The Great Wreck (30 page)

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Authors: Jack Stewart

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BOOK: The Great Wreck
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I
rode for nearly three hours without talking a break. The night was cooling down
and I fell into a steady rhythm not thinking of anything at all just reacting
to an occasional car or two that I needed to avoid and searching for anything
that might be moving towards me. When I finally stopped for a break, I drank
water, ate a light snack, and flipped the goggles over to infrared. I scanned
the desert around me and could see nothing. This filled me with a sense of
relief knowing that no one was following me.

I
couldn’t shake the feeling that James was going to pop up and yell out, “Hidee
ho,
mother fucker
!” and I’d be stuck
traveling with the madman again. But the desert around me was clear of any heat
signature at all so I flipped back to the night vision setting then checked the
battery indicator. I had used nearly half of the battery meaning I could travel
something less than six hours on one battery, then turned them off. Six hours
of battery life would easily get me to Eloy. I looked around and could see
pretty clearly anyways by the light of the stars. That gave me a little more
confidence that, should the goggles fail, I’d be OK. I climbed onto the bike
and pushed on.

The
road slide by noiselessly and the breeze kept me cool as I peddled across the
empty desert. I’d been watching the mile marker as I speed along the highway
and figured I had a little over an hour to go before I hit Eloy. That was good
because, even with all the walking I’d done, riding a bike used a different set
of muscles and my legs were getting sore. That and I’d have to change out the
seat. It was killing my ass. And probably my balls too while inflicting nerve damage
to my penis. It would go numb and be paralyzed for life. I shivered at the
thought and vowed to get a new seat at
 
the very next bike shop, one that would let the boys and all those
nerves hang free and uncompressed. I laughed and pulled over to the side of the
road to stretch and look around.

After
a twenty minute break, I got back up on the bike, turned on my goggles, and was
off. I reached Eloy in just over an hour. I knew I was close when more and more
abandoned cars and trucks began to appear on the road. I slowed down and stuck
to the breakdown lane as much as I could.
 
A few dead wandered in and out of the wrecks but I could easily spot and
avoid them.

When
I finally reached the city limits of Eloy, I knew before even seeing the
airport that
 
I would not be staying here
for the night. The dead were out in force, jamming up the streets, walking over
the highway, and spilling out into the desert.

Motherfuckers.
Why didn’t they just go sit down and rot somewhere?

My
legs were tired and I had a headache from looking through the goggles for hours
but I had to push on past Eloy. There was no way I was going to try to ride
through the crowds of dead in the dark and try to reach the airport. So I
pushed on.

Thankfully
Eloy was a small city and I made it through the traffic jams, wrecked cars, and
wandering dead without any trouble. I cleared the east side of the city and was
back onto open highway.

By
the time I reached the Pinal Airport sometime after midnight, I was trashed. My
legs were burning and shaking from over use and my head blasting from looking
too long through the night vision goggles.

The
airport was completely abandoned. It looked like it had been shut down early in
the event and was too small and remote even for the military to use. That was good.
I did a quick scan of the area and spotted no dead so I found the first
building I could with a flat roof, climbed up hauling my gear up after me, and
fell asleep without even setting up the canopy.

I
slept until nearly mid-morning. I awoke with the sun burning into my eyes and
quickly looked around. I hardly remembered getting up on the roof the night
before and it made me nervous that I had fallen asleep without checking the
roof for dead stragglers, a doorway access, or any of the dozens of things that
can get you killed if you didn’t pay attention. But I was alone.

I
crouched up and looked around the deserted airport and saw no one, not even a
single dead person. I looked down and saw my bike propped against the wall then
felt all the aches in my body from my nearly six hour ride during the night.

My
legs ached, my back ached, my arms ached. Even my eyes ached. I walked around
the roof working out the kinks and warming my legs up before attempting the
climb down to the ground to stash my bike. Then I’d climb back up and finish
setting up my camp.

I
finally warmed up enough to trust my arms and legs and shimmed down to the
ground. I rolled my bike inside the office building I’d chosen for my camp,
pulled out the tarp I had taken from Gila, and covered it up. Then it was back
up to the roof and setting up the rest of my camp. When I was done I was hot
and sweaty and a mass of aches and pains. Maybe I’d take the night off and ride
again tomorrow. After all, I wasn’t on a schedule. Sandia would either be there
or it wouldn’t so I had all the time in the world to get there.

I
felt better at the thought of getting plenty of rest, so I settled back on my
sleeping back and dozed in and out of the day awaking only to eat and relive
myself over the edge of the building away from my little camp. When I was
awake, I’d scan the highway looking for other people, look around the empty
desert to see if the dead had wandered out into the waste, and check the
perimeter of the airport for any immediate threat. Nothing moved in the dead
heat and I felt completely alone.

For
most people, this might freak them out, for me, I felt safe in that vast
silence. Silence meant there were no dead nearby. Silence meant there were no
people nearby. Silence meant that James was not nearby. For a brief moment I
entertained the idea of just staying here. Sealing up the gate and making raids
for supplies when I needed them from the nearby towns. But somehow I knew I’d
eventually get lonely. And what if I got hurt, broke an arm or a leg? Then what
would I do? Why, I’d die a slow and painful death, of course! So I’d keep
going. And if Sandia was empty or a myth? Then I’d keep on going from there
until I found a place where people had survived and were starting over again.

At
last the night fell and the temperature along with it. I climbed up another
radio tower and hooked my small hand held to a jack and turned on the radio. On
channel seven I heard the automated voice telling me the temperature of the
various cities in Arizona and New Mexico. Here outside of Tucson it was a
chilly 80(F). I listened to some folks speaking in Spanish and figured I was
picking up something from across the border in Mexico maybe. Again I tried each
of the twenty channels to see if somewhere along the California boarder, Kailee
might be listening.

I
tried for the better part of an hour and didn’t hear Kailee, but did find that
someone else was listening when a voice broke in through the static, “To the
individual currently located outside of Tucson. Please respond. Over”

The
voice was so clear and strong it shocked me. Could they actually be speaking to
me? I didn’t think so. How could they know I was here? Unless they were
watching and were close by. The thought nearly sent me down the tower to pack
up camp and get moving but the voice came on again, “To the individual
currently located outside of Tucson, please respond. We are not a threat to
you. Over.”

I
pushed the send button and replied, “This is Thomas,” then a little hesitantly,
“Over.”

“Thomas, my name
is Captain Martin Dunst formerly of the U.S. Army and I want you to listen very
carefully because you are in great danger. Are you listening?”

My
blood froze in my veins listening to the bodiless voice telling me I was in
danger. I snapped on my goggles and looked around the airport. Nothing moved
not even the wind. I replied, “Yes, I’m listening but I don’t see anything.”

“You
won’t. The people who are following you are many miles behind you but are
probably listening to this transition so do not reveal your location.”

People?
Following me? That didn’t make any sense. James might follow me, but a bunch of
people? Maybe it was Kailee and her family?

“Is
it a father and three women? Or is it a single man?” I asked hopeful that maybe
they had turned around and were headed towards Sandia.

“No
women,” Martin said and my heart sunk, “Not a single individual either. It
appears to be five men. They picked up your trial somewhere just outside of
Phoenix and have been following you ever since.”

“What
could they want?” I asked, then another voice broke in.

“You’ve
been poachen’ boy. Taking my stuff, messing with my dead, cavorting with my
women!” said the gruff dry voice, “I warned ya but you didn’t listen and now we
are going to have words.”

King
Ahg or whoever the mad man was behind the voice. I sat there looking at the
radio wondering how close King Ahg and his men might be. Eloy? At the off-ramp
to this airport? Closer. I scanned the perimeter fence and still saw nothing
move. Where they in the buildings beneath me?

“Thomas,
this is Martin. They men tracking you are outside of Eloy camped for the night.
They do not know where you are and you need to keep it that way.”

Ahg’s
voice broke in, “But we’ll find ya boy and we’ll have our words. You might be hidden
now, but there aren’t many heat signatures moving around at night, don’t ya
think?”

The
radio popped and hissed in my hand. Then Captain Dunst spoke again, “Don’t
listen to him Thomas. Keep moving just as you are and you’ll be beyond their
reach soon enough. We are familiar with this crew and they won’t venture past
Tucson. You hit the city limits and you’ll be clear of them.”

“Why
don’t you go fuck yourself, Dunst and stay out of my business!” Ahg yelled into
the radio.

“Killing
you is my business, Johnson,” Dunst replied, “And keeping your from doing the
same to others.”

“Aw,
why don’t you go fuck some cows or something and leave me to my work!”

“Watch
your back, Thomas,” Dunst instead replied to me.

“Why
can’t I come to you?” I asked wondering where they might be.

“Where
too far away. I can’t tell you where but you’d never make it to us before,
well, before the dead got to you.”

“I’ve
handled the dead before. I could make it,” I replied.

“Not
like these dead, Thomas. You’ve got to keep moving until you are out of Tucson
and out into the desert. The dead here are…different. I can’t really describe
it any better than that but they are far more dangerous than those you found in
Phoenix and they are not as active during the night. You’ll understand when you
see them but get out of Tucson as fast as you can.”

“I
will,” I said and put my hand on the off switch when I heard Dunst speak again.

 
“And Johnson, if you get near that boy, I’ll
come for you.”

“Well
boo, hoo, hoo and fuck you,” Johnston, aka King Ahg replied before going
silent.

I
climbed down and thought about what Captain Dunst had said to me. The five men
were in Eloy. I pulled out my map, put a red cover on my flashlight and found
Eloy. They were over fifty miles behind me. According to my watch it was nearly
eleven and Dunst said they had camped for the night. If they got up at first
light, they could be near here by maybe ten o’clock at the earliest. If I got
up just before dawn, I could be on the other side of Tucson by midafternoon. Or
I could stay here and wait and hope Johnston and his men figured I was long
gone, then keep to my plan of riding at night. But staying here meant that
Johnston could get ahead of me. If I tried to leave at night, they might be
waiting, might be watching the roads for me. What was to Johnston had said? Not
many heat signature in the night? They must have night goggles.

So
many ifs, so many variables. What to do? The thought of the men having night
goggles settled it for me. I’d get up just before dawn and try to get out of
Tucson as fast as I could.

 

*
     
*
     
*

 

Johnston
frowned as he listened to the silence on the radio and turned the thing off.
Dunst and his group of fucking do-gooders. He spat out into the darkness as
though trying to rid himself of their foul taste.
 
But then he smiled. Dunst had fucked up, oh,
yes Dunst had given him just the information he need to find the boy, the one
who had
stolen
from him.

Dunst
had said the boy was outside of Tucson. Johnston and his men were in Eloy so
that meant he was, oh fuck, he thought looking at a map. Nearly fifty miles
ahead of them. How could that be? They had spotted the brat leaving the police
warehouse loaded for bear but lost him outside of Phoenix. Then the little
dipshit started blasting away on his radio that night and Johnston figured he
was still nearby and heading east. He gathered up a few of his best trackers
and started east and thought for sure they were closing in on him, that they
spot him walking along the highway. They’d catch him there with nowhere to hide
and then they’d…well…have words just as he had warned the bugger.

But
how the fuck did he get all the way outside of Tucson? Bastard must have been
running the entire way or…a bike! The little fucker was on a bike. And that
means he could get outside of Tucson before Johnston and his men reached him.
And there was no fucking way he was going to let that little squirt get away
from him.

“Dan,”
Johnston called out in to the darkness of the camp.

“Yeah,
boss?” came a groggy voice behind him.

“Were
close to the safe house, right?”

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