Exodus

by Brian P. White

  The Death Doll’s grin vanished as her mouth fell open. Her hand started to reach but stopped herself. “Oh, Lord. I’m so sorry. Did you ever report him?”

  “No one listened,” she snapped, though not quite at the corpse. “My mother didn’t believe me; called me a liar, treated me like competition. Well, I guess I won in the end, huh?”

  Concern creased the zombie’s stitched-in brow.

  “Everyone in town hunkered down during the outbreak, trying to wait it out. So did my parents, but they had to sleep sometime.”

  “So you ran?”

  Cynthia shook her head, then recalled with dark vindication, “I slit their throats.”

  The Death Doll’s jaw fell again, her eyes wide with shock.

  “They can’t hurt me now; won’t hurt anyone again.” Her pleasure evaporated and she broke down, weeping before her enemy. She couldn’t stop this pain, so she had to get through it.

  A hand softly caressed her hair. She looked up and saw it was Didi’s. “I might’ve done the same,” she said softly, tenderly, “as I would to anyone who hurts one of mine that way. I won’t ever let that happen to you. I got you if you got me.”

  She couldn’t believe the zombie’s nerve. She wanted to lash out and scream. She wanted to find something sharp to ram through that dead bitch’s rotten eyeball, then run the other one through for the hell of it.

  But she couldn’t, and it wasn’t because she was unarmed. All she could do was let her forehead fall onto the dead woman’s knee and sob like a child.

  The corpse stroked her hair the way her mother should’ve all those years ago. Sympathy in the lap of death. What had the world come to?

  *****

  If Isaac hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he never would have believed it. Yet, he bore witness to Cynthia crying on Didi’s knee in a truck stop diner with the zombie’s new jacket draped over her shoulders. Or maybe it was those splotchy gray arms poking out of the short sleeves of that loud yellow shirt. Either way, it was surreal.

  Alan stared with the same amazement. “What’s up in there?”

  Isaac shrugged. “Girl talk, I guess.”

  “Why is she even talking to that psycho anyway?” Aaron asked nasally from Isaac’s other side. “We should kick her to the curb.”

  Isaac glared at the tubby pervert. “And what do you think we should do to you for groping a fucking kid, huh?”

  The annoying twin grumbled on his way back to the truck. His brother grinned at Isaac before following.

  Isaac sighed hard before he joined Cody and Gilda. “Who do you think got the kids: the Gamesman or the Mountain Men?”

  “Bad news either way,” Cody said in an exhausted huff, still sweating buckets.

  “But where are they all coming from?” Gilda asked. “I mean, the Gamesman’s got a whole city to send for Didi, but—”

  “Won’t he be disappointed, huh?” Isaac joked, but no one else laughed.

  “But every building we searched on that base was empty,” she continued. “Where are all these soldiers coming from?”

  “If I had to guess,” Cody said, facing the mountains with sad dread, “I’d say NORAD.”

  Gilda flinched. “NORAD? Isn’t that, like, one of those undis-closed locations?”

  Cody chuckled faintly. “It was built as a fallout shelter, but the advancement of nuclear weapons … made it obsolete, so they stopped using it. For a zombie pandemic, though, it would make a good place to hole up.”

  Isaac began to connect the dots. “And take a whole town full of people?”

  “I don’t know if it can handle that many … maybe the complement on post. The lieutenant’s unit patch … is Fourth Infantry, but the ones we fought were … Tenth Special Forces.”

  “Even if NORAD could take in the whole base and the whole town,” Gilda said, “that doesn’t explain how empty the place still is. Why aren’t there stray zombies roaming around like every-where else?”

  “Maybe the Army or whatever’s been cleaning them up,” Isaac suggested.

  “I didn’t see any blood anywhere,” Gilda said. “No signs of a fight, which is really odd considering how many towns the Army and Air Force blew up when the plague first spread. Remember how we found Worthington?”

  Cody nodded grimly, and Isaac knew exactly what she meant. All those craters that used to be a city were the reason he was forced to turn south off the interstate before he broke down in that town near Sean and Paula’s farm.

  The medic labored to straighten up in his seat. “We really need to get out of here … before they send more.”

  Isaac nodded. “I’ll get Didi and we’ll—”

  Something boomed in the distance, startling all of them into facing north.

  “Moses,” Gilda muttered gravely.

  Isaac ran for the diner and banged on the glass. When Didi and the teary-eyed Cynthia faced him, he mimed guns with his hand and pointed in the direction he had heard it.

  Didi nodded, patted Kid Psycho’s shoulder, and ran toward the door. The scrawny redhead glanced between the two and followed.

  “Load up,” Didi shouted as she headed for the Ford.

  The A-Twins ran for the white pickup, shoving each other along the way for a choice seat until they saw Nick already riding shotgun and Lavon getting into the driver seat. They climbed into the backseat, leaving the tied-up lieutenant to freeze in the bed.

  Didi and Cynthia got into the Ford, the latter giving the dead chick back her jacket before sitting between Gilda and Cody in the backseat. That just left Isaac to drive and …

  He looked all around, but he didn’t see her. “Where’s Rachelle?”

  CHAPTER 21

  DOWN AND OUT

  Hashim knew the tank only fired a warning shot after the loud-speaker gave everyone five minutes to get off the bus, but that kind of firepower scared the shit out of him. No way could they fight that thing, let alone both of them or the dozens of robed men carrying automatic rifles. This old sailor knew he was on a sinking ship, and he needed to keep this crew safe. “Okay, everybody. Grab whatever’s warm, get it on … and slowly, calmly, file off the bus.”

  The people whined in opposition, with Patty being the loudest. “We can’t go out there.”

  “It’s that or get blasted out.”

  “Where the hell did they even get tanks, anyway?” Roy grumbled. Somehow, no one had told him they were near an Army base.

  “The point is they have them, they’re pointed at us right now, and we don’t want them to use them because we took too long. So, let’s just layer up and get out there.”

  The spiky redhead fidgeted in her place, her eyes full of uncertainty. The others just looked as defeated as Hashim as they slowly grabbed and donned whatever extra clothing they could. Craig slipped past them to the rear and joined Jerri.

  Sean approached Paula with a jacket, then stopped as if stumped.

  Hashim scoffed, drew his pocket knife, and cut the sad woman free. “No point in losing it now,” he told her, “so behave, and we may survive this.”

  Paula warily eyed him as she rose and took the jacket. “What do they want?”

  “You now have three minutes,” the loudspeaker said, which made Hashim roll his eyes.

  “For us to hurry up, now get it on and get off,” he told her.

  Sean guided her while she donned the jacket, but she jerked away from his assistance yet again. He limped sadly after. That woman was never going to give her man a break.

  Pepe and Dawn went next, followed by Max and Otis. Craig and Jerri came next with the swaddled triplets, Clarissa with her bundled baby, Chuck cuddling Leticia closely with each timid step, Roy led off by his teenage son Lee, and finally Patty and the other four teens ushered Blake and the five smaller children. That left Hashim with Bob, the proud old sailor and the last of the Sioux Nation.

  “Fun while it lasted, huh?” he tried to joke.

  Bob sighed, then grabbed his coat and threw it on. “This is not th
e way I wanted to go out.”

  Hashim placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We’ve got to keep hope, brother. For all we know, they won’t hurt us.”

  Bob didn’t look convinced.

  Hashim just nodded and threw on his own jacket. “See you wherever we end up.”

  Bob sighed again, then walked off the bus.

  Hashim took one more look around the empty bus, huffed resolutely, and exited.

  As soon as he set foot on the slushy ground, two robed menaces seized him by the arms, each pointing their M-16s at him as they muscled him to the neatly-arrayed rows of his people, all on their knees with their hands behind their heads. He did not like where this was heading.

  The guards forced him down to his knees in the back line, ordering him to “follow the model.” Definitely military at some point in their lives, but not to be trifled with now. He clasped his hands behind his head and listened rearward as boots rushed into Moses. Just a bunch of raiders.

  One of the robed reapers stepped to the front of the captive formation and removed his hood and mask, revealing a stern African American with a probing gaze that traveled from eye to fearful eye beneath him. He seemed to be examining—inspecting—everyone in turn.

  “Take ‘em,” he said.

  As everyone in camp watched in utter terror, several armed reapers rushed in and forcefully plucked the teens and children out of the formation, placing them all in a separate line. Kids and guardians alike wept and cried out to stop it.

  Chuck shot up to his feet to keep Leticia with him, but he got smacked by a rifle butt while the terrified girl reached helplessly for him. Patty nursed him until she got warned off at gunpoint.

  Reapers tore Pepe and Dawn away from each other, but both were taken to the new line and placed in two separate sides: boys and girls. When they took Lee, Roy reached around and called out for his son; there was nothing else he could do. Blake sullenly kept his place when they took his ward Dandy away, only able to nurse his injured arm. Two more hoisted Clarissa to her feet and hauled her with the children, allowing her to keep her crying baby with her.

  The same couldn’t be said for Jerri, whose triplets were ripped from her and Craig’s arms. Jerri wept for her babies while Craig warily kept her on the ground, the bereaved mother begging the reapers in one simple, tearful word: “Please.”

  Hashim watched the whole scene with equal parts terror and rage, but he couldn’t do a damn thing that wouldn’t get himself and his people killed. He feared it would happen anyway, but he had no idea what to do. In a rare moment of weakness, he prayed to God for help.

  When the noise died down, save only Jerri’s sobbing pleas, the unmasked reaper snapped his gloved fingers and all fell silent. Every pair of eyes fell to the leader.

  “Who’s in charge here?” he demanded firmly in a sort of New York accent.

  No one answered; they just looked around amongst themselves.

  Hashim didn’t know which form of response wouldn’t get him an M-16 buttstock to the head, but he feared that saying nothing might result in random beatings. “There are four of us,” he said without moving, sticking to what was on hand. “What do you want with us?”

  The lead reaper stood over Hashim with an icy scowl. “Who are the other three?”

  “You want us to talk, or stand, or what?”

  That exposed mug smirked at him, then grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet. “Follow me,” the man said lowly, then yanked Hashim to the front of the formation and shoved him back to the slushy asphalt. “Whoever else is in charge here, slowly come join your friend.”

  Bob slowly stood and joined Hashim, glaring contemptuously at each gun aimed at him along the way. Craig pulled the sobbing Jerri to her feet and walked her over, joining the other two on the ground. “We’re it,” Craig said. “Now what?”

  The leader started circling the formation like a shark measuring its prey. “Now, you have a choice. Your young are ours now.”

  “For what?” Chuck shouted, then shrunk when the leader pulled a nine-mil from his robes.

  The leader continued his stride. “They’ll join us, and that’s all you need to know. The question is whether or not you will. We have specific criteria, and it’s pretty clear not all of you meet it. The future can’t be built by layabouts, can it?”

  Hashim’s eyes fell on the blind old grouch and a couple of the remaining farmers, fearing these Mountain Men assumed that old meant useless. He thanked God that Gilda wasn’t here, but his own future wasn’t looking too bright.

  One of the reapers ran from the bus to the leader, and the two had a quiet pow-wow. The leader then glanced at the camp like he was impressed. He nodded to his subordinate, who ran back onto the bus with six other robed underlings and started the engine.

  Hashim watched helplessly as two years’ work drove away. All their food, clothing, medicine, protection … gone.

  “So, what’s going to happen now is,” the leader continued while resuming his lap around the camp, “you will all—very cooperatively—follow us to our … home,” he added with a teasing grin. “From there you’ll be processed to determine your usefulness.”

  That didn’t sound so bad. It was what Didi and Cody had the Panel do.

  “Processed?” Paula snapped, drawing the leader’s aim, every single pair of eyes, and Hashim’s ire. “What does that mean? What happens when you find any of us not useful? And what are you going to do with our children? You can’t just—”

  The leader shot Paula in the chest, dropping her like a bucket of water.

  “No!” Sean cried out as he rushed to aid her, only to get conked on the back of the head by a reaper’s rifle butt that left him another body on the ground.

  “Anyone else want to protest?” the leader hollered.

  No one responded. Hashim wanted to scream at the callous leader, but he trembled so badly that anything that could possibly come out of his mouth would be unintelligible.

  The leader holstered his weapon and shouted, “Move ‘em.”

  Half of the reapers rushed the youth lines into the backs of various armored hum-vees. The rest hoisted the rest of camp to their feet and dragged their grunting, whining prisoners to a few five-ton trucks.

  Some reapers came for the Panel, but the leader waved them off. “Not them. We need to have us a little chat first.”

  The subordinate reapers stood fast, their guns at the ready.

  The leader crouched before the Panel, his eyes darting between them. “Who’ll speak for you?”

  The four glanced at each other before Hashim bit the bullet with all the pride he could muster. If he was going to die now, he might as well let someone know who they were about to snuff out. “Hashim Roberson, Chief Petty Officer, Retired, United States Navy.”

  The leader’s smug grin vanished, his eyes beholding Hashim as if for the first time. Then he looked around at the rest of the Panel. “Anyone else prior service?”

  None of the others spoke.

  The leader stood and removed his robes, revealing a decked-out Army uniform with gold oak leaves on his chest and an M.P. badge on his Velcroed left shoulder above a unit patch Hashim didn’t recognize. The major’s name: WASHINGTON.

  Hashim’s jaw dropped, stunned by the enormity of this moment. A look around at the slivers of uniform poking out of the guards’ robes confirmed what he had been dreading since Nick put the idea in his head. The United States Government still existed, and may have been responsible for the atrocities he had witnessed today. Maybe more! He couldn’t speak; he just couldn’t.

  Bob did it for him. Furiously. “You’re actual military?”

  Major Washington regarded the enraged Sioux, who now looked like he might sacrifice himself for a little payback against an actual government agent. Then the major looked above the Panel at his guards and clasped two sets of fingers together.

  The guards zip-tied the Panel’s wrists behind their backs. The damn things cut into Hashim’s flesh, far ex
ceeding the frozen ground numbing his knees and shins.

  “Good for you we still believe in conversation,” the major told Bob, “because you’re about to become very useful.” He leveled his gaze at Hashim. “Meantime, Chief, I have only one question for you. Retired or not, you will answer me.”

  Hashim quivered.

  “Who else is out here with you?”

  All Hashim could smartly do to play dumb was frown, the only resistance that was no outright lie or denial.

  The major smirked. “Our patrols ran into trespassers in the Tenth Group compound. We lost men trying to take them. Who are they and how many?”

  Dumb time was over. There was no way he could deny anything, but he didn’t have to tell the man everything. “We sent scouts to loot, about five of them. We haven’t heard from them since, or the nine we sent with a fuel tanker to check the north when two of our children went missing. Would you happen to know anything about that?”

  The smirk grew into a full-blown grin. “What was your field, Chief? Counter-intel?”

  Hashim snickered at the backhanded compliment. “Flight Deck Support, but I eventually became a Flag Aide for an Admiral.”

  “Personal chef,” the major said with a laugh, which Hashim affirmed. The man nodded, then yanked at Hashim’s ear, making him sharply grunt. “Now that you’ve read me your jacket, I’d like to know where your people are.”

  “So would I,” Hashim grunted back, breathing through the pain as best as possible.

  After what felt like a whole minute, the major released Hashim and stood up. “Take ‘em.”

  The guards yanked the four to their feet and hauled them off toward the five-tons like stubborn cattle. Hashim played nice to avoid any injury, but he had no illusions of being treated any better than the rest of his people … especially not the downed husband and wife the so-called soldiers left for dead on the frozen ground.

  *****

  Rachelle’s head pounded so hard, she feared it would split open any second. She wanted to pee and puke, probably both at the same time. What the hell happened?