by David Bourne
Scott walked over to the VW van. From several yards away, he could see that the windows were fogged from the inside. He looked through a side window, and there was Ray: Lying curled up in a fetal position, and in his right hand he was still holding his third, half empty bottle of Jack Daniels. Scott resisted the urge to wrench the van door open and immediately string up Ray on the gas station sign. Scott instead entered the store through the back door. He cast a quick glance at the others, and everything appeared to be fine. He grabbed a bucket from the storage room and filled it with ice-cold water from the kennel hose he had only used a few hours ago to quench Watson’s thirst. He returned back to the van, where he placed the bucket on a piece of lawn a few yards away from it. The night was nearing its end, as Scott could see the dawn coming up. A good time to rise and shine, he observed.
In a single rapid motion, he slid open the sliding passenger door so that the whole van rocked. Before Ray could begin to grasp what was happening, Scott hauled him out of the van and dragged him toward the lawn.
“What the—what the...?” Ray mumbled drowsily, blinking while he reluctantly came to.
“Shut the fuck up!” Scott growled.
“Ahhh, son of a bitch,” Ray moaned, as he was dragged across the asphalt by his collar. Then Scott tossed him onto the lawn.
“Have you gone completely insane?” Ray yelled indistinctly.
Scott kneeled next to Ray and roughly grabbed his face with his right hand, squeezing his cheeks painfully together.
“I told you to shut the fuck up!” Scott repeated as he gritted his teeth in anger. “You’re going to listen carefully, as I’m only going to say this once: I understand that you miss Cathy. I understand that you miss your family. I understand that you think the whole world is up shit creek without a paddle. And I can imagine that right now, an alcoholic would have few reasons not to completely crawl into a bottle and stay there. But—fucking hell, Ray, one thing I absolutely cannot understand is that you won’t even try to return to being normal human being! To carry on! To look ahead! There’s still hope!”
Scott let go of Ray’s face. Ray stared back at him with blank, glassy eyes, the whites a cloudy pink from all the small red veins covering them. “Fuck you, Scott. You have absolutely no idea, lumberjack.”
Instead of answering him, Scott grabbed Ray by the scruff of the neck and dunked his head into the bucket of ice-cold water. Soon, he pulled him up again.
“I couldn’t understand what you were saying just now,” taunted Scott.
Water dripped from Ray’s head and turned his shirt dark. “It seems that you’re not only a fat-ass lumberjack, but also a deaf one, too,” he groaned.
Scott submerged his head again in the bucket, this time considerably longer. Ray tried to escape his strong grip, but the effort was in vain. Finally, Scott pulled him up again.
“You have to speak louder if the fat-ass lumberjack is hard of hearing,” Scott growled.
Ray choked and gasped for air. “Fucking shit! Scott, stop it!”
“We can go on all day long,” Scott said and pushed Ray under water again. He leaned his head in close to Ray’s submerged face. “Unless you think you’re able to have a more civilized conversation.” Scott silently counted to ten and then yanked Ray’s head out of the water.
“Okay, okay…” Ray gasped. “Let’s talk.” When Scott let go of him, Ray crawled to his knees and spewed a large gush of dark brown liquid. After several heaves, his stomach appeared to calm down. Then he collapsed on his back.
“You damned psycho,” Ray coughed, his breath was ragged.
Scott did not react to his insult, instead calmly stating, “What the hell were you thinking— just sleeping through your watch?”
“I never said I would take over the watch.”
“True. I said that.”
“Since when were you appointed to make the rules?”
“Since you’ve been behaving like a little girl who had her Barbie Playset taken away.”
Suddenly, Ray’s eyes became surprisingly clear. He glared at Scott.
“So that’s what you call it? We lose our homes, our loved ones and are fighting for our lives–and to you it’s comparable to being a spoiled child?”
Scott sat down next to Ray. “I’m not trying to minimize anything. You just said it yourself. WE lost our homes. WE’RE fighting for our lives—together. And I can no longer put up with your current behavior, which lies somewhere between self-pity and self-destruction; especially not when others are endangered because of it. I found five of those bastards prowling around outside the store. If the dog hadn’t done your job and barked like crazy, these beasts would have torn us apart in our sleep–all because of you.”
This statement really struck home for Ray. For several minutes, both of them sat there, silently.
“I knew him,” Ray finally said.
“Eh?” Scott didn’t know what Ray was talking about.
“The jumper zombie. I knew him when he was still alive.”
Scott froze. “What?”
Ray looked straight into his eyes. “He was one of the survivors of the plane crash. His name was Cain. They—that is Cain and three others— left us at Chris’ to strike out on their own for Muntly. There was a fight at the house, and this ape-like guy named Duke Powell formed his own group and started a small revolt. With Chris’ help we kicked them out.”
“And how can you be sure it was Cain?”
Ray took a deep breath. “I could tell from his jacket. He wore exactly the same olive-green parka when I last saw him.”
“Then Phil should have recognized him, too. Why didn’t he mention that?”
Ray hesitated. Then he decided to make a clean sweep of his conscience. “Cain wasn’t wearing a parka when he left Chris’ home by the lake to head out with other survivors. I saw him again after that.”
“Where was that?”
“While you and Chris were looking for a second vehicle in Muntly, I saw him sneaking around in the street, and he was wearing an olive-green Parka then. I followed him—out of curiosity, because of a premonition, or whatever you want to call it.”
“And then...?” Scott asked, listening with rapt attention.
Ray exhaled loudly. “He entered a house, probably looking to loot it. When I got inside, I could immediately hear that he was in trouble. He must have been careless and was attacked by two undead.”
Scott could guess how all this was going to end. He glanced at Ray full of expectation.
“I went into the room. He saw me and yelled for help. He pleaded. He practically begged me.”
Now Scott had to exhale deeply. “Let me guess, you left him to his fate? Now some things are becoming clear to me.”
“I could’ve helped him, I could’ve have prevented all of it. Then Cathy, Howard and Greg would still be alive right now.” Ray’s voice was trembling.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t want believe he deliberately returned to Chris’ house to get his revenge?”
“Then give me another explanation! The other undead appeared to follow him like he was some sort of leader, and he possessed more than rudimentary intelligence, not to mention his physical strength—and he seemed to recognize me! He knew he could hurt me most by taking away Cathy from me.”
Scott pondered all of this. The jumping ability and the strength of this zombie had indeed been extraordinary. He hoped they would never encounter such a specimen again. “Let’s assume you are right. That still doesn’t mean you are responsible for this. Nobody knows what would have happened if you had helped him at that moment.”
“No offense, Scott, but that’s not much of a consolation.”
“I don’t resent your mourning for Cathy, and now I can especially understand why you blame yourself for it. But Ray, I’ll still resent it if you don’t get a grip and start looking ahead. We cannot change the past, but we can change our future—and the people here need you.”
Ray looked at Scott with
a mixture of gratitude, grief and sorrow, but he didn’t say anything. Dawn finally gave way to the rising sun, and a new day had begun.
“I’m going in to check on the others and get some breakfast,” Scott said. “Just join us. Afterwards, we’ll fill up the tank of the van, load it up with food and move on toward Fort Weeks.”
“So, what are we doing with Lassie?” Ray asked with the trace of a smile.
“If we take you, we also have to bring the dog along, too. After all, the dog is well-behaved and does what he’s told,” Scott answered with a faint smile and walked toward the convenience store.
Well-Rested
When Josh opened his eyes while lying in his bed, he noticed two things: First, his escape to Fort Weeks had definitely not been a dream, as he was obviously in a room on the military base. Secondly, he felt as rested and relaxed as he had been in quite a while. Yet one feeling was even stronger: Hunger. His stomach growled like a wild animal.
He sat up in bed and recalled his earlier conversations with his parents. Even though the situation was challenging for everyone, Josh was deeply grateful that he could live through this together with his family. A knock at the door interrupted his musings.
“Joshua, are you awake?” William Pelletier asked outside the door.
“Come in, dad,” Josh replied.
William Pelletier opened the door and peered into the room.
“Get up, son. We are not at the university here. You probably are really hungry. Let’s meet in the mess hall.”
Josh wondered how his dad knew he was hungry. “How long have I been asleep, dad?”He asked.
“Close to twenty-two hours.” William Pelletier grinned, as Josh’s mouth stood open in amazement. He must have been more exhausted than he realized.
After Josh had breakfast with his father in the mess hall, they walked across the army base together. They crossed the interior area and approached the shooting and explosives grounds. Several men were just marking areas with warning tape which separated them into parcels of land. What’s going on here?, Josh wondered.
He saw several people put their heads together in a huddle and were discussing something. People were measuring, digging and sweating. If he didn’t know better he would have guessed that all this activity looked like farming. So it appeared Fort Weeks might be laying the foundations for its own food supply.
“Is that what it looks like, dad?”
“We have to prepare for any imaginable scenario. We still have enough supplies, but while you were asleep, our situation changed by the hour. There are more and more civilians seeking refuge here—and we don’t just see those, we also have had more contacts with the undead. I therefore met with my planning team and we initiated preparations that can be taken in the short term.”
Both of them continued toward the main gate. As they walked out of Fort Weeks, Josh saw a lot of activity going on. Soldiers were very busy digging foundations and holes in the ground. He had the impression of watching an anthill, as everyone was so busy.
Fort Weeks was preparing itself, but Josh did not want to think about what exactly they were preparing for. Two young privates were busy digging ditches. William Pelletier inspected their work and nodded in approval at them.
“How is it going, men?”
“So far, so good, sir. These ditches have been pretty effective against the damn beasts that have tried to get in. Most stumble directly into them when they approach the base, and we set the bastards on fire once they get stuck at the bottom. This way, we buy some time to improve the base fortifications.” The young, sweaty soldier grinned and pushed his spade into the soil again. It appeared that all the security zones were being expanded considerably. The soldiers, plus a few civilians, were digging holes according to written plans. Metal posts and tree trunks stripped of their branches were placed in the holes and fastened. Several men were moving supplies and heavy machinery out of the base. Armed soldiers were patrolling at the edge of the woods to keep the workers safe. This was also meant to prevent theft and looting. They obviously needed space on the inside for working on buildings and fortifications.
Josh saw a metal barrier that had been built around the base. It consisted of sheet metal panels riveted together, and the tops of each had been sharpened into a pattern of jagged teeth. From afar it looked like a large, upside-down saw blade.
Josh noticed an oily, greasy smell in the air he couldn’t instantly identify. Pinching his nostrils together for a moment, he tried to remember what this smell reminded him of: A crematorium. He saw several soldiers tossing naked corpses into a great fire burning in a pit at the perimeter of the base. It smelled like a disgusting combination of rotten meat and sugar being burnt in a barrel. He didn’t not want to think about what the clothing of the dead was now being used for.
He turned around and looked at the army base. In the daylight, he could clearly see the four guard towers rising above its inner ring. There was a sniper and an observer on each tower. This is what you would do in case of war.
He and his father went back into the base. When they walked through the massive steel gate, Josh noticed formwork made of wood and metal that would be eventually filled with concrete. It looked as if the intended goal was to taper the main entrance toward the inside. This would force intruders into a smaller space where they can be more easily eliminated.
“Hard to believe what’s happening here,” Josh said.
His father nodded. “It is absolutely crazy how many people have been seeking refuge here—and many more are still coming. The good thing is that there are skilled people among them. Architects, engineers, police officers. My officers and I assign work to them and when we can, we let them work in areas they know something about.”
“Where are all these people supposed to stay?” Josh asked.
“We are planning to remodel the training area. In the rear of it we will build housing for refugees and survivors. Before people can stay with us, however, they have to undergo a short quarantine and are tested.”
Josh nodded. He was impressed by how quickly his father endeavored to get things under control here. As a kid, he had come to the base often to visit his dad, but he had never considered a military career for himself. Josh viewed it as too much torment—all that exercising, obeying and marching around, that was not for him. His dad was a tough guy, and Josh felt he himself couldn’t have even passed as a tough girl.
As they were walking toward the temporary refugee camp, he noticed how many civilians there were. Most of them appeared to be performing some kind of work: Some carried jerry cans of water, while others fixed tires, so apparently they each had been assigned a suitable task. Josh noticed a remarkably large hangar, with two more next to it. He recalled that this was the maintenance area of the military base. Here anything that had wheels, tracks or rotors was in the process of being repaired. In front of the area was a small airfield, from which helicopters or small propeller planes could land or take off. Josh was amazed at the eagerness of the people working here. Two men were setting up olive-green tents and he couldn’t determine if they were soldiers since both wore civilian clothes. Another one hammered wooden posts into the ground with a heavy sledgehammer in order to create some kind of enclosure. The men greeted Josh and his dad as they walked by.
Josh suddenly thought of his mom. What should he tell his father if he confronted Josh with what really happened? Well, you know, dad, I consider myself to be the most important person. Oh, sorry, dad, I simply forgot about my mother. He felt this horrible restrictive feeling rise in his chest again, but he suppressed it at once.
“When does my shift start?” he asked instead.
“I told your mother you would report to her around noon. The two of you are primarily responsible for taking care of the wounded and for testing during the short quarantine. I am about to have the next briefing with my staff. See you later, Joshua.”
Unity
Ray entered the gas station’s convenience store a
bout ten minutes later. Scott and Phil sat near Chris in the office and were having breakfast. Phil gave Ray a friendly nod when he pulled out a chair and sat down next to them at the small table.
“Good morning, Captain. Did you sleep well?”
Ray’s head felt as if it was about to burst into a thousand pieces. “Good morning, Phil. Thanks, I’m feeling fine. Where’re the children?”
“They’re back in the store room playing with Watson. Do you want anything to eat? We still have plenty of sandwiches.”
Ray had to fight the strong urge to throw up on the floor. He was very surprised at Phil’s friendly behavior. Either Scott had not told him of Ray’s nightly escapade, or he did not want to show it. “Coffee would be great, thanks.”
“Coming up,” Phil said and poured a cup from the coffee maker.
Ray took the cup and sipped cautiously. He clumsily tried to sort out his muddled thoughts. He looked over at Chris with some concern.
“How far is it to Fort Weeks?”
“We should get there in about two hours,” Scott said. “We’re going to fill up the van and take some food along.”
“And Watson, too,” Phil added.
“Do you guys really think it’s a good idea to burden ourselves with a dog?” Ray asked.
“I can’t just leave him behind like that,” Scott said. Plus, I have the feeling he would make an excellent guard dog,” he continued, casting an intense look at Ray.
Ray understood the not so subtle hint. So apparently, Scott had kept his mouth shut after all and not mentioned last night’s episode.
“Okay. As long as you take care of him,” Ray said.
At that moment Fiona and Robbie came running into the office from the store room, accompanied by the dog. “Daddy, he can even fetch a stick!” Fiona called and threw a small wooden stick out into the main area of the store to prove it. Watson sprinted after it, fetched the stick and dropped it in front at her feet. She proudly scratched Watson behind his ears.