“Man, I’m just trying to get you lighten up a bit.”
“Murphy, we’re looking at a thousand rotting corpses. Lighten up?”
“Life is what you make it, man.”
I gave it a derisive little headshake.
“All these infected wandering around might be a problem.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, “But like we talked, once we’re in a Humvee, an armored one, I don’t think they can do anything to get at us.”
“But if they swarm us like they swarmed Wilkins’ car…”
“Yeah?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Murphy, if we’re going to back out, now is the time to do it, because once I open this door, who knows what happens. It’s all a gamble.”
“Yeah, man, I know.”
“One of those Humvees could come in real handy. We could be at your mom’s house in twenty minutes.”
“Yeah, Zed, but I’m still worried about getting out once we get where we’re going.”
“All we need is patience. They’ll get bored and wander off.”
Murphy stared at the scene before us, but remained silent.
“Murphy if we’re going to do this, we need to move it along. What do you wanna do?”
“All right. If we’re gonna do this, then let’s do it.” Murphy pushed the glass doors open and walked out into the full sun, without looking to make sure I was behind. Over his shoulder, he whispered, “Damn, it’s hot out here.”
I nodded. It was damn hot. We walked toward the nearest armored Humvee that appeared to have an obscured view from the hospital windows, just in case.
The smell of all of the dead bodies rotting in the sun was overwhelming, but the smoke in the air helped to mask it.
Thick clouds of flies swarmed us.
Smears and pools of bodily fluids, not quite dry, made the footing treacherous.
“This is disgusting,” Murphy said.
“Yeah.” I opened my mouth to stop breathing the rancid stench into my nose, but when the flies tried to land in my mouth I felt like I could taste the corpses on my tongue. I felt nauseous.
Bodies lay about, ripped open by bullets. Bellies were distended where the gases of rot had no hole to escape. Faces were stretched in agony.
“Can people eat rats?” I asked.
Murphy stopped and looked at me. His expression told me that he thought I might be cracking up. “What are you even talking about?”
“I’m just thinking that this place is going to be infested with rats pretty soon. The whole city will be. They’d be a plentiful food source.”
Murphy shook his head, “I’ll learn how to grow potatoes or something long before I eat a rat.” He turned and hurried across the distance to the Humvee we’d selected.
The vehicle was empty. That was good luck. Rotting corpses baking in the heat of a closed vehicle might have made it unusable.
I looked around at the infected nearby. They were either rummaging through bloody scraps or focused on the gunshots coming from the hospital.
Murphy jumped into the Humvee’s driver’s seat. I got in on the passenger side.
Murphy looked at me. “It’s do or die now, buddy. You sure you wanna do this?”
I shrugged. “You know, in this armored Humvee, we can probably drive around here a bit and maybe draw some of the infected away from the hospital. You know, give Steph and the others a chance.”
Murphy shook his head, but didn’t look at me. Without a word, he slammed his door shut, catching the attention of all the nearby infected.
“Damn!” I quickly yanked my door shut as Murphy cranked the starter.
The Whites ran at us from all directions.
As soon as the engine fired, Murphy floored the accelerator and we raced away from the hospital.
We ran over one bump, then another. I knew what those bumps were, but put the thought of it out of my mind and focused on the clear pavement ahead.
The Humvee shuddered with the impact of an infected body running into the side at full speed. A few found a grip on the rear and were trying to climb on. The infected on the side slid away as Murphy pushed the truck to go faster.
When we hit clear asphalt, Murphy ran the Humvee up past forty and said, “Null Spot. Heh, heh, heh.”
“What’s that even supposed to mean? Null Spot.”
“You’re all kind of whited out, man. It’s like you’re not there. Like a spot with nothing in it. Null Spot.” Murphy’s big laugh filled the vehicle.
“Whatever.”
“Null Spot. You and your stupid superhero shit. Man, did you watch too many Star Wars movies as a kid, or what?”
I said, “I just thought we might be able to help them, that’s all.”
Murphy changed the subject with a hard swerve. The Humvee almost hit a curb. At the last second, Murphy angled back for the center of the street.
“What the fuck, man?”
Murphy said, “Dude, did you see that?”
“What?”
“That White was right in front of me and he jumped out of the way. So I tried to get him anyway. Heh, heh, heh.”
“Maybe he was smarter than the others.”
“I think he did it on purpose.”
“Whatever.”
“My mom always said, ‘Never trust Whitey.’”
“Murphy, does anybody actually think you’re funny?”
“Everybody but you.”
“Did she really tell you that?”
“No, man, I’m just fuckin’ with ya.”
Without warning, Murphy slammed the brakes hard. The Humvee skidded to a stop. He threw the transmission into reverse and mashed the accelerator to the floor.
“God damn! You drive like shit!” I pushed myself away from the dashboard and back into my seat.
“That bridge over the highway back there was clear. I think we can get across.”
The infected were swarming up behind us. “Hurry!”
The brakes locked. Tires skidded again. More infected pounced on the Humvee.
“Shit!”
“Zed, don’t worry, man. They can’t get inside.” Murphy turned the Humvee and maneuvered between the cars on the road leading to the bridge.
The infected above us beat loudly on the roof.
Murphy looked over at me, then laughed. “Heh, heh, heh.” He slammed the brakes hard, and a body rolled off the roof and down over the hood, just as he pushed the accelerator again. The Humvee bounced over the body. We crossed over the bridge.
“I’ll get the others off on the next turn. Heh, heh, heh.”
Chapter 6
The further we rolled into east Austin, the thicker the smoke got and the fewer infected we saw. Those that we did see were headed away. Our hitchhikers chose to join them. They were all brain-fried monsters, but they still knew enough to fear the fires that were burning their way across the eastern half of the city.
My phone buzzed and I gave it a look to see who was calling. It was a text message from Amber. I smiled.
Murphy said, “Man, you’re worse than a teenager.”
“It’s Amber.”
“She was the cute one, right?”
I shrugged.
“How many women is that?” Murphy teased. “Player Zed.”
I ignored him.
Amber: Are you there, Zed?
Me: Yup. What’s up?
Amber: Are you at Murphy’s mom’s house?
Me: No. We got hung up.
Amber: Anything bad?
“Murphy, Amber just asked me if anything bad happened.”
“What’d you say?”
“Nothing yet.”
“No point in sugarcoating it. I have a feeling we all need to get used to bad news.”
Me: Jerome got shot.
Amber: Oh no. Bad?
Me: He’s dead.
No response.
Me: How are things there? You guys sitting tight? Any news?
Amber: Tense : (
Me: What happened?
Amber: One of the guys, Darren, I think, is infected.
Me: What happened?
Amber: He was lethargic for a while after you left. Nobody thought much of it but then he started acting weird. Now we think he’s infected.
Me: Did you take his temperature?
Amber: We don’t have a thermometer. They locked him in one of the dorm rooms. After they locked him in he screamed crazy gibberish for a while. He’s quiet now. Mark is sure he’s infected. But he has a gift for certainty.
Me: Those kind of people worry me.
Amber: Me too.
Me: Maybe Darren couldn’t take it all and just went nuts. Maybe all he needs is a Valium.
Amber: Mark wants to shoot him but nobody wants to open the door and go in. Wilkins is against that but again, nobody except Wilkins wants to open the door to find out for sure. Every time Wilkins brings it up, Mark goes ballistic.
Me: Not good.
Amber: I think Mark is really insecure. I don’t think he’s handling all of this very well. I think he and Wilkins are going to have it out at some point.
Me: Why do you say that?
Amber: It’s like every time they talk, Mark seems less respectful, more assertive. He doesn’t want to be a team player. He wants to be in charge.
Me: What did he say, exactly?
Amber: Mostly it’s subtle stuff. Maybe I’m wrong. I’m just worried.
Me: I don’t know what to say.
Amber: You don’t have to say anything. I’m just telling you because I need somebody to talk to.
Me: What about Marcy and Felicity?
Amber: Felicity has been sleeping on the couch in the lounge most of the afternoon.
Me: She’s not infected, is she?
Amber: No, she’s just tired. Marcy is following Mark around like she’s a puppy. I’m embarrassed for her.
Me: Sounds like junior high for grown-ups. I’m almost glad we got evicted.
Amber: Except for Jerome, I guess.
Me. Yeah.
Amber: Yeah.
Me: Well, like I said before. Wilkins is a good guy. He’ll keep it all under control.
Amber: I hope.
Me: Can you do me a favor if you’re not doing anything else?
Amber: You saved my life. You know I will.
Me: You know that stuff I talked about? That stuff about downloading whatever we could about farming, and solar power, you know, anything about how things work, or how to treat people when they’re sick. Anything about survival.
Amber: Yeah.
Me: Could you download as much as you can from the internet, please?
Amber: Sure. I’ve got a 64 gig flash drive. I can save it there. How will I get it to you?
Me: We’ll work something out. I’ll talk to you later on, okay?
Amber: Okay. Bye.
Murphy said, “Man, don’t look so down. What’s going on over there?”
I told Murphy about the conversation.
Chapter 7
The smoke thickened and reduced visibility down to several car lengths. The air got hard to breathe. Nothing was moving anywhere.
“The fire must be close,” I said.
“Yeah,” Murphy agreed.
“Do you know where we are?”
“More or less.”
“Well, it seems like we’re headed right for the fire.”
Murphy shrugged. “I’m just looking for a wide street to head north again.”
“Okay, because I don’t think I want to get roasted or suffocated.”
“I hear you, man.”
A few minutes later, Murphy made a slow left turn onto a wide, car-strewn boulevard.
“Murphy, what are we going to do after we find your mom’s house?”
“Well, I’m not going to be your superhero sidekick if that’s what you’re going to ask me, Null Spot. Heh, heh, heh.”
“Whatever.”
“So, Zed, tell me about this peaches and cream world that you grew up in that made you wanna go and help everybody. It’s like you’re a Boy Scout trying to earn that merit badge you missed out on when you were fifteen.” Murphy laughed again. He always found himself funny.
“Not even close. I was never a Boy Scout. We spent all of our time at church.”
“You didn’t ride a bicycle around to people’s houses did you? Heh, heh, heh.”
I shook my head. “Definitely not. I never really bought into any of it.”
“I’ll bet your parents didn’t dig that. Did they know?”
“Oh, yeah. I told them.”
“What’d they do about that?”
“My stepdad thought he could beat the Jesus into me.”
“How’d that turn out?”
“Just like you’d expect.”
“I heard that, man. So, no brothers? No sisters?”
“Nope, just me. My real dad has family around town. I never met any of them. My mom hated them all.”
“Your folks sound like real nice people.”
I shrugged.
Murphy said, “So you’re more of a Batman superhero, then.”
“What?”
“You know. Childhood trauma makes you want to go out and do good in the world.”
I ignored Murphy and looked out the window into a dim gray bubble a few hundred feet wide. Nothing moved. Nothing attacked. Abandoned cars littered the road. Human remains lay here and there. Doors on houses hung open. Windows were smashed. Human clutter littered the streets, lawns, and parking lots.
Everything had changed so fast.
I wondered if each of those houses had their dead owners inside. I wondered if the occupants became infected and went rampaging into West Austin to kill and kill and kill. I wondered how many children’s bodies were lying under their beds or in their closets.
Those kids never knew that evil found you wherever you hid. Running and fighting were your only real choices.
I was getting depressed.
That was an emotional indulgence I couldn’t afford.
The Ogre and the Harpy.
Breathe.
Move ahead.
Suck it up and don’t be a pussy!
We passed through a flashing red light at a large intersection.
“I know where we are now,” I said.
“Yeah. If we’re lucky, it’ll be smoky when we get to my mom’s house and we won’t have a swarm of the infected on us.”
“If they’re not there, then what?”
“My mom and sister?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know,” Murphy answered.
“Do you have other family around?”
“Oh, yeah, man. Aunts, uncles, cousins. Most live close by. My mom is pretty tight with my uncle. He lives a few blocks over. She could be at his house. Who knows?”
“I assume you tried calling him.”
“Yeah, Zed. I tried calling everybody.” He sounded irritated by my query. Murphy’s face sagged. He looked much older without his smile.
“Your family means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” I asked. It was obviously true. But I thought Murphy might need some urging to talk about it.
“Yeah.”
“With all the smoke chasing the infected away, we can probably check all of your relatives’ houses, Murphy.”
With no enthusiasm, Murphy said, “Null Spot rides again.”
I ignored the comment. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and find somebody.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Chapter 8
What little I could see of Murphy’s neighborhood through the smoke didn’t bode well. There were bodies of the infected scattered everywhere. Car windows were smashed. The small old houses had belched their contents and dead occupants out onto the lawns.
Under the boughs of the grand old oaks that had shaded the streets for decades, Murphy’s neighbors had fought the infected, and the guns they used to defend themselves drew more infected in. It was a difficult first
lesson to survive. Dried blood, torn clothes, and gnawed bones marked the places where men, women, and their kids had learned that lesson too late.
In spite of the body count, I saw no firearms among the dead. Someone had lived through the battle. The area had been scavenged. That was a hopeful sign.
Murphy stopped the Humvee by the curb in front of a house that looked like all the rest. Through the thickening smoke, I could barely see the front door.
Murphy turned to me with his mouth in a resolute crease. “Zed, you can stay here if you want. You don’t have to come in.”
“We’re in this together, Murphy.”
Without another word, Murphy opened his door and climbed out. I did the same.
When I came around the back of the vehicle, Murphy was halfway to the front door.
I hurried my pace.
The front door was ajar. Murphy cautiously pushed it open as I came up to watch his back.
I checked our flanks, a lesson I learned from watching the soldiers die on the quad by the dorm. They didn’t understand their adversary. They got sloppy and they paid for their mistakes in the only currency this altered world seemed content to accept. Blood.
Murphy stepped into the house. He was tense. He was tentative.
He feared what he might find.
His breathing was ragged, but we hadn’t exerted ourselves. His smile, a dam that held a back a river of emotions, crumbled in the flood.
I paused halfway in and listened. There was a noise coming from somewhere inside. I didn’t know where, but I guessed what.
Murphy crossed the living room and leaned into the kitchen as I closed the door behind me.
The furnishings were thirty years out of fashion and worn. The carpet was its own kind of ugly.
A wall covered with framed photos chronicled the lives of Murphy and his sister. Murphy was a Boy Scout. Murphy played football. A younger, thinner Murphy stood proud and stern in an Army uniform.
Murphy’s sister, sitting on a pony at a young age. Pirouetting as a third grader at a dance recital. The camera caught her, clad in a cheerleader’s uniform, high in the air in a gymnastic bounce. She wore a cap and gown with a big grin in two separate photos from two different graduations.
Murphy’s mom was in some of the pictures, arms around the kids, always smiling. No picture of any father, anywhere.
The Last Days: Six Post-Apocalyptic Thrillers Page 61