by Chase McCown
They pulled into the parking lot, parked the motorcycle, and headed for the entrance of the motel.
“Alright, Charlie, here’s what we’re going to do.”
Chapter 11
May 4th, 2025. Seattle, Washington.
Charlie and Susan arrived at the motel’s entrance. Susan stopped and turned to Charlie before they attempted to open the door.
“Let’s do this as quietly as possible. More noise means more creeps to deal with. You got a weapon?”
“Does this count?”
He pulled out a multitool, which Susan quickly laughed off.
“Only if you aren’t too attached to your arms. Here, take this.”
She produced a large hunting knife and handed it to him.
“Hopefully, you won’t have to use that. But it’s better safe than sorry.”
“What about you? Sure, you have your gun, but that’s not exactly quiet.”
“No, I have this.”
Susan slipped the revolver into her holster and pulled a hatchet from her pack.
“I’m going to try the door. Let’s hope it’s unlocked.”
Susan wiggled the handle, confirming their fear. The door was locked. They could probably force it open with a swift kick or by ramming it with a shoulder, but the noise would likely attract unwanted attention.
“What do you think?” Susan asked.
“What, you’re asking me? How should I know? Oh, alright, give me a minute. Let’s see here, uhm… Oh, what about this?” Charlie pointed to an AC unit above the door.
“Hey, that’s actually not a bad idea! We could unscrew the window unit, you could give me a boost, and I could crawl in and unlock the door from the inside! Let me see that multitool.”
“Here you go.”
Charlie tossed her the tool, and Susan began unscrewing the AC unit.
“Alright, that should do it. Help me move it so it doesn’t make too much noise.”
“Okay.”
The two began quietly moving the unit out of the way. As they started to lower it, Charlie lost his grip on it and dropped his end. The resulting crash was ear-shattering, and Susan glowered at him in frustration.
Charlie cringed and mouthed an apology. Susan shook her head and motioned for him to give her a boost. He cupped his hands together, and she stepped into them, pulling herself up and through the opening overhead. A few moments later, the door swung open.
The inside of the building was a bit dusty, and cobwebs hung overhead, but all in all, it was in better shape than either of them had expected.
The walls were a sort of brownish green, and the floors were bare wood that appeared to have been eaten away by termites. A spot in the middle of the ceiling was a darker color than the rest and dripped continuously.
A desk sat directly in front of them. Upon it sat a bell with the sign Ring for Service, but Charlie knew ringing the bell would bring trouble. That whole side of the room gave him a bad feeling, but he just couldn’t put the feeling into words.
Susan motioned to the desk and pointed to the room keys hanging above it. Charlie shook his head violently in protest.
“Come on, I’ve got your back. Just be sure to get two that are close together.”
“Fine, okay.”
When Charlie reached the counter, he took a peek behind it. To his dismay, there was a grizzly scene waiting for him. A body, pummeled beyond recognition, pale and bloated, lay slumped against the wall in a pool of dark, thick blood that stuck to his shoes.
Charlie gagged at the sight. He had somehow pictured death much differently, a sort of peaceful slumber of the Sleeping Beauty ilk. This was much different.
The keys hung above the rotten corpse, whose vacant eyes and gaping maw seemed to taunt him, daring him to come closer. He hesitated. He knew they had to get some rest, but he wasn’t about to reach over the dead body to get the keys. Besides, with all that had been going on, how could he be sure it really was just a dead body?
“What’s taking you so long?” Susan whispered harshly.
Charlie motioned toward the body with his head, and what hit Susan first as she reached the other side of the counter was the odor. The putrid smell of rotting flesh was unmistakable—she’d been on the force too many years to not be able to identify it. It was a middle-aged man who had probably once worked here. He had been badly beaten and had bite wounds on his body as well, but the fatal wound appeared to have been a deep gash in his stomach.
Charlie, his face pale and drawn, looked in sheer terror at the body.
Susan shook her head in dismay. Clenched in the dead man’s fist was a picture. She reached out and took it from the corpse to examine it.
“What are you doing? Don’t touch that!” Charlie shouted.
“Calm down. It’s just a photo. Looks like him and his wife.”
“Oh. They looked pretty happy together.”
“Yeah.”
It looked like a wedding picture. The man wore a black tuxedo, and the woman wore a long, flowing white dress with a veil that was pulled back behind her head. They were kissing, neither of them paying any attention to the camera.
Susan set the picture back down on the body. She stepped past the corpse and grabbed two keys before leaving the body behind.
As they set off in the direction of the rooms, she looked over at Charlie. His head was down, and he hadn’t said anything since seeing the body.
“My husband… I…saw him, after he had passed. I’ll never forget the look in his eyes…” Her voice trailed off, and her eyes glimmered as if she might soon cry. She blinked a few times, though, and cleared her throat. “Seeing a person in that state isn’t an easy thing to get past, Charlie. I’m sorry you had to experience that.”
The two continued, now moving down a hallway with doors on either side, each with a room number.
“Keep a look out for 123 and 124,” Susan said.
“112, 114, 116…” said Charlie.
“118, 120, 122…” continued Susan. Then, “Here they are.”
Susan and Charlie investigated their rooms cautiously. Susan had the hatchet ready, and Charlie had a firm grip on the hunting knife.
The rooms were pitch black, and Susan had to take out a flashlight from her backpack to see anything. The only other illumination was the pale moonlight coming in through a window in Charlie’s room, which was directly opposite Susan’s. They found the rooms to be quite nice, all things considered. The sheets were clean, if a bit dusty. Each room had one bed, a window, and even an emergency radio with a hand crank. The carpets were white shag and seemed to be fairly clean. Fresh soap and shampoo had been left out in the bathrooms. Even though the water was cold, since there was no electricity powering the building, getting clean was very refreshing.
“This room is actually kind of…nice,” Charlie said, half surprised to hear himself describe a drab motel room in this way.
But it was true. With the world falling apart around them, these rooms were a sort of surreal return to the normalcy they’d lost only a short time ago, and it truly was nice.
“It is nice, isn’t it?” said Susan. “Well, let’s get some sleep. Keep the door locked and make one last pass through the room to make sure it’s clear before you go to bed. We’ll set off first thing in the morning.”
A few creeps shambled aimlessly about outside, but none came close enough to see them. Before dawn, Susan jostled Charlie awake, reminding him that the two had a long ride ahead.
“We need to check for some food before we leave,” she noted.
“Do you think they’d have any here?” he asked.
“Who knows? We have to check, though.”
They began searching through the motel for any rooms that might contain food.
Charlie found a freezer containing some rancid frozen dinners and a carton of melted ice cream that had pooled around the carton on the floor of the freezer but found nothing that struck him as edible. Susan came across a few boxes of angel food cake
which were still in date and placed them in her backpack. All in all, it was better than nothing, if only just.
Before daybreak, they were racing down the interstate toward Portland.
*
After several hours of driving, the two were getting tired as they wound through what seemed like a never-ending forest. Finally, they spotted a clearing.
They were getting close to Portland now, and they could see a bridge up ahead that would send them into the city. It crossed over the Columbia River, and as they idled onto the bridge, Charlie began to hear the sound of rushing water.
Several boats had been wrecked along the sides of the river, and some cars were piled up near the center of the bridge. They were forced to dismount in order to navigate the wreckage. After several minutes of slowly walking the cumbersome frame of her sport bike through the debris, they found themselves safely on the other side of the bridge.
Chapter 12
May 4th, 2025. Portland, Oregon
Howard hurried to his cupboards and flung them open. They were nearly bare, but he packed what little food he had left into his backpack. He also put in a few bottles of water from his cooler. He packed a change of clothes from his closet, his Bible, and a box of ammunition for his rifle before leaving. Then he snatched up his keys and headed to his pickup truck.
He tossed the backpack in the passenger seat, sat down in the driver’s seat, and closed the door behind him. As he adjusted his mirrors, he saw a pair of eyes glaring at him from the back seat.
Suddenly, hands grabbed at his face, and he struggled to wrench himself free as the attacker clawed and scratched at him. Once free of the thing’s grasp, whatever it was, he flung the door open and ran from the truck. He watched as the thing flailed about, trying to get over the backseat and out to Howard through the open driver’s side door.
Then it struck him. He had left his rifle in the car.
He sprinted back to the driver’s side door, but to his dismay, the infected emerged before he reached it. For the first time, he got a good look at the monster. Its hair was a matted mess, and its clothes were covered in rips and stains.
It was a tall, thin man in overalls and a white tee shirt. Its eyes were wide and bloodshot, and it twitched and fidgeted uncontrollably as it mumbled to itself. It was swaying to and fro, just watching Howard. It didn’t flinch or even blink. Its eyes just bored into him with an unflinching gaze.
Okay, I need the gun. I have to get inside the car somehow.
Eyeing the monster, which was staring at Howard and advancing at him slowly, he tried to think of a better plan.
I could go back into the house and get a knife.
The thing drew two steps nearer, and the stench of death made Howard retch.
No hand-to-hand fighting with this thing, Howard thought, eyeing the creature’s pronounced biceps.
Maybe I could go to the other side of the truck. That might buy me enough time to reach the gun.
He made his move as it lunged at him, a mad sprint around the back of the truck to the passenger side window.
The monster bellowed as he took off and pursued him. It ran much faster than Howard had expected. In seconds, just as Howard got the door open, it grabbed hold of him. Howard kicked it, knocking it backward, and grabbed the rifle.
He took aim and pulled the trigger, but he heard only a click from the gun.
His mind raced to find the cause.
The ammo! It’s in the backpack!
There was no time to load the gun as, once again, the monster was charging at him.
Howard nearly froze in panic until he remembered the loaded handgun he kept in the truck’s glove compartment. He threw the rifle at the beast, which set it off balance and bought him precious seconds. He flung open the glove compartment and grabbed the small handgun from its holster.
As he prepared to take aim, the thing leaped onto him, knocking the handgun to the floorboard.
He struggled to keep the creature at arm’s length as it fought against him with mouth wide open, leaning toward him in an attempt to bite him. Howard placed one arm around the thing’s throat and used the other one to reach for the handgun. Just as his arm threatened to give way under the monster’s surprising weight, he grasped the gun.
His arm collapsed as Howard flipped the safety of the gun off with his thumb, but the creep had its drooling maw poised over Howard’s throat, prepared to end the fight.
Suddenly, a shot rang out.
The infected fell backward from the truck, a small hole under its chin leading to a gaping hole in its scalp.
Howard collected the rifle and placed it back in the car, climbed in, put the truck in drive, and sped off.
Along the route toward Portland International Airport, a roadblock brought the pickup truck to a stop. Three police officers looked up from their conversation as the vehicle drew near.
Howard rolled down his window as one of the officers approached.
“Sorry, sir, the airport is closed. All flights in and out of Portland have been suspended until further notice,” the officer said.
“Where am I supposed to go? I have almost no food, the eighteen-wheelers aren’t running, and there aren’t many supplies left in the stores. What am I supposed to do?” Howard asked.
“Well, I’ve heard it’s pretty safe out east. This Washington may not be safe, but I bet the other Washington is,” the officer remarked.
Actually, that’s not a bad idea, Howard thought to himself.
He thanked the officer for his time before turning around and heading for the interstate.
The on-ramp to the interstate was a parking lot. Bumper-to-bumper traffic made travel almost impossible.
“You know, I’m never going to make it to DC at this rate. I’d make more progress walking,” he said aloud.
What at first seemed to be a laughable notion soon turned out to be the only viable option. He closed his eyes, asking for guidance. Finally, he turned off his car, opened the door, grabbed his backpack and his rifle, and began walking on foot.
After about an hour and a half of walking, he managed to reach a clearer portion of the interstate.
Suddenly, Howard heard a noise that startled him. It was the roar of a motorcycle engine.
*
Charlie and Susan had been driving for what seemed like hours. Suddenly, they caught a glimpse of a silhouette off in the distance. As they drove closer, they could tell it was a man—he didn’t look to be infected, but neither could tell for sure—carrying what seemed to Charlie at first to be a very large stick. Susan soon determined it must be a rifle.
“What do you think? Should we get closer?” Susan asked.
“Get closer? Are you serious? What if it’s a bandit or something?”
“What makes you think he’s a bandit?”
“He’s got a gun!”
“Well, so do I, and I’m not a bandit. He’s probably just trying to survive out here, same as we are.”
“I don’t know…I don’t think it’s such a good idea. We should just keep going.”
“You know, if I’d had that attitude, you wouldn’t even be here right now.”
“Fine. Do what you want.”
Charlie may have a point, Susan thought to herself. Even though this man probably isn’t a bandit, we can’t take anything for granted now.
Susan idled up to the man and turned the bike’s engine off so she could greet him. She also unfastened the strap on her holster and placed her hand carefully on the handle of her revolver.
“Hey there, we couldn’t help notice you out here, What’s your name?”
“The name’s Howard. Howard McGregory.”
Howard eyed the two strangers. He kept his rifle pointed away from them, but his finger remained poised over the trigger.
They seem friendly enough, he thought, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.
“Well, I’m Susan Polke, and this is Charlie.”
“Hey, Susan. Charlie. Nice to meet
you both,” Howard said.
Charlie remained silent.
“So where’re you headed, Howard?” asked Susan.
“I’m on my way out east, I suppose. A police officer told me it was safe there.”
“Well, well, well. What a coincidence. It just so happens we’re all heading in the same direction. We’re on our way to Washington, DC,” Susan said, relaxing her hand on the handle of her revolver.
Howard, in turn, relaxed his grip on the rifle he carried, holding it only by the stock with his left hand.
“Yeah,” Charlie interrupted, glaring at Susan, “but we don’t have room for passengers.”
“I think we may be able to drop some dead weight,” Susan retorted, glaring back.
Charlie sighed, stood up, and walked away from the other two, mumbling to himself.
“I’m sorry about that. He’s really not such a bad guy, once you get to know him,” Susan said. “He’s just a little scared, you know?”
“We all are,” Howard said, looking past her to Charlie, who was at this point sulking a few yards away, still mumbling to himself.
“He is right about one thing, though. There’s no room for me on that bike of yours. You two should go ahead. I’ll be okay.”
“No, there has to be some other way. We’re not just going to leave you here,” Susan said. “We could always ditch the bike, hoof it to DC,” she suggested.
“Whoa, hold on there,” said Charlie, eager to stamp out that suggestion before it had a chance to take hold.
“You mean walk, like on foot, all the way to Washington DC? You do know how far that is, don’t you? You aren’t seriously considering that? You were just joking, right? Please tell me you were only joking.”
“Charlie, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the bike is almost out of gas anyway.”
“Well, we could always stop and fill it up, couldn’t we?”
“How much gas do you think is left in these stations? We weren’t going to make it much farther on that thing anyway. It was only a matter of time.”
Charlie let out a moan of despair and resignation at this new development. “Unbelievable,” he said and shook his head, resuming his desperate pacing.