Pulling away and heading south to the Georgia-Florida line, Jim thinks of his mother and the rest of his family. He wonders if they’re alive, of course. He hopes to be able to try and find Chris and Jeremy’s mom, Linda, as well. That task seems almost insurmountable. They’re almost on their sixth day of travel when it normally would take around fourteen hours to Florida from his home in Texas.
Florida to California seems to be an unreachable distance in these times.
Not realizing so many hours had already passed; the glow of the pre-dawn sun shows itself on his left to the east. The occupants in the back begin to stir and soon there’s talking. Jim removes the NVGs as the sun breaks the horizon and the light turns from the pre-dawn twilight to orange-red. Jim announces he’ll stop as soon as he sees a good place for the bathroom break he and everyone else surely needs.
Finally, after longer than he and everyone else would like, he finds a suitable area and comes to a stop on a small hilltop. Jeremy stands on the platform and opens the turret and says, “You go ahead, dad. You’ve been up driving all night.”
Not arguing, Jim makes his way past Jeremy’s feet as he stands in the turret, and over the air mattresses on the floor.
Reaching the back of the MRAP, Jim begins to feel the urge to urinate become even stronger. It seems the closer he gets to releasing his bladder, the more the need increases. Jim goes to the passenger side of the vehicle and, after a brief fumbling with his zipper, is able to extract himself and begins the pleasure of releasing his long held urine-filled bladder.
“Contact right. Two infected coming fast,” Jim hears Jeremy yell and then three muffled shots from his son’s AR-15 ring out from atop the MRAP.
He looks up to see one of the infected has fallen. The other is heading straight towards him with a snarling and salivating mouth, its large bare and cosmetically enhanced breast bouncing as it reaches out to him.
Jim unholsters and brings his Glock up and fires four shots in quick succession, and twists to his left as the young infected woman grasps his shirt and emits a deep and primal wet growl. The infected woman falls facedown, issues a single exhalation and lies still. Looking around for any others and seeing none, Jim holsters his Glock. Jeremy exits the back of the MRAP, having been relieved by Chris.
“Sorry, dad. I got the first one but she moved below my line of sight before I could get her”, Jeremy says.
“It’s OK, Jeremy. Thanks for the heads-up. Good job.” Jim hears Jeremy begin to chuckle and turns from searching nearby brush for more infected to look at his son. “What?” Jim asks with a grin. Jeremy points down and says, “Put the horse back in the barn, Dad. And you pissed all over yourself.”
Jim looks down and places himself back in his pants. And he observes that he did in fact piss all over himself.
After moving the bodies and Jim changing his pants, they eat and get back on the road, stopping a few hours later to siphon diesel. Around noon, they enter into Florida on 441. Traveling between Cypress Creek and Benton Conservation areas, they continue south. After agreeing to risk taking I-75 in hopes they can increase their speed, they decide to pick it up when they have the opportunity near Lake City.
They’ve also decided they’ll try to continue driving until they reach Jim mother’s home in Gainesville. Jim and Chris try to nap, since they’ve recently had the least amount of sleep. Arzu takes the wheel for now and discusses with Chelsea how to operate the large armored vehicle. Jeremy’s perched on the turret platform keeping watch, and Berk and Kayra argue over what color to use for a character in a coloring book.
Smoke is visible in the distant east in the area of Jacksonville. In various other points of the compass, plumes of smoke also rise.
Jeremy realizes that things have progressively worsened since the infection. He wonders if and when things will improve. He hopes things things would at the very least stabilize and stop spiraling down the toilet.
Jim and Chris are awakened when low flying helicopters streak overhead. The direction seems to be toward the northeast. The general direction of Jacksonville, which, he’s now aware, seems to be burning.
Arzu stops, and they all reluctantly allow Chelsea to take control of the MRAP. Arzu takes over the front passenger seat and puts her feet up on the dash. She gives polite advice and direction on its operation.
Jim relieves Jeremy at the turret. Jeremy takes his turn at an attempt at napping while Chris plays with Berk and Kayra. Jim realizes he hasn’t spent much quality time with them lately and makes a mental note to do so soon.
As they have since first starting their journey, they see sporadic activity of people. Non-infected people. They see the occasional military vehicle or two, or convoy. When they do encounter military, they receive waves. When needed, they yield the way.
The rapid approach of dusk forces them to search for a place to stop for the night. They want to push forward, but the uncertainty of what they’ll face requires they rest and plan.
One last top-off of fuel ensures they should have more than enough for the final push to Jim’s Mom’s home in Gainesville. They all are experiencing a heightened level of anticipation and stress. While the others are prepping their evening meals, Jim tries to organize his thoughts.
He keeps trying to crush it, but then understands he must face it. What if his family are infected and trapped in the home like others they’ve encountered? He wonders what is worse. Finding his family there and infected, or not finding them at all.
They all finish eating quickly, their appetites poor. They dispose of leftovers and garbage and then discuss tomorrow.
All but Chelsea know the layout of the neighborhood and home they’re headed to. Jim points out that since the home is located near the end of a cul-de-sac, they’ll pull the MRAP past the home, turn around and face the way they enter the neighborhood.
Arzu will standby in the MRAP driver seat. Chelsea will man the turret with a suppressed rifle and comms gear and act as a look out. Chris has taken a lot of time going over their weapons and equipment with Chelsea. It started with a suggestion from Jim, but both Chris and Chelsea have seemed to be especially enthusiastic about the training sessions.
Jim, Chris, and Jeremy will approach the home and, if needed, make entry. “They could be infected,” Jim says, looking nowhere and miles away. No one answers. “If they are, we can’t let them infect us,” he adds and then looks to Chris and Jeremy. They hold his gaze and nod somberly.
They split up their watch shifts as always. They see little of the infected in the rural area through the night. No one sleeps well; they think of the happiness they’ll have with reuniting with family. They also have distressing thoughts, causing dread, of what else they may find.
Chapter 33
Present
They all rise and quietly stow air mattresses, more quickly today than other days. Once breakfast is had and the sun has fully broken the horizon, the MRAP is started and allowed to idle while they finish preparing to break camp. Optimistically, they rearrange gear and containers to allow more room for family they hope to find.
Arzu takes the driver seat and, after confirming everyone is ready, starts them in motion to their next destination. They leave the outskirts of Brooker, Florida behind. The destination is about twenty miles away. Caution and roadway obstacles cause that distance to take more time than is typical. Before the plague of the SCAR virus, the distance would be conquered in thirty minutes. It takes them two agonizing hours now.
They enter the small city around 9AM from the north on State Road 121, and head west. Gainesville is home to the University of Florida and much of its population of around 130,000 are students at UF. Many also attend the community colleges in the area.
Judith’s home—Jim’s mother—is located on the northwest side of the city, just barely. They’re very close now. They have some luck on their side. The day is clear and, although in the fifties, it’s bright.
Arzu navigates toward their destination. They travel alo
ng SR 121, which turns into NW 34th Street once in the city limits. They reach the neighborhood entrance and Arzu makes a right turn and then a left. The road bends to the right. They see Jim’s mother’s home on the left, approach slowly, pass it by and then Arzu loops the MRAP around in the cul-de-sac, bringing the vehicle to a stop, the home now on the passenger side and slightly behind.
They all fight the urge to rush in. They wait and observe the home and neighborhood. Most of the homes are damaged. The destruction, like what they’ve been seeing, is not uniform. Some are burned-out husks. Some are seemingly unscathed. Jim’s mother’s home is not one. The front door of the single-story home is hanging by its bottom hinge and leaning inside the home. Its white paint is smeared with brown handprints, blood that’s long dried.
The large double windows to the right of the door are shattered. Much of the glass is on the interior and is seen in brief glimpses, reflecting sunlight as the sheer curtains move slightly in the breeze. There are multiple bullet holes that seem to be both entry and exits.
No one speaks.
Gunshots, a familiar sound now, are heard and by the sound are very distant. Jim sees no vehicles at the home. The garage door is down in its closed position, and is dented and pushed inward, but remains intact.
Jim steps down from the turret. Chris and Jeremy move ahead of their father and stand near the rear doors. Jim does a final check of his gear and as he moves toward the rear doors, he nods and joins them as they open one of the doors and exit. Chelsea closes and secures the rear doors and takes up an armed position in the turret.
“Like we always do,” Jim says to Chris and Jeremy in a quiet voice. They approach the home left of the door, keeping away from the openings of the door and the windows. The only sounds are of their breathing. Their gear has long been carefully taped to prevent noise when they move.
Chris leads them as they reach the exterior wall and stack against it. Chris’s area of coverage is the door. Jim, in the middle and slightly to Chris’ right, covers the shattered windows. Jeremy faces away from them, protecting from threats from behind.
Chris clicks his comms twice, their predetermined means for asking if all are ready. If ready, he’ll receive four clicks in reply, two from their father and two from Jeremy. Jim replies with two clicks. Jeremy does the same.
Chris rises from one knee to a crouch. Seeing the cue, Jim does the same and places his right foot against Jeremy’s. After a pause of a second, Chris moves to the door. Jim follows and when his foot no longer is felt against his own, Jeremy knows it’s his turn to move. He smoothly pivots and falls in behind his father.
Chris enters the door and covers his area, which is ahead and to the left. To his front is the entrance of the dining room, and the left is where a hallway leads to bed and bathrooms. Jim enters an arm’s-length behind Chris and covers right of Chris' sector, which includes the kitchen and doorway leading to the attached garage. Jeremy enters, also an arm’s-length behind his father, and pivots again to cover their rear.
They stand in the living room. It’s in shambles. The sofa that had been in front of the front windows is pushed over. Glass is scattered around six feet into the living room from the shattered windows. An end table is tipped over and the lamp that had been on it lies broken on the floor.
There are multiple bullet holes in the walls and even the ceiling of the home. They hear nothing. The dining room and kitchen are not completely visible and therefore not yet cleared. They receive two clicks from Chris again. Like before, they reply in turn.
Jim takes over the point of their formation. He steps beside Chris and touches his shoulder to indicate his move. Chris steps to the left and aims his AR-15 to the hallway to focus on it and assist Jeremy if need to cover the flank, leaving the dining room to his father.
Jeremy moves forward in a crouched walk and now covers the kitchen and the garage door to the right and the path they took inside. Jim pies off the entrance to the dining room and the kitchen beyond that. The dining room and kitchen cleared, Jim gives a click from his comms and moves back toward Chris and Jeremy in the living room.
Stacking up behind Chris, he signals to Jeremy, pointing at his eyes and then the closed door leading to the garage. Jeremy nods, shifts near the wall near the hallway and takes a knee to watch the front and garage doors.
Jim gives Chris’ shoulder a squeeze, his signal to move forward. Jim and Chris move in a crouched position down the hallway, Chris ahead and to the left. The first room they come to is a bathroom on the right. The door is open about twelve inches. The opening gives a view of the sink and all but a small portion of the left side of the mirror.
Chris stops before reaching the bathroom doorway and continues to aim his rifle down the hallway. Jim quietly approaches the bathroom door and gently pushes on it to open it further. The door moves about eight inches inward and stops. A wet and guttural growl comes immediately after.
Jim can now see the bathtub and watches a figure rise, turn toward him and emit another growl. The door is pulled inward and an infected male, with its left ear and the left side of its scalp missing, reaches for him, its teeth bared in a snarl and lips and chin drooling thick saliva. Jim fires three rounds into the infected’s upper sternum and it falls backward into the path of the female infected exiting the bathtub.
The first causes the second to stumble on top of the other. Before the female can rise from its hands and knees, Jim puts two 5.56 mm into its forehead. “Contact. Two infected down. Maintain security,” Jim rapidly transmits into the comms.
He begins to turn from the bathroom when Chris opens fire, aiming down the hallway. Jim brings his AR-15 up and adds his rounds to the five infected tripping and fumbling over each other trying get to them.
After the muffled reports of the suppressed AR-15’s go quiet, Chris says, “Contact. Multiple infected. They’re down.” Jim and Chris continue down the hallway. Jim calls out, “All clear,” and shortly after they meet with Jeremy where the hallway joins the living room.
“The infected. . . Who?” Arzu asks over the comms from the MRAP. “Unknowns,” Jim replies and adds, “Going to check the garage, standby.” They move to the kitchen, where the door leading to the garage is located: Jim in the lead, Jeremy second, and Chris now bringing up the rear.
The garage door is flanked on the left by the refrigerator. The door opens into the garage and its hinges are on the right. Stacked against the wall to the right, their best position, Jim tries the doorknob and finds it locked.
“Shit,” Jim whispers. He turns slightly to Chris and Jeremy and says, “If anyone is here, they know we’re here already.” After a pause, he raises his voice and says, “Is anyone in the garage?”
A few seconds tick by and then Jim and Chris and Jeremy hear muffled voices from above them. “Attic,” Jim says. They wait and listen. Soon they hear the creaking of the attic ladder being lowered into the garage. “Don’t shoot,” comes from the other side of the door. They recognize the voice: Kathy, Jim’s sister.
The door clicks twice as the doorknob and deadbolt locks are unlocked. Kathy pokes her head into the kitchen, to her left, and sees her older brother and nephews. They embrace each other. “John’s hurt bad,” she says as she releases from the hugs. “We’re up in the attic,” she explains further.
Jim is told that John was shot three times while defending the family from a group that had been scavenging in the neighborhood. Like their attackers, they too had been searching for food and water in homes that were abandoned or the occupants killed or infected. The men that shot John felt they should have everything.
Chris runs out to the MRAP and retrieves the combat litter and medic bag, and gives a situation report to Arzu and Chelsea. Kayra and Berk sense the emotions of elation, apprehension and fear.
Jim climbs up after Kathy into the attic. Jeremy stands by, awaiting Chris and maintaining security. Jim’s happiness is dampened when he sees the rest of his family. Like Kathy, they’re thin and drawn.
His surprise to see his ex-wife Linda, Chris and Jeremy’s mother, in the attic along with his family will have to wait to be explained.
He gives his mother, Judith, a quick hug and kiss as he’s already assessing his brother. John is much paler than the rest of the family that’s been taking refuge in the attic.
John is lying supine. He has dressed wounds to his lower left and upper right chest and shoulder. His left leg is bandaged as well. All the dressings are pieces of bed sheets. His breathing is shallow and rapid. His carotid pulse is rapid and weak. His body is cold clammy. With some weak moaning from John, they lower him into the garage and onto the litter.
Jim begins digging into the med-kit and comes out with a stethoscope. He listens to John's chest quickly, then snatches off the stethoscope and grabs a 14-gauge intravenous catheter. Tearing open John’s shirt, he locates the left mid-clavicular line and then palpates his second intercostal space. Jim swabs the area with iodine, and then inserts the needle just above the third rib. Escaping air from the hollow needle is audible. Removing the stainless steel needle and leaving the Teflon catheter, Jim then tapes it in place.
After checking breath sounds again, Jim begins looking for a vein for an IV. Although no one sees the need, he apologizes to everyone for being curt and then says, “Chris and Jeremy, hug your mom. Then cover everyone while they get only a couple changes of clothes, and then escort them outside to the MRAP.”
Jim has a 14-gauge IV catheter in John’s left upper forearm with Ringers Lactate solution running when Chris and Jeremy return and assist carrying him to the MRAP.
Chapter 34
Present
Once in the MRAP, greetings are hurriedly given to all and introductions of Chelsea made. Jim carries on with his examination and treatment of his younger brother. Carefully he cuts away some clothing in the way, exposing his injuries to better assess them. “I see he got shot, but why?” Jim asks no one in particular.
Omega Pathogen: Mayhem Page 15