I had to force myself to stop staring at Pepper, so I joined in on the subject that was dominating the conversation. Pops was telling us that he was planning another excursion into Clovis and maybe even as far as Fresno.
I spoke up. “I want to go, Pops.”
He nodded. “I thought as much. Since this will be our first time down the hill in daylight, I think we’ll take two vehicles. Probably the Jeep and the Bronco.”
My mind focused sharply on those words. The Bronco had been Pops’ first vehicle, and he had kept it in pristine condition. I had long advocated that the big SUV should be mine when I turned sixteen. Unfortunately, civilization ended on the day I reached that age and subjects like birthdays and vehicles took second place to survival and hiding from hordes of mindless killers.
“I can drive the Bronco,” I offered.
Pops grinned. “Somehow I knew you’d make that offer. However, son, I think you would be more helpful in the back by the tailgate.” He noted the look of disappointment and held up a hand. “Hear me out. With you back there, manning one of the machine guns, it increases our ability to repel any attacks we might encounter. You’ve already had experience with the weapon and Jimmy is out of action, at least for the day.”
The mention of Jimmy’s name cast a pallor over the flavor of our conversation. Coincidentally, Marie picked that exact moment to walk into the dining room. Her eyes were red, and she looked exhausted, so I had no doubt she had stayed awake for the entire night. The thing everyone focused on, however, was the smile she wore.
“Jimmy’s doing extremely well,” she announced. “No fever, no tremors or sore throat. He said he feels completely normal.”
The proclamation elicited a heartfelt round of applause from everyone. I noticed Tashnizi rolling his eyes. Honestly, I was really starting to detest that man.
Marie grinned and pointed to the platters of food. “He smelled the breakfast and sent me to get us plates.” Her grin widened. “I told him he would have to remain shackled and that I would feed him like the helpless little man that he is.”
We all laughed. When Marie headed back downstairs with full plates, we felt like a weight had been lifted from all of us. We pressed Tashnizi, and he conceded that, since he was showing no symptoms and had an appetite, he was probably in the clear. The doctor almost looked disappointed. I suspected he was embarrassed that his previous dire predictions for the ex-Marine had been wrong.
After we ate, Pops, myself, Jaime and Buck met up by the garage. The Major was going to be in charge of the stronghold while we did a quick reconnoitering of the foothills and, depending on what we saw, maybe the town of Clovis or Fresno. It was doubtful we would be able to get too far, but Pops thought we needed to get a good look at what conditions were like in daylight.
Pops was going to drive the Bronco while I sat in the back with one of our M-240s. The good thing about that was it would allow me to put the weapon on a tripod base which would make it more stable and, thus, more accurate. Buck would be driving a Chevy Suburban with Jaime manning another M-240 in the back. The big SUVs would afford more protection than the Jeep.
We were loading up ammunition crates in both vehicles and Buck, and I were discussing Pops’ reasons for risking a daytime excursion.
“We are almost certain to encounter hordes of Ragers out there,” I opined.
Buck nodded as he hefted a crate of .556 into the Chevy. “True. But the only information we have about conditions down there in daylight is what we can see in our optics. Information is as crucial to our survival as food and ammunition.”
“Yeah, I get that, and I’m not arguing against making the trip. I’m just concerned that it will be much worse down there now than it is in the dark.”
Pops came out of the house carrying two M4 rifles and a nylon bag of loaded magazines. He heard my concerns as he approached. “It will be worse. Probably a lot worse. Without the cover of night, we will be visible to the Ragers and anyone else who happens to be watching, but we aren’t making this trip with the intention of finding trouble. At the first signs of problems, we will turn and head in another direction. Besides,” he reached out to pat the SAW, “with these two weapons we should be able to hold our own.”
“Yeah, and besides that,” Buck interjected, “at some point, if we expect to have any kind of normal life here, the number of infected will have to be…reduced.”
“Absolutely,” Pops agreed. He leaned against the tailgate and stretched his back. “Son, at some point we are going to start running out of food. That means we will be forced to start up some farming and ranching. We’ll need to plow and plant large tracts of land and round up more cattle and other stock for food. We can’t do that with thousands of diseased people running around out there trying to kill us.” He took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. “With no cure available to us and no possibility of one ever materializing that leaves just one course of action.”
I digested their words. “So…today will be one of many trips down the hill. We aren’t trying to avoid the hordes; we’re looking to thin them out.”
Buck slammed shut the Suburban’s tailgate. “Yep. It’s not something we particularly want to do, but there don’t seem to be many options. We have to make a future available for the people hiding in the cities and ourselves.”
And there it was. I had been trying to imagine a future for us ever since this whole thing started. I knew our supply stores were vast and would keep us fed and healthy for years but not forever. At some point, we would have to provide for ourselves in another way. I was still hoping that the Rage would eventually kill off those who were infected and relieve us of that responsibility. However, it had been many months now since we started seeing widespread infection and there were no signs of that being the case. The disease seemed to attack the brain only, leaving the body relatively healthy. I didn’t know what the Ragers were eating to sustain themselves and I didn’t want to speculate on that.
We were isolated from the Rage in our hilltop refuge, but that didn’t mean we were in the clear. The disease had been fiercely virulent so far, spreading through large swaths of the population in very little time. Doctor Tashnizi’s best guess was that it was airborne, making it very dangerous to tightly packed communities such as those in large cities.
What we didn’t know was for how long that would be the case. The Doctor was the closest thing we had to an expert in this subject, despite being a pain in our collective backsides. He told us that this type of disease could burn itself out quickly as the number of potential hosts died off. That is not to say that the infected would get well, the damage to their brains was much too severe for that. But the infectiousness of the disease could lessen or even disappear. He said the very fact that it had spread so quickly increased the odds that it would burn itself out fast. It was something to hope for and one of the main reasons for our daylight reconnaissance. We might spot something that would not be obvious in the dark of night.
We finished with the ammunition and then carried out ten crates of U.S. Military ‘Meals, Ready to Eat’, or MREs. These prepackaged meals were made to feed our soldiers in the field and would keep for years. They had been a real step up from the older ‘C Rations’ in terms of palatability. Pops had purchased truckloads of the stuff, and we were taking them with us to share with any survivors we might find.
After we loaded everything, we climbed in and started down the hill. I caught a glimpse of Jaime, and he looked like he had seen a ghost. The registered nurse had never been in a situation like this. Hell, none of us had.
Because it was daylight, we didn’t take the main road and instead headed east away from the cities. The four-wheel-drive capabilities of the two vehicles came in handy for this type of trek. There were no roads out here, but Pops knew every inch of his property and Buck followed us as we wound our way over hills and through small gullies. We eventually came out onto a weedy dirt path. The reason for taking such a circuitous route was to disguise our
stronghold’s location from any miscreants who might wish to do us harm.
From my perch in the back of the Bronco, I could hear Pops talking with Buck and the Major on our CB. Communication was critical and pops had been sure to obtain the very best of gear for us. It was almost unbelievable what vast amounts of money could buy.
Besides the M-240, I had an M4 and my ten-millimeter pistol. Buck and the Major had emphasized that we were never to rely on one vehicle or one weapon, even one as powerful as the MAG.
“Murphy’s Law takes up permanent residence in every military plan of action,” the Major told us one night. “Firearms are machines and machines break down. They grow hot, and that makes the metal expand. They get dirty, and that fouls up the action. I have rarely been in any action in which I didn’t see a weapon seize up and fail to function. That’s why one should always carry a backup. If you are on a crew-served weapon, such as a machine gun, you are crazy if you don’t pack along a rifle and extra mags. Same goes for water and food if you get separated from your friends; you will need to survive without searching around for it.”
We bounced along on the dirt path until it fed into a wider road and that one ended up at Academy Avenue. Academy is a paved two-lane which services most of the population of the foothills outside of Clovis. We turned south and followed it to where it intersected with Shaw Avenue, then turned west. The road grew from two lanes to four as we passed into more densely populated areas.
It was a bright and sunny day. We were well into July, and the infamous San Joaquin Valley heat was upon us. Pops had the A/C on, but with the tailgate window down, most of the cold air was escaping. I was already sweating in my vest. I had on a sleeveless t-shirt under it, and it was already soaked.
We passed a few knots of infected as we crossed Leonard Street. Most of them just lifted their heads and watched us drive by. One infected male child of about twelve years tried to run after us but soon fell back as Pops accelerated. I got a chill as I considered the fact that our survival plans would include eradicating infected children.
We first spotted signs of dead infected after passing a once-popular waterpark. The bodies were usually off to the sides of the roads or in the overgrown yards of abandoned homes. Whether the corpses had died from the disease or other Ragers was impossible to determine. I said a prayer that the sickness was finally releasing its hold on the unfortunate victims of the plague.
We passed by Locan Avenue and saw a few signs of survivors off to the north in a newer subdivision. Pops slowed down and turned onto Locan, went down a few blocks then took a left into the houses. The homes here were upscale and well cared-for. The lawns were overgrown here also because manicured yards were no longer a priority in this post-pandemic world. We slowed to a crawl with Buck and Jaime about ten car lengths behind us.
I knew Pops was looking for survivors, convinced that establishing contact with other groups was crucial to our long-term plans. We had just turned onto the road that paralleled Shaw and had gone a half block when Pops slammed on the brakes. My hand felt for the charging handle on my weapon as my head swiveled around looking for a threat. Then I saw why Pops had stopped.
A tall man came out of a group of homes on the south side of the street. He wore a pistol on his hip but was careful to keep his hands away from it. The man was naturally wary of our intentions, but he wore a look of desperation that was overpowering his caution.
“Good morning,” Pops opened his door and stepped out. He still wore his own pistol but had left his M4 on the seat. I turned around and faced them through the side window, quietly charging my rifle.
“Morning,” the man responded. He looked me over but said nothing. “What are you people doing out here?”
“We’re just checking on folks. I’m Dan Cole. That fearsome looking character there in the back is Virgil, my son.”
“I’m Caleb Snow.” Pops held out his hand and Snow shook it. The tension in the air eased up a bit. Snow tilted his head and squinted his eyes. “What are you people doing out here?” he repeated. “There are infected packs all around us.”
Pops nodded. “Yeah, we thought as much. Caleb, we are trying to do what we can to help survivors like you. Do you need anything? Food, weapons, ammunition?”
Snow’s eyes flicked over to Buck and the Suburban then back to Pops. “You people from the government?”
Pops grinned and shook his head. “Not hardly. We just have access to a few things, and we wanted to be helpful to others like us.”
Snow scratched at his ear and looked like he was trying to come to a decision. The man was slim, maybe a little underfed but he was clean shaven, and his clothes were in good condition. I figured him to be in his late thirties or early forties. After a minute of indecision, he looked at the house behind him, nodded and waved.
The front door opened and a woman tentatively stepped outside. She was about the same age as her husband and had long blonde hair that was going dark at the roots. Her jeans were hanging slack on her frame, another clue that the people here were surviving on fewer calories.
“This is Karen,” Snow said to Pops.
Pops nodded to the woman then looked back at Snow. “Caleb, we can only stay here for a minute or two. I want to get some information from you about the conditions around here. While we do that, is it alright with you if my people step out of their vehicles and set up a perimeter for us?”
Snow nodded, and we all got out. I left the M-240 set up by the tailgate and carried my M4 slung over my back. Jaime and Buck were identically armed. We took up positions from which we could see anyone coming in our direction.
The sight of us looking so professional seemed to impress Snow. Karen had moved up beside him now, and he had an arm looped protectively around her waist.
Pops and Snow started talking, and I could hear most of what they said. The roving packs of Ragers would come through the neighborhood every week or so. As long as everyone stayed in their homes and gave no indications of being inside, they usually just passed through. A few times a bunch of them would decide to smash their way into a house here and there but, so far, none of those homes had been occupied.
While they were talking, people cautiously exited three more homes around us. The men came out first; all of them armed in some way. Two men carried shotguns which they were careful not to point at us. I estimated about twenty-five adults in view, but I had a feeling there were more keeping themselves out of sight. Soon there was a knot of people standing around Pops. Everyone wanted to know if we were the government, how did we get there, what were we doing and where were we coming from. Pops answered every question except where we lived.
I kept my eyes on the street in front of me. Buck had drilled into me the importance of watching my area of responsibility. I couldn’t help but notice the children, though. Most of the people in this neighborhood were about the same age as Snow and his wife, but I saw three little girls with their noses pressed against the glass of their front windows.
When the barrage of questions, both from and to Pops, settled down I heard him asking Snow and the others about their defensive capabilities.
Snow, who seemed to be the spokesman for the group, pointed at a tall, portly gentleman. “Conrad there has himself a Ruger Mini-14. He was able to gather up a few boxes of ammo before everything went sour.”
Snow took his arm from around Karen and waved a younger man over. The neighbor was probably in his late twenties and in good physical condition. The group’s leader put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Bill here was in the Marines until two years ago. He’s kind of our expert on how to keep safe.”
Pops introduced himself and shook the man’s hand. “Bill, how are you fixed for armaments here?”
Bill was checking us out, especially the two M-240s in the backs of our vehicles. “Well, nothing like you have, unfortunately. I have a civilian version of an M-4 which I have converted full auto.” A woman stepped out onto the porch of the house from which Bill had emerged.
He pointed to her. “My wife, Lorie, has one just like mine. We were able to scrounge up four boxes of ammo for them. We’ve shared it with the others who have weapons in the same caliber.” He shrugged. “Two or three of us have .22 rifles, but we don’t have a lot of bullets for them.”
Snow nodded and interjected. “Most of us here have handguns. Nine millimeters mostly.” He pointed at Bill, then Conrad. “Us three all liked to go to the range once a month and shoot, just for fun, of course, but I think we can handle ourselves in most situations. We all help each other out here.”
“How about food?”
Snow grinned. “When the crap started flying, we went to the Save Mart which is just down the road on Shaw. We weren’t the only ones with the idea, but we were able to load up two pickups and a twelve-by-eight trailer with food. I think we’re good on that front though we have been rationing to make it last. The electricity is still on so we’ve been eatin’ up all the perishables and saving the canned and dry food for in case it goes off.”
Pops returned his grin. “Well shoot, Caleb, it seems like you have things pretty well in hand here.”
Caleb just shrugged. Pops beckoned for the three men to follow him to the back of the Bronco. Caleb whistled when he noticed my weapon. Pops leaned in and came back out with two cases of .556 ammo and another of 9-millimeter.
“This will make you all just a bit more prepared for whatever might come your way. The next time we swing by here, we’ll bring you some .22 for your rifles.”
The gift of ammunition was welcome, and our friendship with these people was now firmly established. I heard them talking as I loaded up and got back into the truck. The group had a CB radio with a big antenna, so Pops gave them our frequencies and asked them to keep in touch and let us know if they ever came under attack. They agreed. We pulled out of the neighborhood with everyone waving. I could see why Pops was so adamant about setting up a friendship with the other survivors. Just the knowledge that they were not alone had elevated everyone’s spirits, ours and theirs.
Virgil's War- The Diseased World Page 6