World of Ashes

by J. K. Robinson

  “I think we can handle that.” Ethan replied, finally standing to look this careerist tool in the eyes. After the meeting he made a B-line for the grade school near the library just off of Vine Street. Mrs. Wu was in the principal’s office taking a nap so he just meandered around until he found Juan in a back room putting together lesson plans.

  “Hey, Ethan. What brings you here?” Juan’s curly blonde hair visible for the first time without a beanie cap reining the mess in. He’d found a renewed purpose in life, a girlfriend, and cleaned himself up to match the role model he was play for impressionable young minds. Ethan was suddenly aware of how sloppy he looked right now, a dirt and dust stained uniform with rips and tears and a haircut that probably couldn’t claim the title. When was the last time he’d even shaved? No wonders he thought his men looked shabby. They had no real role model.

  “I need your help. As the Sheriff and as a friend.”

  “Oh?”

  “Do you remember seeing a patrol car out in the wild? I mean, well outside of town where it had no business being? Might have had our name on it, might not have.”

  Juan leaned back in his chair, tapping a pencil on the desk, “Now that you mention it, yes. That’s actually how I found you guys. I saw one of your black and white Chargers loading this lady and her kid into the back seat. I was too skittish about authorities back then to show myself, but they were like the first people I’d seen in a month, so it stuck out in my mind.”

  “Where and when did you see this?”

  “Oh, shit. I don’t know, bro. It was about a week before I made it here the first time. I came around the corner and saw the officer let them into his car. I was suspicious at first, because basically you can’t trust anyone out there, but when I saw the kid smiling I ran towards them and waved. I thought for sure the cop saw me, but…” Ethan had turned pale while Juan was speaking, so he stopped. “What’s this about?”

  “What I’m about to tell you, Juan, if you tell another soul I will deport your ass off a cliff Wile E. Coyote style, understand?”

  Juan nodded, surprised Ethan would threaten him. “Yeah, sure man.”

  “Officer John Newton, the one you saw in the wild, is... suspected of…” Ethan searched for the right words. Calling Newton a Suspect was like pretending Ethan hadn’t seen the mutilated bodies himself. “He’s been killing all those refugees in the wild. Hundreds of them. That’s why there’s no more people traveling down I-44. They’re not making it past him.” Juan was going to speak but Ethan cut him off. “He doesn’t just kill them, Juan.” Ethan had taken the file from Kenly’s office, not that he didn’t have his own, Kenly just didn’t need to look at it over and over, blaming himself because it happened on his watch.

  “What is this?” Juan peeked under the cover and wished he hadn’t. “Oh my God. Oh my God no… What the fuck, Ethan!?” Juan pushed the folder away.

  “If you’d gotten Newton to stop for you, Juan, he’d have been butchered you too. That’s what he does. He’s… a monster, Juan. The Zombies have nothing on this guy. We have to stop him.”

  “It was just outside Eureka. That’s where I saw him. If I could find my damned journal in all these boxes and papers I could tell you the exact time and date.” Juan, like most people, was mostly numb to the death around him, but the woman and her grandchild was a different story. He’d known them briefly, camped with them once or twice when their paths met as they fled the hordes. Most people avoided groups in those days, unwilling to get close to someone as the death toll mounted astronomically and panic spread faster than a wildfire doused in JP8. “I always documented every town I went through or anything out of the ordinary mind-fuck that was life in the wild.” Juan pushed a few text books off the desk. “Trig. I have no idea why they’d have trigonometry books in a grade school, yet here they are, in my way.” He rolled his eyes and grabbed a dirty leather bound book at the bottom of the stack. The clasp still worked, but was bent and took a moment to get undone. “I used to fold the top corner of the pages that held useful information or stuff I felt on philosophical matters I’d want whoever found my body to read. I had a real breakdown about that cop driving off. First sign of humans helping other humans I’d seen in ages and he just… drove off.”

  “Small favors.”

  Juan read the passage, “February. I don’t know the exact date, my iPhone stopped working a long time ago. I have come to the town of Eureka, Missouri, having walked the outer roads from St. Charles. I’ve managed to bypass St. Louis by taking this route, the smoke from that city joins the others like Roman pillars.

  “ This entry comes only hours after my remarks on the troubles in crossing a Missouri River where every bridge was either blown by the Air Force ages ago, or controlled by Thugs and Psychopaths barely keeping up the masquerade of being freedom fighters, or some sort of corrupted militia who’ve long since forgotten the words that started with “We the People...” They’re nothing more than Gangbangers who’ve seen Blackhawk Down one too many times. Today I watched a genuine Uniformed Police Officer from a town not far from here that I’ve found on my local maps. He rescued a woman and her kid. I remember them from a warehouse I shared with a dozen other travelers last November. I wasn’t able to get the officer’s attention, but I’ll start walking Southwest down Interstate 44 until he finds me too, or I find his town. I hope his people are as friendly. There aren’t many of those kinds around these days.” Juan had read the last part with his heart in his throat, barely able to speak above a whisper knowing how horribly ironic his entry had been. “What are you going to do about this, Ethan?”

  “Not me. We.”

  Newton hadn’t returned to the caverns since their discovery, but at the same time none of the lookouts posted at his other two hideouts had seen him either. This meant one of two things, either he had gotten wise to them and was long gone, or he was hunting and might not be back to his regular hideouts for some time. Refugees were starting to settle wherever they were now that it was becoming common knowledge there really wasn’t any place worth walking to anymore. Finding people still roaming was getting harder. Scouts reported on satellite radios provided by the Texans so that no other radios could listen in. They reported the average number of shambling zombies, some fresher than others, and reported the occasional refugee scavenging. There was no sign of Sullivan’s wayward lawman, or his patrol car. Kenly ordered that they try and bring in one of the holdouts near the funeral home along Highway 30 for questioning. If Juan of all people had seen Newton, someone else had to have too.

  The air was still and humid in the overgrown pasture lands of Cedar Hill and House Springs. The prevailing odor of stagnant death clogged Ethan and Lee’s senses. One could usually smell the living coming, soap, perfume, or even body odor was drastically different than rot. It was only because Ethan turned to spit the taste of the air out of his mouth that he saw a woman slide out from under a burned out Bradley Fighting Vehicle along the side of the road. They watched the woman busy herself stabbing holes in gas tanks with a screwdriver, trying to gather even the smallest amount of the most precious liquid on Earth. She didn’t notice their approach, which surprised them. They weren’t trying to hide. By the time she noticed them they were just three or four steps from her. She turned and looked at them, startled for a moment, but then she smiled, although she said nothing.

  “Excuse our intrusion, Ma’am.” Lee said, “We didn’t mean to startle you.”

  She just continued to smile politely, expecting them to continue.

  “We’re looking for someone. Maybe you can help?” Ethan asked.

  The woman, not unreasonably dirty or even poorly clothed, sighed. She pointed to her backpack, which she’d left next to a gas can that was full of little more than the ash that permeated everything. Like that gritty, impossible to remove “sand” one finds in the Middle East, only this dust was made of the ashes of the dream that was Civilization. She stepped over to it, not for a moment looking like she was parano
id about being confronted by two armed men, and retrieved a dry erase board. She quickly scribbled, AM DEAF. CAN READ LIPS. MY NAME IS JULIETTE.

  Ethan and Lee stared at the woman in disbelief. “Oh. Wow. Okay then, my name is Captain Lee Cally, and this is my brother, Sheriff Ethan Cally.”

  WHO ARE YOU LOOKING FOR? Juliette wrote in all capital letters. It was probably easier for others to read.

  “A cop. He drives a black and white Dodge Police Model Charger, say’s Sullivan on the side of it.” Lee said.

  Suddenly the color, albeit smudged with ash, drained from Juliette’s pretty face. She wiped the writing off and started writing much smaller. I see his car come through here all the time. I live in the old high school. He never stops in there, but he picks people up all the time. He gives me the creeps. I feel safer not talking to him.

  “That’s a good thing.” Ethan confirmed. Juliette’s eyes revealed relief at having her intuition confirmed.

  She wrote more. I travel all over this area. I have seen him in Eureka, Pacific, Robertsville, and even in Fenton. What has he done?

  “He’s hurt a lot of people.” Was all Ethan would say.

  You mean all the bodies in the funeral home. I can smell them, I never go near it.

  “That would be for the best.” Lee sighed. “Do you have any idea where he might be? We can offer you safe haven. A home, food. We have an entire town.”

  Juliette smiled again. You are very kind, Captain and Sheriff. But my husband and I prefer to avoid people.

  “We’re grateful you were willing to speak to us.” Lee gestured to his backpack, “We have medical supplies and such. Can we at least pay you for your time?”

  A twinkle caught Juliette’s eye. In the understandable, but forever awkward speech of those who’ve never heard their own voice before she said aloud, “Do you have any chocolate?” As Ethan and Lee parted company with possibly the most interesting person they’d met in a long time they headed back towards the funeral home, several chocolate bars lighter. An equal scene of sadistic carnage had been discovered inside the funeral home. They left it undisturbed until they could catch Newton. Then like the restaurant at the Caverns, would burn it to the ground.

  “I just feel like he’s gotta be somewhere around Eureka.” Ethan gritted his teeth as they piled back into their Humvee. “No one’s seen him out here, it’s the only place we don’t have a presence.”

  “This would be a lot fucking easier if the snow or ash were still falling.” Lee admitted begrudgingly. “We were being spoiled, following easy to find tracks and signs of people. Newton knows too much about us to be caught so easily.”

  “Did you find anyone?” Juan asked, stepping down from using his binoculars in the armored turret of the Humvee. He’d been in their all day and was trying to stretch. He wore the same beat to hell white and blue pinstripe shirt with an over-stylized gothic cross printed on the left shoulder, some of it flecking off, khakis with more patches than original material and shoes held together by duct tape. He looked like he belonged in the new wilderness. He’d kept the clothes to remind him of life outside, and it had been Juan’s idea to put them back on. New clothes would make Newton suspicious if they found him, Juan had argued. The goal was to get close enough to take him down or kill him. Ethan hadn’t decided, should Newton surrender, would he, could he honor it?

  “Yeah. We’re heading to Eureka.” Ethan reached inside the driver’s side and turned the switch from Off to Run and waited for the orange Wait light to turn off. “We’re gonna sneak up to the town and drop you off. I want you to just start wandering around like you’re scavenging. If you see him, I want you to key the microphone on your radio three times and turn down the volume so we can hear you, but you won’t hear us. Then lock the talk key down.”

  Juan didn’t say anything. He just climbed back in and they headed for the town of Eureka. As they approached through the back way the evidence suggested there had been no living people in the town for some time. The bridge had never been blown, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t choked with vehicles. Lee almost pushed a car into the water as his frustration grew at being delayed by a permanent traffic snarl. Charred, grotesque corpses littered the ground as far as the eye could see on the other side of the ridge that separated the valley farm lands from the town proper. Most of the dead were nothing but skeletons wearing tattered clothing. The burned, decayed remains of the infected inhabitants of St. Louis had migrated this far, been caught by winter, and subsequently destroyed by the elements. A hip bone still attached to two femurs wrapped in dried entrails and ruined jeans leaned against a rusted H2 Hummer on cinderblocks. It’s upper torso had crawled away after rotting in half. The chest and arms were still visible, having only dragged itself away under a nearby turned over Trans Am before getting stuck and truly dying. It was a good sign, that maybe the Zombies would be gone soon, but macabre and morbid and utterly fascinating all at the same time. What on God’s green Earth had caused this disease to befall mankind?

  After parking the Humvee inside a Jiffy Lube so it would be out of sight, Lee and Ethan donned their best camouflage and dug in for a stakeout. Ethan checked around the corner, nothing but the wind and a one armed Zim shuffling along the interstate as if he were looking for his long eaten away appendage. “I don’t want to tell you how to do your thing, but I need you to stay in the open.” Ethan said to Juan, wishing he didn’t have to. It exposed him to Newton, sure, but also to every thief and zim within sight.

  “No problem. I’ll make it look good, I’ll go around and start popping the trunks of cars.” Juan pointed to a car sitting in the Walgreens parking lot, the only one that had tires that still looked okay. Juan walked over to the Jiffy Lube and used a couple towels to make the Toyota Prius look like it had been driven recently. It wouldn’t start, the battery was beyond dead, but he was able to push it onto the road without much effort. There was a minimal chance Newton had seen the car before, it had only been visible from a certain angle and Juan had almost missed it at that.

  Ethan began shadowing Juan from the bushes while Lee found a grassy null and kept vigil with Ethan’s M14. Newton could run, but he would just die tired. They had been prepared to stay in town for over a week, but as if God wanted them to carry out his righteous will in a quick hurry, Newton’s patrol car appeared over a hill in between two BBQ restaurants just before sunset. Lee spotted him first and radioed Ethan and Juan before contacting Sullivan and Labadie. Labadie responded that they had three artillery pieces sighting in their coordinates. All three of them knew the risks if Newton escaped. The lives of hundreds rested squarely on their shoulders now. If he ran they might never catch him again.

  It didn’t take long for Newton to take the bait and move in closer. Apparently Juan’s kicking of the Prius and tossing the gas can across the street got Newton’s attention from afar. He had no problem finding people who didn’t know how to hold still. Believing Juan to be a stranded refugee looking for a way to fuel his hybrid, Newton casually followed the speed limit and yield and stop signs as he made his way to Juan. His patrol car was clean, the rims and tires polished. This was a science for him. Ethan and Lee’s first impulse was to just shoot him, the impulse of a Soldier who’d laid an ambush and wanted to spring the trap. No one would have blamed them, and in hindsight it was the best thing they could have done, hoping Lee could make that one perfect shot through the windshield. It’s a shame time travel doesn’t exist.

  The siren blipped three times. It would attract Zims, but none were in any shape to make the effort enough to do harm. “Hi there.” Newton said as he climbed out of his patrol car with a smile. His stereotypical, 1970’s throwback porno mustache tilted up as his smile broadened at seeing Juan’s faked relief. If he was suspicious of Juan, Newton certainly didn’t show it. This was just another day in the life of the only shark in the fish tank. Ethan and Lee held their breath, gambling with the life of an innocent man.

  “Oh, man, am I glad to see a cop!” Juan s
hot to his feet. “I didn’t think there were any police left. Thank God for you, man!” Newton walked around the front of the Charger to greet Juan. They shook hands. To his credit Juan was one hell of an actor. “Man, I’ve been wandering around here a while. I was trying to go around St. Louis, not really sure how I ended up here, or where here might be.” Juan continued, almost making small talk. “So where’s Sullivan?” He pointed to the lettering on the Charger.

  It seemed, only for the briefest of moments, that Newton was going to buy it. That he would invite Juan into his car, and Ethan or Lee could shoot and incapacitate him. Naturally, they weren’t that lucky. Newton didn’t let go of Juan’s hand, even though they’d stopped shaking. Instead, from behind his ridiculous aviator glasses he looked off and to the left and leaned in, sniffing Juan. How they could possibly have overlooked the signature refugee smell!? Smell was a big part of the world they lived in, and those who lived in town were privileged enough to have access to a couple different laundry businesses and running water. Juan had made the common enough error of washing his clothes, something no one in a wilderness filled with stores stocked to the brim with brand new clothing would ever bother to do. Either you stank because you didn’t change clothes, or you smelled like a clothing store with a turd underneath.

  Newton smiled, his teeth stained with coffee and tobacco. He whispered to Juan, “You stink right purdy, boy.”

  Acting on impulse Ethan jumped from behind the bush, the orange arrow of his ACOG tactical sight right in the middle of Newton’s forehead. The face of the Devil turned to face Ethan very slowly, still not releasing his grasp on his new hostage. It must have been a death grip because Juan began sweating bullets and leaning like he was in great pain. Newton was not physically imposing, even with a second chance vest on he was barely bigger round than some children. Once, during Ethan’s time in Iraq, a prisoner had rushed one of the other Soldiers in the detention facility where they were stationed. The prisoner was smaller than Newton by a long shot and skinnier than a fence post and still managed to put the one of the larger MP’s through a wooden door before the others could help. After that, Ethan never underestimated the small guy, though he’d forever cherish the memory of SPC Lyll getting cut down to size by a half starved Iranian insurgent.