First Days After

by Jay Vielle

  Suddenly the brakes of the bus started to squeal and I looked up ahead on the highway. I was having flashbacks of the criminal roadblock in Front Royal. Ahead of us now, however, there were tanks. Honest-to-God tanks blocking the entire highway Eastbound on I-66.

  I wondered for a moment if every town we passed was going to have convicts trying to capture slaves and drugs, but then I noticed that everyone there was wearing a military uniform. No other cars were on the road. I guess we were the only ones who made it past Front Royal. A soldier held out his hand to stop, and Jake rolled slowly until we were still. The soldier, who was armed with a pistol and a rifle, walked up to the window.

  “I’m sorry sir, you cannot pass,” he said. “The road to Washington is closed. The capital is in quarantine, and Marshall law has been declared.

  “Sergeant,” said Jake, looking at the stripes on the man’s uniform. “We have vital information to share, and some people to take home. “After all we’ve been through today, we should be allowed to go through.”

  “I’m sorry sir. You’re going to have to turn around. There is a small access road there in the middle,” he pointed to an emergency vehicle pass through off to our left. “No one is allowed in or out until further notice.”

  The Colonel leaned over to the window.

  “Son, I have vital information to pass.”

  “I’m sorry sir. My orders are nobody in or out,” said the soldier.

  “Who’s your commanding officer?” the Colonel asked.

  “That’s classified, sir,” he said.

  The Colonel’s face changed. He was not in his formal uniform—only his BDU’s—or Battle Dress Uniform—which essentially was camouflaged pants and an olive green t-shirt. He paused for a moment as if trying to decide if he needed anything, then motioned for Jake to let him off the bus.

  “Stay on the bus, sir,” said the sergeant.

  “I’ll be goddamned if I will, soldier. I am your superior officer. I have a clearance level higher than your goddamn I.Q., and if you live through this goddamn war it will be because of information I have provided. Now get me your goddamn C.O. right now, or so help me Jesus when this war is over I’ll see to it you’re scrubbing shit off of the floor in the Leavenworth latrine for the rest of your miserable life for insubordination!”

  Everybody’s eyes bugged and mouths dropped. Even Jake’s. I didn’t know the old bird had it in him. Wendy was elated. She was thoroughly enjoying seeing the Colonel shift into a whole new gear. She made a squinty smiley face and high-fived me silently.

  “Go get ‘em, Ray,” she whispered.

  The Colonel got off the bus and walked towards the tanks. An officer who was dressed more formally than the sergeant was walking briskly towards him. Then Col. Raymond Cannaveral started poking the officer in the chest, pointing to the bus, and gesticulating animatedly. The officer’s face fell several times, and he began to look alarmed. Ray pointed to the bus again, and the officer shook his head. Ray became more animated, but the officer stood firm. Ray’s face grimaced a moment, then he nodded resolvedly and walked back to the bus.

  “What’s the deal, Colonel?” Jake asked.

  “They’re going to let me through, Jake. But not the rest of you. Looks like this is where I leave you, Marine. I will be transported into an area where some of the surviving top brass resides. Then I’ll give them my report.”

  Wendy looked at Jake a moment, then slowly rose.

  “I’m afraid we have to part ways here too, Wendy,” the Colonel said.

  “What?” she answered.

  “They won’t budge. Despite clearances to Fort Detrick, you’re a civilian, and you can’t come. I’m afraid I couldn’t persuade them. The situation here is critical. They have no place for you.”

  “But I did that research with you. I’m part of it. Hell, I’m more than part of it. It’s more mine than yours,” she said angrily.

  “I know. I know it is. I told them that too. I’m going to try and fix things once I get into the Pentagon, but for now, these guys aren’t budging.They’re not going to give an inch on this. I’m so very sorry. You’ve been wonderful to work with. Your work could turn the tide in all of this.”

  “What about those things? Those mutate things? Are you going to tell them about all of that?” she said.

  “Of course. Everything. In fact, any notes that we brought with us I have to take with me. I’m so very sorry. I wish I could fix this,” he said. “You deserve better. Much better.”

  “But where will I go?” she said in a sad whine, suddenly sitting back down. “I live in Washington. I can’t go back to Frederick. There’s nothing there. I, I have nowhere to go.” She looked like she might start to tear up, and her breaths came in shallow bursts.

  “I know, dear. I’m so very sorry. I don’t know what to tell you. I wish I could help,” the Colonel said.

  I looked at her that moment. Strong, brilliant, dedicated—and now, suddenly lost. Just like the rest of us. We didn’t know where to go or what to do. Before, she was just a rescue victim we were transporting to her next assignment. Now, she was one of us. Homeless, lost, a stray. I glanced at Vinny and Tommy for a moment, gritted my teeth, and made a decision.

  “Jake?” I said. “You got this?”

  Jake looked back at me. He looked nervous. I can’t remember ever seeing him nervous before. Then I looked around and saw Tommy and Vinny staring at him.

  “Jake! You got this?” I asked more fervently. I saw his eyes in the mirror. Then I looked at Wendy. She was on the verge of tears.

  “Jake!” I yelled.

  “You’re with us, Wendy,” he said finally. “We take strays on this bus. Of course you can stay with us. We’ve got you.”

  She laughed, teary-eyed. Tommy and Vinny were motionless.

  “You’re practically related already,” I said. “Welcome to the family.”

  “Well, thank you,” she said. “I’m so sorry to be a burden. It’s just that work was all I had, and now.” She trailed off.

  “Don’t give it a second thought,” said Jake, his voice a little hoarse.

  But he had obviously given it a second thought, or it wouldn’t have taken him so long to answer. Funny—when it was him leading the troops back at Hunter’s Run, he wouldn’t have hesitated a second to take someone on, least of all a damsel in distress as lovely and pleasant as Wendy. But with his sons there, Jake wasn’t the same. He was diminished somehow. Less confident, less sure of himself. Wendy stared at him awkwardly. I was betting she noticed the change as well, even having known him less than a week.

  “Dad, if Washington is closed, does this mean we can’t look for mom?” said Tommy.

  “Yeah, how can they do this?” said Vinny. “You’re not gonna let them do this, are you?”

  Jake rubbed his squinting eyes and slumped over the steering wheel.

  “Dad? Are you hearing us?” shouted Tommy.

  Jake stared out bleary-eyed at the tanks and the departing Colonel. He stared at the empty highway beyond, and at the damaged mirror on the bus that had been shot out by the hoodlums in Front Royal. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and wheeled on his sons.

  “Are you two blind? Do you not see a string of army tanks in our way? A full bird Colonel can’t even get his government-cleared research assistant to be able to go with him, and we are instructed to turn around. What part of that do you think I can control?” said Jake. The boys were silent at this, their mouths slightly agape. They suddenly looked hopeless. I tried to remember that they had just lost their mother and were clinging to the slightest hope they might find her again. That hope rested in the man at the steering wheel, who suddenly was powerless to help for the second time in a day.

  “The real question,” said Al DeFillipo, “Is where are we going now? We can’t help find Morgan’s parents. We can’t go look for Tommy and Vinny’s mom. So--what now?”

  “We go back to Emmitsburg,” said Maureen, without pausing.

&nbs
p; “Why there?” I asked.

  “Because for most of us, it’s home,” she said. “And because now that we’ve made it out of the school and realize what the world is actually like out here, we are in a totally different position. Some of us can go home, try to get our lives back together. At least a little. We were trapped those first days at Hunter’s Run, but now we have options. We can try to make the best of it. We go home.”

  Jake looked in the mirror at everyone for a moment, then nodded.

  “She’s right. We go home,” he said.

  Morgan was keening. She had expected to be able to look for her parents, and the military’s blockade of the interstate was driving home the notion that she may have already seen her parents for the last time. She started rocking back and forth.

  “Shhh,” said Estela. “It’ll be alright. Come home with me for now. It’s not the end. Just a setback. We can try again, when things open up.” Morgan hugged her hard, and Estela caressed her hair.

  We said our final good-byes to the Colonel, who collected his things, hugged Wendy, and promised to get in touch with us as soon as he was permitted. We assured him he was doing the right thing, then we bid him adieu, and he walked past the blockade and out of our lives. At least for now.

  “Home,” said Jake. He shifted the transmission to reverse, then rode across the pass-through onto Interstate I-66 West. He glanced at another line of tanks on the other side of the highway, perhaps deterring last-second desperation runs by lunatics. We were not of that mindset. Soon we had the highway rolling under our wheels and within another hour had merged back onto I-81 north towards Maryland.

  CHAPTER 20

  The trip was quick. We had a tank full of gas, and Jake was flying down roads he knew. This far away from Washington, things looked normal, so with nothing to see, we sped to our destination. We blew past Winchester and drove over the rapids of the Potomac and Shenandoah Rivers near Harpers Ferry, then past the rail town of Brunswick, Maryland and neared Frederick again, where Jake began to slow down.

  “What’s wrong, Jake?” I asked.

  “Not sure what to do around Frederick,” he said. “This place seems to have been hit hard, and we know that those…things are around here somewhere.”

  “Seems to me that if you’re trying to avoid something, faster is better,” said Tommy. Jake smiled and nodded.

  “Point taken, boy,” he said, jamming his foot onto the accelerator. We were the only car on the road moving, but we often saw some off to the side, in ditches, even on the shoulders that had been abandoned. But no people at all. It was eerie.

  “I have to admit, Dad, I didn’t really believe you completely. But you’re right. This place is a ghost town,” said Vinny.

  “All of this looks spooky to me,” Al said. “But we’re moving fast, so at least we aren’t likely to see those orange things.”

  Wendy shuddered at the mention of them.

  Then they came at us.

  A group of about ten of the orange mutates came clambering up the hill. They had been hidden behind a copse of trees and bushes on the far side of an overpass, but now, in the open, they were sprinting. It was chilling to watch them. Some ran on two feet like men. Some moved more like apes, somewhere in between. Some crawled like bears. And in the back, two stood upright, walking slowly, gesturing. They were clearly in command.

  “Jesus,” Al yelled.

  Then a loud bang was heard as one of them literally flung itself into the side of our bus, instantly denting the side and bouncing off seemingly unfazed by the collision.

  “Holy shit,” said Vinny. “Dad, what the hell are those things?”

  But Jake couldn’t answer his son. He was swerving to miss them, trying not to crash us or get us hung up on the hills. If the bus stopped, we were dead. A second one jumped onto the step and grabbed the big mirror hanging from the side. His snarling face stared into the window only feet from us. Wendy lurched backward to distance herself and screamed.

  I looked into its eyes. The eyes were pale, almost while. Its skin was a dark orange, and its hair was thick white. The eyes were empty, and it was drooling and making some kind of horrid sound like a fox or a wounded hound.

  Then it started banging on the door. Jake looked around the bus.

  “Boys, are any others on the bus?” Jake asked. Tommy and Vinny instantly scanned the area.

  “No,” Tommy answered. “Just that one.”

  Jake sped up, then grabbed the handle for the door opener.

  “What are you doing?” I asked. “You’re not going to let that thing in, are you?”

  “Not if I can help it,” said Jake. He gripped the handle hard, flexed his arm muscle, then yanked on the handle with everything he had. The door flew open and smacked into the creature’s face and kneecaps. It shrieked in pain, wobbled a bit, but held on. Jake pulled the door shut again.

  “Dammit. I was hoping that was gonna work,” said Jake.

  “Try again Dad. Rapid fire,” said Vinny.

  Jake yanked on the handle, opening and closing it repeatedly. The creature screamed a horrible scream and rolled its head in anger. Still it held on.

  “These fuckers are tenacious, aren’t they?” said Jake.

  “You have no idea,” said Wendy. “Do you have any weapons?”

  I looked up, my face brightening at the thought.

  “We have a shitload. Estela, where are the guns and bows?”

  Estela was up and moving to the back of the bus like lightening. Morgan sat upright, a look of terror on her face. Estela rummaged through the bins in the back seat and pulled out a handgun and a clip of bullets. The creature was clawing at the door, trying to wedge its fingers between the two folding doors. Jake was holding onto the handle to shut the door. He was struggling, and the bus was starting to swerve.

  “I got it,” said Vinny, and the strapping 18-year-old took over for his father. Vinny held the handle and the doors shut, while Jake steered the bus straight again. Estela was fumbling with the clip for the pistol.

  “Bring it here. I got it,” shouted Tommy. Estela was panicking. She dropped the gun, then picked it up and handed everything to Tommy. Within seconds he had loaded the clip and flicked the safety off.

  “Ready dad. I have a .38 caliber Browning.”

  “Okay. Vinny, on the count of three, open the door again. Tommy, don’t hit the glass. Be sharp,” shouted Jake.

  “Ready,” said Vinny.

  “Ready,” said Tommy.

  “Okay, boys,” said Jake. “One, two, three.”

  Vinny slammed the door open and the creature wailed. Tommy shot it in the arm, which was flailing on the far side of the door. Flesh and blood flew out of the arm, and the creature wailed louder. But still it held on.

  “You’ve got to shoot it in the head,” shouted Wendy. “It’s the only way.”

  “The head? What is this, fucking Zombieland?” I shouted.

  “Just do it,” she said.

  “I can’t,” said Tommy. “I’d have to shoot through the door.”

  “Vinny, close the door half way. Tommy, can you get a shot off with one hand out the door?”

  “I think so.”

  “Can you do it accurately?”

  “I don’t know,” Tommy said.

  “Gotta try,” said Jake. Vinny started to close the door, and the creature wrapped its fingers around the edge.

  “Shit,” said Vinny. “It’s got the door.”

  Tommy shot again. This time the bullet flew wide, hitting nothing.

  “Damn it,” Tommy said. “I can’t get a good angle.”

  “Are there any more around us?” Jake asked.

  “Not for like half a mile. This is it,” yelled Al from the back.

  “Tommy, if I slam on the brakes and it falls, can you nail it?” Jake asked.

  “Yes,” he answered back.

  “Everybody hold on!” Jake yelled. “Big stop coming!” Everyone grabbed a hold of the seats and ducked down. Jake slam
med on the brakes hard. We all lurched forward into the seats in front of us Vinny smashed into the dashboard, held onto the door handle and spun around as the door swung open. Tommy was wedged up against the front pole and the thin metal barrier in the front seat. He righted himself and held the gun up. The creature had fallen off and rolled forward, but not before wrenching the mirror horribly out of place. I couldn’t tell if it was broken. I was looking to see how and where the creature had landed.

  It had pitched forward onto the road. Wendy said later that had it hit the road on its head, the impact would have killed it. As luck would have it, the mirror had saved the creature’s life. A regular person might have pulled his arm out of socket or dislocated an elbow, but the creature lay there for a moment trying to recover itself. Tommy shook his head as if in a daze, then hopped outside, aimed his pistol one more time, and fired.

  The shot took off half of the creature’s skull. It lurched backward, fell, and remained still on the pavement.

  “Back in,” yelled Jake. Tommy was frozen for a moment, then turned and looked behind the van. The other creatures were running towards the bus.

  “Dad, they’re coming. Jam it,” he yelled, pulling himself on the bus.

  “Holy shit, my arm,” said Vinny. He had wrenched his own arm in the quick stop. He assessed himself and sat down, rubbing his shoulder.

  We sped down the road for several miles in complete silence. Everyone was trying to process what they’d just seen. Our original crew now had gotten a much better view of the things we drove past on the way down. Jake’s sons and Morgan were slack-jawed and speechless. I looked around the bus. Everyone had looks on their faces that read of terror, dread, and disbelief. Finally, someone spoke up.

  “I hate those things,” said Wendy.

  “What are they?” asked Vinny. “You gave us the short version before. Can you explain it a little more than last time?”

  “Well, as you know, call them mutates,” said Wendy. They are essentially people who responded unusually to a new configuration of Russian weapons. Most people died instantly upon exposure, but a small percentage had a bizarre reaction. Their skin color changed, their hair color changed, and the more primitive portions of their brains took over. Some reverted back almost to an ape-like state, but not all of them. An even smaller percentage seem to be less affected, retaining more brain capacity. Those were the ones you saw walking upright, directing the others. They seem to be the leaders. They somehow communicate with the more ape-like ones. Telling them what to do. We presume that it is through noises, gestures, or maybe even something pheromonal.