Fire: The Collapse

by William Esmont

They set out in a small convoy the next morning with four diesel pickup trucks liberated from the National Park Service depot adjacent to the Scorpion Canyon Ranger Station. Megan rode in the lead vehicle with Cesar, while Pringle followed in the next truck with Alicia. Four other men occupied the other vehicles bringing up the rear. Fuel wasn’t a problem, at least for the foreseeable future. Diesel kept well, and the buried tank in the depot contained at least 5000 gallons. Beyond the ranger station, there were plenty of other sources of fuel if they ever ran out—enough to last a lifetime. Or until the undead learned to drive.

  Today’s raid was focused on food and medical supplies. The number of intact grocery stores had surprised them at first. Canned food was abundant, and it was only a matter of choosing what they wanted to haul back. Next week, Cesar planned to venture deeper into town to search for a rumored hydroponics supply store near the university, in hopes of setting up a sustainable indoor farming operation so they would have fresh produce during the long hot months.

  So far, water wasn’t a problem, either. While the river in the canyon was low at the moment, it provided plenty for the meager needs of the community. Still, Megan had her eyes open for some sort of cistern they could use to store water in case of a drought. She figured they could find one at a farm supply store.

  They passed dozens of desiccated corpses as they picked their way through the remains of the city. They were true dead, detritus of the initial swarm that had surged through the city consuming everything in their path.

  So far, the undead were nowhere to be seen. But that didn’t mean they weren’t there. It just meant they hadn’t detected the convoy’s presence yet. This worried Megan more than she let on.

  Cesar slowed the truck and wove through the intersection of Speedway and Kolb, taking care not to get hung up on the wreckage of a black-and-white police cruiser and a crumpled BMW sport utility vehicle. As they cleared the wreck, Megan realized she was grinding her teeth. She took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. Being outside the fence always did this to her. She glanced out at the side-view mirror, searching for the chase vehicles.

  One.

  Two.

  Her heart skipped a beat. Where’s the third? A moment later the truck rumbled into view, swinging wide around the front bumper of the police cruiser. She let out a sigh of relief. The traffic, as packed as it was, offered far too many places for the undead to hide. They were like a live wire in the brush, lurking until someone disturbed them, instantly lethal.

  “What the—” Cesar blurted. He stood on the brakes, and the truck jerked to a stop in the center of the road. Megan looked ahead and immediately saw the object of his concern. About a quarter of a mile down the road, there was a solitary figure facing them while sitting astride a motorcycle. The rider was clad from neck to toe in black leathers and wore a shiny black helmet with a smoked visor. It was definitely a man. Though it was impossible to see his face, his broad shoulders and narrow waist left little room for question.

  A thousand thoughts raced through Megan’s mind, but the one that set her heart racing was the possibility that they had driven into a trap. She had heard stories from other survivors in the compound and had even seen hints of it herself during her own journey south. Humanity had been reduced to interacting like dogs—bite first and make friends later.

  The yellow Motorola radio on the dash squawked. “What’s going on up there?”

  Megan answered. “There’s someone ahead. We don’t know if he’s friendly.”

  Silence for a second, and then, “I can’t see him.”

  “He’s on a motorcycle.” Megan watched Cesar’s face, trying to gauge his reaction to the situation. He looked lost in thought, hands at ten and two on the wheel, thumbs drumming as he pondered their options.

  “Hold on, Mike,” Megan said into the radio handset.

  The man climbed from his bike and put out his kickstand. He took a step away and checked his surroundings. He started to remove his helmet.

  “I don’t see any weapons,” Megan whispered. “What do you think, Cesar?”

  He shrugged and pulled a pair of binoculars from the door pocket to scan the area. “I don’t see anyone else.” He scanned behind them. “We go forward,” he finally said, removing his foot from the brake.

  As they got within twenty feet of the motorcyclist, Megan was finally able to make out part of his face through the shadow of his helmet. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling they were driving into some sort of ambush. She craned her head around and scanned the buildings lining the road, searching for anything out of the ordinary.

  Ten feet from the motorcycle, Cesar rolled to a stop and threw the truck in park. “Stay here,” he said.

  “Not a chance.” Megan grabbed her pistol and reached for the door latch.

  Cesar grabbed her forearm, his grip like a vise. “I need you here Megan. Just in case.” He gestured at the man with his other hand. “I want you to get behind the wheel and be ready to go.” The look in his eyes said he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  “Okay,” she agreed. “But I don’t like it.” She cast her eyes down at his hand still gripping her forearm.

  He released her. “I’m sorry…”

  “Don’t worry about it.” She picked up the radio and told the other vehicles to hold their positions. Cesar exited the truck and walked briskly toward the man. Megan slid behind the wheel and placed her pistol on the dashboard. Just in case.

  The motorcycle guy looked a little rough, like he’d been on the road for a long time. Dirt caked his face, and fine lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes as he squinted into the sun. His short blond hair looked greasy, as if it hadn’t been washed in ages. Megan couldn’t hear their discussion over the rumble of the engine, but their body language looked promising.

  After a minute, Cesar turned and gestured at the convoy. The man said something with a smile and pointed north. She guessed that was where he had come from. They exchanged a few more words, shook hands, and began walking toward the truck. Megan took the gun off the dash and put it in her lap with the barrel pointed at the door. She straightened in her seat and waited.

  Cesar and the man arrived at her window. “Megan, I’d like you to meet Kevin…” Cesar stumbled, obviously having forgotten the man’s last name already.

  “Salerno,” the stranger interjected. His voice was deep and full of confidence, and Megan had a sudden intuition he had seen a lot in whatever life he had led before the end of the world. “Nice to meet you,” he said, offering his hand.

  “Likewise.” Megan stuck her hand out the window, and they shook.

  “Kevin’s been on the road for a while,” Cesar added. Megan noted the desperate hunger in Kevin’s eyes. He’s searching for something.

  Cesar pressed on. “He’s going to stay with us for a few days. Maybe more.”

  Megan’s mind raced as she considered where Kevin would fit into the community. There was no doubt he was road-hardened. He knew how to drive a bike, perfect for getting through tight traffic situations. Maybe a scout?

  “I told him about our scavenging operation. He’s going to help today, and then follow us back afterward.”

  “Sounds good.” Actually, it was great, the more people on a raid, the better their chances of success.

  “Not many undead around here today, are there?” Kevin commented, inclining his head in Megan’s direction. “But it looks like you guys are loaded for bear.”

  “Oh, they’re here,” Cesar responded. He glanced nervously at the surrounding buildings. “I don’t know where yet, but they’re here.” There was a lull in the conversation as they all evaluated their new situation.

  Cesar spoke first. “Fall in somewhere in the middle, Kevin. Follow our lead for now, and you’ll be all right.”

  “That works.” Kevin pulled on his helmet and turned for his motorcycle. He fired it up and cut a wide circle around the group, placing himself in the middle, just behind Pringle. He sat and idled, w
aiting for the convoy to lurch forward. By the time Cesar had situated himself behind the wheel, Megan had already briefed the others in the convoy, including Pringle, who seemed oddly ambivalent about the new addition.

  They set off. They still had supplies to collect.

  Twenty-Two