“Hold it, Jerry. Back up a bit.”
“What is it, I can’t see—”
“There’s a car back in that alley.” Elliot pointed just behind him.
Elliot grabbed the flashlight from the glove compartment as Jerry reversed to a stop.
“Sure is dark in there.”
“Yeah, I know,” Elliot replied with unease. “I’ll take the shotgun, you keep the street—and me—covered with your rifle.” He stepped from the car and was greeted by a hissing sound from the front of the car. Vapor rose from beneath the hood.
“Hope that car starts, because this one just bit the dust.” Jerry slapped a hand on to the roof of the Camaro when he stepped out.
Elliot held the flashlight in a reverse-grip, his left arm bent at the elbow in front of him. The sawed-off side-by-side shotgun rested in the crook of his elbow as he carefully advanced down the alley. There was a definite dampness in the air and the breeze that came up the alley didn’t help matters much. He wished he’d taken the time to put on his jacket, but it was still on the back seat of the car.
When Elliot got close enough, he saw the reason for the car, a dark blue Toyota Corolla, was left where it was. A brick fence ran in front of the car, sealing off the alley. It was probably the parking area for the owner of one of the stores on either side. Elliot shined the flashlight all around him and then into the interior of the car—he became more concerned about getting caught in a dead end the longer he stayed. None of the car doors opened, so Elliot used the butt end of the steel baton-like flashlight on the rear passenger window.
Jerry shined his flashlight down the alley when he heard breaking glass. “You okay, Elliot?” Jerry kept his voice as low as possible, but still loud enough to be heard.
Elliot waved back with his flashlight, then opened the front door. It took a few minutes longer to hotwire this car as he fumbled with the wires underneath the steering column and tried to keep the flashlight steady.
The instant Jerry heard the engine turn over, he opened the trunk of the Camaro to get the backpacks ready for a quick transfer. Elliot already had the trunk popped in the Corolla when he emerged from the alley. The moment the backpacks and extra gear were thrown in, Jerry jumped in the passenger seat—ready to continue their journey.
“Well, the breeze will keep us awake.” Jerry pointed to the smashed window.
As they left the overheated Camaro on Railroad Avenue in Burns, Oregon, light rain started to fall. Their progress, which had been good, would now be hindered by dark and wet conditions.
Against All Odds 13
The changeover of cars—mandatory as it was—took longer than either had allowed for.
“No stops, Jerry.”
“What if I have to have a—”
“Well, of course in that situation I might pull over.” Elliot winked at his companion, a smirk on his face.
“Still, I wouldn’t mind a change in underwear and some—”
“Don’t talk about it!”
They each burst into laughter simultaneously as Elliot turned right onto West Fillmore Street—that would take them onto the Central Oregon Highway. Though they had faced several life-threatening incidents both had kept their sense of humor throughout. There hadn’t been much for either man to laugh about but when there was it came as a relief.
At best, it would take them six hours to go from Burns to the coastal town of Newport. There were many small towns in-between which would slow them down and the Corolla had just enough fuel to last the distance—if nothing untoward occurred. Their real concern would be Bend, a city of around eighty thousand. The probability of foamers would be high, and now they also had to add the mutants to the equation. If they stayed on the 20 they could avoid Salem, a city over twice the size of Bend. Once through the small city of Lebanon, they would take the Corvallis-Lebanon Highway—the 34—to Corvallis and get back on the 20 there. As much effort and concentration was required by the driver, it was equally so for the map reader. This would avoid the other formerly well-populated city of Albany. However, Corvallis was about the same size.
“If we stay on the 34 after Lebanon, we’ll bypass most of Corvallis.” Jerry shined his flashlight over the map. It was totally dark now, so the headlights of the Corolla would make them look like a mobile Christmas tree.
“And where will that take us?”
“Right back to the 20, and on to Newport. It’s a winding road, but we won’t have to worry about traffic.” Jerry winked after his remark, but it went unseen in the dark.
In the illumination of the dashboard lights, Jerry saw Elliot nod, but Elliot didn’t say anything. Jerry decided to give him some time to think.
After a few minutes of silence, Jerry finally brought up the subject. As the rain fell harder he felt there was little choice anymore. “Let’s say we make it to Newport in one piece. I think it would be wise if we rested the night and moved on first thing in the morning.”
At first there was no answer, just the purr of the 4-cylinder engine.
Finally, Elliot spoke up. “I don’t know how to say this to you, but if we don’t get to Sandspit as soon as we can, it won’t matter any longer—not for us. I’ve said this before and I truly believe it. Hell… it may be too late already.”
“Then what’s the—”
“Because we have to try, Jerry!” For the first time since they started their journey together, tension rose.
“I’m sorry, really I am. But I have grave concerns about traveling on the open sea in this weather, and it may be worse by the time we get to Newport. Neither of us are experienced when it comes to watercraft, and besides,” Jerry paused before he added, “I get sea-sick!”
Elliot stared back at Jerry, then after a good five seconds, burst into laughter.
“What. What’s so funny?”
“You’re worried about sea-sickness? Man, I would think that’s the least of your troubles.” Elliot shook his head, still laughing, but returned his gaze to the road. They had left the cities of Burns and Hines behind them, but in the dark, wet, and with foamers about, it wouldn’t pay to take your eyes off the road for too long.
The plan was to travel nonstop to Newport grab a power boat, stay close to the shoreline, head north until they were roughly parallel to Sandspit, then make a dash across the sea. This would remove at least seven hundred miles of road travel and over fifteen hours, but they’d still be required to operate a power boat for at least sixteen hours. And regardless of Elliot’s attitude, if the sea became too rough from inclement weather they’d have no other choice but to wait it out.
There were a lot of “ifs” in this calculation, where one would be dependent on the other. Should one fail, there went the whole box and dice with it. If determination were to play a role, their plan would succeed without question. Unfortunately, that’s not always the case. There wouldn’t be time to stand and fight against foamers, mutants, or other armed groups. Unless there was a road blockage, they wouldn’t stop until they reached their destination. Elliot drove a bit further before coming to a complete stop in the middle of the highway.
“What is it, Elliot? You see something?”
“No. I just thought you better drive the rest of the way while I try for a nap. I’ll probably have to drive the boat, so I’ll need the rest. Just straight through, okay?”
Jerry nodded before he got out of the Toyota to trade places. As they passed each other at the rear of the car, Elliot grabbed Jerry’s arm. “And you wake me the moment there’s any trouble.”
“Of course. Do you think I’m gonna handle it by myself?”
“No, just thought I’d remind you.”
The words spoken in a civil voice at the rear of the car. This show of concern for each other plus, the physical contact, eased the tension. It was as good an apology as there was likely to be. Elliot wasn’t about to give ground on this. As far as he was concerned he was right. He didn’t care how tough and dangerous the journey might be, if they made it back
to Sandspit in time, they’d have a future.
Elliot knew that because Cindy told him—during his last nap.
As on-edge as he was, Elliot was also exhausted. He’d practically been in that state since the day of the breakout in Twin Falls. So he had little trouble falling asleep just after he traded places with Jerry. Images of his friends and family came and went in a misty, ethereal way. Chuck, Riley, Aunt Kath, Sam (who he knew little of, but had connected on a mystical level with immediately), his father and there were the images of those that hadn’t survived. His mother, Roger, Tristan, and Tom. But he couldn’t understand why Allan’s image appeared alongside the deceased. In his short visits to his dreams, Allan appeared apologetic—which confused Elliot.
Of all the people that stopped by when he slept—and sometimes when awake—he interacted most with Cindy.
“Elliot, Elliot you must hurry…time grows short,” she would say to him. Her voice a distant astral projection. Though he’d just see her face mostly, at other times he saw her image below the surface of the water. Another thing he didn’t understand.
“They are leaving without you Elliot…they’ve given up hope of your return.”
“What do you mean they’re leaving?” Elliot asked her—his voice slow, heavy. “You have to delay them, Cindy. Tell them I’m on my way back. I’m on my way back to you.”
“You have to be quick Elliot, very quick. We are lea…” Cindy’s voice faded away.
“Cindy, come back! Cindy!”
“It’s okay, Elliot. It’s okay. You’re having a dream.” Jerry had stopped the car on the highway. Elliot’s cries the cause for the emergency stop.
“Wha…what happened?”
“You had a dream about your friends back on Sandspit. You kept calling for Cindy.” Jerry passed over a bottle of water.
“Did I, say anything else?” Elliot asked before taking a mouthful of the refreshing water.
“You told her to delay the departure, but I didn’t understand why.”
Elliot leaned back into his seat and took another, more deliberate drink. “Yes, I remember now. Cindy told me they were leaving and we had to get there quick or they’d be gone. That’s why I told her to slow them somehow.”
“Aah.”
Jerry didn’t offer anything else, preferring to listen at this stage. Doctors had to make a lot of decisions and many of those depended entirely on what the patient told them—obvious outward signs weren’t always present.
“It was strange. She appeared distant to me, but then at times she was underwater, or so it seemed.”
“Well she is quite far away, so that would explain that part. But the underwater thing I have no idea about—unless the two of you went scuba diving or—”
“In Twin Falls? Are you pulling my chain?”
“Just thinking out loud, that’s all. I don’t know, but I do know this: you were involved in a deep conversation—though I couldn’t hear the other side—and I think you and Cindy have a connection. Just like that old Golden Earring classic from back in the seventies.”
“You mean Radar Love?”
“The very one.”
“Shit, I never thought of it that way. Maybe you’re right.” Elliot was excited and fully awake now.
He finished the bottle of water in silence and contemplated Jerry’s observations. That would explain everything—why he felt so compelled to get back to Sandspit. Cindy did tell him. It really was Radar Love.
Against All Odds 14
Elliot looked out the window of the car; the night had finally settled in, while light rain still fell.
“Where are we, anyway? How far have we gone?” he finally asked. The headlights of the Toyota showed a terrain remarkably different than before. In the periphery of the headlights, he could see the grass of farmland.
“Corvallis up ahead, Elliot.”
“What?” Elliot started, and half body turned in his seat. “I’ve been asleep that long?”
“Yep, out like a light. I was surprised you could sleep at all. It's so damn cold in the car.” Jerry nodded in the direction of the broken rear passenger window.
“Holy… Then there was no trouble in any of the towns behind us, not even Bend?”
“No, none that I stopped to check out. From what I saw, Bend was in shambles. The streets were wet, it reminded me of the damage Hurricane Katrina left behind in New Orleans.”
“You were there?”
“After the event. I volunteered with many other doctors to help with the injured. When you have so many displaced people in a relatively small area suffering from flood damage, the possibility of disease is very high, so we had to monitor those conditions, too.”
“And Bend looked that bad, eh?”
“I wouldn’t say as bad. Katrina was like a bomb-blast. I made the comparison because of the rain-soaked streets, the damaged and looted stores, the overturned cars that littered the streets—which slowed us down—there were many shadows around on the edges of the headlights. I didn’t stop or slow to look, and I have no idea if they were human, foamer, or mutant. But we’re coming up on Corvallis now and I haven’t looked at the map for this place, so I’m glad you’re awake.”
Elliot switched on his penlight and shined it over the map—now folded to the state of Oregon—as he looked for the best route through Corvallis.
“Newport is only fifty or so miles from Corvallis. Once we’re through here, we can be in Newport in less than an hour. Okay, here we go. We stay on this highway and turn left just before the river ahead. We’ll practically bypass the city and that will put us right back to the 20. We’ll go through Philomath and a few smaller towns, and then onto Newport.”
“And let's hope we find a suitable boat just as easy.”
It was a statement of fact, not negativity—that was how Elliot took it anyway.
The Toyota’s headlights picked up some debris on the road ahead—cars left skewed on the sides and the sign for the Van Buren Avenue Bridge.
“Turn left here, before the bridge.”
The streets of Corvallis were wet, but in the headlights, Elliot and Jerry noticed the rain had eased. Could they be getting a lucky break, they each wondered?
“Follow this, and it will take us all the way to Newport,” Elliot said as the Corolla turned onto the Pacific Highway, which would in turn become the Newport-Corvallis Highway.
It wasn’t until they were over the bridge that the damage to Corvallis became evident. Store windows were smashed, doors hung limply from frames, and the goods from inside now littered the streets. Neither Elliot or Jerry looked too hard, in case they saw foamers. But in some instances, the headlights picked up the slumped form of a human in the gutter, dangling from a car, or legs that poked out from a smashed store window. Corvallis gave all the indications of foamer activity—and a lot of it. If things were this bad on the edge of the city, what must they be like in the center or in the neighborhoods?
They said nothing, but both felt a strange sensation. Like the air was full of static. Sometimes after the rain, it could feel that way. But they knew it was for a different reason.
Foamers.
With the easing of the rain, the road cleared as the 34 became the 20 and Jerry slowed to negotiate the bend near the park. A natural behavior when you're wary. Large trees lined the park on their left, while buildings—mainly warehouses—were on their right. Their destination was ahead. Elliot grabbed the powerful flashlight from the floor and put his window down for a quick look. His senses were alerted with the rush of cold air into his face. Shining the light off the side of the road, he saw nothing. It was too dark, and the flashlight beam only created more shadows from the tree trunks.
“Oh shit!” Jerry slammed his foot down on the brake pedal. “What the fuck?”
A wall of flame shot across the road twenty yards in front of them—starting from Jerry’s side and racing across. It was evident an accelerant was used.
Elliot reached for his revolver, then c
arefully eased the shotgun, broken open for safety, forward. “What do you see?”
“Nothing. Not a fucking—oh, shit!”
Elliot turned to his left. In the residual light from the Toyota’s halogen beams, four or five foamers rushed out from Pioneer Park.
“Get moving, Jerry!”
“But the fire—”
“Never mind the fuckin’ fire, get moving!”
Jerry put his foot down on the accelerator—too hard—and the tires just spun on the damp asphalt.
“Ease off, let the tires grip,” Elliot told Jerry. The first foamer lunged onto the hood of the car while a second foamer started thumping on the rear window. With that kind of strength, he would be through the window and into the backseat at any moment.
“Cover your ears.”
“What—”
Two massive explosions erupted inside the Corolla as Elliot fired. Even under pressure, his aim was true. The two .357 Magnum slugs caught the nearest foamer right in the forehead and ended his days as one of the tormented undead.
“Argh, fuck!” Jerry screamed and jerked his head sharply to his left. The muzzle had been less than six inches from his right ear.
“Drive, Jerry! For fuck’s sake, drive!”
The tires started to gain traction, and they moved forward.
Elliot put his window up and Jerry checked that his was up as they prepared to drive through the five-foot-high flames. Over toward the park, dozens and dozens of foamers gathered in readiness for an assault on the Toyota.
“These zombie bastards have not only figured out how to start a fire, but to use it in an ambush. Could their comprehension have grown so soon?”
Before Elliot could answer, a scuffling sound of running feet came from the dark, followed by a tormented groan.
“Fucking hell!” Jerry yelled as a foamer launched themselves like a missile through the broken rear passenger window. By the remaining long hair and the style of clothing, the foamer was identified as female. She made it halfway through before her knees caught the outside door panel, preventing her making it all the way.
Beyond the Brink_Toward the Brink IV Page 27