Jennifer, reaching over and touching Trent on his shoulder said, “Baby, I don’t think you should try to go in there.”
“Holy crap, look over there.” He was pointing over to his left at a group of men and women who were standing in a circle in the same parking lot they were in. Situated around them on the pavement were back packs and camping gear…and rifles. It looked like they were having some sort of discussion or meeting, and one of them pointed at the scene unfolding at the convenience store.
Trent then heard shouting coming from the store and he looked over to see what was causing the commotion. Two men were engaged in a heated exchange about one of them attempting to cut in line to get into the store.
“I don’t give a fuck what you say, I was already in line,” said a brawny man who was wearing a dark muscle shirt and loose saggy pants; a fashion that was popular with the younger generation. Lean and cut, Trent could see the muscles and sinews in his jaws flexing and tightening. He was raising his hands in protest to express his displeasure.
“Bullshit!” said a middle-aged man with thinning hair. “Your buddy can’t hold a place for you in line. Once you leave, you just can’t cut back in. This ain’t grade school, dick head!”
“Dude, you don’t know who I am. Don’t fucking call me a dick head!”
“You are a dick head, and trying to cut in line in front of everyone else who’s been waiting is a dick move. What, you think you’re special or something?”
“Yeah, guy, you can’t be cutting in line like that,” came another voice from somewhere back in the line.
“Yeah, you need to go to the back of the line,” the middle-aged man said.
“Look, bro, we don’t want no trouble,” said the friend of saggy pants. “My friend left his wallet back in the car and he went back for it, so I held his place in line.”
“And so he should go to the back of the line.”
“Are you going to make me, old man?” saggy pants asked. He bowed up his chest and he began to clench his fists.
“I’ll show you what this ‘old’ man can do to a cocky little fuck like you!” roared the middle-aged man. Although he was in his early fifties, he was stocky and solid, not as physically fit as his younger adversary, but in shape enough to make him a worthy foe. With one mighty swing, he smashed saggy pants in his jaw with a solid punch. Reacting to the assault, the friend of saggy pants pounced on the back of balding man, and a brawl ensued.
“Oh no, they’re fighting,” Jennifer said. She looked over to Trent and tugged at his arm. “Maybe we should get out of here? Someone over there might have a gun, like those people over there do.” She pointed to the armed group in the lot.
Trent, caught up in the brawl, said, “Hang on, let me see what happens.”
“Are you kidding?” Jennifer yelled. “We have our child with us. What if someone starts shooting?” Her outburst frightened Diego and he began to wail and cry.
Trent looked over at his upset wife. “I’m sorry, you’re right. That was dumb of me. Let’s get out of here. We can make our way towards—”
Gunfire erupted and a panicked scream came from the crowd in front of the store. Some of the people began to run to their vehicles while others rushed through the doors of the business. As the scene fell into pandemonium, several people exited the store; many of them carrying armfuls of merchandise. Within a matter of seconds, the remaining mob rushed the store, shattering the glass windows and entrance.
“Shit, they’re looting the store!” Trent said as he floored the SUV. He sped through the lot and made his way towards Sontera. He glanced over and saw the armed survivalists hurriedly clambering into their cars and trucks.
“Get us out of here!” Jennifer screamed.
“Hang on, babe!” Trent yelled as he flew onto the street. Applying too much gas, he began to fishtail and he had to fight to keep the vehicle from spinning out. He slammed on the brakes and instinctively turned the steering wheel into the direction of the skid, but the energy from the sudden maneuver was too great, throwing the SUV into a roll.
Jennifer shrieked as she reached for Trent. He was able to look back at his son for a brief moment before he felt himself lifting off of his seat. He hadn’t re-buckled his safety belt and he was being thrown through his open window. In panicked desperation, he reached for his wife’s hand, and for a split second he was able to touch the tips of her fingers. In the next instant he was being flung from the rolling vehicle. He caught a glimpse of the bright sun as his world spun and twisted out of control. He knew he was flipping like a rag doll and he could see the approaching grass and sidewalk as he fell earthward. With a violent and painful thud, he landed on a small strip of green grass. The air rushed out of his lungs as he was plunged into darkness.
Chapter 7
San Antonio, Texas
“Hey mister, are you okay?” Trent could hear someone talking to him, but he couldn’t open his eyes. He could also hear his own heartbeat as it thumped up the back of his head and into his ears. Wake up, wake up, he thought.
“I don’t know if he is,” said another voice from the darkness. “He isn’t responding, but I see that he’s breathing.”
Jennifer…Diego. Where are they?
“Hey, wait a minute, I think he’s coming around. When is the damn Fire Department gonna get here!? The car’s still burning!”
Trent rolled to one side and began to cough. He opened his eyes slowly…painfully. The brightness of the sun only exacerbated the pain that was pounding in his head. His vision was blurry, but as he was able to focus, the sight of his vehicle came into view. It was upside down…and it was on fire.
“Jennifer! Diego!” Trent struggled to get to his feet but could only drag himself to his knees. He felt someone grabbing onto his arm.
“Here buddy, let me help you up.”
Trent turned to look at the helping hand. An older black man with a weathered face and a small mustache looked down at him. He wore an expression of sympathy. A scrawny white kid with bad teeth was standing next to him. The youngster fidgeted around nervously as he glanced down at Trent and then back out at the car.
“My wife and my son!” Trent cried out. He began to crawl towards the burning car, dragging himself onto the hot sidewalk. “My family!”
The helping man kneeled down next to Trent and said, “I’m sorry, mister, but no one else came out of the car. If anyone else was in there…well….they’re gone.”
“No!” Trent wailed in horror. With all of the strength he could muster, he forced himself to his feet and stumbled his way towards the funeral pyre. As he neared the flaming heap of what had once been his vehicle, the searing heat forced him to retreat. He circled. His thoughts were still groggy and he thought that if he approached for a different angle, he could bypass the scalding air and get to his family.
“I’m telling you mister, they’re gone,” the man said. “Believe me, there’s nothing you can do. We thought you were gone too.”
“Hey man, let’s get out of here…this dude don’t want to listen,” the scrawny kid said.
Trent raised his hands up to the sky and let out a desperate cry. “Why God… Why!”
“Yo, y’all better get the fuck outta there,” another man said as he went rushing past Trent and the helping stranger. He was carrying a shopping bag full of plastic soda bottles. “There are some of them things just down the street from here!”
“Come on, buddy, we don’t have time to stand around,” the stranger said.
Trent, still stunned and bewildered—along with the pounding in his head and his sore ribs—looked at the man with a confused look on his face. “What?”
“Look, what’s your name?”
“Fuck it man, we ain’t got time to waste here!” the scrawny kid yelled to the black man. “I’m outta here!” He took off sprinting in the direction that the man with the sodas had run in.
“It’s Trent. My name is Trent Walls.” He shook his head from side to side as he tri
ed to clear his thoughts, but that was a mistake, as it only made him hurt even more. “What’s wrong with him?” Trent asked as he pointed towards the fleeing kid. He then noticed several other people running by. They all seemed to be fleeing in the opposite direction of the looted convenience store.
“I’m Randy…Randy Jarvish. I’m not sure if you know what’s going on right now, but we can’t stay out here. Something bad is happening and we gotta get to some kind of shelter.” Randy began to tug at Trent’s arm as he tried to get him to start moving.
Trent attempted to clear his head, forcing himself to stop looking at the burning wreck. Tears began to well up in his eyes and he looked down at the ground, clenching his fists tightly. He began to sob uncontrollably and he wrapped his arms around himself. Just then—in the direction of the looted store—he heard loud shrieks and screams. A large group of people were making their way towards Randy and the distraught Trent, and some of them were pointing back at another group of individuals who seemed to be pursuing them.
“They’re here!” screamed one woman as she ran by the two.
“Shit man, we gotta go!” Randy yelled. He grabbed the distraught man by the arm and began to pull him along the sidewalk.
Trent, still fixated on the scene at the store, noticed that one of the pursuing people had just tackled another person and was now pounding his victim’s head onto the pavement. In that instant, Trent knew what was going on. He gave one last glimpse at what was left of his family and began to run with Randy.
“Where are we going?” Trent asked Randy as they joined in with the other people who were fleeing down the middle of the street.
“Down Sontera…towards the Two Eighty-One!”
“Why that direction?”
“Because it’s in the opposite direction of those infected people back there.” Focused on Randy, Trent didn’t see the car that was coming up behind him. “Watch out, get out of the way!” Randy yelled as he pulled Trent from out of the path of a speeding Volvo that was weaving its way down the street.
“Man, we need a car!” he shouted back to Randy as they continued to run. He could already feel his lungs aching as he tried to control his breathing. The pounding of his feet on the pavement reverberated in his head and the oppressive heat of the day was sapping his strength. He looked at a group of large office buildings they were jogging past. “Why don’t we go into one of those buildings?”
“It’s too dangerous because we don’t know what’s inside of them…or who’s inside of them,” Randy said in a labored tone. Being in his early fifties, his body wasn’t in the best of shape to be running the marathon they were caught up in.
As the group—roughly numbering 20 or 30—made their way east, they began to run into a traffic jam. The street was choked with vehicles. Several fender-benders were blocking and cluttering the main eastbound lanes of Sontera and a few desperate souls were starting to drive their vehicles in the opposite lanes. The sound of car horns blaring was almost deafening and angry shouts from agitated motorists could be heard in the mix of the auditory confusion.
After running for several more minutes, the fleeing group finally reached an entrance/exit ramp that looped down to the access road of Highway 281. It was completely backed up with a mass of vehicles. Although Randy and Trent couldn’t see it, something was preventing the cars from merging onto the access road.
After slowing down to survey what was in front of them, the two began to make their way past the stopped vehicles. Many of the occupants remained sitting in their cars—afraid to leave their valuables, food and supplies behind, while other drivers continuously honked their car horns. Some people simply milled around outside of their stopped vehicles, nervously speaking to each other about the growing outbreak. A few people were leaning against the brick-covered embankment that formed a small wall on the north end of the ramp.
“What are y’all running from?” asked a young woman who was standing next to a small green compact car crammed with luggage and camping gear.
Trent looked back at her as he continued to jog. “Those things are just down the road and they’re headed this way!”
“What!” she screamed.
Trent didn’t bother to say anything else. He picked up his pace and started to run again. He didn’t know where he was running to or what he was hoping to accomplish, but the atmosphere around him told him that he needed to keep moving. Somewhere behind him was something awful, and he wanted to make sure that he kept in front of it.
Trent and Randy began to make their way down the ramp when they saw the cause of the traffic jam. At the intersection of the ramp and the access road, an 18 wheeler was on its side; its cargo of steel pipes and oil field machinery scattered across the full width of the roadway. A small blue car sat in two pieces and human body parts were strewn about the wreck site. Beyond that, an inferno raged as a four car pile-up blocked all northbound traffic on the actual highway itself. A traffic jam extended back as far as the two could see, and the highway was clogged with hundreds of stationary vehicles. Several people were valiantly trying to put out the flames with small fire extinguishers. Strangely, the southbound lanes leading back into town were almost completely empty except for an occasional vehicle that would speed by every now and then.
As Randy and Trent took at the chaotic scene, the sound of screeching tires and crunching metal caught their attention. An old green van that had been travelling northbound in the southbound lanes of Highway 281—apparently attempting to avoid the backup on the northbound side—had collided head-on with a large white SUV. Several of the occupants from the van were thrown sky high from the flipping vehicle, and two of them landed on the access road with a sharp, snapping crack.
“What the fuck is going on here?” Trent yelled as he looked down at the mangled bodies of the ejected passengers. The world was falling into madness, and it was happening so fast—so brutal—that he couldn’t comprehend what was taking place around him. His mind was spinning.
The sounds of sirens could be heard in the distance and Randy and Trent saw two police cars trying to make their way north along the south access road. As the patrol units pulled up to the crash site, the black and whites were quickly surrounded by the terrified motorists. The two officers cautiously exited their cruisers, not knowing what to expect.
“Man, those things are back up the road a bit,” Randy said to one of the officers. He was trying to catch his breath from their run. “I think they’re headed this way, but I’m not sure how far back they are.”
“What things?” the officer asked.
“Those things that they talked about on the radio and T.V.,” Randy said. “No bullshit, they’re back up there, and they’re fucking up some people too. Attacking them.”
“You mean infected people?” The officer nervously looked up at the entrance ramp.
“Hell yes…and we’re all sitting ducks here.”
“Did you hear that, John?” the patrolman asked the other officer who was standing next to the second patrol car.
“Yeah Dave, I heard, but we haven’t had any reports of any outbreaks up here,” John said in a dismissive tone. The portly officer—with his silver hair and thick mustache—squinted as he too looked up at the ascending traffic jam that snaked its way back up onto Sontera. Turning to the two sprawled bodies, he said, “Just make sure everyone stays away from these people, you know…in case they…come back.”
“Come back?” Randy asked in disbelief. “Is it true then? Are they coming back from the dead?”
“I haven’t seen it myself, but there are reports coming in from all over the city about people coming back from the dead,” John said as he eyed the corpses warily. “Like I said, I haven’t seen it though.”
“Then it’s true!” Trent exclaimed. “It’s really true!” He turned to Randy and with pleading eyes, he asked, “But what about my family, did they—”
“No, they didn’t,” Randy said as he stopped Trent from saying anything else
. “I don’t think the fire let them come back.”
“Well, for those that do come back, the government says that you have to destroy the brain…like shoot them in the head or smash in their skulls,” John said. “Now the ones who are still alive but infected…the fast moving ones, you can kill them, but then they come back too. But like I said, I haven’t seen any of this yet…you know…like up close and personal. Now I did hear that some of the guys out on West and on South actually ran into some trouble.” Looking at his partner in disbelief, John shook his head and looked at the burning and mangled wreckage on the highway. “Dude, to be honest, I’m just having a hard time believing that this shit is actually happening.”
“There are dead people all around us right now with these accidents,” Trent said to Randy. “Maybe we should get out of here before something bad happens.”
“Hey Dave, how far does that traffic jam go back?!” John yelled as he walked over to the demolished blue car. “Shit, there’s blood and guts all over this place!” He pointed down to what appeared to be a partial torso with entrails splattered around it.
“Shit, this whole freeway is fucked up!” Dave exclaimed as he switched between looking back up at the entrance ramp and then down to the vehicle accidents. “I wonder if the big rig driver is dead in his cab. Let me go check on him and you let dispatch know that we have multiple fatalities here and that all of Two Eighty-One is fucking blocked!” Dave ran his hand through his hair as he tried to grasp what he was looking at. “Jesus. Oh, and tell them that we have civilians here claiming that there are infected people around.”
“Hey, officer, I don’t know if you just heard what the black guy was trying to tell you, but those infected people are just beyond the ramp…somewhere up there,” said one of the people who had fled from the convenience store. “You better get some more cops over here because they’re attacking people up there. I seen them tear up like three people near Sontera and Stone Oak.”
A Glimpse Of Decay (Book 2): Staring into the Abyss Page 11