by S. Ganley
"Hold on. Miranda, pull back onto the road and stop for a minute." He instructed.
Miranda bounced the Range Rover back over the curb and positioned them in the middle of the road where they had the best point of view in all directions.
Garrett was focused on an abandoned Jeep Cherokee pulled up against the curb facing into the park. It was not at all unusual to see cars scattered all over roadways like that since the outbreak started. In fact, they had already passed several other cars and trucks ever since passing the nature center and even an overturned jeep belonging to the park service’s further back on the access road deeper in the woods. What made this particular vehicle stick out to Garrett was that he was almost positive it had not been there when they had returned to the park from Doug's neighborhood. When they had drove back into the park the other day it had been sunny and clear and he was sure he would have remembered this particular vehicle. The Jeep looked like a new model with a rugged sports package, something that the owner would have taken great pride in keeping in tip top shape. The body of the jeep looked as though it had been through hell and back recently. A section of the windows in the cargo area was smashed out and covered over with plywood, beneath the broken window the entire side panel was missing with only jagged and torn pieces of metal left in its place. The remainder of the passenger side was marked with deep dents and missing trim.
Garrett pointed out the Jeep to the girls and the fact that it had not been there before, "wait here, I want to check this out for a minute."
"Garrett, are you sure that's wise?" Miranda asked with obvious concern in her voice.
Garrett looked around into the darkness surrounding the jeep. It was parked uncomfortably close to the edge of the woods and with the storm still raging he could barely see anything past the jeeps rear bumper. It was impossible to tell what he might be walking into. He weighed that risk against the significance of the jeeps presence. There was a chance that more survivors could be nearby and if that was the case then it was paramount they make every effort to find them and lend any aid possible.
"It’s something I need to do." He replied, "I won’t be long."
Stepping out into the rain and wind, Garrett hefted his rifle into firing position and cautiously approached the side of the jeep. There were no obvious signs to explain why the jeep ended up in this particular location, nothing that could have caused a crash and no evidence that it had been swarmed by zombies and forced off the road. The driver’s side front tire had jumped the curb and into the grass on the other side. This told Garrett that it probably hadn't been moving that fast before swerving to the side of the road otherwise the all-weather high performance tires would have easily climbed over the curb completely and the jeep would have continued on until finally striking the trees forty feet away. The inside of the jeep was cloaked in darkness and Garrett was unable to determine if anyone or anything was still inside. Reaching the back of jeep he stepped off to the driver’s side and eased along the side towards the front door. A burst of lightning flashed overhead and lit up the inside as if someone had switched on the overhead light. Garrett was able to clearly make out a single figure slumped behind the wheel. The back seat contained a collection of bags and containers. Just before the light faded out completely he also took note of a wool blanket stretched out over something in the very rear cargo compartment. The tuft of blond hair peeking out from underneath the blanket told him all he needed to know about what it was covering. Turning his focus back to the figure behind the wheel he remained positioned by the driver’s side rear door and reached out cautiously with one hand for the door handle while steadying the rifle across his forearm with his strong hand. Garrett was caught by surprise when the interior light of the jeep popped on as soon as he cracked the driver’s door open. Jumping back several feet with his rifle raised and ready to fire he watched as the corpse of a man tumbled from the seat and slumped partially out of the door. The man was white, in his mid-thirties and appeared physically fit and formidable. His head was shaved bald, not from hair loss but the kind of bald that Garrett recognized from military service. Soldiers going into a field operation would often prefer to shave their own heads completely for hygiene purposes. It was not uncommon to go days without a shower and the fewer body parts that needed that kind of attention the better. The man was wearing army fatigues but Garrett didn't think they were actual military issue. The clothing appeared to be something any civilian could pick up at a military surplus store; the woodland pattern was from a series of uniform that went out of style several years ago. Garrett had no problem determining the cause of death, a small bloody hole on the right side of his head was contrasted by a softball size exit wound on the opposite side where a bullet had passed through. The pistol still clutched tightly in his right hand also identified who had fired the fatal round. The man had taken his own life.
As Garrett looked over the scene in the front seat he was able to piece together what may have happened. The blood from his suicide was plastered over the driver’s side door and the roof above it. There was some additional evidence of high velocity blood splatter on the roof above him and on the passenger side seat and door. An additional puddle of blood coating the carpeting around his feet seemed unrelated to the final bullet wound. It didn't take Garrett long to locate the source of the puddle, a tightly wrapped tourniquet just below the man’s left elbow directed his attention to the blood soaked sleeve below it. The sleeve had been bunched up just below the tourniquet and Garrett could see a deep wound on the bare arm right above the wrist. The visible teeth impressions on the upper end of the ragged wound told him the source of the injury. While the bite wound appeared deep and must have resulted in a good deal of blood loss, Garrett believed that the majority of the blood that had soaked the carpet was as a result of an additional wound further up the forearm halfway between wrist and elbow. Cuts along that part of the arm seemed to account for the majority of the blood soaking the floor near the man’s feet. Three shallow cuts surrounded one very deep slice that revealed torn tissue and a hint of bone. The bloodied tactical knife on the floor in the passenger compartment was most likely responsible for the cuts. The driver must have been bit at some point and in a desperate bid to save his own life he had tried to cut off his own arm just above the bite wound. He either lost his ability to complete the task when his blade struck bone and he experienced what Garrett could only imagine to be incomprehensible pain. Or, he somehow realized that his efforts were futile and the virus had progressed too far into his system for an amputation to make any difference.
Leaving the driver’s side door open, Garrett walked to the rear of the jeep and popped open the back hatch. He thought he knew what he would find when he pulled back the blanket in the cargo compartment. The sight that greeted him was not what he had expected. He was expecting a body, probably a loved one of the dead man behind the wheel. The corpse of a young zombie girl was not exactly what he was expecting. The burnt stippling marks around the entry wound just above her ear suggested that she was killed with a contact wound, the shooter would have been up close and personal when the fatal shot was fired. The area around her mouth was coated in a mat of dry blood with a fat chunk of meat still clutched between her clenched teeth answering the question of where the bite on the drivers arm had come from. The girl was young, probably in her early teens, just barely in high school. Her flowing blond hair had been carefully maintained, cleaned and combed, even her clothing was in very good shape, no visible tears or layers of grime consistent with most zombies they had encountered. Even with her face contorted into the deathly features of one of the undead, Garrett was able to make out some physical resemblance between this girl and the man in the front seat. She had been his daughter. When she was taken by the virus her father probably couldn't find it in his heart to put her down. The back of the jeep had been modified with restraints attached to metal eyebolts drilled into the floor and sidewalls. The girl’s ankles, wrists and midsection were held in p
lace with thick leather straps with lengths of soft fabric fashioned into the areas where the straps came in contact with her body. The presence of the fabric told Garrett just how far this father was willing to go for his daughter. Several inches to the side of the girls face Garrett spotted a small fury leg sticking out from under the blanket. Pulling the blanket back further he discovered a dead rat laying underneath. He thought he could now figure out just what may have happened. The father had refused to let his girl go when she turned and had constructed this restraint system in the back of the jeep, Garrett imagined he also had something similar wherever it was they lived. In his growing desperation to care for his daughter, probably with the misguided hope that a cure would eventually come along, he had tried to feed her. There were no indications on the carcass of the rat to show that the girl had attempted to eat it. Garrett imagined that when the father got close to her mouth with the rat in his hand, she had lashed out and managed to take a bite out of his arm instead. It was probably at that point, either out of anger or fear that he had finally realized the only thing left for him to do was end her suffering. Knowing the implications of a bite he had attempted to amputate his own arm and when that failed he had ultimately taken his own life. Garrett would never understand where he was going or why he was in the park when all of this happened. He thought the guy may have become disoriented in the storm and had been seeking shelter. The virus had probably hit him faster than he anticipated and caused him to black out behind the wheel causing the jeep to end up where it was.
Garrett stepped back from the cargo section of the jeep and slammed the hatch shut tight. The scene inside that jeep spoke volumes to him about the desperate struggles that must still be going across the country. Pockets of survivors without any government or other form of help available doing whatever they could to survive. He thought of how hard it had to be for that father to let his baby girl go and the lengths he had gone to in order to avoid reaching that inevitable end. Whether that man knew that there was no cure for the virus or not was something Garrett had to consider. Each of them only had their own personal experiences to draw knowledge from and no one knew anything for certain. He resigned himself to doing all he could to finding and helping others like this poor man and his daughter.
Returning to the passenger side of the car to avoid being forced to disturb the driver's endless slumber, Garrett retrieved the pistol from the drivers hand and was relieved to find a shoebox with five loaded spare magazines and two boxes containing fifty rounds of 9mm ammunition each. The pistol was a newer model Glock and appeared to have been lovingly maintained. Along with the ammunition this single find made his little detour to search the jeep well worth its weight in gold. He considered conducting a more extensive search of the jeep for any more treasures, but then he decided against it. Returning to the driver’s side, he gently lifted the man back up and behind the wheel so he could close the door behind him. As far as he was concerned, this jeep was now a tomb and he could not find it in himself to desecrate it further by tearing through the rest of the contents.
Garrett turned away from the jeep and returned to the Range Rover where Miranda and Kimberly were anxiously waiting. The girls had been unable to see anything inside the jeep during his time with the father and daughter. The storm was still pounding down on them and even though it was just midmorning it was as dark as midnight. As soon as he closed the door behind him Miranda started to ask a question. Garrett looked at her and then back at Kimberly in the back seat. Miranda bit down on her lips in understanding and let it go. Whatever had happened at the jeep was something he would discuss only when he was ready to. Dropping the Range Rover back into gear Miranda continued out of the park driving slow and easy on the way to meet up with the rest of their group.
Chapter 17
The designated rendezvous was at a Subway sandwich shop four blocks away from the hospital Doug had selected. Kyle had suggested the location due to its remoteness in terms of any other buildings that might have held something to interest zombies. This particular sandwich shop was surrounded on two sides by flood plains that had been allowed to grow wild with wild brush. A construction project next to the shop had been in the works to extend a nearby strip mall and allow the sandwich shop to end up anchoring the buildings with its corner location. The closest residential area was almost a mile away and at the time of the outbreak the Subway was closed for some repairs. They had all agreed that without the opportunity to reconnoiter ahead of time it seemed like their best chance at finding a temporary shelter free from zombies.
Even accounting for the congested roads, it took Miranda almost an hour longer to reach the Subway than it should have. The strength of the storm made it impossible to see much further than a few feet beyond the hood, the Range Rover's head lights were virtually being sucked up into the blackness and its windshield wipers could not keep pace with the sheets of water dumping onto the windshield. She had ended up taking several wrong turns and on one occasion had turned a corner and found she had driven into a nest of zombies. Dozens of them were in the midst of their patient little dance in the middle of the street while waiting for something to catch their interest. Throwing the Range Rover into reverse and slamming down hard on the gas, Miranda had once again shown her resourcefulness in getting them out of a sticky situation. Even though she had side swiped a parked utility truck and most likely ruined the paint job on the side of the expensive sport utility vehicle. She managed to get them turned around and clear of the area before the first zombie ever realized they had been there.
When they reached the parking lot of the Subway, all of them let out a sigh of relief when they spotted Kyle's patrol car backed up near the main entrance and a glow of light from inside the building. Even with the reassurance of the patrol car present and a light inside the store, Garrett had the two ladies remain inside the Range Rover while he did a quick search around the perimeter and then finally stepped inside to ensure it was clear.
Their reunion with everyone else was emotional, tears and hugs were shared all around. Garrett was pressed to give an abbreviated summary of their escape from the park. He ran through it all but when it came to the discovery of the jeep with the two bodies inside, he only explained finding a pair of corpses and recovering a pistol with ammunition. The actual details of his discovery were something he was still not prepared to share at that point. Each of them was dealing with the death and despair that had descended on the world in their own way. For some, their method of dealing with it was very personal and private. Miranda hoped that one day she and Garrett would feel close enough of a connection to share their thoughts and feelings on those things. She had her own demons inside that she would like to share with him one day. Garrett's report on how infested the woods near the Ranger Station was with zombies hit them all hard. They had not discussed where they could seek refuge after finishing their business at the hospital but all of them had held onto a glimmer of hope that the park might still offer them an option. Clearing it out of zombies now appeared to be impossible and the realization that they would need to find somewhere else hit them all pretty hard.
"Where will we go now?" Emily asked the question on everyone's mind.
Garrett had given that question some thought, but knew that his solution was not going to go over well with everyone. "For the time being our priority is to get into the hospital and save Kyle's life. After that, well, I think we should stay on the move as much as possible. Find desolate locations to rest and resupply, but keep moving. It’s not the perfect solution, but until something more permanent and secure can be found it may be our only option."
Emily started to offer a protest at the idea of continually running but a pitiful cry of pain from a nearby booth shut her mouth for the time being.
Doug had set Kyle up as comfortably as possible on a long booth seat and used the cushions from another nearby booth to prop up his head and legs. Garrett was impressed to see that even his medical knowledge limited to plastic s
urgery, Doug had been able to fashion an IV line for Kyle out of a disposable water bottle, tubing recovered from the sandwich shop and other supplies from their first aid kits. Using a container of propane from the kitchen they had been able to get a single burner going on the stove and Doug was able to sterilize everything needed to set Kyle up in a makeshift trauma center. It reminded Garrett of some of the crude arrangements medics had to put together in the middle of heated firefights in the Middle East. Doug may not be their biggest asset against attacks from zombies but he was proving his worth in other ways that were just as important. Garrett found it ironic that it took a world ending event like the zombie apocalypse for people like Doug to really step out of their comfort zones and discover how resilient they could actually be. Had the zombies not descended on the world it was likely that after a few more years of living underneath Emily's abusive grasp that the man would have just swallowed a bullet one day or drowned himself in booze. Now he had an important role to play and was clearly very proud to do so. If his wife could see her husband in the same light that Garrett was, she might actually begin to find it in herself to try harder to become a meaningful contributor to the group. So far she proved to be nothing but a liability but Garrett believed deep down that everyone had at least one thing they were able to do well that could ultimately help the rest of them. Whether Emily lived up to that belief or not was still something to be seen.