was heavy steel with a mesh
reinforced window set in the top half.  I didn’t have anything that could force
it.  Taking the opportunity I checked the windows and wasn’t pleased to note
they were marked as ballistic, or bullet resistant.  That meant they were very
tough and very hard to get through without making enough noise to attract every
infected in the state.

I was startled and took an involuntary step back when one of
the guards slammed against the inside of the glass right next to me.  Soon the
other two joined him and all three were pounding away.  The sounds of their
blows was muted and hardly audible which was another indication of the strength
and thickness of the glass.  Well, there’s always a way.  Moving Rachel and Dog
under a small overhang to give them some protection from the rain I told them
to stay put and jogged the short distance back to where we’d left the truck.

The Dodge started up as soon as I turned the key and I
quickly had it back to the guard shack, front bumper within a few feet of the
locked door.  Digging through the tool box in the bed of the truck, I found the
sturdy canvas tow strap I had seen when I’d first inspected the vehicle.  I
wrapped the strap around the door knob a few turns, tied it off tightly and
hooked the other end to one of the tow hooks hanging below the truck’s front
bumper.

“OK, hop in.  When I signal you, put it in reverse and hit
the throttle and don’t let off until it either yanks the door off the hinges or
the knob out of the door.”

“Just watch your ass.  I don’t need you getting taken out by
a flying door.”  Rachel said as she climbed behind the wheel.  I made a face at
her back which she somehow saw, turning and sticking her tongue out at me.

A moment later the note of the engine changed slightly when
she shifted into reverse, holding the big truck in place with the brakes.  I
moved to the side away from the hinges, made sure Dog was clear and raised my
rifle to aim at the door.  Looking over at Rachel, I saw her watching me and
nodded my head then quickly turned my attention back to the rifle.  The diesel
engine roared and the four rear tires momentarily spun on the wet pavement then
grabbed the asphalt sending the truck backwards.  The tow strap uncoiled to its
full length in a fraction of a second, went taut, then the door popped open
with a screeching protest of metal.  Rachel did exactly what I told her and the
truck continued on to tear the door off its hinges and drag it 30 feet across
the pavement.

The males wedged themselves into the fresh opening and I
gave them a moment to get outside so I wouldn’t have to drag the bodies out of
the way after I shot them.  The first one stumbled out and when he was clear of
the doorway I shot him in the head, quickly bringing down numbers two and three
as they cleared the opening.  I was about to step forward to clear the shack
when Rachel sounded the truck’s horn.  I snapped my head in her direction just
as I was tackled from behind and knocked to the wet pavement.