The Ugly Beginning - 01 (25 page)

A brilliant flash to the west yanked Kevin’s mind back to the present. On the horizon, a dull orange glow shone like the trailing seconds just after sunset. It was focused in an area that, if he extended his arm and made a fist, was just over a handswidth wide. Something substantial had just blown up.

Whatever it was would be far enough away not to be a concern. Still, it would likely alter their plans. It had to be Columbus. A fire that size would not only draw zombies for miles, it would also mobilize any in the area. In short, it would be chaos.

He walked over to the U-Haul and pulled out his trusty
AAA Road Atlas
. If they swung north, they could take some state-route roads up and around. There would be an extra day’s travel through the boondocks where fuel might be sketchy, but they could come down the other side of the Hoover Reservoir and resume their trek via the interstate with what would hopefully be little complication.

With the rising sun came the eventual stirrings. By then, a large black smudge of smoke could be seen rising high into the sky. Nobody seemed to have any arguments about his proposed route change, not even Darrin who seemed to make it a point to find fault with anything he’d offered up in the way of suggestions since Wheeling.

There was still a lot of tension in the air.
That
, Kevin thought,
is why nobody is arguing with me
. After a breakfast of canned fruit and dry cereal, washed down with the previous night’s boiled water, it was time to go. Kevin climbed into the cab of his truck to discover both Ruth and Shari waiting.

“I can’t take another day of the constant arguing,” Shari said as she folded her arms across her chest, daring Kevin to protest in any way.

“Okay.” He turned over the engine and, after a glance back to ensure everybody was ready to roll, headed out onto the highway.

***

“There’s one of those phony-ass campgrounds just ahead.” Kevin pointed to the gaudy orange and brown sign at the top of the small ridge bordering the right hand side of the road.

“I don’t think anybody feels much like camping,” Shari muttered. She was sick of being ignored. All morning Kevin and Ruth carried on talking to each other like she wasn’t even there. She wasn’t used to being left out, and especially by boys.

“We won’t be staying,” Kevin laughed. “But, if my guess is correct…” his voice trailed off as he glanced across to Ruth who was nibbling on her lower lip and nodding. He noticed she did that nibbling thing whenever she was thinking seriously. He found it kinda sexy.

“Like in
Stripes
?” Shari asked, determined to stay in the conversation. As soon as she said it, she wished she’d kept her mouth shut. She certainly wasn’t doing anything to lessen the idea that she was little more than eye-candy with a pretty singing voice. She focused her gaze straight ahead and waited for the laughter.

“Well…” Kevin paused and Shari waited with dread for the condescending comment she knew was coming. “We probably won’t have the cool flame-thrower or the computers. But, basically,” Kevin flashed a sincere smile and nodded, “yeah.”

Ruth patted her sister’s shoulder. Shari glanced over and saw an approving smile. She faced forward again, feeling a warmth on her cheeks. She was actually blushing.

“Ruth, get on the radio and let ‘em know what we’re thinking,” Kevin said in a clipped tone that made it clear this was not going to be a topic open for debate.

Ten minutes later, a U-Haul and a firetruck pulled up to the gatehouse of
Rory’s D-LUX Kampgrounds and RV Park
.

The good news was that there didn’t appear to be too many of those things wandering about. The bad news was that there were, at best, only a few useable rigs to choose from.

“One for everybody?” Shari glanced back and forth between her sister and Kevin. “Everybody but Erin that is, and she can’t drive anyways.”

“We should probably stick to three at the most,” Kevin said, watching an old man who’d probably had trouble walking before becoming a zombie struggle to get around the lowered arm of the entry-gate.

“No, but we do have to worry about
them.
” He gestured to the handful of undead stumbling their direction. “Every time we stop to fill up, we risk getting nipped.”

Ruth noticed Shari seem to sink down in her seat. She knew that her sister had been frustrated all morning. Quite frankly, she had taken a little satisfaction in the fact that this guy was obviously not starstruck, and seemed more interested in having intelligent conversation than in oogling her more famous sibling. Still, she’d seen a change in Shari since their rescue a few days back. She seemed to actually relax and find relief in not being “Teen-Queen, Shari Bergman” anymore.

“Hang on.” Kevin instinctively put an arm across the front of Ruth and Shari. Stomping on the gas pedal, he launched the U-Haul forward. The reflective-striped arm of the entry-gate exploded into splinters and the old man went flying uncere-moniously through the air.

Kevin pulled into the open grass of a now hard to make out baseball field. Darrin pulled up alongside, and everybody poured out of the two vehicles. Angela and Erin were the only ones not brandishing a weapon.

Ruth looked tentatively at a rather large man wearing the remnants of a softball jersey—
Sam’s Softserve Softballers
—as he stumbled towards her, arms outstretched and mouth open. She held a spiked baseball bat cocked back like she was at the plate.

“Swing down onto the top of its head,” Kevin called as he moved towards an elderly couple. “Pretend it’s a game. Don’t think of it as human. And don’t be scared. This is just a big three-dee video game.”

“I hated video games,” Ruth said through clenched teeth.

He was only a few steps from her, and paused with his longsword just for a moment. He wanted to see how she handled her first target. Ruth raised her weapon above her head and brought it down hard. Softball Player seemed to look up at the last second. The steel spikes drove through face and forehead without prejudice. It dropped to its knees and then collapsed face first…snatching the bat from Ruth’s hands.

Old Man and Old Woman reached out, hands pawing at Kevin’s arm. He shoved them backwards, watching Ruth shake her left hand in obvious pain. Two more zombies were closing from Ruth’s side, one in black, blood-crusted coveralls, missing his right and left arm from just above the elbows. The other was a young girl in pigtails. Her chest cavity had been torn open, ribs jutted out obscenely—advertising what had to have been a particularly gruesome death.

Old Man was reaching for his sleeve. Kevin drove the tip of his blade up through the underside of its jaw until he felt a momentary resistance which would be the top of the inside of its skull. A quick pull, and the blade came free. One more backhand motion removed the top third of Old Woman’s head.

Ruth cried out, Kevin spun fearing he’d not dispatched his two quick enough. He needn’t have worried. Ruth was already pulling a long-bladed buck knife free from where it had driven into the top of Pigtail’s head. Coveralls was already down, head cleaved at an angle from the left ear and out the right side of its mouth, Shari standing over the corpse with a mix of pride and awe etched on her face. Both of her hands clutched the machete with a white-knuckled fierceness.

“Hand still stings from having the bat wrenched from it,” Ruth said, wincing a bit and shaking the hand again as she walked over to stand next to Kevin.

“Forgot to mention to pull back after delivering the blow,” Kevin apologized.

“Thanks,” Ruth said flatly. “C’mon, sis.”

Side-by-side the trio moved in to confront the rest of the undead inhabitants of the RV Park. Darrin and Mike were likewise engaged. Meanwhile, Angela and Erin seemed to simply drift in the wake of the deaths. Occassionally, they would yell and point.

Twenty minutes later, the park was clear of any free-roaming undead. It took the better part of the next hour checking and clearing the vehicles. By nightfall, the RVs were parked in a large pentagon, bumper to bumper.

As dinner was finished, Darrin stood up and stretched. “Tomorrow, we utilize all the cleaning supplies we can find and scrub out the three we decide to take. We fill the gas tanks and inventory what we have in reserve. Then, we reinforce those babies. Mike and I will take the firetruck up the road. I think the sign said Newark was twelve miles away. We’ll find a home repair or hardware store that will hopefully still be intact. I want to move quick so it will just be Mike and I, but we’ll stay in touch on the radio except when we actually hit the store.
Everybody
needs to do their part.”

With that, he and Darrin picked up their weapons and disappeared into one of the RVs. Kevin glanced at the four faces that now all turned to focus on him.

“Guess I better go,” Kevin broke the silence. “I’ve got first watch.”

Feverish whispering started before he’d even climbed between the front and rear bumpers of two RVs. He had no idea what was being said, nor did he have the desire to be the sole target of feminine scorn. He found a picnic table that sat apart from everything and took a seat. Laying his longsword on the benchseat, resting the bat across his knees, Kevin watched the moon slowly climb across the sky.

Before too long he found his mind drifting—thinking of Ruth. So engrossed in his thoughts, Kevin never heard the footsteps coming closer. His chin came to rest atop his chest and his eyes closed.

A hand clasped his shoulder shattering the pleasant state of relaxation. Not fully in control of himself, Kevin yelped in fright. His body flew forward gracelessly and sprawled on the ground. Instincts came online quickly and he rolled onto his back, fumbling for the handle of the bat or the longsword. Both of which had fallen to the ground. A shadowy form loomed above. The creature hissed and reached down for Kevin who discovered, much to his dismay, that neither weapon landed within arm’s reach.

13

Illusions

It has been two weeks and, try as I might, I just can’t find anything wrong here. I live in a modernized version of the Old West. People work, play, and fight as they have done since time began. There are soldiers scattered throughout the population, but they aren’t the only ones carrying weapons. In fact, yesterday, a party of about forty people were brought in—five had to be put down—and now the civilians outnumber the soldiers.

Here at Serenity Base, everybody is expected to pull their own weight. If you are older than fifteen, you carry a weapon …after you’ve been through formal training. The soldiers aren’t stingy with their gear either. I’ve been checked out on a .50 caliber machinegun. One of my jobs is manning a watchtower, covering incoming and outgoing patrols.

Our group has maintained a loose sort of cohesion. We live in the same section and get together when schedules allow. Ian is the hardest to meet up with as he is already part of the external foraging team. Also, Joseph Wiser and Aaron Doss both left today on their first mission. It was strange seeing them suited up in all that protective gear with weapons jutting out from every direction.

Barry and Randi Jenkins work at the school. Judging by the stuff that Thalia brings home every night, the curriculum is partially survival skills mixed in with the classic “Three R’s.” Dave declined a position at the school and took a job in the infirmary. That is where Teresa and Jamie work as well.

Speaking of those two, I consider myself a fairly progressive guy, but I was the only one who seemed to show any concern that those kids, Teresa and Jamie , chose to live together in the same apartment. I guess it’s just another sign of this crazy new world.

All in all, this place isn’t bad. The worst part is dealing with what happens with the survivors that are brought in. This is the only aspect of operations that the military has exercised that I have a hard time with. If somebody is infected, they have two choices: medical execution via lethal injection; or, they are quarantined until they turn…and then drilled in the head.

Don’t get me wrong, I understand the reason. Only, it just seems so harsh when you’re watching it being done. I’d like to think that I could be strong enough to do what’s right. I still have bad dreams of that first night and that girl in the sports car.

Today is one of those days. Those five people from that large group were put down this morning. One of them was a child. Only six or seven years old. He was in a coma when they arrived. At least nobody had to look in his eyes when they plugged the needle into his IV.

Doctor Zahn oversees most of the autopsies, and Dave has been on hand for a couple. After somebody is given the lethal injection, a surgical drill is used on their forehead—saves on bullets. Then, Zahn goes in and looks around. I was surprised that one of our group was given access to something like that. I guess I keep waiting for the military to act shady…withold information like they do in every thriller or apocolypse-type story. But here, it just ain’t happening.