Undead 02 The Undead Haze (14 page)

Beau proposed an idea. “I’ve been on back roads before, and some of the gas stations and smaller grocery stores have emergency backup generators. Especially when they’re far away from the cities. It wouldn’t take long to search around and inside this building.”

The plan sounded reasonable, and we didn’t have anything else to go on. Beau locked the truck and we walked off the bare cement into the snow. The cold seeped through my boots, but my feet didn’t get wet.

The shop inside was dark. When we passed the front doors, I gave them a tug. They didn’t budge. If we didn’t find a generator on the other side, would it be worth it to break in just to look for one?

It had stopped snowing. Beyond the gas station was a cheap looking two-story motel. Its bright green trim and railing stood out against the peeling gray paint and pristine whiteness of the snow. No cars in the parking lot.

We skirted around the building, taking the corners wide so we didn’t come upon any nasty surprises. I tried not to be excited when I saw what was at the back.

There was a fenced off area with some kind of structure inside. It was covered in snow, and the fence was chain link with dark green plastic woven in to grant security and privacy at the same time. The gate was shut, but I hoped it wasn’t locked. Even if it was, one of us could climb over.

“I’ll be damned,” Beau said, as though he didn’t believe his plan would come to fruition. When we got close enough to look through the small holes in the fence, he added, “That’s a generator, all right.”

Once we were closer, I noticed the back door. A cinderblock stopped it from closing. Snow was pushed up against this and the block. It was pitch black inside. Who put the block there? Someone who intended to go back inside? Maybe whoever had left it was still in there.

Flashes of what happened at the gas station in Monroe came to mind. The building had seemed so inconspicuous, but my complacency had almost cost me my life.

The past is the past. Focus on the present, Cyrus.

It took some strength to pull open the fence, since at least half a foot of snow surrounded both sides, but the gate gave and we both slid through.

“There’s no telling how long it will run even if it does start,” Beau said. “Our best bet is for one of us to be right at the pump when it turns on. That way we’ll at least get something.”

I agreed as we studied the generator. It was diesel powered. All it took was a few jerks of a chain to start up. Anyone could do it.

“Wait. It doesn’t matter if we get the electricity on. We don’t have a way to pay for the gas,” I said.

Beau nodded towards the back door. “Get the electricity on, go in and hit the paid button at the register. I’ll be waiting at the pump.”

My head hurt and my stomach growled. I wanted to get this done fast so we could move and maybe eat on the road.

Beau disappeared around the corner. I gave him a couple minutes to trek through the snow, then I yanked the generator pulley.

It took three tries, and I almost ripped my shoulder out from the strain, but eventually I got the thing running. It sputtered to life and sounded angry to be woken up.

I pulled my flashlight out and peeked through the back door. The storeroom was in good repair. Products were stacked neatly on shelves, along with a cart of cleaning supplies in the middle of the room. There wasn’t anything out of place. Nothing that indicated a rotbag ready to jump me.

A doorway with long plastic slats sat directly across from me. I readied myself. Run in and out. Simple.

The odds were in my favor. I crossed the storeroom and pushed the plastic aside to reveal an untouched convenience store. The lights were on. I went to the front of the store to the register. Outside, Beau saw me and gave me a cheesy thumbs-up.

I hit the paid button.

And since everything was peachy keen, I took a detour through the candy aisle on the way out. A bag of Jolly Ranchers, a bag of Sour Patch kids, and whatever else I could grab and shove in my pockets.

Before I left, I stowed my flashlight and brought the carbine up. I took three or four steps before my foot hit something soft under the snow. I fell face-first, gun flying out of my hands. Then I pushed myself up and stood.

Only half of a body stuck up out of the snow. The rest of it was either torn or eaten away. I wasn’t sure which. But it lay dormant, unmotivated to move, until it was provoked to grab someone. It was nothing more than skin and bones, so I couldn’t tell if it was a she or he. Its eyes were completely frozen and didn’t move. I wondered if it could see. It’s face wore a frosty, perpetual grimace.

The Z couldn’t move fast. It could barely lift its hand to try and get me. I took a few steps back to compose myself, then moved in, bludgeoning its head with the butt of my rifle.

I collected myself and brushed the snow off my front before trying to jog around the building. The snow made it difficult. I found myself watching the ground closely for more undead.

When the front of the station came into view, I almost laughed at how normal the scene was. Beau standing at the pump, looking like any guy just filling his tank.

“Everything go okay in there?”

“Better than okay,” I said. “Things are finally on track again.”

“I’d have to agree.”

A minute passed before the electric pump began to flicker and the gas station and mini-mart shut off. Six gallons made it into the truck before electricity failed. When the loud generator quit, along with the sloshing of gas, we were silent.

“We’ll find somewhere to stop now, right?”

We were making great time. I still felt haughty from beating Kevin. Why stop when things were in my favor?

I was about to voice my objection, but he said, “I’m in bad shape, Cyrus. Can’t you see that?”

Bad shape
. He was my driver and I had to acknowledge his needs. Beau took a couple blows to the head, was hungry like I was, and wasn’t handling the scuff with Kevin as well as me. If he suffered a nervous breakdown, or had a brain aneurysm, I’d be screwed and have to go on foot.

A moment of logic felt good. It reminded me that I was indeed using him. In a way, he was like livestock. I had to take good care of him or he would be of little benefit.

“Yeah, I see that.” I managed a halfhearted, sheepish grin. I put the remaining candies back in my backpack. “The next place we see that looks good we’ll stop.”

We’d park the truck somewhere discreet, search the house to make sure it’s safe, then wake up right when the sun rose. The roads might be rough, but if he drove slow and carefully we’d be at Samish Island in no time. There were more obstacles to come, like entering the Puget Sound and trying to find a small island, but it seemed doable now that we had gas and got rid of some extra baggage.

But I let myself get hopeful too soon. We were driving in silence when the truck suddenly drifted from the middle of the road off to the right. It was happening in slow motion.

“Turn into the skid!”

“I am, I am!” Despite his efforts, the vehicle did its own thing.

There was a drainage ditch to our right. It was filled with shadows and snow. We watched, helpless, as the truck glided across the road and straight into it.

Chapter 13

Our descent into the ditch was slow and gradual, bumping to and fro as we went over rocks and dips in the hill. Once we stopped, we shoved open the doors and began to squeeze out. Beau fell through snow as he climbed up to assess the situation.

Before I followed I took the chance I’d been waiting for since he stuck that damn picture there. I swiped the photo from the dash, folded it and tucked it into my pocket. I came up behind him, confident he hadn’t seen.

The truck wasn’t smoking or burning. No signs of damage, but the front end was covered with snow. There was no way to push it back onto the road without another vehicle to tow it. And if we had another vehicle, we wouldn’t need to tow the truck out to begin with.

We were good ol’ fashioned screwed.

I wanted to scream and curse the universe. This was the third vehicle I’d lost to stupid luck. It was less dramatic than the Mustang flying off a broken bridge, or the Hummer getting stolen by a group of crazy raiders. This was more of a joke. At barely 10 MPH, the truck decided to go headfirst into a ditch.

Beau put his hands behind his head and looked up into the sky. He exhaled a huge plume of foggy breath. “Fuck.”

“Yep,” I agreed.

“I don’t think we can haul this thing out.” He kicked the snow. “I just want to eat, sleep, and figure this out in the morning.”

Beau’s new plan sounded just fine, all things considered. We were far away from Lake Stevens, the explosion, and gunfire. If I’d learned anything, it’s to take incidents like this in stride. Didn’t mean I wasn’t pissed off, though.

“Let’s get our stuff. We take a can of food and hole up in the next house we see,” I said. “Sound good?”

“I wish we had something lighter. Hauling those cans isn’t the safest or most practical thing we could do.”

“I know. What else do we have?”

“Nothing.” Beau sighed. He ground the heel of his boot into the snow. “Maybe we’ll find a car along the way? Get it running. Anything is better than going on foot.”

“When’s the last time you saw a car? I haven’t since the gas station, and that was miles ago. It took us an hour to get where we are. Going back on foot will take even longer, especially since you’re
jacked
up.”

I guess that settled it. Beau nodded, saying nothing. He half-slid down the ditch to get his pack. I did the same, but instead of putting Pickle into my backpack I nestled her into my biggest inner coat pocket. Her space blanket went into my pack. I took my rifle and slammed the car door shut.

Up on the road, Beau stood cradling a large can in one arm and his melee weapon in the other. It was dark now, but despite it and the clouds there was enough moonlight to navigate without flashlights. When we got to a house, we’d need to break one out.

I glanced over and noticed a pensive expression on Beau’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I—” He shook his head. “I think I lost the photo of me and my sister. How could I have done that?”

I shifted from foot to foot. Coughed. “It’s the apocalypse. Things get lost?” He looked like he wanted to say more, but I moved past him. “Let’s get going, okay? No sense in wasting time.”

We hadn’t been walking long when we spotted a one-story house ahead. It was set back from the road. It looked like a quaint place someone left behind. Nothing more.

As we came closer, I noted there were no cars in the driveway or movement anywhere. The snow remained pristine and untouched, which meant there hadn’t been undead wandering around recently. We treaded carefully down a slope to the front of the house.

“Let’s walk around the perimeter,” I suggested. “Look through the windows. Maybe we can see if there’s something in there.”

We tried opening the front door, but it was locked. Beau and I stuck close together, shuffling around the entire perimeter of the house, but only the kitchen window was free of heavy drapes. I let my rifle hang by its straps while I shined the light inside.

It was like any kitchen in America. Middle-grade appliances, linoleum floor, fake granite countertops. It opened up into a small, sparsely furnished living space. There were no signs of struggle or the dead.

The back had a sliding glass door that opened onto a patio. Since we couldn’t see any immediate danger, we backtracked and tried to open it. With a crunch of icy buildup giving way, it slid open.

There was a distinct smell that defined these locations. This one was no exception. Old, dusty, and unmaintained. There were family photos on the walls. I couldn’t help but look as we moved farther into the living room.

Only one person remained constant in the photos. It was an older woman, maybe in her late forties, with brown hair and a grin. Other happy people accompanied her, with their arms slung around each other. In each photo she was posed in front of rundown buildings or with equally rundown people. She seemed to be the kind of lady I’d see volunteering in soup kitchens in downtown Seattle.

Other than the kitchen and living space, the main floor contained a hall with three doors. One was open and showed a room with a neatly made bed and a dresser. Beau went ahead first and I lit his path. He opened the door closest to us. It revealed a garage.

Inside was a silver sports car. It looked like the kind James Bond drove, but I couldn’t remember the name. We walked around it, finding keys were in the ignition, but in this weather the sports car was useless. Even if we got it running, we were better off walking. The car was too light and would have cumbersome weight distribution. We’d be fishtailing everywhere.

There was still one door left, however I doubted there was anyone left in the house. The undead couldn’t open doors, but it was still better to check. We closed the garage behind us, and Beau went to the last door.

The bathroom was small, almost cramped, but immaculate save for the bathtub. When I shone the light inside the basin, it reflected off of red water and an old, rotted face.

Suicide
, was the first thing I thought. Out of curiosity, I pushed past Beau and stopped when I neared the toilet. A note rested on the lid—a little dusty, but handwritten and obvious. I was surprised. It seemed common to leave a note, but most people didn’t after the apocalypse. They were often too caught up in their own pain to care about how other people would react.

“Cyrus,” Beau started to say, but I shook my head.

“Just interested. I’ve never read one of these before.”

I blew the dust off the single sheet of lined paper and held the flashlight up high so I could read it.

Dear whoever-is-left…I don’t see any point in living now that the
dead
have risen. It doesn’t make sense. I’ve spent my life trying to help people in need, but I don’t feel like there is anything left I can do. Being a humanitarian was all I had. So I have nothing now.

To be honest, I’m not sure why I’m writing this note. I guess for closure. I’m taking my husband’s Colt and ending it after I’m done. We fought so much while he was alive about keeping a gun in the house, but now I’m glad I didn’t get rid of it.