The Rising

by Eli Constant

  “I’m just trying to be careful,” I replied, unbuckling and standing. I’d parked the gas-guzzler a good 200 yards from the station and stared. There wasn’t anything obviously wrong, but there wasn’t anything obviously right either. In fact, the whole thing looked like a scene from that King fellow’s horror books.

  We could call this The Vanishing or From a Gas Station 8.

  There were at least twelve trucks surrounding the place, but that wasn’t what bothered me. It was the lack of owners. If there where twelve trucks abandoned here then it would stand to reason that there where at least twelve drivers. I didn’t see any family cars. No SUVs or minivans. To me, that meant no kids. No kids meant that, if the drivers were infected, then they’d be mindless.

  At least, that’s the impression I’d gotten from watching the monsters interact.

  “So where are you,” I murmured, leaning forward to rest my hands on the RV’s dash and peer through the busted-up RV windshield. I needed to knock the rest of the glass shards out. Or maybe I shouldn’t…the large fragments of ragged window might act as a deterrent to the Zs or like razor wire if they tried to jump into the vehicle.

  “Where’s who?” Sherry was standing right behind me, her hands on the passenger and driver’s seat headrests.

  “The drivers of the trucks.”

  “Oh,” Sherry said, her voice a little frightened, “I wouldn’t have thought about that.”

  “You need to start thinking about things like that. Start thinking with your brain instead of your heart.” I sounded callous, even to my ears. My eyes are still scan the station. There’s no movement. The ratty flag hanging in front of the station entrance isn’t even shifting. There’s no breeze. No Zs. No people. This will be okay.

  Still, what had happened to the truck owners? They obviously had communications—cell phones, CB’s, maybe internet, probably a TV in the station. They must have known what was going on. I’d met a number of truckers in my lifetime. Their big rigs were their livelihood. They took care of them. Babied them. They wouldn’t have abandoned them lightly. Something was up, but we needed supplies. Sherry especially. And I was hoping they’d have some antiseptic and bandages for Frank.

  We needed gas too. It would be nice if, in the event of the end of the world, the cosmic powers that be would throw us a damn bone and ammo would never run out. Fuel tanks would never run dry. Legs would never get tired of running.

  But the cosmic powers that be seemed to like the game of chances. Maybe we’re all stuck on a game show set, the fates above watching as we ‘running man’ our way towards life or death.

  I looked at the gas gauge not for the first time since leaving the marina. The beast of a vehicle was below a quarter tank. No way we could take a chance on another station before that ran out. Getting stuck in the Texas desert wasn’t an option.

  Abandoned trucks and a bad gut feeling aside, I’d have to take a chance.

  “What are you planning to do?” The sound of Sherry’s voice startled me. It was the first words she had uttered since we’d had hit the road.

  “I’m going to see what I can grab. Fast,” I replied, moving to where Marty and Frank are. Frank’s breathing isn’t as bad as it was right after the fight, but he still looks like he’s got one foot in doggy heaven. “It looks alright, but we both know that doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Shouldn’t we go in together?” Sherry’s followed me and she plunks down on the other side of the boy and the dog, her arm snaking around Marty protectively. She tucked her small-sized feet beneath her. I hadn’t realized the heel of one shoe was snapped off. I’d need to find her replacements, but I doubted a truck stop would have something in her size. If they had anything, it would be boots and they’d be big.

  “No,” I said firmly. “I’ll leave you with the .38. It’s got one shot left, so don’t waste it. Frank’s in bad shape,” I pat the dog softly, “but I know he’ll rally if you need him too. And I’ll be as fast as I can.”

  “You should take the handgun. I’m not comfortable with it, but I do feel confident using the shotgun.” Sherry points at the array of shotgun shells. Some have fallen on the floor. The shotgun is half-on, half-off the top surface of the center console.

  I nod, confirming that I agreed. She made short work of putting the shells back in their boxes and making sure the shotgun was loaded and ready for use. I was glad to see that she was pulling up her big girl panties and joining the land of those who wanted to survive.

  Marty’s voice came to life then. I was surprised at how calm it sounded. “Juan, the front window’s all busted up. Anything could get in here.”

  I look behind me at the broken windshield. “You’re right. Let’s get you all into the bedroom. You can lock the door. Sherry.” I looked at her, her naturally pale face even whiter if that were possible. “You set up on the bed with the shotgun. If it’s me, I’ll say so. If it’s something else, you shoot.”

  She nods, a small, quick jerk of her head. “I can do that. Better speak loudly though, Juan. I’d sure hate to shoot you by accident.”

  Something about her voice and the spark in her eye told me that she was only half kidding. I think I’d really irked her earlier by not stopping sooner for what she needed.

  “Be nice if we had more weapons,” I say out loud, but it’s more a thought meant for myself. The thirty or so shotgun shells were nice, but those would run out eventually. One great thing about the ASP—it never needed a reload.

  “Or more bullets,” Sherry added.

  “And two Franks,” Marty chimed in, leaning further into the dog’s fur and letting a few stray tears that had snuck out sink into the Rottie’s skin.

  “Yeah, that would all be real useful.” I patted Marty on the shoulder before standing, leaning down, and picking Frank up gently. The dog whimpered and looked at me, his large soulful eyes full of exhaustion. I knew exactly how he felt…aside from the multiple breaks in his legs. “Don’t you worry, boy, I’ll find something to help you.”

  When I’d settled them all into the bedroom, I waited until Sherry closed the door and I heard the lock click. “I’m going to move the truck to the furthest pumps. No trucks over there, so it’s our safest bet. You just stay put.”

  “Okay, Juan.” I liked how she said my name, as if she trusted that I’d keep her alive. I could only do so much, so I hoped her desire to stay alive kept up.

  The RV moved slowly, responding to my light touch on the gas pedal. I eased it the couple hundred feet and aligned it with the pump. This wasn’t the kind of station that made you pay first, so that was good. Deployed ASP in hand and .38 with the single shot left tucked in the waistband of my pants—which was about as ideal as going commando wearing short-shorts into a field of poison ivy—I turned off the RV engine and got out.

  The hot Texas wind hit me like a sledge hammer. I’d been in the cold A/C for over two hours and the heat was a stark reminder of how much we needed a vehicle’s protection. Slowly I moved around to the fill cap and the pumps. The nearest tractor trailer was almost 50 yards away and the main building another 25. I would have plenty of time to get back inside if anything happened. I hoped anyway. I had to remember how fast the Zs were; I couldn’t take that for granted. Not now.

  I stared around me, moving in a circle, my gaze touching everything in sight. If I could just see something to ease my fears, something that would assure me we were actually alone. That would be too convenient, though.

  Above me, my imagination caused a sound like a god tossing a dice across the clouds. What would happen to the mortals this time, they were wondering, as a ten-sided dice rolled across the cumulus until it came to a standstill, the number three pointed towards the heavens.

  “Yeah, I could really use an automatic rifle right about now. Nice scope. Lots of ammo.” I wanted to make short work of filling the RV’s tank, but the reality was that the tank was huge and it would take time. I couldn’t will the damn thing to fill faster. And I was standing ther
e as exposed as I could be with my companions locked away in semi-safety. I unscrewed the gas cap and turned to reach for the pump handle.

  “Juan?”

  I figuratively jumped out of my skin at the sound of the voice above my head. Sherry had opened the bedroom window, her face pressed lightly against the bug screen. “Shit, Sherry, you about gave me a damn heart attack.”

  “Sorry,” she said nicely enough, but her face didn’t look at all penitent, “I need to go back to the restroom. Do I have time?”

  “You just went,” I said the words before I could think better of them.

  “You know, if you’d stopped an hour ago instead of now, I wouldn’t have to keep running to the bathroom to shove coarse toilet paper up my hoo-ha.” Sherry’s face went bright red, anger painting it like an artist with a brush on canvas.

  “Right…um…yeah, plenty of time,” I mumbled the words, but Sherry slammed the window shut halfway through my sentence. It was beginning to feel like we were a couple well past the honeymoon phase. Shit, it was the end of the world. We didn’t have time for hurt feelings. Maybe I should be a little more compassionate. I didn’t have to face blood-hungry zombies with a red-soaked pad between my legs.

  Slowly I lifted the nozzle and turned on the pump. Nothing happened. I stared at it and lifted the lever again. Nothing. The LED lights were dark, and for the first time I realized that my well-thought-out plan was about to crumble. This wasn’t the type of station to insist you pay first, but the pumps did need power, a credit card swipe, and an attendant to run everything.

  Well, I had the credit card.

  Fat lot of fucking good that did me.

  I was within feet of hundreds of gallons of fuel and had no way of getting it.

  I set the nozzle back into its holder and leaned against the pump just looking around. I couldn’t help thinking that we were totally screwed. Maybe this was why the trucks were all left here. No way of getting fuel, so they just began walking. No…that was stupid, why would they all leave a building to head out on the open road? If anything, they would hold up and wait it out.

  I looked at the trucks and back to the building, trying to come up with a solution. My eyes began to sting from the dust and the heat, but the thought of getting back into the vehicle without filling it up made me continue the search. My thoughts drifted to my past and the solution became clear. When I was a boy, I use to steal gas from cars in the neighborhood to fill up the moped I shared with my friends. We used to siphon it, a little from each of the cars so no one would ever notice. I could do the same with the trucks. There had to be some left. Maybe not enough to drive an eighteen-wheeler far, but it would work for us. There was an advantage to having a diesel RV.

  I waited for Sherry to return so I could tell her the bad news and the new plan. When she did return, she just slammed her fist against the window, waited until I looked, and then she gave me that oh-so-ladylike middle finger. Maybe I deserved it.

  I banged on the window to call her back after she slipped out of sight.

  “What do you want, Juan?” Sherry hissed, sounding like the tough gal I used to teach in kickboxing class, “want to ask me why I took so long in the bathroom? Or maybe you’re wondering why my face is a little damp. I washed it, if you’re wondering. Even used a little of the lotion that whoever owned this had in their bathroom cabinet. Thought it would make me look a little better than the mascara smeared all over my face from crying and sweating.”

  Waiting patiently for her to finish, I crossed my arms. I think she eventually saw that she wasn’t getting my back up at all. She quieted, still looking hissy and huffy. “You done?” My voice sounded monotone and unimpressed. I’m not sure that was the way to react to her, but shit, I was out here in the heat taking the risk and she was sitting pretty and cool in the RV that was still holding in a lot of the A/C despite the broken windshield.

  “Yeah, I’m done,” Sherry spat.

  “Good. The pumps won’t work without power. I’m going to have to try and siphon fuel from the tankers. It’ll mean more work, more time. I’m going to have to see if I can even find the supplies.”

  Her face fell as I spoke. “Shit,” she murmured, the anger leeching out of her body. “Nothing can be easy, can it?”

  I shook my head. “Apparently not.” Looking at the building again, I mentally urged something to appear, but there was nothing. Which made me feel more uncomfortable than if a horde of Zs had come streaming out of the building after us. I still wasn’t convinced this place was abandoned. Too quiet always meant trouble.

  I remembered a time back before I left Puerto Rico when everything in my neighborhood went silent. It was as if the houses and all the occupants were caught in a vacuum. And then the explosions came. This was before my abuela died. She’d come out of the house. I could see her face, contorted in a scream, calling for me to come home. But I couldn’t hear her.

  It’s like that, in the middle of a traumatic event. Everything goes both explosive and silent at once.

  And you can scream all you want but it won’t do any good. You have to act. You have to act and get your shit together really fast.

  “I have to go in there,” I point at the large convenience store, “and see if there’s something I can use to get the fuel from the other tankers.”

  She gave a small nod. “Be safe, okay?”

  “I’ll try.” I could have said, ‘everything will be fine’, but it might not be. ‘I’ll try’ was the kind of promise that I could keep, even if my effort wasn’t good enough and I ended up dead. I stretched against the outer wall of the vehicle before leaving the RV, working out kinks in my legs, arms, and neck. The ASP was a good weapon, but my use of it determined its effectiveness. My body was just as much a tool to be used in a fight. And, if I could help it, I didn’t want to use the last bullet in the .38.

  Walking toward the building, I kept my eyes open and my mind as clear as I can. After about twenty feet, I paused, thinking I’d seen a glint of movement beyond the shaded windows of the big truck stop store. I waited, but seeing nothing else, I started forward again. The tint on the windows made it impossible to discern much aside from shadows, or an illusion of shadows. Maybe I was just expecting to see something, wanting to see something, so my mind was filling in blanks.

  I wished I had more training, training in things other than martial arts. Using a gun wouldn’t be my first choice, but I’d been holding my own. Even though it had been my idea, I didn’t like leaving Sherry in the RV with Marty. And even though I’d told them that Frank would fight if necessary, I didn’t really think, deep down in my gut, that he would be able to. He’d want to. He’d try, but there’s only so much you can ask of a dog, even one as loyal as that.

  Sherry knew how to use a shotgun. I’d just have to trust that she’d keep her cool and do what had to be done. Fuck, if something happened to them while I was in here…I risked a glance back. I could see Sherry standing in the window of the RV, a pale creature behind the glass. She held up a hand and pressed it against the window. I don’t wave back.

  The outside of the building was plain, generic. The entrance flanked by several vending machines—probably there for when the convenience store was closed late at night and you could only buy gas with a credit card—and newspaper racks. A large silver freezer had the word ‘ice’ written across it in large blue letters. Those weren’t going to be helpful, but if there was a soda fountain inside, that would have tubing I could salvage. That would work. Yeah, all I needed was a good length of hose. I could handle the rest; if all of the gas I accidently swallowed as a kid hadn’t killed me, then sucking down a few drops of diesel wasn’t going to do much more harm, except maybe to my breath.

  I took out the .38, tucking the ASP into my pocket. The baton only pokes out slightly; it’s not that long when it’s not deployed. I keep the gun out in front of me as I approached the door; there was still no movement from inside. I had to keep reminding myself that the lack of movement di
dn’t mean there wasn’t danger. These things were fast and with every footstep I got further away from safety. One mistake and I would never make it back to the RV. At least not alive.

  For a horrified moment, I imagined what it would be like to get bitten. To change into one of those blood-thirsty monsters. I wondered if I’d recognize Sherry and Marty. I wondered if Frank would attack me.

  Fuck. I shook my head. I’m alive right now. Focus on that, idiot.

  I tried to peer through the double glass doors that should have slid open at my approach if the building had power, but the sun’s glare made it impossible to see much. Slowly, I pushed my hand between the two doors and I began to yank. I had to pull hard, straining my muscles, to get the damn thing to slide. It hadn’t taken long with the Texas heat and dust seeping between the crack for the mechanism to lock up.

  Once I’d made a sizeable gap, I stuck my foot against the door I’d manhandled open. I eased my body forward, leaning my upper half closer and my head almost inside the building to allow my eyes to adjust to the gloom. Still nothing.

  No sound.

  No shift in the air to indicate something skulking quietly in the dimness.

  Just deathly quiet.

  My confidence began to build as I stepped inside. Maybe the trucks had just been abandoned after all or maybe they all piled into one vehicle like a school bus. This place was safe. I could get what I needed. Still, I didn’t put the gun away.

  I shut the door as quietly as I could and moved over to the supply section. On the racks and shelves were all sorts of usable Items. CBs, jumper cables, emergency lights, and tons of other stuff. I hadn’t expected this place to have anything to salvage. I thought for sure I’d be make-shifting something with shitty materials. I kept looking, knowing now that I wasn’t going to have to tear open the soda dispenser that I’d seen positioned near the cash registers.