The Pandemic Sequence (Book 1): The Tilian Virus (17 page)

Mike looked to the boy’s mother for further explanation. She informed the group that the family had indeed gone camping the previous summer. On a wilderness hike, they happened across a small stone house tucked into the side of a cliff wall. The steps carved into the hard rock leading to the structure were weather-worn. Sarah’s husband dared the journey in order to photograph the unusual home.

“It was clearly abandoned,” she said, concluding the now-painful memory.

“Which campground?” Derrick asked. Though Mike was unfamiliar with the location, Derrick recognized it immediately.

“From here, it’s probably like thirty-five to forty minutes southeast,” he told Mike. “I’ve gone there a lot with my parents.”

Mike realized that he still had not told Derrick of the discovery in his family’s garage.
It will have to wait
, he told himself.

“Well, if we’re agreed then it sounds like that’s where we are going,” Mike looked to the others as he spoke. With affirmative responses all around he, joined by Derrick and Erik, set out to retrieve the vehicles from the front of the main building. Having proceeded with the necessary stealth, they were surprised to find the journey mercifully free of any infected, and the vehicles remained untouched where they had left them the previous day.

Mike was grateful for the tinted windows of the building as they concealed the carnage of the night’s attack. After removing the weapons and the few supplies from Sean Reno’s SUV and leaving it behind, Derrick and Mike drove the other vehicles the short distance back to the barracks where the others waited anxiously.

He was surprised that no attempt had been made to follow them, wondering where the endless number of infected that had ravenously assaulted the survivors were hiding themselves. So much was unknown about the behaviors of the infected, and he worried that his lack of knowledge would have further deadly outcomes. In the four days since the outbreak, so much had changed, yet so little had been learned.

Michelle, Erik, and Sarah and her son joined Mike in the small SUV, while the others piled into the minivan. Derrick, the only one with sure knowledge of the directions, took the lead position as the two vehicles exited the military base. Mike had been tempted to search the complex for food and water, but without knowing the location of the infected, he did not want to risk such a search.
Whatever we have with us will have to do for now,
he concluded.

Though Derrick had estimated a forty minute drive, the blocked roads forced them to make several detours along the way. During the journey they were chased several times by the infected, but they posed no serious threat to the fast moving vehicles. Gazelle dozed lazily in Michelle’s lap, oblivious to the world beyond the car doors. Mike wished his eyes could also have escaped the sick scene of infected feeding on the corpses that lined the roads. He envied the small dog her peaceful slumber.

Three hours passed before they arrived at the small painted sign announcing the entrance to
Willow Falls Campground
. Maneuvering the vehicles onto the dirt road, they proceeded deeper into the camp. Still closed for the off-season, there were relatively no signs of life, healthy or otherwise. Mike moved the SUV ahead of the minivan as Andrew began directing the route to the best of his memory. In short order, the curving road soon proved too narrow for automobiles. As the passengers disembarked, Mike asked the boy if he knew how to lead them to the stone house.

“Yeah, if we take this path there’s a cutoff that goes into the woods and then you just have to hike up to the cliff,” the young boy asserted with confidence.

“You’re sure?” Mike asked.

“Of course I am sure,” the boy replied with the typical disgust of a preteen being doubted by an adult.

In the end, though, the boy was not that sure as the party of nine had to double back the way they had come several times before finally discovering the stone steps that led up to the home. Mike was still impressed with the boy’s recollection, and could not bring himself to recriminate the youth over wrong directions.
Without him
, he thought,
we’d probably still be sitting in the barracks deciding where to go
.

As Sarah had remembered, the stone steps had seen much better days. It was little wonder that only her husband had risked the climb to reach the house. With each precarious step, the refugees slowly made the accent up the cliff’s face until finally reaching the stone structure. Like the steps leading to it, the house had been the victim of passing years and many storms. The small window frames stood vacant, the glass long ago shattered and littering the interior. A thin, wooden door swung on rusted hinges that creaked loudly as the company passed through, the sound causing them to cringe.

Once inside, Mike was amazed to find a cavernous living area that opened into four other rooms. Whoever had designed the home had cut directly into the stone to form the interior. The process resulted in the exterior hiding the true size of what laid within. Three of the adjacent rooms had clearly served as sleeping quarters and were sparsely furnished with worn, wooden dressers and metal bed-frames. The fourth room off of the main area consisted of an old-fashioned desk and several sturdy looking-chairs. Returning to the large front room, he placed his pack down on the long table, encircled by six chairs.

Noting the faucet-less sink and woodstove in the left-hand corner, Sarah confirmed that in addition to lacking power, the home also had no running water. Erik, returning from his exploration of the area behind the house, announced that an outhouse existed down a steep, stone path.

“Well, guys, it’s not the best, but it is safe,” Mike tried to reassure the doubting faces before him. Their responding expression clearly showed his words had fallen on deaf ears.

Trying to support his efforts, Sarah announced with forced cheer, “Come on Andrew, there’s a broom in one of the bedrooms. Let’s clear out the leaves and broken glass.” The boy dutifully followed his mother while Mike gave the six teenagers a withering look intended to spur them into action.

Jenni, quickly comprehending the unspoken directions, began to collect some of the larger branches that had made their way through the open door. As she did, Erik inspected the front door, looking for ways to secure it shut. Soon, the others set about doing various tasks to improve their new—and Mike hoped—temporary home.

Satisfied with their contributions to the marginal renovation, he began to explore the area behind the home with Gazelle gleefully padding alongside him. There was indeed a dilapidated outhouse at the bottom of a dozen barely serviceable steps.
That’s going to be tricky
, Mike mused. Easing his way down, with his back pressed tightly against the hard rock of the cliff, he followed the narrow stairwell to the outhouse. While he struggled with his footing and refused to look down, Gazelle bounded gracefully down the steps.

“
Show off,” Mike mumbled. Realizing he had been holding his breath during the descent, he exhaled with relief as he reached the final step. The outhouse fit with the rest of the rundown nature of their new refuge. A large pipe ran from the seat of the toilet out over the cliff to dispatch any human waste. Though he found the concept interesting, he knew he certainly would not want to be walking a hundred feet below when someone needed to relieve themselves. After the inspection of the outdated bathroom, Mike began to search the rest of the ledge. Passing a stone fire pit, he followed a small path that led around a sharp curve in the rock wall. The short twenty-foot span ended abruptly into a small clearing that, like the back rooms of the house, had been cut into the stone.
No escape,
Mike thought,
but we could hold off the infected for days on those two stone staircases
.

Man and dog made their way back into the house and he was surprised with how much had been accomplished in making the space even remotely livable. The floor had been swept clean of all debris, the chairs flanked the table neatly, and the front door was shut firmly thanks to a large plank of wood resting in two brackets bolted onto the door frame. After expressing his shock and admiration for their fast work, Mike joined his students as they hiked back to the vehicles to collect all the weapons and supplies.

Jenni proved extremely helpful in finding the automobiles without having to correct any wrong turns. Shortly after reaching the SUV and minivan, the seven made their way back to the stone house, pausing intermittently to gather small branches and logs along the journey. The sun was beginning to sink low in the sky when they reached the shelter.

Having been raised in the North, Mike was quite familiar with wood-burning stoves and immediately checked the flue for clogs and, finding no obstructions, lit a warming fire. With some hard-used cast iron cookware recovered from a cabinet in the room, Mike and Sarah worked together to heat up several of the canned goods the students had taken from the Chancer home. When the cooking was complete, he continued to keep the fire burning, not for any lack of warmth in the spring air but rather he knew the comforting effects a welcoming fire had on people. Even Gazelle had inched as close as she dared before curling up to sleep, stomach full with the food Mike had put down for her. Enjoying their first warm meal in days, the nine refugees sat around the table and ate with what could almost pass for happiness.

What a difference four days makes
, Mike ruminated over his can of beef stew. He had never expected to find such satisfaction in scooping warm stew into his mouth. He wondered what further surprises lay in the days ahead.

As the days matured to weeks, Derrick Chancer retreated into even greater seclusion from the camp community. He now ate and slept in the tent that held the chained remnants of what was once Jenni Calente. His presence in the camp had become ghostly and peripheral. Mike had not spoken with the young man since their heated exchange of words two weeks earlier. In truth, he felt that there was perhaps nothing left to say. Both men had made a decision six months prior and now they had to accept the respective consequences of those choices.

It was not a situation Mike desired, but he resigned himself to its seemingly inescapable authority.

The last two weeks had also required the camp’s reluctant leader to focus his attention to the preparations underway for the departure south. Lisa Velazquez and her security team had managed to acquire one school bus and a number of smaller vehicles for the journey. The automobiles were in fair condition and could be expected to make the trip without failure. Gasoline was still a major concern for the camp, however. The years since the outbreak had seen many people using whatever ever gas they could find for transportation, heat, and cooking. It came as no shock when Lisa’s daily updates showed only small increases in the fuel reserves. Their best estimation placed the needed gasoline amount in the four hundred gallon range. Two weeks into the search and the camp could only claim possession of less than half of what it needed. Though neither Mike nor Lisa wanted to continue the search while on the road, unless their luck changed drastically in the coming days, that option seemed to be forcing itself on the camp.

Where gas proved sparse, Michelle had far greater success regarding the food supply. The crates and boxes taken from the underground shelter would be able to feed the camp’s population for several months without concern. Mike had willingly upped the refugees’ daily rations slightly due to the extra physical effort everyone in the camp was exerting in anticipation of leaving the mountain settlement. The increase had also added to the heightened morale of the energized the camp.

Paul Jenson, Mike understood, was also a major contributor to the community’s mood. Since taking over Derrick’s duties, the residents of the camp showed clear signs of relief as they now felt there was someone to truly help with the day to day management. Mike realized, much to his chagrin, that he had indeed waited too long to remove Derrick from the post. His attempt to spare the young man further pain had actually negatively impacted the population as a whole. Rather than eating their meals in their separate tents, many now gathered together in a large common area Paul had cleared and filled with as many spare seats he had been able to find. Mike had even taken to joining them for the evening meal. In nights past, he had preferred the quiet refuge of his own cabin, seeking to ease the dull ache in his head that came regularly after a day spent managing the camp. But—much like the other refugees—Mike’s constant tension seemed to ease over the preceding days. Though still not optimistic about the Cuban prospect, the rejuvenated atmosphere the other residents created had taken a positive toll on him.

With the day’s work complete, he stepped out under the dusky sky. The mountain air was warm even at this height.
Summer’s coming
, he thought. As he made his way over to the common area, several refugees called out greetings to him. Pausing briefly to speak with each, Mike shared a hearty laugh when he stopped to talk with a small gathering of men who were responsible for the structural maintenance of the camp’s makeshift buildings. They regaled him with a story of the day’s events which had led to one of them, Jim Blournier if Mike recalled the name correctly, coming into unfortunate contact with poison ivy when he went to relieve himself during a wood-gathering trek into the woods.