One Tripper reached the front door, and I could see the top of its head as it checked the door out. I held my breath as the handle jerked back and forth violently and then twisted as the Tripper tried to open it. Thankfully my dad had locked the door behind him as was his habit. Lessons from the bad times he always said.
The Tripper stayed by the door, then it’s head slowly started to tilt back and raise higher as the infected person started to look in.
Suddenly there was a sparkle of glass falling to the floor. An arrow jutted out of the small window, stuck in the head of the Tripper. The infected person fell back, pulling the arrow through the small window. There was a huge thud as the Tripper slammed into the porch, and I felt the vibration as it shook the house.
My dad hissed at me. “Why did you do that, Josh?” he sounded angry as he listened for the other Trippers to react to the noise.
“Do what?” I asked. I was very confused. I looked down and saw my bow was in its usual place. My fingers felt like I had shot something, but for the life of me I had no recollection of doing anything like that.
“You just killed a Tripper right through that window!”
I thought about it for a second, and it came back to me. I knew we would be in danger if that Tripper saw us, and if my dad had taken a shot, then we would have really been in trouble. So I just automatically did what I had to do.
I explained it to my dad very quietly, and he calmed down when he realized I had done what was necessary, and to have delayed would have caused trouble.
“I’m sorry, Josh. I guess I didn’t expect you to be on autopilot just yet,” Dad said.
“That’s okay,” I said, putting another arrow on my bow. I wasn’t entirely sure what ‘autopilot’ meant, but I made a note to ask later. Right now I had other worries. Another Tripper was thumping around to the front door and had a good chance of spotting us. I raised my bow, but my father pushed my arm down.
“The one you killed is in the way, so we might get lucky. Just hunker down, and we’ll hope for the best,” Dad said.
I sat on the bottom step trying not to breathe or move. I decided to treat this like a hunting situation. I needed the prey to move to a place where I could get a good shot, and I just needed patience.
My father wasn’t doing as well. He fidgeted, he inspected his gun, he tied and re-tied his shoelaces. At one point I thought he might just stand up, go over to the windows, and start blasting away. I never knew he was so impatient. I began to wonder how he ever hunted before I was able to.
Finally, after what seemed to be an hour, the crowd stumbled off the porch and wandered away. My dad slowly went over to each window and carefully looked out.
“I think they’re finally gone, Joshua. Let’s get ourselves away from here in case they decide to come back,” he said.
I couldn’t agree more. I was tired of this house and wanted to get outside where it wasn’t dusty. My throat was sore, and my eyes stung a bit.
We got back on our bikes and rode off to the east again, sticking to the shadows on the south side of the road. We carefully looked over each home we passed, but didn’t see any more signs of trouble. Several of the homes were broken into, and more than a few had been burned. We just kept riding, and another hour found us on the outskirts of a town called Crete. I knew about Crete from my studies with my mom, so I thought it was odd that they would name a town after a Greek island.
Dad used his binoculars to look over the town, and what he saw must have been reassuring because he put them away and rode off without so much as a ‘What do you think, Josh?’
I followed along, and my thoughts drifted here and there. I could see the town in front of me, and I wondered what it was like before the infection took over. Were there lots of kids like me? What were they doing; what did they do for fun? I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to just walk out of your house and not have to worry about someone trying to kill you because their mind was gone.
The town was pretty empty. We rode past a couple houses that looked like they had people living in them, and there was a man who was tending a garden who threw us a wave as we rode past. My dad rode over to talk, and I stayed put, content to just sit on the side of the road and watch the world slowly move on by. I amused myself by imagining places where Trippers might be hiding and figuring out ways to deal with them without getting killed.
After a bit Dad came riding back. He looked happy, like he was glad to have some kind of conversation other than with his son and his wife.
“Man says we’re about ten miles from the wall; should be an easy run through the back country, and then we’re there,” Dad said.
“Will we get there before dark?” I asked. I was a little afraid we wouldn’t have decent shelter and would have to camp out in the open. Trippers were especially active at night, and they could find you in the darkest of places. It was like they could hear your heartbeat or something.
My father understood my fear. “Don’t worry, Josh. We’ll find a safe place before it gets dark, don’t worry.”
We rode on and passed a huge grocery store and hardware store. We didn’t bother to stop because places like that had been cleaned out a long time ago. You found stuff in homes, not in stores. Like the box I found in that farmhouse. We hadn’t opened it up yet, but that was how you found things.
We caught a break and got to coast down a long, lazy hill that wound through a little valley of trees and a creek. I really liked the area, and said so to my Dad.
“This would be a nice place to live when I get my own house,” I said, pointing to the trees and water.”
“Someday you will Josh, but it’s up to you to make it as safe as possible for your family,” Dad said.
“I will,” I said, and I meant it as a promise not to him, but to myself.
Chapter 16
We rode up a steep hill, and from the top I could see the grey wall. I had heard of it, saw a picture of it, but it was something else to see it in person.
We followed the road to where it abruptly ended and carefully approached the wall. The concrete structure simply cut the road off, no warning at all. The wall was about twenty feet tall and made of solid concrete. It was rough, but it had a strange beauty to it. I reached out and put a hand on it, looking up to the top as it towered over me.
My dad watched me for a while before he spoke. “Back when we had television, we were told this was going to happen. They said the only way to save the country was to protect the one place that was left; that had the fewest infected. They came in helicopters, Josh, carrying these pieces of wall. Bulldozers cleared the way while massive diggers cleared a trench to put the wall in. What was left of the army guarded us, and then they left to fight against the Trippers. Someplace east, if I remember. The city was included in the wall although there were a lot of infected people there. At the time, we thought the Trippers were just going to die out, but that didn’t happen.”
Dad put his hand on the wall. “We were told we were the last and had to fight. If we wanted a country and a future, it was up to us. After a couple of years, we realized we were the only ones left, and everything on the other side of this wall was either a Tripper or dead.”
I didn’t know what to say. Dad had never spoken to me about the real early years; mostly it was about how he had fought against looters and gangs, and how the sick were suddenly everywhere. But the original days, no. This was new to me.
My father continued. “We didn’t know what to do. Some people left their homes and tried to go to the bigger communities, but that turned out to be a mistake since things were worse there with the Trippers all over. A lot of our neighbors left, and we’ve never seen them again. Trey’s dad and I decided to make our stand at our homes, and we’d lend each other a hand as needed.” Dad took his hand off the wall. “Turns out that was the only choice we could make. I had you and your mom to look after, and I have to say I really hoped everything would just move past us if we just left it alone.”
I looked back at the wall. I could see how it would stop Trippers from coming over. I had a brief thought about how it stopped people from the other side trying to escape the madness of their world gone upside down.
“Have you ever looked over the wall, Dad?” I asked.
My dad shook his head. “Nope. As far as all of us were concerned, that world doesn’t exist anymore.” He picked up his bike and turned it around. “Besides,” he said, “no one who’s ever crossed that barrier has ever come back. No one.” He emphasized that last point to make it clear to me that I should not have any thoughts about seeing what’s on the other side.
We rode away as the sun was starting to set. The little valley with the trees and the creek was beckoning, and I was hopeful we would be able to spend the night in one of the homes. I was very happy, therefore, when my dad turned up a driveway and approached one of them. It was a small, single-story house made to look like a log cabin. I had seen pictures of log cabins, but this was a modern version. The yard was very overgrown, and the trees had dumped several years’ worth of leaves on the roof. There was a garage around the corner of the house, but the roof on it had collapsed a while ago, largely in part to the huge tree branch sticking out of the center.
My dad parked his bike and cautiously approached the house. The air was eerily still in this part of the valley, and I could hear the creek happily bubbling along as it made its way eventually to the river. My hunter’s eye saw several game trails, and I could see in my peripheral vision the furtive movements of small animals as they tried to see who the intruders were.
The sound of glass breaking brought me back to the task at hand, and I looked to see my dad reaching through a small side window by the front door and opening it. He went in carefully and about fifteen minutes later returned.
The sun was about an hour away from setting, and I noticed this valley was a lot darker than the surrounding land. I hoped we would be inside soon because Trippers liked the dark, and I could imagine several thinking this would be a nice place to spend a rage-filled nightmare of an existence.
“It’s clear, Josh. Come on in. Put your bike up by mine.” He indicated his parking space which was up by the porch but out of sight of the road. There wasn’t any real danger of theft anymore. Most of the thieves had settled down or been killed. Dad told me once that the gangs tended to kill each other, and when the dust settled, the regular people then settled the gang. I never saw one myself, so I guess it worked.
We camped in the main living room, and while I took care of the gear, my father started a small fire in the fireplace. It was cool enough outside that I knew the night was going to be cold, and a fire would be welcome. The house was small but cozy, and besides the slight layer of dust, it was neat as could be. I imagined an older couple living here, or maybe a young man by himself. Heck, maybe I’d take it over when I got older.
Dad and I didn’t talk much, but tonight he seemed to be in a mood to chat. “Josh, I don’t know what the world will hold for you. I don’t know what you will do for a living, if there is such a thing to be had anymore. I do know you’re a skilled hunter, and based on how well you’ve taken to training, I think you’ll do okay on your own.
“But I’m not always going to be here, and neither is your mom. So listen carefully because there are things it’s time you learned.”
Dad spoke on into the coming dark, and I never listened so carefully to what he had to say. It was as if he had been rehearsing this speech most of his life and was waiting for the right time to let it go. As I listened, I realized this was something I may want to do with my own children someday—give them a speech to guide and protect them. I drank it in like sweet rain, and it touched me deeply. More so than anything else I had ever been taught.
It was pitch black out when my dad finished. He reached over and messed my hair, then dug into his pack. He pulled out the box I had found and placed it on the floor between us.
“Well, let’s see what you found here.” Dad opened the box, and looked inside. He smiled to himself, and I heard him whisper “Perfect.” He looked up at me, and the curiosity must have been on my face because he chuckled.
“Well done, Josh. Well done,” Dad said, turning the box around.
I looked in, and my jaw dropped. I had seen pictures of them and read about them in my western novels, but I never thought I’d ever find one. Looking up at me, glinting in the firelight, was a nickel-plated Colt Single Action Army. It rested in a blue satin bed with bright white grips. In the bottom left of the box there was a small section that held five rows of bullets. I quickly counted them, and there were twenty-five in all. Each one was bright brass, and I could read the lettering on the back which said ’45 Colt.’
My dad picked up the gun and opened the loading gate. I knew all about these from my books. He pulled the hammer to half-cock and gave the cylinder a spin. It clicked sweetly in the light, and my dad closed the gate. He uncocked the gun and put it back in the case.
“You’ll have to learn to shoot now although I’m not sure you’ll find too much 45 Colt ammo,” Dad said.
“Me?” I squeaked. My heart was in my throat. Did he just mean what I thought he meant?”
Dad laughed. “Yes, you. You found it; it’s yours. I have several, so I don’t need another. Don’t worry. I’ll teach you how to use it, and more importantly, when to use it. Nice find, Josh.”
Dad put the beautiful gun back into the case. He closed the lid, then slid the box over to me. I just looked at the box for a long time, then tucked it into my backpack. My mind was already spinning with what I was going to tell Trey, and I started thinking about what I could make a holster out of. These happy thoughts put me to sleep as the small fire in the fireplace cast red shadows all over the room.
Chapter 17
My dad woke me in what I considered a rude manner in the morning. His hand was over my mouth, and he waited until I had fully awakened before he took it away. When he did, he told me something that made me wish he had kept his hand on my mouth so I could yell appropriately.
“There’s Trippers all around us. Stay on the floor, get your stuff, and very quietly get over to the door. Stay away from the windows,” Dad said as he slowly crawled to his gear and started packing it up. It didn’t look easy trying to do that while lying down, and when I tried it, I found it wasn’t.
I got my stuff together and slowly made my way to the front door. Fortunately, there were curtains on the windows, so there wasn’t a good chance of being seen. But by the front door there weren’t any, so any Tripper looking in might have a chance of seeing us. I didn’t understand my dad’s logic, but here we were.
In a minute, my dad joined me. “You okay?” he asked. His gun was in his hand, and he was sweating slightly. I was sweating as well, since my bow was unstrung, and it was little more than a curvy stick right now.
“Okay. I’m going to go to the back door and start making some noise. When they clear out of the front, get to your bike and get riding, don’t wait for me,” he said.
“But, Dad!” I whispered in protest.
“No, Josh. I need you to get away, and I don’t want to have to worry about you if I’m trying to get away, too.”
“But…”
“Do what I say, Josh. I’ll be fine. Be ready to move.” My dad gave me a quick kiss on the top of my head and then slipped away to the back door. I couldn’t see him, but in a second I could hear him.
“Hey! Hey! Right here! Right here!” he shouted.
I jumped slightly when I heard a couple of shots. I used the few seconds I had to string my bow and get it ready just in case. I wished I knew how to use my new gun, but I’d probably shoot myself in the leg.
I looked out the window and saw the front was clear of Trippers. I saw two of them stumbling around the side of the house, and I knew it was time to go.
“I’m out, Dad!” I yelled as I yanked open the door. Two more shots sounded, and I heard my dad yell out.
“Go, Josh! Move!”
I leapt down the stairs and sprinted towards my bike. I pulled it off the bush and rode like a lunatic towards the end of the driveway. I was at the road, about fifty yards away from the house, when I stopped. I know my dad told me not to, but I couldn’t just leave. I saw movement. I saw my dad run through the house pursued by a very fast Tripper. Just as he got to the door and tried to close it, the Tripper grabbed his shirt. My dad was pulled around, and I could see the rage in the Tripper’s face as its head darted forward to try and bite my dad’s face off.
My dad’s hand went up and punched the Tripper in the chin which gave him time to get his other hand up, the one with the gun, and shoot the infected man in the face. The Tripper went down without a sound, but the delay allowed two more Trippers to get close to my dad. One reached for his legs while the other grabbed his gun arm.
My dad let out a bellow of rage—a sound I had never heard before. It scared the hell out of me and finally got me moving.
“Dad!” I screamed, whipping an arrow out of my quiver. I nocked and fired so fast I had a second arrow ready to go before the first one hit the target. My aim was true; the Tripper at my dad’s waist got an arrow through the top of her head, which killed her instantly. My second arrow stayed in my bow as my dad was in the way, and I didn’t have a shot.
“Go, Josh! Ride, dammit!” my dad yelled. “Go!”
I was crying as I rode up the street, not knowing what to do. I stopped at the top of the hill watching the road behind me for any movement, anything. Tears streamed down my face as I cried in frustration. I wished I was bigger, I wished I knew how to shoot my gun, I wished all the Trippers would just die.
I sat down with my bow cradled in my arms, and I just rocked back and forth. I didn’t know what else to do. I stared at the road until I had to blink, then stared at it some more.
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