The Roaming (Book 2): The Toll

by Hegarty, W. J.

  “Please.” Marisol flicked open the pack of smokes.

  Mayor Lancaster slumped as close to the floor as he could manage, unable to escape the smoke. He pulled his filthy white suit jacket up over his face.

  Bernie clipped a lone carrier with his truck, sending the ghoul careening through the air. It tumbled out of sight and into the overgrown brush that framed the road. With no one around to tend to such things, the vegetation on the sides of the highway had grown waist-high and up to the pavement’s edge. In man’s absence, the flora was quickly reclaiming the land. Almost fifteen minutes had passed since the debris field faded from view. Clear roads stretched ahead, seemingly to the horizon.

  Miller returned to his radio. “Soraya, get them ready to slow down and pull over. We need to gather our bearings sooner rather than later.”

  “Yes, sir,” Soraya replied. “Slowing down now.”

  Through gore-caked windows, Miller surveyed the coming road for a safe place to stop. The ragtag caravan of survivors had been moving at a steady pace since their exodus from Pepperbush roughly four hours prior. The five vehicles that managed to escape the assault were filled with most of what remained of the small town. For the most part, everyone was silent. Shock had set in over the loss of hundreds of their fellow townsfolk. Friends, family, and a lifetime of memories had been left behind, swallowed up by a tidal wave of infected.

  “This is Miller in the rear vehicle plus five survivors. We’re preparing to slow down and stop. If your radio’s on, sound off. Identify yourselves and how many survivors are with you. Over.”

  “Radzinski, plus four. Two cars from the lead. Over.”

  “Soraya in front, plus four. Over.”

  “Markus, plus five.”

  “Jeremiah with four, sir. Over.”

  “All vehicles accounted for,” Miller said. “I imagine it’s safe to stop and assess now. We’re going to be pulling over in thirty seconds. When we stop, I want a full perimeter sweep, twenty-meter spread. Miller out. Alright, Soraya, let’s do this. Tell Marisol to put on her hazards and slow down. Don’t bother pulling over. Just have her stay in the middle of the road and keep the truck running.”

  Tentatively at first and not without a few minor collisions, the caravan finally slowed. The soldiers were ready to hit the ground running, treating this no differently than putting boots down in a hot zone. Most of the civilians were obviously on edge but calm. Others, though, were on the verge of panic.

  Samantha darted her view from left to right, searching the surrounding fields for movement. “Oh my God. What are they doing? Are we really slowing down?”

  “We’ve been driving for hours. We need a break,” Markus offered.

  “They can’t. No, don’t stop. Let’s just keep going,” Ryan suggested.

  “Relax, guys, it’ll be okay,” Markus continued. “Those things are way behind us now. It’s pointless to keep driving until we can figure out a plan. Besides, it’s going to get real bad in here if we start using the back seat as a toilet.”

  Following Soraya and Marisol’s lead, the caravan slowly came to a stop in the middle of the highway.

  “Keep everyone in the car until I give the all-clear, Tobias, and be ready to bug out if necessary,” Miller said.

  “I’m ready.” Tobias turned to his family. “Make sure your doors are locked and keep your eyes open. There could be anything out there.”

  As the caravan came to a stop Miller and the other soldiers rushed from their vehicles. In a circular formation, they slowly spread out, weapons drawn. Miller’s unit inched its way farther from the transports, off the pavement, and into the deep grass. The fields stretched on for miles in all directions. Tiny gatherings of trees dotted the landscape far enough away that anything lurking in their shadows wasn’t a threat. A few hundred feet farther down the road, a van and a smaller mid-sized car sat neatly to the side of the road, their occupants nowhere to be found. A jack, lug nuts, and spare tire lay strewn on the pavement.

  Soraya yanked open the van’s sliding door. Empty. The car was the same. “All clear over here, sir. No signs of struggle. Whoever was here is just gone.”

  “Ditto on this end,” Miller responded. “Circle back around to the caravan. Give Marisol the all-clear to start unloading the civilians.”

  “Copy that.”

  • • •

  The initial shock from the night’s ordeal was finally wearing off, and suppressed emotions at last boiled to the surface.

  “Oh God. Oh my God. All those people.” Samantha crumbled to the pavement, slipping from Markus’s helping hand.

  “Easy now. Just breathe.” He tried his best to comfort her. Truth be told, if he wasn’t preoccupied with her emotional state, he would likely have needed consoling of his own.

  A resident clamped onto Aiko’s shoulder. “Thank you. Oh lord, thank you. God bless you, ma’am. If it wasn’t for you…”

  “Stay calm, ma’am. Are you injured?” Aiko asked.

  “I… No, I don’t think so,” the woman replied.

  “Okay, then stand over there for now. Let’s clear the way for people who do need help.” Aiko directed the woman to a growing crowd of survivors out in the middle of the road.

  “Excuse me, son. Could you—” Mayor Lancaster was cut short as Isaac stormed past him.

  “Don’t you dare say a word to me,” Isaac replied.

  “Now wait just a minute, young man, I—” Mayor Lancaster began as Soraya slapped his face.

  Soraya cursed him in Hebrew. “You say nothing.” She pointed to a garbage-strewn ditch nearby. “Sit over there.”

  Wide-eyed, the mayor looked to Marisol.

  “Fucking coward, stay out of my way, or I swear to God I’ll kill you myself.” She shoved past him, temporarily unbalancing the man.

  Mayor Lancaster righted himself against an abandoned car. Shamed, he lowered his head and walked toward the growing crowd of survivors in hopes of disappearing into anonymity.

  “I saw at least five other cars make it out. Three were headed north,” said Seth. “The others, I have no idea which way they went or who was in them.”

  “I hate to sound this cold, but we can’t worry about them right now, Seth,” Tobias put bluntly.

  “Agreed. Look, I’m going to check around. Make sure everyone has water and get an idea of what kind of injuries we’re dealing with here.” Seth turned to leave but stopped short, returned to Tobias, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s good to see you, man.”

  “I know,” was all Tobias managed. He feared a breakdown in front of so many who only two days ago put their faith in him and his idea of safe passage to the sea.

  Isabelle surveyed the aftermath. Many people, predominantly strangers, gathered about in the middle of a mostly deserted stretch of highway. Most looked unfamiliar; she feared the worst over the fate of her friends. For a mere second, a breach opened in the crowd, closed, and opened again. In the gap, a gorgeous woman stood alone, eyes closed, taking in the warm morning sun, its rays glistening off her perfect brown skin. Like everyone else’s, her clothes were tattered, a little bloodied, but she appeared otherwise unharmed. Somehow, someway, Isabelle’s oldest friend in the world was alive, standing right there, only twenty feet away.

  “Oh my God, Nisha!” Isabelle ran across the pavement to greet her friend.

  “Izzy?” Nisha dropped her water bottle, her eyes as wide as saucers as she pushed through the crowd to meet Isabelle.

  “I thought I’d never see you again,” Isabelle said, hugging Nisha tight.

  “Me too.” Nisha teared up a little. She rubbed Isabelle’s back for a moment before holding her at arm’s length. “Let me look at you. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Look at you, though. You’re so dirty. Oh my God, what happened to you?” Isabelle wiped some dirt from Nisha’s shirt and pants and brushed the woman’s messed-up hair out of her face.

  “I don’t even know. One minute I’m wandering down—God, I
don’t even know what street it was—the next thing I know, Sam’s shoving me in his beat-up old truck,” Nisha responded, bewildered.

  “I know what you mean. It all happened so fast it’s like a blur. Have you seen anyone else?”

  “No, you’re the first I’ve seen.” Nisha scanned the crowd for familiar faces. “Is Carla or John here? Who else got out in time?”

  “I don’t know. It looks like there’s lots of people here, though.” Isabelle also scanned the crowd.

  Most of the survivors were gathering their bearings. Some were crying. A man across from the pair threw up all over someone else’s shoes.

  “Bonnie was in the car behind us. They didn’t make it. The Petersons, too. It was awful.” Isabelle closed her eyes. The thought of the Petersons’ demise, especially their daughter flying through the air, was too much to contemplate.

  “When it got real bad, cars were driving in every direction. I saw…” Nisha covered her mouth. “I don’t even want to say. But Seth saw a few cars heading that way.” Nisha pointed south, down the highway a few ramps back.

  “Jesus, they’re heading straight for Philadelphia.” Isabelle gasped.

  “I know. They probably won’t realize it until it’s too late.”

  “You have that headcount for me, Soraya?” Miller asked.

  “Twenty-seven, sir.”

  “Casualties?”

  “Mostly minor. Jeremiah and Aiko are tending to them, although one woman is very bad. I believe she has been bitten.”

  “Verify that, Soraya. If anyone else has been bitten, isolate them and have one of the police officers keep an eye on them.”

  Radzinski jogged up to Miller’s location. “Northern side of the road is clear for at least a hundred yards, Captain.”

  “Good. Radzinski, I want you to take two of the civilians and police up the weapons and ammunition. We need to know exactly what we’re working with before we go any farther.”

  “Goddamn bullshit! This is exactly what I was talking about,” Radzinski snapped.

  “Excuse me, Marine?” Miller stepped toward Radzinski.

  Radzinski laid his rifle on the hood of a nearby car and got in Miller’s face. “These fucking hillbillies couldn’t hold the line. We were better off without them. Instead, we wound up burning through most of our ammo and still had to retreat anyway, like we should have done in the first place. I told you we should have left.”

  “That wasn’t your call to make.”

  “You’re goddamn right it wasn’t, and we lost three of our own because of it.” Radzinski pointed back in the direction of Pepperbush.

  “You finished?”

  Radzinski waved his hands in the air and began to leave. He took two steps, turned back around, and caught Miller in the jaw with a right hook. “This is all your fault, motherfucker! You could have talked Takashi into leaving. Now him and the others are all dead, and we’re fucked. Fucked!”

  Miller spat a mouthful of blood onto the pavement as he walked forward to meet his attacker face to face. He massaged his mouth with his tongue, checking for cracked or loose teeth as he addressed the man. “Are you finished?” Miller asked again, this time with finality, testing Radzinski’s resolve.

  Radzinski looked around at the gathering crowd, then back to Miller, and finally to the ground in front of his feet. “Yeah, yeah, I’m done.”

  “Then you have a job to do, Marine. I suggest you get it done.”

  Radzinski slung his rifle and set off for a group of civilians who were gathered around Bernie’s truck, but not before shooting a defiant glance back at his commanding officer.

  Miller knew his confrontations with Radzinski would continue to escalate, but he couldn’t be bothered with that right now. For the time being, getting these people to safety was of paramount concern.

  A few feet away from the conflict, Soraya stood at arm’s reach, her hand wrapped tightly around her kukri’s handle. Miller acknowledged her and sent her an appreciative nod.

  Jeremiah and Aiko had set up a temporary triage area in the back of Bernie’s truck. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. At the very least, it kept the wounded off the ground while he and Aiko worked on them. The amount of blood drying in the truck’s bed gave the wrong impression. Most of the wounds inflicted during the exodus from Pepperbush were surprisingly superficial. Minor scrapes and cuts that under normal circumstances could go ignored had to be treated with the utmost urgency now. Because they were unsure of exactly how easily this infection spread, no unnecessary chances were taken. Jeremiah was finishing up with a young man’s lacerated cheek and a bruised leg as Radzinski approached.

  Aiko taped off the end of Isaac’s bandaged ankle before helping him to his feet. “It’s not even a bad sprain. Your leg isn’t broken. Trust me, you’d know it if it was. Just twisted it. That’s all. At any rate, I’d stay off of it as best as you can for a few days, if possible.”

  “Thanks, Doc,” he said as he hobbled away.

  Leg injuries seemed to be common as a result of the mad dash to escape Pepperbush. Jeremiah was seeing to one as well. “Keep off that ankle for a day, two if you can manage, Elliot. You’ll be back up to speed in no time.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’ll try,” Elliot said, limping away.

  Radzinski leaned against the side of the blood-soaked truck. “Hey, Jerry, how goes the clean-up?”

  “Better than anticipated surprisingly. Except for the woman who was bitten, it’s minor injuries all around. A few more sprained ankles than I’d like, considering, but manageable,” Jeremiah replied as he wiped his hands clean with a cap full of whiskey.

  “Glad to hear it. The last thing we need is these people being any more of a burden,” Radzinski said, eying a patient that Aiko was sewing up.

  “It could have been far worse, Radzinski. It probably should have been,” Jeremiah replied. “We were fortunate to have survived at all.”

  “Yeah.” Radzinski stared back at Miller. “Some of us were.”

  Tobias was touring the makeshift staging area, taking mental note of who was who and how best each survivor could contribute. “Ayn and Peter, is it? Why don’t the two of you take inventory? See what we have in the way of food, water, or anything that looks useful, but don’t wander too far. Stay in eyesight. Oh, and medical supplies, anything like that you see, bring it straight to Aiko or Jeremiah,” he suggested.

  “Yeah, okay, anything to get my mind off of what just happened. Can you give me a hand?” Ayn yanked on Peter’s shirt sleeve. He was lost in thought, transfixed on something far off in the distance. She grabbed him by both arms and shook him gently. “Earth to Peter, you with us?” she asked in a soft tone.

  “Sure, sure. Yeah, I hear you. Yeah,” Peter mumbled.

  “What are you staring at?” Ayn struggled against the bright spring sky for a glimpse at whatever it was that held Peter’s gaze.

  Open fields surrounded them, and overgrown grasses stretched to the tree line miles off.

  “I’m not looking at anything, Ayn,” Peter finally offered. “Just thinking, is all. Come on, let’s see about those supplies.”

  Vanessa’s hands and wrists were wrapped like a boxer’s. A myriad of cuts made the danger of infection far too great to leave untreated for long. Her ribs were taped up similarly; at least a few were broken, no doubt due to Jim’s handiwork. Her tumble into the dumpster didn’t exactly help matters. Aiko made sure the wraps were good and tight and also applied a handful of butterfly bandages to the knuckles showing the most severe damage.

  “How’s that feel?” asked Aiko with a hint of remorse shown on her face as she finished applying the bandages.

  “It hurts like shit, but I’ll live, right?” Vanessa answered rhetorically.

  “And that’s all that really matters,” Aiko replied. “Make sure to keep those hands bandaged and clean, at least for a few days until those cuts have a chance to close up.”

  Vanessa nodded in agreement. Ever the optimist, s
he wouldn’t dare let Jim have this victory. She would have taped up her own hands had the medics not made it out alive. Either way, she would persevere.

  Markus approached as Aiko was disinfecting her hands in preparation for her next patient. Vanessa fumbled with an old country band T-shirt Bernie had crumpled up in his truck. The shirt wasn’t exactly her style, and it reeked of stale beer and ashtrays, but all things considered…

  “Everything okay here?” Markus asked, happy to see his friend up and moving around after the state he found her in only a few hours ago.

  “Superficial wounds mostly. A few deeper than others. Otherwise, she’s fine. She’s all yours.”

  “Cool, thanks, Doc.” Markus noticed Vanessa struggling with the ragged shirt and froze, not sure if he should walk the other way or help.

  “You mind giving me a hand here?” she asked, much to his relief.

  “Sure, sure no problem,” he said, hurrying to help cover her damaged body.

  “Thanks, ribs hurt like a bitch,” said Vanessa. “And thanks for stopping for me.” She paused and looked to the crowd of survivors, wondering how many—if any—would have done what he did. She couldn’t pick out one of these people that might have stopped for her, save for Sam and Lillian, of course.

  Sensing a tinge of resentment in Vanessa’s eyes, Markus offered a gift in hopes of curbing the emotion. “Here, I thought you might like to keep this. You know, for the memories.” He handed her a dusty old photo of her and her husband, taken back when they first bought Mother Leeds. Clint was proudly showing off a dollar from their first sale. The memory brought a brief smile to Vanessa’s face.

  “Thank you, Markus.” Vanessa broke her gaze with the picture, folded it neatly, and placed it in her pocket.

  “What happened back there, Van?”

  “Not now, Markus, please. I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to be alone for a minute.”

  “Fair enough, but remember, I’m here whenever you’re ready to talk.”

  “Thank you, again,” she said before walking off behind a couple of abandoned cars.

  Casandra pushed past the thinning crowd of injured gathering around the makeshift triage on her way to Aiko. She was waddling mostly; her stomach led the way. Casandra was on her way to the hospital for a routine checkup when her car gave out on her, stranding her on the interstate. The father of her baby was a deadbeat she met in the produce aisle of her local supermarket. They were inseparable for the first few months, until Casandra learned she was pregnant. Six and a half months later, she could count on one hand the number of times he came by for a visit. A local family stopped for the pregnant woman and convinced her to forgo the hospital visit; it could wait in light of what they were seeing on the news. Casandra agreed and would become one of Pepperbush’s first refugees.