“Oh God, anything but that. Somebody, get me out of here.” Vanessa laughed and slumped to the floor, sliding out of Lillian’s grasp.
“Much better down here.” Vanessa sighed, lying beside the moldy remnants of a can of beef stew.
“You love it,” Lillian said as she stepped over her friend to continue her trek down the aisle.
Vanessa rose to her feet and brushed herself off as Rachel and Ryan pulled up beside her, brandishing a mostly empty shopping cart of their own.
“Sounds like someone’s having some fun over here,” commented Ryan.
“Trying to,” Vanessa said before kicking the empty can.
The container rolled down the aisle and bounced off of Lillian’s foot. The girl didn’t bother to stop. She simply extended her arm and gave the trio the finger.
“That little bitch.” Vanessa chuckled.
“That’s right, sister. Every day doesn’t need to be doom and gloom,” Rachel stated adamantly.
“I guess you guys are having as much luck as us, huh?” Ryan asked.
“It’s looking that way.” Vanessa shrugged. “Luckily, we have enough to go around for now, but this place is a bust.”
“Not entirely. I’d kill for a couple of those wipes. Just name your target,” Rachel said, making the shape of a gun with her hand.
“Hmm, I’ll have to get back to you on that,” Vanessa replied.
“I’ve got an idea,” Ryan said. “I’ll jump in this cart. Tell Lily to get in yours. We’ll race down to the frozen food section. If we win, you give us ten wipes. If you win, we’ll do your guys’ laundry for a week. Sound fair?”
“You’ve got yourself a deal, sir.” Vanessa reached across the cart and extended her hand for a shake.
“Let’s do this,” Ryan replied, returning the gesture.
The race started simply enough, and Vanessa was off to an early lead. Although physically stronger than Vanessa, Rachel struggled to get the much heavier Ryan up to speed, but once she finally gained the advantage, Ryan’s weight and her momentum easily carried them through the finish line first.
Nearing the end of the course and unable to slow fast enough, Vanessa lost control as Lillian’s weight shifted, sending the two of them and their empty cart tumbling into a row of barren shelves. Plastic containers, boxes of sandwich wrap, scattered cutlery, and the like littered the surrounding floor. Vanessa slowly rose to a seated position, rubbing her shoulder.
“You okay, Lily?” She turned to find Lillian face-down, unmoving.
“Oh my God, Lillian! I’m coming. Don’t move.” Vanessa rushed to her side and gently turned her over. Still nothing.
She lowered her ear to the girl’s chest when Lillian jumped.
“Gotcha,” Lillian whispered.
“You asshole.” Vanessa slapped her in the arm before collapsing onto her back. The pair burst into laughter.
Lillian crawled over to the relieved woman and rested on her elbows near Vanessa’s face. They lay there panting, staring at each other expectantly.
Lillian brushed aside a few strands of hair from Vanessa’s eyes. “You were worried,” she panted.
“I knew you were fucking with me. Didn’t want to ruin your joke. That’s all.” She lowered her eyes.
“Yeah right.” Lillian laid her head on the cool floor beside Vanessa, who in turn proceeded to brush Lillian’s hair with her fingers.
At the other side of the store, Bernie and Casandra were doing some shopping of their own. Tommy was half an aisle ahead, traversing the store by hopping from one shelf to the next. The floor was lava. Dusty would occasionally squeeze onto a shelf beside him.
“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. My name’s Bernie, ma’am.” He leaned forward, took her hand in his, and kissed it.
“Oh, a gentleman? Well I do declare, sir,” Casandra replied in a faux Southern accent, using her other hand like a fan to cool her blushing face.
She curtsied and Bernie held her hand high before taking her arm in his.
“Right this way, ma’am,” he said. “It would be my pleasure to give you a first-class tour of the facilities.”
Bernie guided Casandra down the empty aisle. They walked slowly as he described the treasures that used to adorn the shelves. She played along and enjoyed the momentary respite as the day’s worries seemed to melt away. If that was Bernie’s intention all along, he was doing a fabulous job of it.
Radzinski barged into the grocery store, scanned the surroundings, and made a beeline for Miller’s position atop the shelf. “What the fuck’s going on around here? Maintain discipline, huh? Oh, that’s rich.”
“What seems to be the problem today, Marine?” Miller asked through a half-smile.
“Oh, it is without a doubt my problem. I get it now. Your girl Rachel gets to jerk off with the locals. Anyone else steps out of line, though, it’s get-in-your-face-time, right?”
“You need a push, Radzinski?” Miller kicked a box of detergent down from his perch and into a shopping cart beside the frustrated Marine.
“Funny. Oh, yeah. That’s real nice.”
“Relax, we’re back on the road tomorrow, anyway.”
“This is a joke, Miller. Look at these people running around all over the place. Is that a football they’re tossing over there?” Radzinski motioned to Peter, Markus, Samantha, and Ayn tossing a ball around the remnants of the bakery department. “What are we supposed to do with them all?”
“They’re letting off steam, Radzinski. What else would you have them do?”
“I don’t know. Siphon gas? Loot the stores?” he responded, pointing back to the parking lot.
“That was all done yesterday and this morning. Listen, John, these are civilians. They just watched what was left of their town burn to the ground and get overrun with carriers. If staying here an extra day and letting them toss a ball around or race shopping carts boosts morale, then I’m all for it. Now, if that’s all, be on your way—Marine,” he added with a smirk.
“You got it,” Radzinski grumbled. “Sir.”
• • •
Across the lot, inside the gas station, Peter laid his shotgun on an empty chip rack and fumbled for his zipper while using his back to open the door to the lavatory. A carrier lunged from the darkened room, latching its putrid teeth deep into Peter’s exposed neck. In his haste to escape the tormented creature’s grasp, Peter lost his footing on the slick floor. He fell headfirst into a nearby countertop, and the impact knocked him unconscious.
The carrier was quick to pounce on the helpless man. Seemingly attracted to the warm, fresh blood, it licked at the wound at first, then quickly began tearing and chewing at the gash, widening the damage and digging deeper into Peter’s scalp. The carrier promptly encountered hard skull but continued along the hairline, pulling and chewing flesh from bone until it reached Peter’s soft eyes. The change in texture almost seemed to confuse the creature before it slowed its assault to concentrate on Peter’s face.
Elliot and Ayn were doing some last-minute scavenging; the caravan was set to depart in thirty minutes. The pair of them were natives of Pepperbush and by chance were both attending university in New England. They carpooled to and from school a handful of times a year, but other than that, you wouldn’t really mistake them as being friends. Elliot was in his final semester at MIT, and Ayn happened to be his roommate’s girlfriend; the two of them were studying law. They were a part of a group of six coeds down from Boston, setting up job interviews in Philadelphia and hoping to land an internship. The rest of their group never made it out of the city; they lost track of each other when a riot broke out over bottled water distribution. Hitchhiking for rides eventually landed them safely home in Pepperbush.
Elliot held the door for Ayn and they exited the half-burnt-out building, prepared to rejoin the group and get back on the road.
“Hey, I’ll catch up. Let me hit the bathroom before we head out,” Elliot said, reentering the store.
“Fine, but make
it quick. You know we’re not supposed to be wandering around alone out here.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. You try shitting in a bag in a moving vehicle because no one wants to pull over. Fucking sucks,” he said. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”
“Alright, alright. Don’t fall in.” Ayn laughed and continued back to the caravan while feasting on a small packet of crackers she stole from a rat.
Elliot waited a few moments for Ayn to be far enough away. Convinced it was all clear, he crept down, out of sight, and crawled his way around to the clerk’s area behind the main counter. He stayed crouched as he reached up to yank the cash register down to the floor beside him. A few well-placed hits with the butt of his gun and the old register popped open.
“Ha, ha, jackpot,” he said aloud.
The register was full of crisp, clean bills, easily five hundred dollars, he imagined.
“Somebody wasn’t making their deposits,” he said, shaking his head, satisfied over someone else’s blunder.
A childlike grin stretched from ear to ear as he greedily stuffed his pockets with the money. Content with his findings, he stood up and brushed himself off. On his way to the door, he picked up a handful of rags to better keep up appearances that he was actually searching for supplies for the group.
“Now what possible use do you think that’s going to have?” a voice called out from the back of the store.
“Christ, you scared the shit out of me, man. What are you doing in here?” Elliot’s stomach dropped at the sight of Radzinski approaching from the bathroom, his excuse for being alone no longer an option.
“What you were supposed to be doing.” Radzinski wiped his damp hands on the man’s shirt. “Using the facilities, not stealing useless paper.”
“Well, it’s none of your business what I take.” Elliot covered his pocket as if to prevent Radzinski from taking his score.
“It is my business, especially when it’s my ass on the line when you refuse to do what you’re told.” Radzinski was resting his palm on his knife’s handle, slowly moving it back and forth in its sheath. “You think you can use that money to buy your next meal? Or maybe you want to use it to pay me and my unit for keeping your sorry ass alive?”
“Now wait just a minute, Radzinski. I wasn’t—” Elliot wasn’t allowed to finish.
“Shut your mouth. When you break protocol, you put all of our lives in danger. I won’t lose another man for you or your people, you hear me?” Radzinski pinned the smaller man against the wall, his forearm to the man’s throat, cutting off his air supply. He finally unsheathed his blade and placed the tip just beneath Elliot’s eye. “The next time you pull some shit like this, I’ll do you myself and leave your ass here for the infected.” Radzinski threw him to the floor, then stepped over the trembling man on his way to the exit. “Get your ass up. We’re leaving,” he said as he flung open the door.
“Headcount, Soraya.” Miller gestured to the group of survivors gathered around the caravan.
The Israeli would be furious if she knew Miller assigned her to such menial tasks as policing up supplies and keeping track of the civilians in an attempt to keep her out of harm’s way. In reality, Soraya was probably better qualified to take care of herself than anyone else here, him included. She was certainly not new to danger. After all, only the best of the best were handpicked to enter into the troop exchange program. The same could be said for her American counterparts back in her home country.
Miller’s feelings for the young Israeli were growing harder to hide from the group, and this kind of favoritism would not go over well if indeed it got out. For now, though, he couldn’t be worried about hypothetical scenarios. This new enemy was unpredictable and damn near unstoppable. He would do his best to keep everyone safe, but for now, Soraya stayed within his line of sight, period.
“We are missing one, sir. His name is Peter. They say he was last seen near the gas station,” Soraya reported.
Miller shook his head slowly. Eyes closed, he pointed to Aiko and Seth and waved them toward the gas station. “Go get him.” He sighed.
“Goddammit, another one?” Radzinski chimed in as he pushed Elliot into the crowd. “I found this one across the street by himself, looting a fucking cash register,” he said accusingly.
“Take it easy, man. Not all of us are used to this sort of thing,” said Elliot.
“And who the fuck is?” Radzinski asked rhetorically, nearly begging the man for a response. He grabbed a handful of Elliot’s cash and held it up to the man’s face in his fist. “The only thing this is good for is wiping your ass or starting a fire.” He threw the wad into Elliot’s chest.
Elliot snatched the money back as best as he could, “Whatever, man. Maybe that’s why I took it.”
“Oh really?” Radzinski turned back around to face the man, skin flush, eyes wide. “You’re a funny little bitch, aren’t you?”
“That’s enough, John. Leave him alone.” Rachel squeezed between the two men, gently pushing Radzinski back a few feet with her left hand. With her right, she pointed directly at Elliot’s face. “You, disappear.”
“Hey, wait just a minute. This isn’t—”
“Go, now!” Rachel shouted.
“Okay, okay, I’m going, shit.” Elliot backed down, cursing under his breath until he disappeared between vehicles.
Radzinski batted Rachel’s hand away while turning to face the majority of the crowd. “Maybe you people don’t understand that we follow protocol for a reason. If you can’t follow a simple request, then we can’t effectively keep you alive. How is that so hard to grasp?” He shook his head in disgust. “You know what? Fuck it. I don’t even give a shit. Do whatever the fuck you want. I’m through babysitting you people.” He walked from the group’s sight, cursing to himself. “Fucking civilians.”
Miller took point. “What Radzinski is trying to say is that most of us have escorted civilians through hostile territory before. So at least that aspect of our current situation is familiar.”
“Ever the optimist, huh?” Radzinski added.
“That’s enough.” Jeremiah grabbed Radzinski by the arm and quickly pulled him away from the view of the civilians. “Listen to me. If you continue undermining Miller like that, this group will splinter. Are you prepared to deal with them if they begin questioning orders?”
Radzinski yanked his arm free from Jeremiah’s hold. “Get your goddamn hands off of me, medic. If Miller loses control of these people, I couldn’t care less. You all know where I stand. I say we cut them loose and double-time it to the nearest base. We could be of better use elsewhere,” Radzinski suggested with a glare at the civilians.
“Well, thankfully for them then, you don’t make the decisions. Miller has a destination in mind, and no, it doesn’t include abandoning these people on the side of the road.”
“Whatever, Jerry. Oh, by the way, you can call Aiko. Tell her she can stop looking for that missing civilian.”
“Excuse me?”
“Yeah, what’s-his-name, he’s back at the gas station, face-down in his own filth.” Radzinski shrugged. “One of those things was chewing on his neck last time I saw him. That was right before I found Elliot in the next building over. Should have shown him the mess, I suppose.”
“Nice.” Vanessa and Lillian were passing with boxes of blankets from the furniture store in time to catch the tail end of their conversation.
“And you left him there? Unbelievable.” Jeremiah turned his back on the Marine. “I can’t even bear the sight of you right now.”
“Not my fault, Jerry. It was in the ceiling. Some dumb fuck civilian probably got bit and crawled up there to hide. You can figure out the rest. Besides, we’ve told these people over and over again not to go anywhere alone. Now maybe the rest will listen.”
Jeremiah was disgusted with Radzinski’s lack of compassion, and he needed space. For the time being, he would occupy his time by helping these people cope.
Vanessa, on the other han
d, wasn’t prepared to let the matter rest. “Look around you, you inconsiderate prick. People are terrified. We’re not used to this kind of shit.” She singled out Samantha, who was barely keeping it together. She cried into Markus’s chest as he looked on, anger building.
“None of us are used to this, sweetheart. It’s a cold world out there now and you gotta get hard if you want a chance at living in it,” Radzinski responded, devoid of empathy.
Vanessa didn’t bother answering. Instead, she ushered Lillian away from the confrontation.
Radzinski opened a beer and shrugged off the woman’s comments. After all, what did she know? A few days ago, she was a bartender in a rural, backward-ass town in the middle of nowhere. She and her people were lucky to have stayed out of harm’s way as long as they did. As far as Radzinski was concerned, every breath she took was by the grace of him and the other soldiers. If none of them spoke to him for the remainder of their journey, all the better.
As Radzinski sat in the sun, enjoying his warm beer in relative silence, Lancaster saw an opportunity to bond with a fellow outcast.
“They don’t seem to like you very much, do they, son?” Lancaster’s statement went ignored, although that didn’t stop the man from edging closer to the Marine. “Would you mind terribly if I joined you? We seem to have much in common, you and I.” Lancaster attempted to lean on the truck next to Radzinski but was denied.
“We have nothing in common, old man, so yeah, I would mind. Terribly, even.” Radzinski tossed his empty bottle into the street. It shattered upon impact as a thousand tiny shards of glass skidded their way down the road. “And as far as being liked goes, they don’t have to like me. They just need to stay out of my fucking way,” Radzinski stated matter-of-factly. “That goes for you, too.”
CHAPTER SIX
Ruin
Onward they pushed, farther south. Reading a map was one thing, but anticipating blockages in their path was another entirely. Avoiding the larger cities and congestion-filled popular routes led them farther off the beaten path. Rural one-lane roads seemed to be their curse. The caravan was careful to keep as much distance as possible as it crept past an abandoned campsite just off the side of the road. Remains of a makeshift shelter were strewn about. The only sign of life remaining was light from a battery-operated lantern still shining inside of a ransacked tent. A handful of carriers’ silhouettes were illuminated on the walls of the shelter, their shapes clearly visible. They were feasting on the remains of a family apparently too slow to escape what was likely a surprise attack. The shadow of a severed arm was unmistakably being raised to a ravenous mouth. Spattered blood painted the tent’s interior, casting an ominous glow for the weary onlookers. Slurping and crunching cut through the otherwise quiet afternoon. Content with their prize, these few infected took no notice of the trespassers’ slow passage. The caravan continued on, careful to avoid the attention of the infected. Some in the group closed their windows as they passed, avoiding the scene altogether; others were captivated by the slaughter.
The Roaming (Book 2): The Toll Page 7