Left in the Cold (The Left Series)

by Christian Fletcher

  I glanced up at the sky and saw the first hues of dawn threatening to break; the sky was changing from black to a fuzzy dark blue. Daylight was on its way and I couldn’t risk still being anywhere near the town when clear vision was possible. Anybody looking out across the desert from inside the fence would spot me from miles away. I had to make my move.

  Keeping low to the ground, I hurried back along the rocky basin, brushing through the tall weeds and plants as I moved. I knew I couldn’t risk using the roadway so I’d have to try and trek back to the motel through the desert. It wasn’t a journey I was looking forward to but the alternative was a slow, painful and torturous death at the hands of the neo Nazis.

  I half crawled and half scrambled up the side of the indent in the desert floor and hauled myself upright onto my feet when I reached level ground. I took a brief glance behind me. The fires in the town still raged into the sky. The rifle on my back and the ammunition I carried weighed heavy on my body but I knew I had to keep moving as fast as I could.

  The weapons I carried rattled around on my torso as I hurried across the desert plain. I kept glancing to my left, trying to gauge the route of the roadway but it was difficult to see in the hazy darkness. Daylight was coming but it wasn’t enough to see clearly where the hell I was going.

  I heard the sound of vehicle engines roaring around the road and loud music blasted from somewhere in the distance, probably from those same vehicles. The tall Texan guy and his neo Nazi army were definitely pumped up and on their way to a war they’d obviously instigated from the start. They simply wanted an excuse for a battle. Well, they had one motherfucker of a fight on their hands now.

  I headed away from the roadway, spreading out to the right but keeping the vehicle lights still in view. The light altered again. The sun was rising, changing the landscape from total darkness into a semi black and white, old photo type scene. The wind rattled through the weeds and the clumps of sporadic sprouting grass. Sweat ran down my back as I tried to run. The heat was already increasing across the open plain.

  Fatigue and lack of fitness got the better of me and I had to stop moving. I took a long slug of water and lit a cigarette. The smoke wasn’t the best choice under the circumstances but I felt as though I needed the nicotine hit. I turned to my left and scanned the landscape in front of me. The road was probably around a half mile away now but the headlamps from the vehicles still buzzed up and down the lanes.

  A buzzard cawed overhead and I glanced upward, watching the big bird’s early morning flight path. The sky was turning from gray to an azure blue. It would have been a beautiful sunrise under different conditions. My guts churned in panicky spasms and everything felt wrong. I dropped to a crouch while I finished my cigarette. The new day certainly didn’t have a good vibe about it.

  I rose up, listening to the sounds of the vehicles roaring around in the distance and wondering what the consequences of the night’s activities would yield. I exhaled against the cloying, dusty air, knowing I had to move across the desert to get anywhere reasonably safe. I had no clue how far I had to travel on foot but I knew it was going to be a long haul and I’d have to navigate by good old fashioned instinct and a big slice of luck to get back to the motel.

  I plodded on at a slower pace, not wanting to think too hard about the situation that was going on miles in the distance. I couldn’t do anything about it but I still felt a sense of overwhelming guilt. I hadn’t helped anybody. What the hell had I achieved by coming out here? Absolutely fiddly squat, that’s what. I’d just landed myself in deep shit for no reason.

  My mind wandered as I walked, face down to the ground. I could simply carry on walking into the sunset and away from all my problems.

  “You don’t look so good, cowboy.”

  I glanced up and saw my alternative self standing in front of me. He cast no shadow in the early morning twilight but he was dressed in all in black. Dusty black leather boots, tight black pants, a black shirt with white stitching around the breast pockets and the sleeve cuffs. A black cowboy hat with the brim pulled down over his forehead completed the menacing caricature. An old, silver, wooden handled, six gun pistol hung low in a holster around his waist. His face was yellow and blistery sun burnt.

  I stopped moving, studying the figure in front of me and sighed deeply. This wasn’t the time or place for hallucinations.

  “What are you doing here?” I snapped.

  “Come to save your sorry looking ass,” my alternative self retorted. “You are making a right pig’s ass of this whole fucking thing.”

  I couldn’t disagree with him. The humiliation and guilt returned in abundance. I thought of letting Smith down. I thought of my unsupportive hand at trying to rescue Wingate from the clutches of the neo Nazis. I thought of Batfish and our imminent child.

  I didn’t know what to do and felt like bursting into tears in front of the image of my own hallucination.

  “I know what you’re going through, bro,” the cowboy image of me said. “We’ll get through this shit. Believe me.”

  “How?” I barked, gulping as I spoke. “We’re miles away from what’s going down and we’ve got no way of getting back there to warn them what’s coming.”

  “There’s always a fucking way, dude. There’s always a back door out of any shit you gotta face.”

  I kind of knew what he was hinting at. “What? Just walk away and leave them all?”

  His face, my face turned steely. “I’m giving you options, dude. I know you don’t like the first one that popped into your mind. And I know you ‘aint going to do that. The other choice is to go guerilla and beat these fuckers at their own game.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  My alternative self glanced up to the lightening sky. “Well, nobody knows where you are and there are two sides about to go to war. You have a rifle, a side arm and the essence of surprise on your side. You could be the guy in the shadows, man. The silent assassin, the guy on the grassy knoll.”

  I ducked my head. Realization and optimism kicked in. Could I be the guy? Could I be the heroic savior in a good way? I nodded. I’d give it a fucking go. If I failed, we’d all probably die anyhow. So what? We were all going to die one way or another.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  My alternative self obviously read my positive vibes. He stood aside and pointed the way forward across the desert plains before fading like a whiff of smoke into the ether. I’d have to make my way back to the motel undetected. Not an easy task across the rugged terrain but one I felt compelled to do. I couldn’t allow Smith, Batfish, McElroy and all the others to be mowed down by the neo Nazis without at least trying to give them a helping hand.

  I weighed up the odds in my mind. Smith, McElroy and company would know the home side was coming and would be prepared for an attack. Would they be capable of defending their perimeter? Smith would guarantee they’d be able to repel such an offence but I wasn’t so sure. The neo Nazis had more man power and probably more fire power. The motel wasn’t exactly a fortress either. The whole place was open and not easy to defend. I’d do my best to be the unseen sniper, the guy in the hills that won the day. Maybe it would work out, maybe not. All I could do was try.

  The sun steadily rose, bringing the heat and an early morning mist along with it. The heat wasn’t unbearable but more uncomfortable. I didn’t mind the mist so much. It’d help to keep me hidden in its cloudy shroud but I also ran the risk of losing sight of the road and becoming horribly lost and disorientated.

  I continued to plod onwards, deciding not to try and rush too fast across the uneven and mist covered ground. A twisted ankle out in the middle of nowhere would surely scupper my chances of making it back to the motel in time to be of any use. I could pick up the pace in a while. I knew the sun would burn away the haze in an hour or so.

  The sounds of wild animals cawed, croaked, squealed and squawked in the distance. I’d have to keep my wits about me and keep an eye out for any dangers lurching out of
the mist and coming close by. Gunfire would echo a long way across the plains so I’d have to use the firearms only as a last resort.

  I glanced around the close ground as I walked and picked up a thick but dead tree branch that was about two feet long. The wooden stick was bleached almost white by the harsh sun and felt fairly light in my hands. The branch wouldn’t be sufficient as a long term weapon but it may just stave off a surprise attack from any predator who thought I’d make a good breakfast.

  A small creature rustling around in the weeds to my right caused me to recoil until I saw the brown furry thing, whatever it was scurry away into the mist in front of me. The sounds of revving engines far away to my left caught my attention and I veered closer in that direction, still keeping my distance and alerted to the prospect of any sudden lights shining through the fog.

  The crack of a gunshot somewhere in the distance instinctively forced me to crouch down. I couldn’t see shit but couldn’t be sure I hadn’t been spotted. I waited a few seconds but didn’t hear any raised or excited voices or any approaching vehicles.

  I rose up to my feet and carried on my trek, listening intently at the revving sounds further away across the hidden landscape. Another couple of pops that sounded like gunfire rattled around in the distance. I wondered what the fuck was going on. Surely, I couldn’t be so close to the motel that threatened to be a battle ground already?

  A brief gust of wind blew dust into my face but it did help to clear the mist slightly. After wiping the grit from my eyes, I saw my surrounding a little more clearly. I was nowhere near the motel, only somewhere in the desert with no visible landmarks in sight.

  More gunfire rattled in the distance and slightly to my left. I felt my head spin. I knew I was becoming disorientated. I felt like turning around in a circle or changing direction but I knew if I did I’d become totally lost. The sound of the gunshots was the only thing I could focus on to give me any kind of bearing.

  I cautiously plodded onwards, heading in the same direction and trying not to stray from the route I’d fixed in my mind. The mist slowly lifted around me but a light breeze blew up a haze of swirling dust from the ground. Sandy grit blew into my face, stinging my eyes and causing me to wince while spinning away from the dust cloud.

  I blinked rapidly, wiping away grit and moisture from my eyes with my sleeve. A slight rasping noise to my right alerted my attention. I shook my head, blinked again and turned to the source of the noise. Through the haze of dust and tears streaming from my eyes, I saw the outline of several shambling figures shuffling towards me.

  “Shit!” I groaned. I knew these individuals weren’t going to be exactly friendly.

  I wiped the excess dust from my face as best I could and swung around fully to confront the groaning figures. A brief head count told me there were four undead heading closer through the dust and maybe a few more still out of view. I gripped the tree branch in both hands and readied myself for the imminent undead attack.

  The first figure, a small male with light brown rags for clothes and a sun parched, skinny face lumbered within a few feet of me. I swung the tree branch from right to left in a sweeping arc. The wood connected with the ghoul’s skull right behind the left ear. The impact made a hollow clunking sound and the zombie fell sideways into the dirt, the head oozing brown liquid from a huge wound. He made an attempt at rising but then slumped back down again unmoving. One down, god only knew how many to go.

  The second zombie in the shuffling line spread her arms out wide as if she was trying to hug me. Her matted brown hair flailed in the wind and her teeth gnashed together as she approached. I noticed her face was covered with old blood stains but the eyes were still intact.

  I swung the tree branch again, this time in a downward, clubbing motion. The blow succeeded in my objective. The skull cracked open on the crown and dark red liquid flooded from the open gash. The female zombie slumped to her knees and fell face first onto the ground a couple of feet in front of me.

  I sidestepped, moving a few feet away from the corpse on the ground. The fight or flight part of my brain was definitely telling me to flee with every pulse through my body. More figures lurched through the mist and swirling dust. I figured these zombies were a small part of a gathered horde that had ambushed Tex and his crew heading for the motel. They’d obviously veered off the road and into the foggy landscape. I was the unlucky prick who was going to bear the brunt of their diversion.

  I realized it was going to be an impossible task to stand fast and fight them all off. I’d have to make some very fast alternative arrangements. Time and motion were factors that I had little of and I had to make my retreat sooner rather than later. But the tide of undead kept coming and I had no time for maneuver.

  A third zombie rapidly loomed up in front of me. I swung the blood stained tree branch in a sideswipe. My weapon connected and toppled the ghoul over but the wood split in half with the force of the blow. I was left with a six inch piece of wood in my hand and a horde of zombies coming towards me at an unrelenting pace.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  It seemed little point keeping the small piece of broken branch in my hand so I let it go, dropping it to the ground. The zombies kept coming at me. I had two choices, stay and fight and waste precious ammunition or turn and live to fight another day, or at least another few minutes.

  I realized there was no point in hanging around, shooting at a cluster of undead who were going to keep coming at me. I knew I’d have to break my cover and head for the road but the neo Nazis were ahead of me now and hopefully the combination of dust and mist would act as a smoke screen. The zombies drew closer; more of them emerged out of the fog. I turned and ran in the direction of the highway.

  The swirling dust choked my lungs and I coughed hard as I ran through the cloud of grit. My eyes stung and I wiped tears away from my face. I tripped but recovered, keeping my balance but stumbling across the terrain. I knew the undead would keep coming after me so falling over wasn’t the best of options.

  My feet hit solid, fairly smooth ground a few minutes later and I knew I’d found the road. I couldn’t hear any revving engines or gunfire so the neo Nazis were ahead of me by some distance. I thought about retrieving the ditched moped but finding it amongst the dust cloud and fog would be nearly impossible and waste too much time.

  I plodded onward, aware I had to stick to the road. My feet hit the softer ground on a few occasions and I had to negotiate my way back onto the blacktop. The unrelenting wind lashed grit against my face and I felt as though a giant sandblaster stood in my path, blowing me in all directions and splattering me without mercy. Weather could be an uncompassionate son of a bitch.

  I figured I’d struggled on for around an hour before the wind dropped. The gusts just ended as though somebody had called out ‘cut’, like some ethereal movie director. The swirling sand took a few moments to fall to the ground and showered me as I walked. The mist had also evaporated and the heat of the day burned through the clear blue sky.

  At last, I could breathe without holding my hand over my face. I dusted myself down, trying to remove as much of the grit all over me as possible. I decided against a cigarette as my throat felt as dry as the landscape around me. Instead, I took out a water bottle from my backpack and took a few long swigs. I wondered how far I was from the motel and what was going on back there. At least the wind had died down and I could travel unhindered by the weather.

  I put the water bottle back in my pack but my relief at the cease of the sandstorm was short lived.

  What looked like a huge dog, with fluffed up gray fur stood in the middle of the road, around one hundred feet in front of me. The animal sniffed the air but its dark eyes were fully focused on me. I didn’t know if I was faced with a wolf or some kind of wild dog. I wasn’t even sure wolves normally inhabited Texas any longer but these were abnormal times. Creatures of all kinds were moving from one place to another and the world was shifting in different directions.

  A
scuffling sound behind me stirred my attention and I slowly turned my head. More gray creatures, around a half dozen of them stood in a horizontal line across the highway. Somehow these animals had stalked and encircled me without me even being aware of their presence.

  “Cunning little bastards,” I muttered.

  I slowly moved my hand to my handgun holster and slipped the firearm out and held it down by my side. I didn’t want to hurt these animals but I’d have no choice if they came at me. Maybe the pack was simply inquisitive at the lone human walking through their habitat but during my experience of the apocalypse, everything left alive on the planet posed a danger.

  Going backwards wasn’t an option and if I veered off the road the pack of wolves would surely follow me. I’d have to play the situation right and with extreme caution or I’d be dog food.

  I slowly walked onward, keeping eye contact with the wolf in the road ahead of me. I’d heard once that you shouldn’t show any fear when confronted with a wild animal. That scenario was easier said than done. My heart hammered in my chest and my guts knotted up. I was aware the rest of the wolf pack was following behind, albeit at a distance but they were on the move, matching my slow pace. The wolf in front of me stood its ground. The animal sniffed the road and kept its gaze firmly fixed on me.

  My grip tightened around the firearm in my hand. I knew if the wolf ahead of me attacked, the rest of the pack would follow suit. I didn’t fancy fighting the beasts as I’d probably come off the worst. Being torn limb from limb wasn’t exactly an appealing way to depart the world.

  The animal backed up a little bit when I approached. I kept to the left side of the road so there was a wide distance between us. The wolf lowered its head so its snout was only a few inches from the ground. We remained in constant eye contact but importantly, its hackles didn’t rise. The animal took some slow backward paces. The rest of the pack trotted forward a few feet then stopped, weighing up the situation. These animals were different to the threat of the undead but they were still more than capable of killing a human.