“My God, it's like a mansion-house,” Amber said as she opened yet another door.
“Here it is,” Frank said from the kitchen. “Holy shit, this garage is big enough to be another house.”
He wasn't wrong. The garage would have held two cars, had one not been gone, but it also opened on both sides, with enough bays to support ten different types of vehicles.
Frank walked cautiously down a set of concrete steps leading into the garage, taking note that the entire thing was pristine. In most garages you would find a few out of place tools, and at least an oil spill marring an otherwise perfect floor. This garage looked as if it had been freshly installed, but Frank could certainly tell better. The area wasn't completely dark. The lights were obviously out, but a series of small windows high up in the concrete walls allowed a considerable amount of light to leak in and bathe the parked vehicles.
The first thing blocking his way was what appeared to be a twenty-foot recreational boat. The brand name 'Simmons & Gabriel” was stamped near the edge of the shiny white exterior, and a black canvas tarp hugged the edges, covering the top, and concealing anything that might have been lurking underneath. Then again, it would probably seal off anything underneath as well. Nevertheless, Frank was careful as he walked about the port side of the boat, around back, and into the rest of the garage. He was vaguely aware of the rest of his family following him as he passed a red minivan, clearly intended for a family. Finally, he came to it. A divider in the center of the garage had blocked their sight, but he could see a door set in the midst of the divider. He walked toward it, his footsteps echoing against the concrete, and pulled the door open. It came easily, and he stepped through into a slightly darker area. There were fewer windows in here, but Frank could see just fine.
“My God,” Amber said behind him, “they're so beautiful.”
They were. In fact, they had to be the most beautiful thing Frank had seen in weeks. There they sat, four ATV's, polished to a shine and reflecting what little light was allowed into the garage.
“There's one for each of us!” Kelly shouted happily from behind Carl.
Frank laughed. “Over my dead body,” he said, inspiring a chuckle from the rest of the group.
“We need to get these garage doors open,” Amber said, indicating the bank of doors at the back. “Then we need to get the hell out of here before more crazies show up.”
They stood there for a moment, trying to determine how they might open the garage door without power before Carl pointed out that most garage doors have a manual override. In this case, the override was a metal latch built onto the drive system for the door. Frank reached up, pulled the latch, and heard a satisfying click as the door released. Carl walked to the door, grasped the bottom of it by a metal handle, and pulled the door open, revealing a lush green landscape behind the house.
The four walked from the door, across a gravel drive, and to the edge of a hill with a fairly steep drop.
“Holy shit,” Amber said as she looked into the valley below. “These people have their own pond...with a damn desert island.”
The backyard was practically a theme park, filled with trails for the ATV's, the desert island that Amber had mentioned, and a plethora of other amenities that one should only see in a national park.
“Some people have more money than sense,” Carl said. “Let's get the ATV's moving.
They returned to the garage and chose three different ATV's to use on their journey. Amber chose the hot pink one, though she never considered that it probably belonged to the woman they had just gunned down in cold blood. Frank and Carl chose their own, and Kelly was more than disappointed when she wasn't allowed to choose a vehicle of her own.
“I'm going to leave the key to this fourth one on the seat,” Carl said. “If someone else happens through here they're going to need it.”
They mounted their ATV's, and with a little experimentation, they got the hang of steering and acceleration.
“I think I've got this,” Carl said. “Is anyone else ready to go to the coast?”
They were in agreement, and pulled their vehicles from the garage one at a time, with Kelly hanging tightly onto her father's back. A right turn out of the garage took them down a gravel road, around the side of the house, and eventually led them to a path. The path directed them to the backyard, and onto the set of trails in the odd 'national park' setting. With any luck, they wouldn't run into more trouble until they reached the coast, but they each knew that it was more than wishful thinking.
Chapter 12
“I want to make something perfectly clear,” General Dunfield said. “I gave every man, woman, and child a chance to join the United States Military with little to no questions asked. I promised you food, water, shelter, and most anything else you've been lacking in the last few weeks.”
He was standing on a makeshift wooden stage outside Gate F at Wright Patterson Air Force Base. His troops had caught a man stealing bread from a supply truck bound for the base, and he was none too happy about it. The man in question was bound to a post built directly into the makeshift deck. Dunfield had used the PA system once again to summon as many as possible to the deck, and he was bound and determined to make an example of someone.
“There is only so much I can do,” Dunfield continued. “I can make you promises, and I can keep my promises, but what I need you to do is meet me halfway. This man, did not meet me halfway. In our old world, there would have been a trial, and he might have paid a fine. Then again, there wasn't really a need to steal bread back then. In our new world, our better world, we have no room for thievery. We have no time to entertain actions that would prove contrary to our purpose of a better Union.”
There were a total of ten soldiers standing upon the makeshift stage, all of which stood at the position of parade rest. Hands crossed behind the back and feet spread to the width of the shoulders. The uniforms were assorted, all the way from the original camouflage BDU's to the new digital cami's. Dunfield had recently learned there was a serious problem with supply – that problem being the lack of available uniforms.
They were standing on an Air Force base, and AF uniforms were obviously different from Army uniforms. Dunfield had never been a fan of the difference, especially considering the subtle changes last year. There were plenty of uniforms at Fort Sill, particularly at the Reception Battalion, but, they had not yet managed to overcome the dense zombie infestation in that area.
He took pause for a moment to look at the mismatch of uniforms, shook his head, and continued his speech. The people he was addressing stood against a freeway backdrop, and the majority of them had chosen not to join his ranks. He was a little irritated by this, of course, but since the Jack Frost incident he was learning, slowly but surely, that he could not force people to serve against their will. All he could do was ensure they fulfilled their promise.
“This man has chosen to NOT participate in our union,” Dunfield said, his voice booming across the freeway. He has chosen to put his own needs ahead of others. The bread he stole for himself could have fed you, it could have fed your children, it could have fed your friends. You may think that one loaf couldn't hurt, and you might be right, but what happens when one loaf turns into two, and two turn into three. What happens when bread turns into other supplies, or even entire care packages? If we allow this man to steal, then others will follow in his footsteps, and we cannot allow that! We cannot allow your children and your grandchildren to die in the streets for the greed of one man, or many men!”
Up until this point the crowd had been non responsive, but when he introduced them to the notion of their friends and family dying, they seemed to pay attention. That was certainly interesting. As he continued speaking, the crowd seemed to move more and more in his favor, till they were eventually cheering.
“Unfortunately,” Dunfield said. “We cannot afford to lightly throw people away. Rather than killing this man, I will commit him to our stockade where he will spend the n
ext three years of his life, and when he emerges, he will be a better man – a man worthy of joining our cause. I will enforce the same sentence on anyone who steals!”
The rest of the demonstration seemed to go will, even when he announced that the man would not be executed. It got better when he stepped off the makeshift stage and was approached by a sergeant outside the gate.
“Major Dunfield, Sir!” The sergeant did not salute; a little known fact, even in the old world, was that saluting an officer in the field was not only unnecessary, but downright dangerous. “Our advance scouts have reported that the sister of Jack Frost is living in a gated community less than ten miles from here.”
Dunfield was taken aback.
“Are you serious?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir,” The sergeant replied. “It was confirmed less than an hour ago.”
“Get me a car, and organize a strike team.”
***
“The whole 'off road' thing didn't last very long, did it?” Amber said, staring at the mouth of the tunnel. They had driven their ATV's as far as they could across country, through neighborhoods, and across rural bridges that seemed as if they had no business being in operation. Finally, here they were, sitting on their ATV's in front of what could be considered the longest traffic tunnel in the state of New Jersey, and undoubtedly, their ticket to the coast.
There was plenty of room to walk around, of course, but their supplies were dwindling, and their ammunition was nearly depleted. Before they had reached this point, they had taken a look at their ammunition supplies, finding that there were less than fifty shotgun shells remaining, and perhaps two hundred rounds for the rifles. It might have sounded like a lot, but when one considered that the vast majority of the planet had been converted into man eating predators, this small quantity of ammunition seemed hardly enough.
The mouth of the tunnel they'd found occupied eighteen lanes of freeway, and featured an opening about six stories in height. This was a recent construction, finished about two years ago using new construction techniques and thirty-seven point four million dollars in taxpayer money. The front of the tunnel, or at least the end they were standing at featured a toll booth attached to each lane, ensuring that any passing motorists would do their share to keep the tunnel in shape, whether they lived in the area or not.
Above each tunnel entrance, bolted to the brand new concrete header was the 'EZ Pass' logo, with a few lanes set aside specifically for those who had an EZ-Pass device mounted inside their vehicle. None of this mattered anymore of course. All of these relics of the past were dead – long dead. The sun was retreating toward the distant horizon, though they couldn't see it over the massive structure. The only clue was the fading light and the falling temperature gnawing at their skin like the predators they were trying to hard to avoid.
The biggest problem that each of them noticed, especially now, was the lack of light within the tunnel. Even squinting, Amber could see barely a meter inside the mouth of the monstrosity, though she could see at least three sets of hazard lights flashing sporadically. This was a busy freeway, to say the least. The area was wide, like an asphalt football field filled with both stopped and wrecked vehicles. Most of these cars had accordioned, but there were a few that stood alone, doors ajar, with evidence of the driver fleeing. At the edge of the road, there lay a half-eaten, half decomposed corpse that was barely recognizable as a man. Everything from zombies to wild animals, and now flies had feasted on his flesh – a halfhearted reward for a desperate escape attempt.
“We can get through there,” Carl said, looking deep inside the tunnel. “There'll be a lot of wrecks, but we'll have both the east and westbound lanes to work with. Shouldn't be much of a problem.”
“Well, there's one problem,” Frank said, staring at the gaping tunnel. “We gotta get the lights on.”
“We have the lights on our ATV's,” Amber interjected. “We should be fi-”
“18 lanes Amber, 18 lanes. These little flashlights aren't going to cover 18 lanes.” Carl said, sounding more than a bit condescending.
“We can get the damn lights on,” Frank concluded. “There's a service door over there.”
“Maybe, there's a service tunnel that runs the length of the tunnel,” Carl suggested.
“We do that and we lose our ATV's,” Amber said. “Who’s the smart one now?”
“Still me,” Carl said as he dismounted his ATV and walked toward the right side of the tunnel, toward what looked like a service entrance. The metal door was standing directly inside the mouth of the tunnel atop a set of concrete stairs. It was the type of door that most people would never notice, and it led tot he inner workings of the tunnel that most would never even think about or know existed. They reached the door and Frank tried the handle. It turned slightly, but refused to give.
“Locked,” Frank muttered. “Amber, work your magic.”
Amber motioned for them to stand back, and waited until they had retreated down the short staircase. For a moment, she seriously considered shooting the lock, but instead took the butt of her rifle and slammed it against the metal knob. It didn't give at first, but after a few impacts it began to jiggle. She continued to smash the handle until the metal gave way and the door popped open. It took a bit more work, but the door finally opened, giving way to a white brick hallway that Amber assumed ran along the length o the tunnel.
Without a word, they entered the space, taking note that the lights were still on – likely the doing of a backup generator. They didn't have to walk long, before they encountered another door, metal, with a square glass window. The other side was clearly a control room, but having been built in recent years, the control panels were all touch operated.
“Well, this is fancy schamncy,” Carl said as they examined the control panels. He wasn't wrong; it looked almost futuristic. The room was small, maybe enough room for five people, but it was very impressive. Along the walls were integrated touchscreens, each showing a different section of the tunnel and a different system?
“Lights,” Frank pointed to one of the panels. He walked to the panel and examined the diagram. “It looks like we can turn them on one at a time, or turn them all on by pressing this key.”
“I'm all for pushing shit,” Carl said. “Now let's see how well this works.”
Frank pushed the blinking 'ALL' button on the screen and waited. Surprisingly, absolutely nothing happened.
“What the hell?” Amber said as she moved toward the screen and began pushing the button repeatedly, and almost violently.
“Amber, Amber!” Carl said, grabbing her arm. “You're not going to beat it into submission, jeez. The place is running on generators, and they're probably low on juice; they're not going to power all the lights at once.”
“Then, what the hell do we do?” Amber demanded.
“Calm down,” Frank said. “I'm going to stay behind and turn the lights on three at a time so you'll be able to see the road ahead, and when you reach the other side, assuming you've cleared it, I'll join you.”
“Hold the hell on,” Amber nearly screamed. “Why can't Carl stay behind?”
“Not a bad idea,” Carl interjected. He wasn't opposed to the idea of being out of his brother's company for a while.
“He's a better shot than I am,” Frank admitted. “I'd rather he be with you for this one.”
“Dammit, no!” Amber shouted. “What if you can't get back to us? What if we can't clear the tunnel, what if you can't....DAMMIT!” Amber realized that she had started cursing and screaming more since the end of the world. Was this the way it was going to be; she would curse her way to salvation or death and shout at people who were on her side. It was the only way she knew to express her frustration and get around the mind-numbing terror that stalked her every waking moment.
She slammed her fists against one of the control panels, causing a 'thud' to reverberate through the small space. Luckily, the panels were tough enough to take the impact.
“
Dammit, Amber, this isn't the time!” Carl screamed. “We have to get this shit done!”
“I'm inclined to agree, Amber,” Frank said. “If there was a time to grow up, it'd be now. You, your little sister, and your Uncle are going to go through this tunnel, and I'm going to make sure you get there safe.”
Amber threw her fist again, but this time at her father. He could have caught it, but allowed her to land a blow on his chest. She was surprised that he didn’t stop her; maybe, he felt that numb feeling that came with the sure knowledge that they would be eaten, turned and live undead at the least provocation. She really couldn’t fight a horde of zombies; she decided to hit her father instead. At least, he was still human.
“Damn you! How dare you say that to me?! Haven't you been paying attention? I AM grown up! I lost mom; I lost Mark; who am I going to lose next? How many do I have to lose before I 'grow up'? Huh? Why don't you tell me that?!”
“I swear to God, Amber,” Carl said. “Shut up, or I'll shut you up. Get your sister out to the tunnel and get ready to ride.”
Amber clenched her fists, her face turning red.
“Go to hell, both of you,” she said as she took Kelly and left the room.”
“You sure you're up for this, Frank?”
“I'll be right behind you.”
***
“Jonah?” Jack whispered into the darkness. According to Jonah, the glasses he'd given him would broadcast a two way transmission. In theory, he would be in contact with Jonah at all times. He didn't get a response and began to panic. Was there something wrong...something terribly wrong? Was he out her alone amongst the zombies? A knot formed in his throat. He croaked, “Jonah!”
“Yes, Jack, I'm here,” Jonah replied. Jack breathed a soft, sigh of relief. Things were not nearly as bad as he thought. “What do you need?”
“Nothing...” Jack replied. “I was just checking the connection.”
Zombies Ate My Neighbors, Family & Friends (Book 3) Page 4