Edge of Survival Box Set 1

by William Oday

  41

  She stopped her bike in the middle of the path, a good thirty feet from the entrance to the admin building. A favor sure didn’t mean front door service!

  Diana didn’t move, apparently waiting for exactly that.

  “Go!” Beth shouted.

  Diana nearly fell as she scrambled off the bike and headed toward the entrance. She tried the door and it was locked. “It’s locked. Can I use your keys?”

  Beth turned off the bike and held them up. Diana waited at the door as if Beth was just slow in delivering them. The gall of this arrogant woman!

  “Come get them,” Beth said with thick agitation coating her voice. Maybe she could drop Diana off on the way home. Surely she had family that would be relieved to see her alive. Such relief was hard to imagine, but even the worst criminals had mothers that loved them.

  Diana plodded over and accepted the keys. “Can you help me grab a few things?”

  Beth gritted her teeth until she worried a molar would shatter. Was this woman purposely trying to push her buttons? “Fine.” She swung off the bike and followed Diana back to the entrance. With every step, she fought the urge to turn right back around and take off with her load a hundred and twenty pounds lighter and infinitely less infuriating.

  Diana jiggled the lock open and let them inside. She led them through the center hallway back to her office on the left.

  How many times had Beth marched down this hallway to this office ready to set fire to Diana’s desk? More than a few. And now, having heard the truth about what had happened to the Bili chimps? And more recently, to Jack, too? This time, she wanted to set fire to the woman herself.

  The door to her office was open and the interior looked like a bomb had gone off. Her desk was overturned and framed pictures on the floor smashed to pieces. It seemed strange to Beth that only now did she notice the pictures. Every other time she’d visited, she’d been in such a rage that whatever personal affectations Diana may have had were unnoticed white noise. Beth stood by the door while Diana went around the room collecting whatever it was that she had come back for.

  “You have one minute,” Beth said.

  Diana retrieved her purse from a filing cabinet and filled it with stuff Beth didn’t care enough about to absorb. She filled another bag and handed that one to Beth. “Carry this one,” she said.

  The words stomped on Beth’s last, raw nerve. Even in her desperate condition, Diana easily slipped into her old attitude of expected obedience. Maybe it was being in the office that did it. Whatever it was, she was no longer the boss.

  Beth spun around and headed back down the hallway. “I’ll be outside.”

  “I’ll be another few minutes.”

  “Your ride leaves in t minus sixty seconds. Fifty-nine. Fifty-eight.”

  Beth kicked the front door open and walked over to Spock. She took a seat and stared at the darkening sky. Mason would be worried sick. Worried sick while she waited. And fumed. Fumed and waited.

  No Diana.

  Two minutes.

  Three minutes.

  Beth marched to the entrance and threw the door open. “Diana! Let’s go! Now!”

  Her voice echoed into silence.

  She stomped inside ready to punch a hole in Diana’s face. As she headed down the hall, the clicking of the front door locks caught her attention. She ran back to the front. Diana stood outside holding Beth’s keys.

  Beth shoved the door and it didn’t budge.

  “What are you doing, Diana?”

  “I require your transportation. Mr. Cruz will want me to report in.”

  Beth pounded her fist on the glass. “Open the door!”

  “I can’t do that,” she said as she turned and headed back to the motorcycle.

  Beth drew her Glock and pointed it at the door. She was about to cover her eyes and fire when she heard a growing rumble.

  Diana froze next to the bike.

  The same thundering of hooves she’d heard earlier.

  An instant later, the herd of impalas rushed toward Diana. She fell to her knees and curled into the fetal position. The male in the lead decided not to go around, but instead leaped high into the air and sailed over both the bike and Diana. A few of the herd followed suit while others darted around. They passed in a clattering rush and were gone.

  Diana lay on the ground shaking. She lifted her head and stared back down the path, around the bend to where Beth couldn’t see.

  She screamed.

  Diana struggled to her feet and ran toward the door.

  Then Beth saw the reason for her terror.

  Hubert. The zoo’s fully grown African male lion. His black and tan mane trailed in the wind as he sprinted toward Diana. The powerful muscles in his back legs rippled as he quickly closed the distance between them.

  Diana shoved a key into the lock and jiggled to get it open.

  Hubert gracefully leaped through the air and smashed her to the ground. With one huge paw, he swept her over onto her back.

  Beth stared. Her veins congealed with frozen shock.

  The lion lunged and snapped Diana’s neck between his jaws. He held her pinned down by the neck but she required no more killing. He looked up and spotted Beth mere inches through the glass on the other side. He let go of Diana and stared directly into Beth’s eyes. He slammed a paw into the door and his nails scraped the glass like knives on a chalkboard. He opened his mouth wide. Dark lips curled back to reveal four huge canines dripping with blood.

  His roar shook the glass. It shook Beth’s reason. It promised death and the futility of resistance.

  Hubert circled around his prize and then grabbed ahold of one of Diana’s feet in his mouth. He bit down hard and headed away. Her head dragged and bumped along on the ground between his legs as he went. A red, brushed streak of blood was all that remained of Diana Richston after he disappeared around the bend in the path.

  Beth’s legs gave out and she fell back hard onto the desk behind her. The pistol clanked to the surface.

  Did that just happen?

  She sat in stunned silence while her brain digested the event. The ice in her veins slowly warmed. Another minute and rational thought began to seep through the primitive concoction of chemicals inundating her system.

  Diana’s death was her own fault. Her actions had directly resulted in her own death. In a sick way, Beth was thankful for her old boss’s treachery. If Diana hadn’t tricked her, she probably would’ve ended up as Hubert’s next meal.

  She picked up the gun and waited to see if Hubert would return. She didn’t like the odds of facing down an apex predator in his prime with a 9mm handgun. She waited a few minutes more but the growing darkness outside convinced her it was time to get moving.

  Deciding to conserve ammo, she grabbed a metal chair from behind the office desk and slammed it into the glass window. A huge crack splintered out from the point of impact. She was about to take another swing when she realized her bare right foot was still exposed. Shatter the glass and she’d be hopping around like a pogo stick. She found a black scarf tucked in the desk drawer. She grabbed a few magazines off the table and wrapped them around her foot, making sure the bottom was the thickest. She then tied the scarf around the paper into a makeshift moccasin.

  Terrible. But it would have to do.

  Another couple of swings and the window fell away in large, jagged sheets. She poked a metal leg at the clinging shards that still hung over the opening.

  No way was she going out like that bad guy in Ghost.

  She cleared the upper rim and then stepped outside. After retrieving the keys from the door lock, she drew her pistol and hurried to her bike. She fired it up and noticed Diana’s bags piled on the ground. She threw them in a saddle bag hoping they’d turn up something useful.

  She holstered the Glock and hit the gas harder than she’d intended. The front wheel popped up a couple feet and nearly made her lose control. A little rear brake and it thumped back down. As the bike
picked up speed, her mind screamed about the lion jumping at her back. But the only thing that roared was the old Vulcan as it sped down the last curving pathway and out the entrance, into the parking lot beyond.

  A long sigh of relief escaped her lungs.

  She had the antibiotics that Clyde needed, that any of them might need someday. Now she needed to get them home. Get herself home in one piece.

  A sliver of moon peeked above the eastern horizon. She’d done this commute a thousand times. Oftentimes at this hour and later. In fact, the later the better.

  That was then.

  This was now.

  The darkness was no longer the technological twilight of the old Los Angeles. It was now a truly shadowed world.

  One that hid unimaginable horrors.

  42

  THERESA steered the cargo bike around a car and turned left onto Washington Boulevard. The setting sun burned the sky a dull orange color. They’d ridden south a few blocks on Lincoln and the entire time felt like something horrible was about to happen. There was too much evidence of humanity and yet none of the movement. They were like superheroes moving so fast that the rest of the world seemed to stand still. Only they were too slow to save it.

  They wound through a maze of packed cars, and it felt fake like a movie set. Everything laid out for the big action scene but nobody showed up to shoot it.

  Washington was just as freaky so they took the first right and cut into the residential streets of the Del Rey neighborhood. As they rode further south, they passed a kid’s park on the right. She remembered attending birthday parties there as a kid. The place was always jam-packed full of people because it was one of the few open spaces in the area.

  She stared at the vacant swings and sand pit, shivering at the silence. That wasn’t the only weird thing though because she realized the giant, old maple tree was gone. She’d climbed it countless times back in the day. It broke her heart to think that other kids wouldn’t get the chance to explore its upper branches. To feel the tickle of the wind on their faces. To look down with wide eyes, astonished at how high they’d climbed.

  Then again, there weren’t other kids around to miss it in the first place. Was there any hope at all?

  They took a left and headed east through typical west side residential streets. Tiny houses on postage stamp lots with driveways that almost always had two cars because people used their garages for extra rooms.

  Red triangles tagged most of the front doors—evidence The National Guard had swept through the area. Their hasty paint jobs had made the spray paint pool and run making it look way too much like blood.

  Like Venice, the neighborhood was mostly gentrified. The infrequent run down old home contrasted sharply with the surrounding remodeled ones. Her dad told her these were refugees from areas further west that had been priced out by the ever- climbing price of real estate. He often complained about how crazy it was.

  The changes of the last week or so put that whole thing into a new perspective.

  “This is really not cool,” Elio said from behind her.

  “What’s wrong? The pillow not enough cushion?”

  “The pillow is fine. The problem is that I feel like your biker babe.”

  Theresa laughed at the unexpected comment. “Elio Lopez, are you a sexist pig?”

  “No, not at all! It just feels a little weird is all.”

  “Oh, so it would be totally normal if you were in front and I was in the back?”

  “Yeah, that’d be fine.”

  “Unbelievable. I thought I knew you. I suppose you’d expect your wife to cook all your meals, keep the house clean, and be beautiful when you got home from work.”

  “Hold up, now. Don’t go fantasizing about being my wife already. I haven’t agreed to marry you yet.”

  Something twisted in Theresa’s belly. What started out as a joke was quickly turning into something else. “You’re digging yourself into a hole. You might want to apologize before I shovel in more dirt on top of you.”

  “Two things,” Elio said. “One, I apologize. And two, it’s a little gross that you’re making burying jokes considering what your father and the neighbor are doing.”

  Theresa thought about her father digging a grave in the Crayfords’ backyard. He would finish the exhausting work and return to find her and Elio missing. He’d be worried sick. She felt terrible about it. But she couldn’t let Elio go alone, and she couldn’t betray his plan either. She’d chosen the only option that kept her and Elio together.

  “You’d better start being a little bit more considerate or you might end up buried, too.”

  It was wrong to joke about something so serious. And yet, the humor helped deal with it. Helped to compartmentalize it so that she could carry on.

  She glanced at the battery gauge and saw that it was still in the green at about three quarters full. With her peddling along to help extend the range, they should have enough to get back home.

  “So, how long do I have to ride like this before I can get a bike of my own?”

  Theresa laughed. “You could break into any garage on this street and get your own ride. The question is whether you could keep up.”

  “I could keep up.”

  “No, you couldn’t. No way.”

  “Okay, I probably couldn’t.”

  “Probably?”

  “Fine. I couldn’t. But that’s only because I’m not a hundred percent and also because this bike has an electric battery boosting your speed.”

  “I didn’t say it would be a fair race. I just said I’d win.”

  “You wouldn’t win.”

  “How would I not? I’m the rabbit and you’re the turtle. And this ain’t no fairy tale.”

  “You don’t know where I live.”

  He had her there. In order to win a race, you had to know where the finish line was. She was trying to come up with a snarky reply when a gunshot echoed down the street. The driver side window of the car to their right shattered.

  CRACK.

  Another gunshot and the windshield of the car ahead exploded into a thousand pieces.

  Theresa weaved back and forth not so much as an evasive maneuver as it was just trying to keep the bike upright while shock numbed her sense of balance. She thumbed the battery power to the max and the long bike picked up speed. The acceleration and her wobbly balance nearly shot them right into the side of a big white truck. She steered away at the last second and the right handlebar smacked its side mirror forward. The driver side window exploded an instant after Elio’s body passed by.

  She turned right at the next cross street without slowing down. They rode another couple of blocks before she managed to swallow her heart back into her chest.

  “Are you okay?” Elio said as he squeezed her shoulder.

  “I’m fine. You?”

  “A few bits of glass in my hair, but fine.”

  “That last one hit right behind you.”

  “Tell me about it. Listen, I don’t like cruising down streets with houses lined up on both sides.”

  Theresa nodded as she looked at the apparently not totally vacant houses on each side. “I was thinking the same thing. It feels like we’re in a shooting gallery just waiting for someone to win the prize.”

  “I’ve got an idea,” Elio said. “There’s an entrance to the four-oh-five a few blocks over. We can take it five miles south to Inglewood. My place is a half-mile east of the exit.”

  “You want to go up on the highway?”

  “Yep. Should be safer. Just a road crammed with abandoned cars. You saw the news reports. Every major highway in the Los Angeles area was packed with cars going nowhere within twenty-four hours of the outbreak.”

  Theresa remembered the disturbing images on the news in those first few days. And how soon after that the technology to broadcast any news had begun to break down. For the millionth time since the outbreak began, she subconsciously reached toward her back pocket to pull out her iPhone to check something. />
  The something wasn’t important. It was the act that was important. The security blanket of having instant access to information at your fingertips.

  But the phone was no longer there. She’d stopped carrying it a few days ago when it became apparent power was not going to be restored. It was a photo album of the last year of her life because she was terrible at syncing it. She swiped through the pictures when Holly’s absence threatened to drown her in sadness. The pictures and videos helped in a happy-sad way.

  She dreaded the day when the battery died for good and she lost those shared moments. They were proof that Holly had lived. That life had once been normal and fun and not terrible like it was now. The images reminded her of who she used to be.

  “Hey,” Elio said, “if you wanna continue testing our luck in the shooting gallery, we can do that too.”

  “No, you’re right. Let’s try the highway. It can’t be worse than this.”

  43

  They rode up the entrance ramp alongside abandoned vehicles. People had ignored the single lane and crowded two lanes onto the ramp. An open span about two feet wide ran along the right shoulder between the concrete barrier and the uneven line of cars on the left.

  Theresa slowed a couple of times when that open space pinched in a little. They made it to the top of the ramp and she involuntarily sucked in a breath.

  Cars went on forever.

  As far as she could see.

  A frozen river of vehicles with five lanes in each direction. Who knew there were so many?

  She was surprised that for the most part, they were lined up between the dashed lines as they would’ve been on any normal evening. That was the only thing that resembled normal. The rest was a shock. Here was the symbol of the modern world. The symptom of it. And now, the end of it. All around in three dimensions.

  The movie versions of the endless traffic jam didn’t do the real thing justice. Maybe the details were off or maybe it was that a flat screen simply couldn’t compare to the gut-punching reality.

  Millions of cars carrying millions of people that all tried to escape at once and so blocked everyone from getting anywhere. She’d seen the stalled traffic on the news and it had seemed no different than a movie. It was nothing more than entertainment.