“We need to stop and check on those in the back,” Indigo yelled over the cold wind howling through the broken windows. I nodded my agreement, but kept my foot planted on the accelerator, “we will, but not yet!” Stopping this close to the checkpoint didn't seem like a good idea.
“We need to do it soon,” she insisted.
I drove another ten minutes at full speed, which didn’t actually seem very fast in the damaged truck. From the road signs I could tell we were getting close to the freeway. I could see the on-ramp in the distance and we neared a boarded up old gas station with a larger garage behind it. I slowed the truck.
“Is there anybody following us?” I asked Luke. He said something I couldn't hear, and shook his head in the negative. I turned into the driveway without further consultation, but I hadn’t slowed enough, and the truck pitched dangerously. For just a brief second I thought it might tip onto its side. Indigo gave a short squeal as she slid hard into Luke, squashing him against the door. Being inexperienced, I braked hard and we were all propelled forward in our seats as we jolted to a stop.
“Dude! What the hell?!” yelled Luke. “I think I might have to relieve you of driving duties.”
“Sorry,” I said, looking sheepishly at them.
I put my foot carefully on the gas again and eased the truck behind the gas station to the garage behind the building. It’s doors were open and it was mostly empty. Driving the truck inside, I stopped and jumped out, motioning Luke to do the same. We ran back and pulled the doors shut, concealing our truck from the road. Turning, I got my first look at the cargo box of the truck, and my stomach lurched.
The back door of the truck, remarkably, only had a few holes in it, but the sides were pretty chewed up. Did the packed food and gear protect them? I wondered doubtfully to myself.
There was a line of five holes near the back on the driver’s side. They were much larger than the other bullet holes, as were the matching set of exit holes on the passenger side. I thought of when the truck had shuddered just as we were escaping the checkpoint, and my mind flashed to the turret mounted weapon on the personnel carrier.
Luke told me that the weapon it had mounted was most likely a 25 millimeter auto-cannon firing armor piercing rounds, or tank killers. We were very lucky to have made it out of there with the truck intact.
Luke and I moved quickly to the back of the truck as Indigo joined us. Luke and I looked at each other; the look on his face told me he that he was feeling just what I was feeling. We were both afraid of what we might find when we opened the door. Luke banged on the back door with his fist.
“Is everybody all right in there?” he called. “I'm going to open it up.”
There was no response, not that we could hear anyway, and I moved to stand next to him as he pushed up the roller door. The back of the truck was a mess. Supplies had slipped around and now lay strewn across the floor of the cargo box. Our people looked dazed as they struggled to move boxes and rise off the floor. Everyone I could see was shielding their eyes from the sudden light. Some were moaning and I could see everybody except Karen, John, Mark and Brooke.
The ride must have been Hell on four wheels for those in the back, what with crashing through the barrier and into the armored personnel carrier, not to mention auto-cannon fire ripping through it.
“Are you all okay?” I asked, looking around and desperately trying to spot the missing.
“Most of us are just a bit bruised and battered,” Sonny said. “I think,” he winced as he shoved a box containing extra bedding off of his legs. Sonny still looked weak but, miraculously, much better than he had been the last time I'd seen him early that morning.
“Where's Brooke?” Ben's voice caused me to glance in his direction. “She was standing right next to me.”
“Let’s get this stuff moved and look for anybody that is missing,” I said. “Just pile it all to the side of the truck. We can repack it later.” I motioned for Luke to join me and I climbed up into the back of the truck to help people out and try to uncover the missing. Ben stayed inside to help while the others climbed down from the truck.
Ben found Brooke quickly, her hand had emerged from a pile of debris and she waved quite calmly, leading him to her. She was fine apart from a twisted ankle and sore knee. Relieved, I continued pulling stuff away from the front left corner of the truck and came across another hand. It was a girl’s hand, pale and limp.
As I used my hands to pull away tins and boxes, I saw blood. Lots of it. I knew Karen was dead when I gently revealed her face. Thankfully, her eyes were closed, I felt sure they would have stared at me accusingly if they had been open. There was a large wound in her chest and it was obvious that she had been killed instantly. I finished uncovering her, tears of rage stinging my eyes and then turned to help Luke – I had to make the living a priority, and it was possible that Mark and John were still alive.
They were. Mark had been hit by a round from the personnel carrier’s cannon as well. He was gravely injured and his left arm seemed to barely be hanging on by a few threads of tendon and skin. He was unconscious, the bleeding wasn't as bad as I would have thought, and both Luke and Sonny explained that the auto-cannon probably had tracer rounds mixed in, which may have partially cauterized Mark's wound on its way through.
John had not been hit by gunfire, but was in a bad way as well. The falling supplies had crashed right on top of him and his leg had been caught under a large bin of canned food. It was clear the shin bone in his right leg was broken, I'm no doctor, but even I know that a person’s leg is not supposed to have an extra bend between the knee and the ankle.
We laid John and Mark out on a training mat that we pulled from the truck. Brooke and Samara tended to them while Luke and I climbed into the truck and covered Karen with a sheet we had found in the garage. We gently lifted her up and out of the truck, and I heard the other girls crying as they watched us carrying her. Sonny walked with us as we carried Karen out through the side door of the garage and to a small stand of trees behind the gas station. When we got to the trees, we paused.
“There,” Sonny said, nodding his head toward an oak tree on our left. The earth had eroded away from the base of the trunk, leaving a cavity underneath framed by exposed roots. “That'll make a good cairn for poor Karen.”
“Better than we're likely to get, given our current situation,” I replied with a nod of my head.
We carried her over there and placed her inside, it was tight, and it took us a long time to maneuver her into the cavity but we finally managed to arrange her body in a half-way respectable fashion. When we were done, both Luke and I sat back on our heels, catching our breath.
“She's with Arthur again,” Sonny said. “Hopefully both of them will be happier for it.”
I grunted a non-committal reply; my doubts about the existence of God had also led me to question the notion of an afterlife. When Brooke had asked me recently if I thought I'd see God or go to Heaven when I died, I had said, somewhat bitterly, that I might, but wouldn't count on it.
Death is strange in this new world. Before the Infection we had such a fear of it, it was always hidden and behind the scenes. We talked about it only in neutral terms, ‘he passed away’ or she had ‘gone to a better place’. We sent our dead away to be prettied up, made to look better than they had when they were alive, just so that when the funeral came around everybody could remember a perfect image of their loved one.
Then we locked them away in a little box underground or burned them to a small pile of ashes and hid them away, where they could be forgotten most of the time, only to be remembered on rare occasions or special dates. But now, in this new world, death is ever present, and it is everywhere. The reminders of death are impossible to avoid, just like death itself.
The thing that surprises me is how quickly we all became used to it. Even then, while Sonny, Luke and I laid Karen to rest beneath the oak tree, I knew I had become numb to the idea of death. It was simply a fact of life
and would continue to be so. I had no illusions that it would ever be otherwise again…at least not for a long time. I was suddenly angry again, I didn’t want to be used to death, didn’t want to get to the point where it meant nothing.
“We should get back to the others,” Sonny said.
“No, wait…get the others Luke, I think we should stop to say a few words for Karen.”
The day was still gray, and the temperature seemed to be hovering just above freezing. Even though there was no sign of the thick fog that had made the morning’s drive such a pain, the clouds looked ready to begin dumping more snow on us at any time. Within a few minutes we were all gathered around the makeshift grave. The girls were weeping before I even started to speak.
“We’re here to say goodbye to Karen, and also Arthur, who we weren’t able to bring with us. They were both…great. And I can say personally, and I think also on behalf of Brooke, Ben and Luke, that they both made us feel welcome at the academy. I don’t know what waits for them on their final journey, but I hope they find peace wherever it is….that’s all I guess. Thanks.”
We started to shuffle away and I saw Indigo suddenly run off towards a patch of scrappy looking yellow flowers that were growing through the cracked pavement. I waited while the others went into the garage.
She retrieved a handful and went back to Karen’s resting place, gently placing them on the blanket. She gave me a sad smile as she stood and came towards me. We didn’t say anything; both of us knew there was nothing to say. We walked a few feet in silence, and then her hand found mine. My heart nearly stopped, but I told myself it was just one human comforting another, even as I hoped it was a sign of something more.
After the injured and dead had been removed from the truck, we re-entered the garage, pulled the doors closed and started repacking it again. When we were nearly done, I walked out through a side door a little way into the overgrown yard and examined the grey sky, listening for the sounds of helicopters or vehicles. Sonny emerged from the garage, joining me. He was looking better, and I marveled at his powers of recovery – it was less than 24 hours since he’d been shot.
“That could be trouble,” I said to Sonny, looking at the overcast sky. “If it snows and the Chinese army is looking for us, it'll be easy to follow our trail in fresh snow.”
“Yeah, it could create a problem,” Sonny replied. “And they will be after us for sure, but there's no reason to worry about it. We’ve got enough things to worry about that we can control, or at least influence. Weather isn't one of them. Nor are the Chinese.”
“I guess that makes sense,” I said. “Come on, let's get back and see how the last of the repacking is going.”
We headed back into the garage in silence, lost in our thoughts. I can’t speak for Sonny, but I was thinking about what he had said, about only worrying over the things we could control, and my mind had gone straight to the problem of who would be coming with us.
Mark was in a bad way, and it wasn’t a stretch to think that we might be bringing him out to lie next to Karen before the day was through. He was still unconscious when we got back inside but Samara reported that his heartbeat was strong. Still, he was in no condition to travel, him and John both, in fact.
I knew that I was soon going to have to make a decision, one way or another, that I didn't want to make. But I had all afternoon to think it over, so I decided to put it off. It suddenly dawned on me that it was strange that I was thinking like that. Like I was in charge. The one making all the decisions. Yes, I had been voted leader while Sonny was indisposed, but it seemed that even now that he was back on his feet, albeit sore and limited physically, he was deferring to me. I decided not to think too deeply about it, but it seemed as though a natural transition was taking place.
“We got everything back in place and shifted it around a bit so maybe it'll be sturdier, boss,” Luke said, coming up to me. “Indigo brushed all the broken glass out of the cab too.”
“Good,” I replied. “I'm hoping that Sonny can drive so I can ride in the back for a while.”
“You and me both, bro,” Luke said, following me to the main doors.
I pulled them open just an inch or so and crouched to look at the gas station through the narrow gap.
Glancing at him I could see that he looked just as exhausted as I felt. It was the stress and the constant shots of adrenalin I think. They left us feeling drained after they’d worn off, and we'd already been through that cycle multiple times just within this one morning. He also looked dirty and scrappy, his ginger colored and patchy adolescent beard didn’t help in that respect.
“Man, you need a shave and a shower…” I joked.
“Stuff that, when we leave this place I plan on curling up in a sleeping bag on a mat in the back of the truck and sleeping. Just sleeping. And you oughtta talk by the way!”
My hands went to my own face and felt the light fuzz of my own boy beard before lightly running over the wound on my cheek. It had crusted over and thankfully didn’t hurt apart from a slight throb. I must have looked a sight, but what can I say? Priorities tend to change when you are in the middle of an apocalypse and running for your life.
“You can get some sleep now, if you want,” I told him. “I was going to see if you wanted to come with me to check out the gas station for any supplies, but I can take Ben or Indigo with me instead.”
“I doubt that we'll find much there,” he said, eying the station. “That place looks like it has been closed since well before the current mess started, but I'll go with you. Ben is busy worrying about his sister's ankle and Indigo is already sleeping in the back of the truck.”
“Alright, you and me then,” I said, rising to my feet. I patted the pocket that had the revolver in it, feeling its welcome weight. “You might want to grab a gun…just in case…”
“Nah, I have sworn off firearms, I’ll get my crossbow. Be right back,” he said, and headed back toward the truck.
I fought the urge to argue with him, knowing that if it came to a confrontation with military, the crossbow would be of limited value. He returned a moment later holding the weapon loosely in his hand. The way he carried it called up images in my mind of old time movies like Robin Hood, except in those, it always seemed to be the bad guys that had the crossbows. This time they would be carrying semi-automatics.
“Let's go, man,” Luke said, pushing the door open and breezing past me with a self-confident air about him. I shook my head and smiled to myself, he would have fit right in with a group of medieval outlaws. I pulled the door closed and followed him across the gravel expanse between the garage and the station, maybe ten yards across at most, and with every step I worried that a Chinese patrol would come rolling down the road.
18
We made it to the station without incident. The windows were boarded over and the door was locked with a chain and padlock.
We continued around the far side of the building, there was another door about half way down the wall, this one unchained; a faded picture of male and female stick figures was stenciled on the outside. The door was locked, but Luke put his shoulder against it with a quick thump and it popped right open.
Inside was a simple bathroom with a single toilet, and a cracked porcelain sink beneath a grimy stainless steel mirror. An empty paper towel holder gaped open over an empty wastebasket. There was no door leading further into the station.
“I always hated those gas stations where the bathrooms were on the outside,” Luke said with a hint of disgust in his voice. “But you know what I hated more than that?”
“What?”
“When fast food restaurants did the same thing. You remember the Hefty Burger back in Fort Carter? They were set up that way.”
“Yeah,” I replied, with a nod of my head. “A real pain in the ass.” If only little things like that were all we had to worry about.
“We need something to cut the padlock,” I said. “I'll wait by the doors, why don't you run and see if Sonny
brought his bolt cutters.”
“Good idea, chief,” Luke said. “He did, I helped him pack them up. Be back in a flash.”
He ran off toward the garage while I walked back around to the gas station’s front door. I heard the faint sound of a helicopter in the distance, back in the direction of the bridge where we had encountered the Chinese, but I never saw it and it didn't seem to get any closer. Still, I was glad I had thought of checking for the bolt cutters rather than trying to shoot the lock; if they were searching for us in this direction and were close enough, a gunshot was a sure way to lead them right to us.
When Luke returned he cut through the padlock's bar and I yanked the chain out from between the pull handles. Other than the padlock and chain, the front door was unlocked.
I took another glance around at the road in both directions. It seemed clear, but I wondered how much longer before we saw some sign of the Chinese. I pulled the door open and we slipped inside. It was dark. The boarded over windows only allowed narrow cracks of light to seep in around the edges. Luke pulled a small LED flashlight out of his coat pocket and tossed it to me before pulling another out for himself.
“I hope we're not draining the batteries down for nothing,” he said, shining his little light along the counter to the right of the door.
“What size do they take?” I asked him.
“What?”
“What size batteries do they use?”
“Double-A, I think,” he replied. “Why?”
“Here,” I reached down and picked up the unopened pack of double-A batteries that was lying by my foot and tossed it over to him. “Now we don't have to worry about it.”
“How long do you think those have been laying there?” he asked.
“Don't know, at least a year, maybe longer,” I said, as I shone my flashlight around the station’s interior. The place had been abandoned, but you could tell that when it closed down the owner hadn't gotten quite everything out. Various convenience store style sundries still sat on their racks, most of the bags of chips and nuts gnawed into by rats or mice.
The After Days Trilogy (Book 1): After Days Page 19