Awake

by Edward J. McFadden III

  “We need that sample. You are hereby ordered to bring it to me. Alone.”

  “Piss off. My people get extracted with me or no deal.”

  “You’re refusing a direct order?” Massie asked.

  Don looked at Lester, and said, “Yes. I am.”

  “Very well. Since I told the bird that’s what you’d say, she told me to tell you there would be consequences when this is over.”

  “Understood.”

  “Like, getting busted down to a desk. In Lincoln, Nebraska.”

  “Understood.” Static filled the silence, and Don saw Massie’s smiling face in his mind’s eye.

  “Okay. Did you ever hear of a site called Hole in the Donut?” Massie asked.

  “You mean the H-69 missile site out in the Glades? I was there once,” Don said.

  “You think you can get there by midnight?” Massie asked.

  Don looked to Lester, who said, “I’ve been there with Jerry. He heard about it while at boot camp years ago. As luck would have it, it’s east of Homestead.”

  Don stood slack-jawed for an instant. He recalled thinking he hadn’t seen the last of the Everglades as they left the airboat, and he felt odd when one of his gut feelings hit so close to the mark. “Yes, I can,” said Don into the radio.

  “Okay. Extraction at midnight. I’ll see you for debriefing as soon as you’re out. Then I’ve been ordered to transfer you up to the bird,” Massie said. “One last time: come alone.”

  “No can do, and you know it.”

  “I do. Good luck.”

  “That’s a 10-4. Oberbier, out.” Don sifted through Massie’s words, and worried that if there wasn’t a viable test by midnight, they’d take the sample and leave them. The good of the many mantra was followed by his superiors also.

  As Tony shut down the radio it sparked, but there was no fire.

  Then they heard the VW’s horn piercing the stillness, and Don turned to Lester. “Time to hit the road.” When Don turned to speak with Tony, he was gone.

  They found him by the cabinet where he’d locked up their guns. He handed them back their weapons, and Don said, “Thank you, Tony. We couldn’t have done this without you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. I’m coming with you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  What remained of Raul took Maureen’s breath away, and for a moment, she stood paralyzed, chomping on her lip, which was half-swollen and bleeding. They’d been through a lot, and she despaired for her survival without him. Over the last thirty-six hours, she’d been forced to accept a new reality, one in which she was hunted, and Raul had helped her. Only now, with him gone, did she realize she’d been attracted to him, and all his wiseass nicknames. Tank still barked, and the remaining walkers scrambled off the van as two more shotgun blasts rocked the day.

  Don, Lester, and a man with black hair Maureen had never seen before walked across the dirt parking lot like old school gunslingers. They fired into the horde of sleepwalkers, and they went down all around the van. Smoke rose from their gun barrels, and their faces were sad and angry. Some of the walkers woke for an instant before they died, their frightened eyes staring at their attackers in confusion. Others died instantly, transforming as they fell.

  Five victims were awake and lay bleeding from bullet wounds. Pity surged through her. They had no idea what had happened to them, or why they were being attacked. There was nothing she could do for them, and that’s what kept her from leaping from the van. Don and crew continued to fire at the walkers, and in minutes the horde broke up and scattered. Several of the sleepwalkers retreated to their vehicle, which was still parked across the marina’s entrance.

  Maureen watched with growing relief as Don, Lester, and the mystery man came toward the van. She was reminded of the Glades: what would they do with the diseased awake people?

  Maureen opened a van door and Tank jumped out and ran to Don. As Maureen got out, Don yelled, “Bring the first aid kit.” She chuckled to herself. Don had found his heart. She grabbed the kit and stepped over several bodies as she made her way to Don.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “As good as expected,” Maureen said, and her gaze strayed to Raul’s remains. “You have the van keys?”

  “No,” Don said. “Lester, did you take the van keys?”

  Lester patted his pockets. “Shit, I did,” Lester said. “Didn’t think anything of it. I put them in my pocket like I always do. Habit.”

  “Having them would have been a help!” she shouted.

  Don looked to the van, and when he didn’t see Raul, he lowered his head. “I’m sorry, Maureen.”

  “Me too,” she said.

  “Little help here,” said one of the awakened walkers.

  Maureen went to help, but Don put out an arm. “You shouldn’t get any of their blood on you.”

  “What am I supposed to do? Nothing?”

  “I have rubber gloves and plastic suit and mask I wear when I’m under boats defouling their bottoms,” Tony said. “Just give me a minute.”

  Tony rushed off, and returned two minutes later. Maureen suited up and went about the task of stopping the bleeding and bandaging the man’s leg. Then she moved on to the others, and when she was done, only one person had died. Four people now looked up at Don with expectant eyes.

  He had the same concerns she did. “You can’t come with us,” Don said as he introduced Tony to his people, and updated everyone. “Tony, can they stay in your place?”

  Tony appeared skeptical, and he looked back at the warehouse as if it was a living thing, and he couldn’t separate himself from it. “Guess it doesn’t matter, since I’m leaving. The room I showed you in the back is locked down.”

  Maureen and Lester directed the survivors into the marina office, where they found cold coffee and stale donuts. They were all scared, and nervous, but there wasn’t much that could be done for them. Every time Maureen thought of them as people, she saw the thin white scars on their faces and remembered they were infected.

  “Stay awake. If you feel you can’t, separate yourselves in the various sections of the warehouse and lock all the interior doors. At least then you won’t go at each other and you’ll be somewhat protected.”

  “You’re leaving us?” asked a young woman. Her strawberry-blonde hair was matted with blood, and she shook with fear.

  “You heard Agent Oberbier. We’re helping him with something very important. We’ll send help as soon as it’s available. They’re working on an antidote as we speak,” Maureen said. She did her best to sound positive, but she didn’t think she was successful. The woman lowered her head, and Maureen felt a pang of guilt.

  “Don says we need to roll,” Lester said.

  She was about to abandon four people to certain death and the nurse in her rose up. “I can’t leave them here,” she said.

  Lester frowned, and took her by the elbow. When they were alone, he said, “They’re already dead, Maureen.” She moved away, and he grabbed her arm. Sweat dripped down his face, and his hands were clammy and wet. She shook him off. “I know that sucks hard. Trust me. We’ve all suffered, and you’ve lost your husband. But the only way to help them is to get that sample out. The faster we do that, the better chance they have, and we need your help.”

  Maureen knew he was right. This entire odyssey had been a test of her metal and ethics. She’d seen that her view of the world, while noble and righteous, wasn’t how you survived in chaos. Don knew what he was doing, and by extension, so did Lester.

  “Sorry, I just…”

  Lester put his arm around her. “This goes against everything you stand for. I get it. But we’ve been thrust into the extremely important position of having to take all the people of Miami into account when making our decisions,” Lester said.

  “Are you sure you’re not fooling yourself? Justifying our escape for our own personal safety?” asked Maureen.

  Lester didn’t answer and looked away.

  “What?” />
  “We are human, Maureen,” Lester said. “I’d be lying if I said some of this isn’t about self-preservation.”

  With that settled, nothing had changed. They both went back to the victims. Everyone said their goodbyes, and good lucks, and there were more promises to send help. When the time came to leave them, Maureen couldn’t help but cry.

  They made their way out the front entrance and heard the door lock fall into place behind them. Don talked with Tony and Tristin. Saura, Jessie, and Tank were in the van. Walkers still loitered by the car at the marina entrance, and Maureen and Lester went to Don.

  “Why not blow through them?” Tony asked.

  “You remember what Massie said? That they’d learned to set traps. That,” said Don, as he pointed toward the entrance, “is a trap.”

  Tony appeared unconvinced. When Don saw Maureen and crew, he asked, “How’d it go?”

  “As best as could be expected,” Lester said, with a sidelong glance at Maureen.

  Picking up on Lester’s unease, he asked, “Are you all right, Maureen?”

  “As well as possible, I guess. What’s the plan?”

  Don looked at Tony. “Tony thinks we should just blow through the walkers and make a break for it. I believe there’s more to it than meets the eye.”

  “What other choice do we have?” Tony said. “Right or wrong, I don’t see another way.”

  “What about what Lester said before about taking a boat? There are many here to choose from. We take one to a house, find a new vehicle, and go on our way,” Maureen said.

  Don said, “It would be too easy to get trapped on the water, and I think we’d draw even more attention.”

  Maureen didn’t argue further. Don would do what he thought was right. He was just pretending to debate the situation so everyone felt like they’d had their say. Then Don surprised her.

  “All right. We’ll do it Tony’s way. I don’t see a better way at the moment myself,” Don said.

  Maureen headed for the van, and then stopped when she saw Don listening intently. She heard it also, the distant whomp whomp of a helicopter approaching. The sound grew until it was a thunderous roar that ripped at the plants and trees. A helicopter tore across the sky so fast they barely saw it. The wind eased, the sound retreated, and the copter was gone. It reminded her of the copters they’d seen in the Glades. It reminded her of Tim.

  “Too bad they can’t pick us up,” Tony said.

  That wasn’t as crazy as it sounded. If Don had talked to his people, why hadn’t he told them where they could be picked up? Maureen shook her head, and she felt her neck scar pulse with heat. She was becoming suspicious about the color of the sky.

  “Not that simple and you know it. My agency is buried deep within Washington’s power base. Most people on the hill don’t even know my division exists. An order to get the military to stand down wouldn’t be impossible, but in the middle of an offensive, which by all accounts has just started, it would be beyond difficult and would put people unnecessarily at risk. It makes much more sense for us to get clear before they pick us up. Much less risk,” Don said.

  Maureen bought what Don was selling. She didn’t have a choice.

  They loaded into the van. There were a few other vehicles and trucks in the dirt lot, none of which came close to holding them all, and Don was adamant about everyone staying together, so they stuck with their trusty VW hippie van. Don drove now, and Lester rode shotgun. Saura, Tristin, Maureen, Tony, and the dogs sat in the back. They all buckled up as best they could, and took stock of the weapon situation. Lester had forty-seven rounds left for the M16, and Don had seven shotgun shells. They also had three knives, five fire bombs, and two six-gallon containers of gasoline.

  “Fire sparingly and only when absolutely necessary,” Don said. He started the van and turned to look at those in the back seat. “I will do my best to go around them and avoid a collision, but we might get banged up. Be ready to flee the vehicle on my command. If that happens, stay close. If we get separated, make sure you have a partner. I don’t want anyone being alone.”

  “What do we do if we get separated? How will we find you?” asked Tristin.

  Maureen watched Don struggle with the question. The answer was, I don’t know, but Maureen gathered Don never uttered those words. She jumped in and helped him. “I’ll be with you. I won’t let you out of my sight no matter what.”

  “What time we got?” Don asked.

  “It’s 4:19.”

  “Hard to believe this all started less than forty-eight hours ago,” said Lester.

  “Everybody ready?” Don said.

  There were no protests, and Maureen hunkered down and put her arm around Tristin. Jessie sat on Saura’s lap, wagging her tail, and Tank sat between them, alert and ready, his brown eyes shifting in his head, his muscles tense.

  Don slipped the van into gear and it crept over the tall grass. When he was in the center of the lot, he put the car in park, and waited. The walkers at the entrance didn’t appear to notice that the van had moved.

  “That’s strange,” Lester said.

  “I don’t think so. They want us to come at them,” said Don. He craned his neck and looked over his shoulder, and then out the side windows. “Tony, is there anything behind those mangroves there?” He pointed to his right.

  The road ran behind the ticket, but she thought there was a fence in there somewhere. Tony surveyed the spot, considering.

  “There’s a fence there, but the van might get through it,” Tony said.

  “Okay, then. Buckle up.”

  He pressed the gas pedal to the floor, and the engine raced, but still the sleepwalkers didn’t look their way. With a squeal, and a cloud of dust, Don dropped the van in gear, and it jumped forward. Even with the van coming right at them, the walkers didn’t shift their positions.

  When the van was halfway to the entrance, Don spun the steering wheel, and headed for the mangrove thicket. They crashed into the hedge at thirty miles per hour, and the thin spider-like trunks snapped and twisted as they passed. All around them branches scraped and tore at the van, ripping off the side mirrors and cracking the windshield, but Don didn’t slow.

  “Hold on,” he yelled.

  The van shuddered and bucked as it struck the four-foot chain-link fence hidden within the hedge. Metal bent, glass broke, and pieces of fencing clung to the vehicle as its tires dug deeper into the soft earth, shooting dirt and sand behind them. A tall metal pole flashed by. Don had maneuvered the van between two fence posts, thus avoiding a massive collision.

  The street loomed up through the tree branches. The van rocked hard when it hit a hole, and Tristin and Tank tumbled off their seats as the rear shocks bounced, and everyone got jolted upward. Maureen smacked her head on the roof, and from the sound of it, others had also. Sunlight poured through the broken windows, glinting off the broken glass. The rain clouds had dissipated, and it would be a beautiful sunset.

  They burst from the foliage onto the street and it became clear what the walkers had been hiding. A row of vehicles were lined up on the road. Walkers hid within the relative comfort of the cars and trucks.

  Had they come out the entrance, trucks and cars would have rammed them from both directions and frozen the van in place. Game over. Don had gotten part way out, but there were still vehicles blocking his path in all directions.

  “Thank you, Massie,” Don said.

  Don jerked the steering wheel, and the van’s tires shrieked as they jumped the curb and hit pavement. The road heading to the interstate was blocked, and Don turned again, racing onto the shoulder, but that was unpassable also.

  An old Honda Civic sat parked in their path, and Don had no time to react. The van smashed into the front of the Honda, and pushed it aside with the deafening sounds of tearing metal, breaking glass, and screeching rubber. The van lurched to a stop, and stalled.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Don turned the van’s key, and the engine choked, bu
t didn’t start. He laughed, releasing his frustration and angst. Unwanted memories gripped him, and he stared out the windshield at the car they’d just hit. Time slowed as panic paralyzed him, and his vision faded and his hands shook. Car doors opened, and there were already several walkers coming toward the van. They hollered and shouted, but to Don, they weren’t there. None of his companions spoke. They’d come to trust him, even when they had no reason to.

  Five seconds passed, and men and women of all colors and sizes came forward in a mindless sleep, their brains under the diseases’ spell.

  Memories of his captivity and the loss of his humanity came rushing back like the tide. Don remembered little about the one hundred and seventy-eight days he’d been under. He recalled the early part of his imprisonment, but there were no memories of the advanced torture training. No memories of the people he’d killed. The pieces of those days lay like an unfinished puzzle in his mind, and he constantly tried to wipe it from his consciousness.

  There were triggers, and he didn’t control when they came, what they were, or how hard they hit him. In this case, it was seeing the walkers, but it could’ve been talking to Massie, a color, or a certain sound or smell. He caressed his temples, calming himself, and pushing back what he hid from everyone. He wasn’t perfect. He was human.

  “Don.”

  A voice called his name came through the haze. Everything went black at the edges of his vision. The walkers faded. Carnival music filled his head, and he was alone again, surrounded by people he didn’t know, the Ferris wheel spinning before him in slow motion. Then blood. So much blood.

  He was tied to a wooden board, and hot oil dripped onto his chest. He screamed, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles went white.

  “Don. Don!”

  That voice again.

  “Wake up, soldier!”

  Someone grabbed his shoulders and shook him hard. His world vibrated, and his vision went white.

  The sting of Maureen’s slap brought him around, and Don stared blankly at his companions. He breathed hard and sweat rolled down his back. The walkers were almost on them.