by Flacco, Jack
“What did they sound like?”
“Growls. Deep and terrible growls. Take the meanest lion and the sounds were worse. That’s when Matty found us the way she did.”
Ranger kept his eyes on the road. “Your sister was a very brave girl.”
Jon played with the deck and dropped a card on the floor of the truck. Bending to get it, he saw the queen of hearts. He stared at it for some time before he picked it from the floor and squeezed it into the deck again. Somehow, the card reminded him of his mother. She used to tuck him in before his sister Matty took over that mother role.
Halfway between Spanish Fork and Payson, Ranger slowed his truck to the side of the interstate and stopped. The sports car with Randy and Matty came to a standstill ten feet behind them.
“What is it, Ranger?” Jon asked,
Without a word, he stepped from the truck with the binoculars he had retrieved from the glove compartment. He scanned the road ahead until he spotted what had earlier caught his eye. He saw beams of light coming from under an overpass.
“Is it bad?” Randy asked, after having stepped from the driver’s seat of the Camaro. Matty soon joined him in his walk to stand by the side of the SUV as the other boys sat waiting in the truck.
The beams shone brighter as they drew closer. Jon could see them from the backseat, and said. “It’s like that alien movie from the seventies, Ranger.”
When the lights finally made it through the underpass, the back of Ranger’s shirt became wet and his lower lip tightened. Through the binoculars, he spied a military convoy that had stopped several feet after the bridge. Three vehicles formed a line across the road with the single purpose of allowing no one from getting in or out without their knowledge. Soldiers set a perimeter around the vehicles as sentries. Ranger said, “We have to get out of here.”
“What is it, Ranger?” Charlie asked from the passenger seat of the truck.
Randy knew better than to waste Ranger’s time asking questions. If Ranger said they had to get out, they sure as hell had better get a move on.
Everyone dove into their vehicles and made tracks the opposite way. As he drove, Ranger readjusted himself in the driver’s seat, tightened his cap on his head and swiveled the rearview mirror. A sigh pushed from his lungs as he thought how close they had come from becoming prisoners at the hands of the military. Ranger glanced at the rearview mirror again to make sure the other kids were following behind, but his glance turned into a desperate stare when he focused on the Humvees on the road a quarter mile behind the kids.
Jon pushed from his seat and placed his chin on the edge of Ranger’s seat. He noticed the headlights, too. “They’re following us.”
“Yeah, I know.”
In the Camaro, Randy spotted the convoy in his side mirror. The arrow on his odometer steadily increased as he attempted to keep pace with Ranger’s speed.
“Why are we going so fast?” Matty asked, then turned and set her eyes on the rear windshield. “Never mind I said that, get us out of here.”
Back in the truck, Jon asked, “What are we going to do, Ranger? Are you sure they’re following us?”
“They’re followin’ us, all right. They had set a roadblock ahead and now they’re behind us. What does that tell you?”
“That we better think of something fast if we don’t want to become their punching bags for the next several days.” Jon fell into his seat and strapped the seatbelt around his waist.
Charlie gripped the door’s elbow rest and squeezed hard to the point where his fingers turned white. His knees began to knock together, and his forehead had sweat pouring from his hairline, down his cheek and into his shirt.
In the other car, although she appeared calm, Matty said, “I swear, if we get out of this, I’m learning how to drive.”
“Where will you go?” Randy asked, then entertained a partial smile.
“I’ll head to Canada. It’s so cold up there the zombies wouldn’t survive a minute. They’d die of exposure, for sure.”
“Thankfully I’m not Canadian. I’d probably take offense to what you just said.”
“Are you kidding? It’s a compliment. The undead would freeze solid. All a brave Canadian would need to do then is smack the fiend in the head with a hammer. It would fall to the ground in ice chunks. Problem solved.”
Charlie stretched his neck reading the odometer, then noticed how the city’s landmarks passed as a blur. “We’re back in Spanish Fork. Do you have a plan?”
“Yeah, get out of this mess alive.”
“C’mon, Ranger,” Jon said. “You always have a plan.”
Ranger looked into his rearview mirror and caught a glimpse of Jon sitting there with a big smirk on his face. “You know me all too well, kid.” He floored the pedal and continued his trek north on I-15 passing Spanish Fork, Springville, Provo, Orem and American Fork. Once they reached Temple City, he slowed the truck, signaled a right turn on Stanfield Way, left on Jay Street and another right on Spruce Avenue, as the Camaro followed. They entered an abandoned train yard through a side alley. The same smirk Jon had plastered on his face fell on Ranger. The undead killer knew the area well. The first time he found it was on foot. He was evading hungry dogs. It didn’t take long for him to remember where he had last trotted. That came easy to him with the memory of scaling a fence by the side of the tracks, shaking one of the mutts from his pant leg.
Ranger did have a plan, but for it to work, Randy and Matty would have to do exactly what he said.
No protests.
Chapter 15
Three military trucks braked hard behind the Camaro blocking the entrance to the abandoned train yard. Soldiers jumped from the vehicles, brandishing urban assault rifles. In the tight confines of the alley, they surrounded the car as one of them opened the driver side door to find the keys inside the ignition. The leader, Private First Class Nolan, a burly goon, searched through it, but didn’t find anything. Slamming the door, he strolled to the front and felt the hood. The heat pushed his hand away. They hadn’t gone far, he thought, not on foot, anyway. Scanning the buildings above, his weapon became his eyes as he pointed it to the broken windows, fire escapes and rooftops, wondering if someone had set a trap for them. He tossed the car keys to one of the other soldiers, motioning to get the vehicle out of the way so they could pass.
Once the soldier moved the car to an adjacent alley, every man flowed into his vehicle except for Nolan who had one more thing to do. He sauntered to the Camaro, pulled a knife from his utility belt, and dragged the blade across the hood’s beautiful cherry finish. As a final gesture, he punctured all four wheels to make sure no one could use the vehicle again. What a waste. With a devilish grin dancing on his face, he slithered into the last truck of the convoy and followed the alley into the train yards. A black SUV came into view parked in the middle of the yard, train tracks and a water tower to one side and Ranger on his knee fixing a tire on the other. Next to him, an open field with an abandoned building at the opposite end, six stories tall.
As the convoy approached, Ranger rose to his feet and wiped the sweat from his face with a dry rag from his back pocket. The cap he wore kept his face hidden until the last moment when he tilted it upward with his index finger.
All three military trucks pulled behind him, then the soldiers spilled from the vehicles pointing their weapons at the stranded motorist. Ranger didn’t need a poke in the ribs to know what they wanted him to do next. He just did it. He raised his hands in the air and dropped the crowbar to his feet, producing a small cloud of dirt that landed on his boots.
“Hey, fellas,” Ranger said. “Mind givin’ me a hand?”
Private First Class Nolan exited from the Humvee with a swagger and studied Ranger. He noticed the Oklahoma City RedHawks cap, the flannel shirt, the jeans and the cowboy boots. No shotgun strapped to his side and no knife holstered anywhere on his body. But he did detect a fine ring around Ranger’s leg as if it was the original color of his jeans. Passing the
zombie slayer, Nolan inspected the tire. It didn’t look flat. He asked, “What seems to be the problem?”
“The wheel shook while I drove.”
“Where are you coming from?”
“Out of state.”
“Where out of state?”
“Texas.”
“You don’t sound Texan to me.”
“I grew up in Oklahoma.”
“You’re far from home, aren’t you?”
Ranger glanced at the locked door of the abandon building across the small dirt field. “I’ve been lookin’ for food.”
Nolan roamed around the other side of the truck and kicked one of the wheels. “Why did you run when we chased you?”
“I didn’t know you were chasin’ me.”
“Who’s Camaro is it back there?”
“I don’t know.”
“It followed you when you ran away.”
“Like I said, I didn’t know you were chasin’ me.” Ranger glanced at the door again. One of the soldiers noticed this time and drifted closer to the field, wanting to ease his suspicion.
“Where’re you headed.”
“West coast.”
“West coast? You should be heading south, not north.”
“I didn’t say I was good with directions.”
“Apparently.” Nolan pulled the latch to the truck’s trunk. “Mind if I have a look?”
“Go ahead.” One last time, Ranger glanced at the door, then at the soldier who noticed his shifting eyes. The soldier didn’t let Ranger’s preoccupation with the entrance go. He followed his instincts and began to stroll across the small dirt field toward the rusty door of the abandon building, thirty feet away.
At the same time, Nolan rifled through Ranger’s belongings and found a knapsack. He unzipped it and opened it wide. His eyes nearly fell from his head. Guns, and more guns filled the bag. He tossed the bag on the ground in front of Ranger. The other soldiers saw the bag and raised their rifles at him, careful he didn’t make any sudden moves. Nolan said, “Packing heavy, aren’t you?”
“Have you seen the faces of the folks roamin’ about the streets lately?”
“I can’t say I have.” He lied.
“Not the least bit friendly.”
When the investigating soldier reached a quarter the way through the field, a top floor window creaked open an inch. He held in position and examined it. It could have been the wind. The wind tended to blow things open, he thought. Two of his buddies sneaked behind on either side of him to form a triangle.
“Where did you get the guns?” Nolan asked, pointing at the bag.
“Found ‘em.” Ranger twisted his nose several times, his hands still in the air. “Do you mind if I scratch my nose?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, you do mind or yes, I can scratch my nose?”
“Yes, I do mind. Now where did you get the guns?”
“I told you, I found them.”
“Where?”
“Does it matter?”
“It matters to me. These are military-issue weapons. What about the people riding with you, where did they go?”
“There is no one else ridin’ with me.”
“And I suppose this belongs to you?” Private First Class Nolan held up one of Matty’s bras he had pulled from her knapsack.
Ranger held his words and took a few steps back while Nolan stared at his small team of soldiers moving forward in the dirt field. The more he monitored his team advancing toward the abandon building the more Nolan’s eyes shifted to Ranger retreating. It took a couple of seconds before he put it together.
“No! Stop! No!” The team leader shouted at his troops.
Ranger dove behind his SUV to the ground.
The explosion ripped the three soldiers to pieces. All that remained of them hurled from the sky and slammed across a wide area of the field. A small cloud vanished from the spot where the lead soldier had tripped the hidden mine with his foot.
Seconds after the blast, sniper fire erupted from the windows of the abandon building. Bullets whizzed toward the surviving soldiers that’d had their aim centered on Ranger. By the time they had switched focus from the zombie hunter to their assailants, shells had hurled into their hearts and lungs, destroying their lives as they collapsed to the ground.
Private First Class Nolan dropped his gun and raised his hands in the air at the sight of his squad left dead by the minefield and the sniper fire.
Spitting dirt from his mouth, Ranger coughed and slowly rose to his feet. He dusted himself off with his cap and coughed again. From the rear of his truck, he chuckled once he saw Nolan who had surrendered. How things had changed so quickly, he thought. Moments before, the Private First Class had his gun pointed at Ranger. Staggering to the side of the truck where Nolan stood, Ranger seized the assault rifle his prisoner had thrown to his feet and left no doubt he enjoyed its feel. He allowed the weight of it to settle in his hands, then pointed it at the former leader of his dead squad.
“Wait a minute.” Nolan said.
“Don’t worry,” Ranger said. “I ain’t gonna shoot you.”
Nolan sighed in relief, satisfied he’d be safe.
“But you are gonna tell me everything you know.”
Nolan chortled. “I don’t have to tell you jack.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’re gonna talk. I’m so certain that I’m willin’ to bet your life on it.”
Nolan smiled, then shook his head. “Not a chance.”
“Get on your knees.”
“I thought you weren’t going to shoot me?”
“Stop being an idiot and get on your knees.”
The former leader, hands still propped in the sky, obeyed Ranger’s command without questioning him again.
Ranger called the kids from their hiding place. They appeared from behind the top of the water tower, and one by one, Charlie, Jon, Randy and Matty climbed down the ladder to the bottom where they carried their belongings on their back. Matty, however, towed more than her fair share since she had Ranger’s shotgun harnessed around her shoulders and his knife wrapped around her waist. She didn’t mind, though, having seen the leader of the squad captured was enough of a reward for carrying the extra load. When they finally arrived to where Ranger held the gun on Nolan, Matty handed him his weapons. Before Ranger strapped his shotgun to where it belonged, he gave Randy the assault rifle and asked him to hold it on the leader.
Next, Ranger had some unfinished business. He approached the dilapidated tenement and stopped at the border of the minefield. He raised his hands and at the same time, he made his point clear, “Thanks for your help.”
Matty and Randy looked at each other wondering if Ranger had lost his mind. They scanned the field and saw the broken bodies of the soldiers in twisted mounts, then they spotted the dead soldiers from the trucks. They thought the same thing, Ranger must have been there before and known what would have happened had the military confronted him the way they did. He must have also known about the minefield. He didn’t let on more than what he knew.
No response came from the building.
“Can I speak to the girl again?” Ranger studied every window in the building knowing snipers had their tracers on him. “What do I have to do to get your attention? Blow myself up?”
The window that had opened a crack when the soldiers attempted to seize the building, eased closed.
“You can’t shut yourself in there forever.”
No response and no movement came from anywhere in the building.
“We need your help gettin’ home. Is that too much to ask? We can’t do it on our own. We’ve tried and it’s not workin’. The military have closed the roads. Hello? I know you’re there.” Ranger kept his hands in the air, but then he smacked them to his side in frustration. His next idea was a gamble, yet he had nothing to lose. He turned around scanned the ground, found a large rock, and held it in his hands. “If you don’t come to me, I will come to you.”
He thre
w the rock five feet in the dirt ahead of him. If it’d hit a mine, Ranger would have known about it by the explosion. It didn’t. No explosion, no mine. He backed up one foot at a time.
“What does he think he’s doing?” Charlie asked.
“He’s lost his mind again.” Randy said.
“The rock’s safe. He’s going to try to jump to the rock.” Matty answered.
“He’ll die trying.” Nolan said, then giggled.
“Was anyone talking to you?” Matty marched to the military leader and threw a right cross to his face, stunning him.
Sprinting and pumping his hands in the air, Ranger tore across five feet of ground ahead of the minefield before the door to the abandon building creaked open, and put the brakes on his jump. With a huge gasp, he had almost lost his balance and fallen into the dirt where who knew a mine waited for him.
From the old door, a little girl, no more than eight years old, dark hair and sullen eyes, hopped her way in a zigzag pattern over the field to land where the rock had landed. She took another two steps forward.
Jon saw her and couldn’t help staring. He gulped.
Ranger greeted her with a nod, and said, “What did you think, I wasn’t gonna come back?”
* * *
An assembly of the undead roamed the inside of the cottage where Ranger had spilled his blood on the furniture. Some had taken a crouched position, licking dry bloodstains from the floor. Others had drifted outside the cottage with nothing more than the smell of death in their nostrils. Although the majority of them shrieked and dragged in the middle of the road that ran abutting the cottage, a remnant stood on the lawn, rocking back and forth, hoping Ranger would come back and feed them. Who could count on that miracle? They would have had to be staunch believers of the zombie faith for that to happen.
None of the undead saw the military trucks coming. The jeeps and Humvees rolled on the road and crushed whatever zombies stood in their way. After a full stop, the soldiers dropped from the vehicles and opened fire on the leftover roamers, spilling green all over the road, grass and cottage deck. Those hearing their brothers and sisters fall by the hands of those outside, raced from the cottage and targeted the soldiers with the guns. Shots penetrated the chewers until every last one of them died a second death.