Apocalypse Family (Book 2): Family Reunion J

by P. Mark DeBryan

  “Well, Christ on a crutch, where the hell have you two been?” Winnie yelled as soon as they got out of the truck. “I was just starting to try to figure out how the hell I was going to get down from here.”

  Danny waved up at her. “Sorry, we ran into a bit of trouble. We’re okay, ah, how are you?”

  “I’m fine, you idiot, do I look like I’m not fine?”

  Danny just shook his head. “No, no, you look fine to me.” Refusing Auddy’s help, he retrieved the ladder and put it up against the porch.

  Auddy stared at him in wonder. “We need to check your sugar and get you taken care of right now.” Danny ignored her and climbed the ladder with only a minimum of awkwardness. Auddy followed and corralled him in the kitchen. “Go sit on the couch.” It wasn’t a request. Danny gave in and allowed her to test his blood without further protest. The meter flashed 130. “That can’t be right,” she said, and pricked his finger again. She inserted the second test strip into the meter. It flashed for a minute, then 130 displayed again.

  “Huh,” Danny said.

  “After all you ate, your sugar should be over two hundred at least. What the hell is going on?” She moved to prick his finger again, but he drew it away. “Aud, I feel fine. We’ll check it again in an hour.”

  They spent the next couple of hours moving all their supplies into the condo. They took a large blanket and tied the corners together, making a cargo net of sorts. Auddy would fill it with supplies and Danny would pull it up with a rope to the second floor. He kept telling her to load more stuff in it, claiming his shoulder felt fine. Regardless, she kept the weight down to a manageable level.

  Once that task was complete, she sat him down and checked his blood sugar level again. It was at one hundred and fifty, which was fine.

  “Man, I could eat a horse,” Danny said. “Let’s cook up some of that stuff we brought back.” Something was not right here. Auddy knew his eating habits pretty well after dating him for two years, and this was not normal. She checked his zombie bite again; it was looking amazingly good. What the hell?

  Danny strung the extension cable from the generator, which they left in the back of the truck, to the condo. They could only plug a few things in, but for now, they could use the electric stove if it was the only thing plugged in. She cooked up a couple different freeze-dried entrees and made some coffee. They all enjoyed it.

  When lunch was finished, Danny disconnected the stove and hooked up a couple of fans to circulate the air. They sat drinking coffee and regaling Winnie with what had happened on their trip to the outside world.

  Chapter 20

  Day 4

  Andy Griffith Parkway

  Pilot Mountain, NC

  Jay

  The warm wind pushed against Jay as she exited a long turn in the road. Pilot Mountain appeared on the horizon. The peak stood in contrast to the heat, looking like a nipple standing erect on a cold day. The only mountain in view, its rocky cliffs formed a perfectly round protuberance at the top of the mound that rose two thousand feet into the blue North Carolina sky. She silently cursed Ryan for forever ruining the stately view by planting the idea in her head that it resembled a boob. The hint of a smile crinkled the corner of her mouth as the thought came and went.

  She was coming up on Winston-Salem, the original twin cities despite Minneapolis-St. Paul’s claim. The coppery red dirt, made famous by James Taylor’s songs about the Carolinas, had blown across the road is some spots. It amazed her how quickly the lack of the daily rush of traffic headed into the city gave way to nature’s effects.

  As she came to the top of a rise, she could see something blocking the road up ahead. She brought the Harley to a stop, clicked it into neutral, and removed her sunglasses to get a better look. Two state road dump trucks sat backed together on each side of the four-lane parkway. This part of the highway was under a constant state of repair, and while it wasn’t unusual to see the dump trucks, their current configuration caused her concern. I should have found some binoculars she thought as she squinted. “Better safe than sorry,” she muttered, putting her sunglasses back on and turning the bike around. She’d just passed the exit to old Route 52 about a half mile before and knew it paralleled 74/52 all the way into Winston-Salem.

  She crossed the median and headed back northwest toward the off-ramp. The red dirt shoulder of the road began to erupt into sporadic little puffs of dust. She was confused at the sight until the report of the rifle overcame the sound of the loud pipes on the bike. Someone was shooting at her, again. She leaned as far forward as she could and cranked the accelerator hard as she went up through the gears. She weaved back and forth over the two lanes, gaining speed as she raced away from the threat. The big Road King was not as nimble as her smaller Heritage had been, but the sheer power was impressive. She looked down briefly to see she was doing over 100 mph. Her heart quickened as she felt the negative g’s associated with going airborne flood her with adrenaline. Her ass came off the seat as she squeezed her knees against the tank, then she stood, putting her weight back on her feet as the bike returned to earth. The landing was surprisingly soft but still jolted her, causing pain to radiate up her right arm into her shoulder. The urge to hit the brakes was almost overwhelming, but she resisted and instead accelerated out of the landing. The Harley responded and propelled her straight down the road. She backed off the throttle and eased down to 60 mph as she crested the next small hill. Everything would have been fine had it not been for the loose dirt at the bottom of the shallow dip in the road that ended her ride.

  She felt the front end begin to go wankers on her and knew she was going to go down, and at this speed, it would almost certainly be fatal. It’s said that God gives special protection to children and fools, and however unlikely, Jay’s guardian angel must have had a couple of favors in reserve. Jay knew the only way to slow down quickly was to keep the tires in contact with the road. As soon as the bike was down it would slide for a long way. Unsure of how she did it, the bike righted itself and she applied both brakes in what she thought was the correct percentage—almost. She’d bled off another few miles per hour of her speed before overcorrecting and going over. The last thing she remembered was riding the sliding bike until it went into the median and caught in the grass, sending her aloft. Once again, she got the queasy feeling of flying.

  The flight didn’t hurt at all. It was the sudden stop that knocked her unconscious upon returning to the ground. It was fortunate; instead of tensing up, she flopped along the median and came to rest in a heap. Once the bike caught on the lip of the median and launched her into a near-earth orbit, it continued flipping along behind her, coming to rest twenty feet away.

  She surfaced briefly from the ocean of darkness to hear voices. Everything was kind of out of focus and she gave in to the buzzing electricity in her head that carried her into oblivion.

  Someone was shining a bright light in her eyes. “Jay, are you with us?” She struggled to understand. The voice didn’t sound familiar. Where was she? “Jay, you need to wake up.” Again, the light blinded her; she reached up and grabbed at it. “Good, she’s coming around,” the voice said. She blinked a few times and a good-looking man was smiling at her.

  His dark hair and blue eyes were a combination that, with his pleasant smile and southern accent, would be comforting not given the situation. “How do you know my name?” was the first thing she said.

  “Well, it was that or Auddy. You don’t look like a Mark or Ryan, and although it’s hard to believe you’re 49, I think 24 is a stretch. So, we decided you must be Jay Brant. We found the birth certificates in your pack.”

  “Why were you shooting at me?” Jay asked, resting her left arm across her forehead.

  “We weren’t, that was the group down the road a piece. You’re back in Mount Airy. We watched you come into town and figured you were with the gang from Winston-Salem, so we didn’t approach you. One of our guys followed you when you left town. Donnie was the one that brought you
in. He said once the gang started shooting at you and you turned tail and scooted out of there, he realized our assessment of you was premature. My name is Andy, and believe it or not, I’m the sheriff here. You’re pretty banged up. Oh, and your bike is totaled.”

  “Oh shit,” was all Jay could say.

  “Watch your language, young lady,” said a rotund woman in a flowered apron.

  “Please tell me your name isn’t Aunt Bea.”

  The woman laughed at that. “No, my name is Martha Washington.”

  “This has got to be a bad dream. When do I get to talk to the Tin Man and Scarecrow?”

  This got another laugh out of the woman, who was just finishing the plaster cast on her right arm. “Sorry, Andy and I are the only celebrities in town. The deputy’s name is Bill, and you’ve already met Donnie.” Jay glanced in the direction Martha nodded toward and saw two younger men leaning against the far wall.

  “They tossed you and your stuff into the back of their truck and got you out of there before you became a slave. Get some rest now. Here, take a couple of these.” She produced the bottle of oxycodone that Jay had lifted from the pharmacy. “We found these in your things, and I’m guessing from the shape of your arm it wasn’t due to your latest accident.”

  “Long story,” Jay said, still unsure of whether she was a prisoner or if she had indeed been rescued.

  “Well, you rest up now,” Sheriff Andy said. “You just holler if you need anything.” With that, they all filed out of the room.

  They left the door cracked and Jay listened as they continued talking out in the other room. After a few minutes, she felt the drugs taking hold and she drifted off.

  When she woke up again she didn’t know if what she remembered was a dream. It must have been. Sheriff Andy and Martha Washington? Really? She recognized her surroundings as the same as the dream; probably just her mind mixing reality with her nightmare. She was still working this out in her head when good ol’ Martha came waddling into the room.

  “Good, you’re awake. Feel up to some chicken soup?”

  Fearing she was in one of those loop dreams, she bit down on her lip. Nope, definitely awake. The soup smelled delicious and despite herself, she nodded.

  “Okay, let me adjust that bed so you can sit up a little.”

  “Am I in a hospital?” Jay asked warily.

  “No, you’re in Airy Haven. It’s an old folks’ home, or it was before all this happened. Now it’s one of the places we hide from the slavers and the changed.”

  Jay was too tired to ask. She watched Martha disappear for a minute and then reappear with a bowl of soup. As she ate, Martha filled her in on some of the missing details. It turned out that the four of them were the remaining survivors from around the area. They moved around a lot to stay hidden from a gang of thugs who were now collecting anyone left alive to serve as their slaves. According to Martha, there were sixty to seventy members in the gang, and they held over one hundred slaves down in Winston-Salem.

  “How do you know all this?” Jay asked as she slurped the last of the soup.

  “You aren’t the first one that got away. Another woman came through here yesterday after escaping. She had some awful stories to tell and the wounds to back them up.”

  Jay shuddered at the thought of how close she’d come to running headlong into a bad situation. “Well, thank you for patching me up, but I have to get back on the road.” She tried to get up and her body rejected that notion immediately.

  Martha clucked her tongue in Jay’s direction. “You aren’t going anywhere for a couple of days. You were just in a motorcycle accident.”

  “But you don’t understand. I have to get to my daughter.”

  “Your daughter is either okay or she’s not. Rushing out of here now, in your condition, isn’t going to help anyone.”

  Chapter 21

  Day 4

  CDC

  Atlanta, GA

  Dr. Ruegg & Simon

  The bright blue sign with the fancy graphics announced they’d arrived at the CDC. This was not Julian’s first visit to the facility. As part of postdoctoral studies, he had interned here for six months back in 2007. He’d left his family back home in Zurich, Switzerland. It was the year before Simon was born. His wife often joked that they’d conceived him the night before Julian left for Atlanta. It may not have been that night, but it was close.

  The CDC Roybal Campus covered several square miles. If you didn’t know who you were looking for and where they kept their office, you would never find them. Fortunately, Julian knew Dr. Brian Pearson’s office was located in the communications building. The first priority for Julian was to get the data he had to Brian. He could pass the information on to everyone else, not just here but around the globe.

  The campus maintained its own power plant to ensure survivability in case of any major disasters. It wouldn’t do to have all the bad things stored here get out because of a power outage. Just about every disease known to humankind was stored and studied here. Julian drove by the power plant and was excited to see signs that it was still operational.

  As he pulled onto Clifton Drive, he saw the employee vehicle gate closed and the bollards deployed to deter any unauthorized traffic. He’d expected to find the facility under lockdown, but he possessed the correct identification and documents to satisfy the security requirements for entry. His biggest worry was that the staff had not survived, and if they had, that the security was in place to safeguard them. He knew there was a chance that the percentage of those that had turned due to his vaccine, or died of the flu, was as high here as anywhere else. Unlike most places though, the CDC took extreme measures to make sure that didn’t happen. Quick response to any threat would have put procedures in place to isolate certain employees, create control groups, and secure the physical plant against environmental contagions. No, of all places, this facility should be safe. He opened his door and stepped from the car.

  “Stay in the car Simon. I must check in with security, then we will go inside.” Simon didn’t object, but his eyes betrayed his nervousness at being left behind. “I will be right back, I promise.”

  He walked up to the guard post and stood in front of the door. He cupped his hands around his eyes and peered in through the tinted glass. He could see nothing. The intercom to his right crackled to life; he heard an electric motor whirring and noticed a camera swinging toward him.

  “State your business.” The stern monotone voice startled him a bit.

  “My name is Dr. Julian Ruegg with Miann Pharmaceuticals. I have level 5 clearance and documentation which will verify my access privileges to the campus.”

  For several minutes, the wind was all that broke the silence. “Hello, are you still there?” Julian asked after waiting for what seemed an inordinate amount of time.

  “Stand by” was the only reply.

  There was a buzz and the door popped open just a little due to what he suspected was negative air pressure. Julian turned and waved his son to come to him as he held the door open. Simon’s eyes had never left his dad from the moment he exited the car, and now the boy clambered out of the VW and ran to his father’s side.

  They stepped through the door and saw a second set of doors in front of them. Julian recognized the setup immediately. It’s called a mantrap; many banks employ the simple yet effective technique. The idea is to allow a bank robber to exit one area through a set of doors, only to lock those doors behind him and box him in between the two sets of doors, neat as you please.

  Julian did not even try to open the doors in front of him. “My name is Dr. Julian Ruegg. I created the vaccine used to fight the pandemic. I brought my test data with me to help engineer a fix. I need to speak with Dr. Brian Pearson in order to disseminate this data to other scientists.”

  There was no response at first, then Julian heard the scratchy static of the intercom. “Stand by.”

  Twenty minutes later, after Julian had given up banging on the doors and yelling a
t his unseen captors, he and Simon sat on the floor with their backs against the locked doors. Simon fell asleep with his head in his father’s lap. Julian began to wonder if they’d been abandoned, left to rot here, stuck between the outside chaos and the safety of the secure facility. His mind wandered and he felt light-headed. He decided to get up and walk around a little to keep alert, but his body refused to respond to his brain’s commands.

  He sat there unable to move as the doors opened and several men in biosuits came into the mantrap. They reached for Simon. Julian screamed at them to stop, but nothing came out of his mouth. His mind raced as the men loaded Simon onto a stretcher and began rolling him away. Simon! his mind continued to scream, to no avail. The edges of his vision began to darken. He tried to shake it off but it was no use. The last thing he saw was the masked face of the man bending over and grabbing him by the shoulders.

  He awoke to the beeps of monitors and the hiss of air escaping something. The bright white space smelled unusual. He couldn’t place the odor for a moment, then it came to him. It smelled like nothing, like the absence of any odors. He tried to sit up but found he was strapped tightly to the bed, of which he now became aware. The masked man in the biosuit leaned over him.

  “Hello, Dr. Ruegg. My name is Peter. How are you feeling?”

  “Where is my son?”

  “He is in the next isolation room. He is safe and everything is okay. We are just taking the necessary precautions in order to ensure our safety as well as yours. I’m sure you understand.”

  “How long will we remain in isolation?”

  “Well, that hasn’t been decided yet, sir. You are the first people we have allowed in since, well, since all this began.”

  “I have a solid-state drive with data that needs to be communicated to anyone working on a cure or antidote to the vaccine. I and my son both took the vaccine and have not suffered the… the changes, that a majority of others have.”