by M. D. Massey
The dashboard clock flashed two p.m. It was getting colder. Storm clouds swirled ominously above. The rain would start any minute. Her arms and shoulders ached from the tension of maneuvering around the quagmire of vehicles the last few hours. One thing was for certain, Sam and Sonia hadn’t taken this route. The SUV was too big.
I’ll take a break after I get out of this mess, she promised her aching and starving body. She let out a long sigh of relief, thankful she hadn’t seen many creepers. She spotted one occasionally; however, it was just as difficult for it to find a clear path to her as it was for her to drive through the maze of cars. Her stomach turned acidic. A pile of human bones blocked her path. And even though that particular sight was becoming more and more common, it still made her break out in a cold-and-hot sweat. Scarlett thrust the car into reverse.
She maneuvered around a mega pile-up. All the windows were shattered: bashed in. She had no choice but to drive over a sea of glass shards. She tensed and found herself holding her breath at the crunching sounds. How long would the tires last? Did she even have a spare tire? Well, it didn’t matter; she’d most likely need four new tires before the day was over.
What had it been like for these desperate people seeking refuge at the shelters only to become stranded in gridlock? She recalled her first confrontation with the creepers unable to forget the unbelievable horror that people could turn into such monsters. How had she managed to survive the devolution of mankind? The heebie-jeebies took hold. It took all her effort to shake off the unnerving feeling engulfing her. Walkers, that’s what Sam had called them as he had so sarcastically stated. A wave of anger replaced her fear. It was a pleasant respite. How could they take everything—except for one flippin’ box of granola bars?
“Phew!” she wiped the cold sweat from her forehead, relieved she made it out of the colossal traffic jam. She was somewhere between Dixon and Vacaville, based on the last road sign. She eyed the vacant land next to the highway, ready to stop. Her hands, head, and just about every part of her tense body needed a break. A magnificent oak tree loomed over the vacant-flat land. Cautiously, she drove a few yards off the paved highway to get to its seemingly beckoning call. The area beyond the oak was surrounded by barren fields, providing a panoramic view of the area. She decided to park under the lonesome oak, which hadn’t given in to autumn just yet. Away from the congested lanes, she’d spot trouble long before it spotted her.
Scarlett kept a vigil eye on the perimeter while she groped through the go-bag. “Ah!” She found the box of granola bars and her one and only bottle of water. Her whole body ached like one big charley horse. She stepped out of the car and stretched, shaking out her arms and legs to relieve the tension, gradually relaxing. Then she gobbled down two granola bars but sipped at the water.
Leaning against the side of the car, she took in a deep breath of the chilly, invigorating air and contemplated her next move. The fuel gauge warned of one-eighth of a tank of gas. She should have enough fuel to make it to the next town of Vacaville. After that, she’d have to search for another car since she didn’t have the slightest idea how to siphon gas. Must have hung out with the wrong crowd, she chided herself.
Ominous storm clouds roiled overhead. She worried about finding a safe place for the night. I’ll just have to figure that out when I get to Vacaville. An artic-like wind blustered from out of nowhere, startling her as well as the huge oak. Its branches and brownish leaves quivered in response. As if all at once, the heavily laden clouds gave way, and a barrage of rain droplets ricocheted off the asphalt like transparent machine gun bullets relentlessly attacking the earth.
“Ah, today of all days it rains! Of course, it’s Halloween. It always rains by Halloween . . .”
When the rain finally decided to let loose, it poured with a vengeance. The oak served as a huge leafy umbrella, protecting her from the torrents of rain lashing the thirsty earth. Its fading leaves buffered the impact of the raging rain, creating an illusion of invisibility and safety. She sat in the car for hours, waiting for the rain to cease, eventually falling asleep to the comforting sounds.
She woke up to soft thuds thumping the car. And darkness. She was a bit disoriented and then realized the windows were fogged over. She checked the dashboard clock, relieved it wasn’t night. Six p.m. She needed to leave. But, her impatient bladder demanded attention. Silently stepping out of the Mini Cooper, she was surprised to find it shrouded in mushy oak leaves along with thousands of leaves blanketing the ground. The oak had been stripped of its seasonal bounty in a matter of hours.
After relieving her bladder, she casually yawned. What? How bizarre. She rubbed her tired eyes and refocused. Beyond the fallen leaves, the ground appeared to quiver as a mystical mist steamed from the rain-soaked earth. But as she walked further, the quivering ground beyond turned into a ghastly sea of gurgling ghouls. An optical illusion or a nightmare? Without warning, her gut wrenched, her spine tingled, her heart froze, and her goosebumps prickled like needles—like they were about to burst. And that putrid smell . . . That’s when she knew this was not a dream.
There, a few feet away, covered in a layer of soggy leaves, were dozens of creepers, wriggling in the mud like a spine-chilling Thomas Kinkade painting of Hell. Apparently, the creepers had reverted to their dawn sleep-like state during the rainstorm. But, they were waking up. Groggy creepers sloshed in the mud, trying to find their balance.
Scarlett ran to the car, pausing only long enough to brush the leaves off the windshield. The Mini Cooper did not let her down; the engine started right up. She slammed on the gas. The tires spun about on the slippery leaves, and she slid more than drove toward the interstate.
Scarlett couldn’t control the car. It veered to the left. “Oh, shit!” She rammed right into a pack. The popping sounds made her woozy. She squinted through lowered eyelashes only long enough to force the car toward the freeway. Once she finally reached the asphalt, she couldn’t control the car any better. From what she could tell, the car had two, maybe three flat tires. The lopsided car veered to the left relentlessly, taking all her strength to keep the car on the pavement.
Better than walking. How long could she drive with three flat tires? The grinding-screech of the rims edging into the pavement tore at her eardrums. The pack flailed after her while the stragglers she passed ogled her through the windows. To make matters worse, the swirling clouds threatened to unleash another torrent of rain—ready or not.
Scarlett frantically scouted the area for an exit off ramp. The clouds let go again, sandblasting the car. The car faltered and drifted toward the left. She lost control. She stared in bewilderment when the left front tire, wheel and all, rolled ahead of her. The car skidded into the meridian’s metal railing, inadvertently running down the three creepers who’d been keeping the pace beside her. “Great, three down only a gazillion left,” she ranted hysterically as panic pumped through her veins.
Upon crashing into the railing, an avalanche of drenched leaves slid from the roof to the windshield like snow melting on a warming roof. “What!” She could not see a thing. Her heart seized. She patted her chest until the beat returned to normal. Now what? In a matter of moments, she’d be surrounded by the over-eager pack. She stepped out into the unforgiving rain irrationally thinking the rain would cause them to revert back to their sleep-state. Fat chance, they gleefully danced the herky-jerk toward her. Scarlett stood in utter horror as the pack convulsed and twitched and groaned. She got this horrid vision they wanted to devour her bite by bite. She sensed it—as if she saw into their minds and felt their pangs of starvation. An uncontrollable shudder swept over her.
Scarlett jumped the meridian railing, knowing it would buy her a precious minute. She ran westbound on the eastbound side of the interstate with the rain and wind whipping her hair against her face, stinging her eyes, and chilling her to the bone. She needed a place to hide. There were plenty of vehicles to take refuge in, but they were jammed amongst the other vehicles. No, she’
d be trapped.
A dark shape in the meridian caught her eye. A vehicle that wasn’t blocked by other vehicles! She focused on it, determined not to freeze-up out of sheer fear. As she got closer, she was relieved to see it was an SUV with its doors open. Inviting.
She tried sprinting faster. The wind and rain pushed back at her, causing the sensation of running in slow motion. Oh please, oh please let the keys be inside! She gained a safe distance from the huge pack, realizing she was much faster than the Mini Cooper.
“Yes!” She slid behind the wheel of the SUV, immediately feeling a respite from the harsh, hateful rain. Once in the SUV, she was ever so grateful to find the keys in the ignition.
It didn’t start. “Damn, Damn, Damn!” Of course, you dimwit, the doors are open. The interior lights had probably been on for weeks. She tried turning the key again just because she didn’t know what else to do. The battery was dead as a doornail. I’ll just have to outrun them.
Scarlett ran alongside the outer edge of the highway, no longer fighting the rain and the wind. It was a battle for survival. A highway overpass toward the west sporadically materialized and vanished in the unrelenting surges of rain. If I can make it to the overpass . . . Jeez, if I make it that far, I’ll lose them all. She hoped. Well, it was a plan. A bit uneasy about her decision, she glanced back again at the approaching shadowy parade of corpses. She ran. She ran like hell and did not stop.
13
“Justin?” Dean called from the lobby surprised to find the room quiet and empty for once. He could always count on finding Justin and Ella giggling and exchanging quick, shy glances at one another. That is when they weren’t clicking about with those black plastic gizmos (game controllers) like they were hypnotized by the over-sized television screen.
Truth be known, Dean hadn’t meant to approve their foolhardy request to turn the lobby into an entertainment room, complete with a television, DVD player, Xbox, and PlayStation. But he hadn’t been able to say no to Ella, the way her eyes had lit up when Justin had gone on and on with the pros of having a big-kid’s playroom. Dean felt it was a complete waste of time. And even more problematic, he needed to re-evaluate the rate they went through the fuel. As it was, he had already engaged the third generator. They were going through much more fuel than he had anticipated.
Dean turned down the lobby’s hallway toward the banquet rooms, which they used as storage rooms. “Justin, where in tarnation are you?”
LuLu almost collided with him as he passed the dining room entrance, sliding in front of him in stockinged feet. “Why don’t you try the parking lot?” LuLu said eagerly.
Dean grunted in recognition and continued to the larger storage room. “Just did. He’s probably sneaking another case of those orange-turd chips. The boy’s got an addiction to those things.”
“You mean Cheetos,” LuLu reminded.
“That crap will rot out his insides . . . turn him orange.” Dean wanted to rant longer but figured LuLu didn’t give a hoot what the boy ate. He cracked opened the door to the big supply room, almost hoping to catch Justin in the act. No sign of him.
Dean headed toward the smaller supply room, the room he had originally designated as the weapons room. Only they hadn’t found any extra weapons other than the ones they used personally or kept in their vehicles.
“Uh,” LuLu started, “try the kitchen,” she offered too quickly, raising suspicion.
Dean opened the door. “What in tarnation!” Dean bellowed. A chaotic mess of tables filled the room. And displayed on the tables was a mix-match of cell phones, of all things. The room had been completely transformed into what reminded him of one of those computer stores in the mall. Dean caught a movement from behind the myriad of phones. “Justin, might as well come out. You can’t hide in here forever.”
Justin scrambled out from under the table. Had the kid finally cracked? Could it be Mad Cow Disease, or was it all those Cheetos?
“Fess up, son. What in blazes is going on here?” For once, the Chatty-Cathy kid was speechless. Dean felt his own jaw pulsating, waiting for Justin’s explanation.
Justin just stood there.
“Out with it—”
“Ye-ah, trust me, I’ve got a really, really, super-good reason for this—” Justin faltered.
“Are all of these phones plugged in? When I say plugged in—I mean, are they using our fast depleting supply of precious fuel?” Dean felt his face getting hotter and hotter.
“Y-yes and n-no,” Justin stammered.
“Dad-blast-it! No wonder we’re going through so much fuel. Son, you’ve got five minutes to get rid of this heap of junk, or I’m gonna toss ’em to the zombies, including you.”
“No! You Listen—” Justin shouted and then winced.
“Son, I’m warning you—”
“Hear him out,” LuLu interrupted.
“Okay, I get—that you don’t get it,” Justin said emphatically. “See all these phones? Nine hundred and ninety-eight phones to be exact.” Justin looked about proudly. “So, I’m in the process of charging them, if I have the compatible charger.”
“Because?” Dean interrupted. He had about lost his patience with the kid. First the entertainment room and now this. Kids these days . . .
“Okay, so let’s say each phone at the very minimum, has twenty to thirty contact phone numbers stored, and I—we have like a thousand freakin’ phones here. Think about it. Think about how many people we can call,” the words rushed out of Justin’s mouth so fast Dean hardly registered what the kid had said.
Looks like the kid’s losing it. He felt bad about riding the kid’s ass. Hell, maybe he’d been too hard on Justin.
“Don’t you think there are other survivors out there?” Justin asked.
“Of course.” He’d heard enough of Justin’s bullcrap.
“Okay, so, someone else is bound to have a cell phone—a charged cell phone, driving around looking for people, people like us. So, I have this uber-cool idea to call each number and leave a brief message to call me back on my personal cell phone,” Justin said, holding up a purple phone. “Eventually, I’m certain to get through to someone—somewhere.” Justin let out a gush of air as if he’d been afraid to breathe and had finally given in.
“Your cell phone still works?” Dean asked befuddled.
“Dude, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“How in tarnation?”
“I don’t know. I guess if no one actually shut down the satellites, some of the cellular providers could still work—’cause some of the phones here actually work,” Justin said defiantly.
“That’s what this mess is all about?” It was more of a statement than a question. Dean shook his head. “That’s so zany—it’s absolutely brilliant! And did it work?” Dean asked expectantly.
“Uh, not exactly—having some technical difficulties. I’m creating a super-cool phone program—” Justin pointed to a table of laptop computers. “After I input the phone numbers, then the computer program I’m building will call the phones and leave my prerecorded message.”
“You can do that?” Dean said amazed.
“Theoretically—yes, but . . .”
Dean did not like the sound of that “but.”
“Actually, I’m having compatibility issues. It might take a while. Who knows when the cell towers and satellites will stop transmitting. We can lose the window of opportunity any second,” Justin said drearily.
“What’s wrong with calling each number the old-fashioned way?” Dean exaggerated, dialing an imaginary phone in the air. “Put a little elbow grease into it, son,” Dean encouraged, surprised at himself for going along with such a harebrained scheme.
“Seriously, dude, you know how freakin’ long that’ll take?” Justin sounded despondent.
“I’ll be glad to chip-in after my daily housekeeping duties,” LuLu chimed in.
“All righty then, chop chop,” Dean announced, clapping his hands together. He started to leave,
pausing in the doorway, “One more thing, son. Why in tarnation didn’t you tell me about this sooner?” Dean asked innocently enough, his feelings sore from being kept out of the loop.
Both LuLu and Justin exchanged sarcastic glances. “Ye-ah, right, like that would have worked,” Justin quipped.
“Absolutely amazeballs!” Dean mocked. Amazeballs was Justin’s favorite new word, which Dean had recently banned, in jest, of course.
After Dean left the room, he paused outside the doorway, rubbing his chin in wonderment long enough to overhear Justin say, “Dean’s hella cool for an old guy.”
Dean smiled.
14
Dean yawned and stretched in the comfortable recliner recently liberated from the furniture store down the street. He sat in his suite remembering the day he had first chosen the Sweet Suites hotel for their temporary home, back when it was just the three of them: LuLu, Ella, and himself. Despite the end of the world and all, things had been much simpler then: basic survival. Things had become more complicated. Not only was he the one responsible for maintaining the hotel; he also carried the heavy burden of keeping them safe and alive. Dean found it difficult to sustain a balance of safety, which satisfied their basic needs as well as their idiosyncrasies.
The problem was, even though they had acquired plenty of food, shelter, and companionship, human nature always seemed to get in the way. Even during these dangerous times, he recognized that greedy desire of always wanting “more.” Wanting more was most likely the colossal human flaw that had brought on this god-forsaken plague in the first place, bringing mankind to its knees in the most dreadful way imaginable.
Dean hunched over to pull on his snakeskin boots, thinking back. Believe it or not, things had been easier in the beginning, despite the madness. Or was he just sick and tired of dealing with this whole damn mess? “I’m too old for all this,” the words slipped out. I’m just an old curmudgeon. Hell, the sooner I get back to my cabin the better.