Dead Highways (Book 3): Discord

by Brown, Richard

  Finally, Ted pulled the truck into a driveway and killed the engine. Everyone got out.

  “This it?” I asked, hopping out of the truck bed.

  Robinson nodded. “This is it.” He pointed to a red minivan in the driveway parked behind an old Cadillac that reminded me of my grandma’s cherished Buick. “That’s Trissa’s van.”

  “What was with all the circling around? You get lost?”

  “No,” Ted replied. “I just wanted to scout out the neighborhood. See if there was anything unusual.”

  “It looked pretty clear,” Peaches said.

  “Yeah, and this neighborhood sits nicely between Airline and I-10, so not many infected to worry about. The airport is directly west of here.”

  Speaking of air travel, something happened next that left us all staring up in astonishment at the sky. We heard the swooshing sound of the blades cutting through the air first, and then a second later it appeared over the trees, hovering low. The chopper was medium-sized and egg-shaped, painted blue and white with some sort of swirling red emblem on the side. We peered upward, shielding our eyes from the blinding sun, our mouths open in silent surprise. Before we could even try to get its attention, try to signal it somehow, the helicopter was gone and out of sight, out of our lives, flying northeast.

  “I’ll be back,” Ted said.

  He jumped into the truck, swiveled backwards out of the driveway in a hurry, and sped away.

  I’ll be back?

  Hmm…where had I heard that line before?

  Chapter 101

  “What just happened?” Bowser asked.

  I was thinking the same thing, left in shock after the brief appearance by the helicopter flying overhead, and then Ted’s unexpected exit. We stood at the edge of the driveway, glancing at each other, unsure of what to make of it.

  “That’s a good sign, right?” Peaches said. “It means there are others around here like us. Alive.”

  “Could be like us,” Aamod replied. “Or could be like the last people we came across.”

  “Oh, don’t say that,” I remarked, thinking of Charlie the racist and his gang of white trash minions. Shirtless Brett and his brother Kyle, who resembled Ellen DeGeneres. Brenda, the butch bitch with man hands and facial hair. Assuming everyone we’d meet would be like those assholes wasn’t a conclusion I was willing to jump to quite yet, and I was sort of an expert now at jumping.

  Peaches shared my optimism. “Cathy and Brian were nice. I’m just saying…you never know. Doesn’t hurt to keep an open mind.”

  “It’s definitely intriguing,” Robinson added. “Makes you wonder who was up there and where they’re going.”

  “Do you think it’s the military?” Peaches asked.

  “No, didn’t look like a military helicopter. But it could be someone with the government.”

  We all stayed quiet for a moment, staring up at the sky as though the helicopter was still there. Maybe it would return if we stared long enough.

  Robinson said, “I’m gonna go inside and have a look around.” He didn’t say it with any emotion in his voice, or with even the slightest inkling that he thought he’d find his son inside. I was both happy and saddened by the cold but realistic demeanor he now exhibited.

  “I’ll come too,” I said.

  “At least one of you should stay out here and wait for Ted to return,” Robinson said. “Plus, we need to keep watch. I promise I’ll hold myself together this time.”

  Aamod offered to stay out in the driveway and play guard, and made Naima stay outside with him. Ever since she’d gotten really sick, he kept his daughter real close—closer than normal, and that was saying something. He never left her side.

  Like the previous house, this house also had two-stories, but was much larger and better maintained. The exterior was built from peach-colored bricks, and there were no bars on any of the windows, so that was a good sign. The lawn was well manicured, free of toys and other trash, and even had a nice collection of flowers and potted plants sectioned off near the front porch.

  As we reached the two vehicles heading up the driveway, Robinson put his face against the tinted windows to peer inside. Out of curiosity, I did the same, though I had no idea what either of us expected to see inside the cars.

  An old white rocking chair sat on the front porch. Much of the white paint had withered away over time, exposing the natural sandy brown color of the wood beneath. The front door was prefaced by a screen door. Robinson opened the screen door and tried the handle on the main door. Receiving no entry, he once again pulled out a key ring with a variety of keys attached of all different sizes.

  “You got a key to every house in town?” I asked.

  Robinson smiled, flipping through the keys, searching for the correct one. “No, just the two. There was a time in the early days of our relationship, before Ben was born, when I lived here with Trissa and her mom.”

  “They didn’t ask for the keys back once you split up, or change the locks?”

  “Our relationship was never like that. Marietta…or Mary, Trissa’s mom, always loved me, and her daughter and I ended things on good terms. In fact, I kind of hoped we might end up back together at some point. We were making progress. I almost wore her down.” He found the correct key and unlocked the door, pressed it open. “But that was then…”

  Similar to the exterior, the interior of the house was left in much better condition than the previous house. The hardwood floor was clean and free of toys, smelling like it had recently been refinished. A large circular rug sat in the middle of the living room with many pieces of old tacky-looking furniture surrounding it. Dozens of picture frames covered the walls, grouped into collections. Kids. Grandkids. Aunts. Uncles. Cousins. Anyone who meant something to Marietta had their place on the wall.

  “Hello,” Robinson called out, repeatedly, but nobody called back. I followed close behind him, slow and careful. We had our guns drawn and ready, not taking any chances. Peaches stayed by the front door, looking at some of the pictures on the walls, perhaps anticipating a quick exit. Bowser eased down on the couch, stretched out his bad leg.

  On the far end of the first floor was a dining room with a long rectangular table. Along the wall beside the table was a large cabinet with fancy china and other collectibles displayed behind the glass. Next to the dining room was a small kitchen, also left in immaculate condition. The counters were clear of clutter and leftover food particles, and no dirty dishes sat in the sink stinking up the place.

  We backed out of the kitchen and rounded the corner past a cramped laundry room to a closed door. Before going inside, Robinson called out again. Hearing nothing in return, he turned the brass handle and pushed open the door. The room was a master bedroom with an attached bathroom. As expected, everything was in its right place. The bed was made. The clothes were hung in the closet or folded neatly in the dresser. The bathroom was spotless.

  I felt stupid walking around with Sally out, like I expected to bust a cap in somebody hiding behind the shower curtain. This was an old ladies house. A grandmother’s house. A peaceful place. A warm place. A place where families used to gather after Sunday church service to laugh and enjoy a nice meal. But still I kept my finger near the trigger because I knew the danger of becoming complacent. Despite what this place had once been, the world around it had become something quite different. To forget that fact, even for a brief moment, could lead to sudden disaster.

  Satisfied, Robinson and I headed out of the master bedroom, passed Peaches at the front door, and then went upstairs.

  We inspected the rooms on the second story like two detectives investigating a potential crime scene, moving light-footed and methodical, searching for anything unusual that might catch our eye. It occurred to me that Robinson had experience with this sort of thing. What we discovered upstairs was more of the same. Two guest rooms and a hall bathroom just as clean as those downstairs. No one was there, of course. We both knew that. If anyone were there, alive or un
dead, they would have certainly heard us when we’d first entered the house and made their presence known.

  Back downstairs, Robinson plopped down on the couch next to Bowser and sighed. I stayed standing next to Peaches.

  “Nothing?” Peaches whispered, knowing the answer. I shook my head. “Maybe they left.”

  Robinson looked up. “They left all right. They’re somewhere. Maybe even together. But it doesn’t really matter, they’re not alive.”

  “You don’t know that,” Peaches spat out. “Maybe there’s something around here that can give us a clue.”

  I glared at Peaches, wanting to jump inside her head and shut her mouth. She’s the one who needed to get a clue. Robinson didn’t need false hope, nor did he want our sympathy. He needed closure, and he could only find it once he acknowledged the truth. It was the first step in the healing process. Acceptance.

  Ted pulled the truck into the driveway a minute later. Robinson helped Bowser back up, and the four of us went outside to meet him.

  “Where’d you go?” Robinson asked.

  “Around,” Ted said, stepping out of the truck.

  “You really thought you could follow the helicopter?” Aamod asked.

  “No chance. But I thought it was possible I might be able to get a better idea of where it was going. Maybe I’d even get lucky and it would land nearby, but it didn’t. I lost it pretty soon after I left, and then I just drove around the neighborhood some more. Got close to the interstate. Saw a ton of infected. But no chopper.”

  Again, all of us squinted up at the sky in the direction the chopper had gone.

  “Looked to be heading northeast. That’s all I know,” Ted continued. “Anything inside?”

  “No,” Robinson replied. “The house is empty.”

  Ted frowned. “I’m sorry.”

  “Not as sorry as I am. I should have known better.”

  “You’re not gonna start with that shit again, are ya?” Bowser asked. “Let it go, bro.”

  “Yeah I am, and no I won’t. So just get off my case for a minute. Let me say this because it needs to be said.” Robinson took a deep breath. “I don’t regret coming here. I needed to see for myself. But I should have come alone. I shouldn’t have dragged you all into my business. I almost got everyone killed. That’s all I can think about right now. Not my ex wife. Not even my son. But each one of you. It wasn’t fair to put you in that situation, and I’m truly sorry. I do appreciate everyone sticking by my side, and for not leaving me behind. I hope you can forgive me.”

  “It’s all in the past,” Ted said.

  While the rest of us nodded in agreement, Aamod asked the question all of us were silently wondering.

  “What do we do now?”

  Chapter 102

  What we decided to do next was something we had needed to do all day.

  Relax.

  We headed inside the house, sat down in one of the many chairs, and put our tired feet up. I don’t think anyone really knew what we should do next. The goal was to get to New Orleans, and we did that. As Ted had said, it was in the past, and now we needed a new goal. My guess was we’d ultimately decide to head back home, or at the very least find a safer spot outside of the city. But for the moment, none of us were in any hurry to get on the move again. Marietta’s house seemed to be in a relatively safe area, with only a few scattered infected roaming around.

  A few hours later and the day started to fade away. The sun began to fall out of sight to the west, leaving behind a pale blue sky that grew increasingly darker with each minute that passed. I opened up a few windows, hoping the coming darkness would help cool the muggy house. Every so often one of us would slip outside and do a proper search of the premises, make sure there weren’t any infected nearby. The last thing we wanted was to get surrounded again.

  Inside, we rummaged through the kitchen pantry for something better to eat than the snacks we’d packed. Marietta had a good selection of canned goods. What she didn’t have was a manual can opener. Lucky for us, Ted was able to get the cans opened with his Swiss Army knife. We each picked what we wanted (I picked a can of baked beans and one of mini raviolis), grabbed a fork or spoon, and then gathered at the dining room table to eat.

  “This tastes amazing,” I said, shoveling the baked beans into my mouth as fast as I could.

  I didn’t even care that the food wasn’t warm. It sure beat the hell out of Ted’s MREs. It was funny watching everyone dig into their cans, hardly even stopping for a second to breathe or look up to acknowledge each other. We didn’t need plates, napkins, or prayers to the Lord. This wasn’t a fancy dinner. Fuck manners. We were effectively homeless, tired from hitchhiking the deadly streets all day. We deserved a nice meal prepared by Green Giant or Chef Boyardee. Ted, Robinson, and Bowser all downed a third can.

  Once finished, we sat around the table like a bunch of happy hogs after chow time, food stuck to our faces. Robinson found a bottle of cheap white wine in one of the cabinets and poured everyone a glass. He made a nice, heartfelt toast.

  “Well, it’s not beer, but still…”

  We all clanged our glasses together and relaxed back into our chairs, sipping and savoring each drop of wine.

  “One thing we need to do,” Ted said, “is get supplies.”

  “Gotta be some stuff around here we could use,” I said. “There’s plenty of canned goods.”

  “Okay, when I said supplies I meant weapons,” Ted clarified. “Bullets in particular.”

  “Could be some guns and ammo around here,” Robinson said. “Not here…in this house. I know Mary didn’t have any weapons thank God, but some of these other houses around might have some.”

  “Good point. Maybe we can have a look around tomorrow morning. The Mississippi River is also a short trip south of here. We could go there and then walk east until we reach the dock Brian dropped us off at. We left a lot of stuff there in the shipping office. Course we’ll have to cross a few highways to get there.”

  “Have to cross a few highways either way,” Aamod remarked. “If we ever intend on leaving this place…which I do.”

  “It’s both a blessing and a curse that most of them stick to the major roads,” I said. “It would be easier to get around if they didn’t, yet it’s nice not having to worry about them popping out around every corner. The more they stick to certain areas, the easier they are too avoid.”

  “What do you think is up with the infected anyway?” Peaches asked. “Is the virus changing again?”

  “Yeah, it’s been at least a few days now since I’ve seen any of the original infected,” Robinson said. “You know…the ones who would just try to kill you and not eat you.”

  “I think it’s just the result of time,” I said.

  “What do you mean…time?”

  “They were normal human beings when they woke from their comas, right? They breathed air. Their hearts beat. Maybe they weren’t who they used to be. They weren’t normal in the brain, that’s for sure, but their bodies still required food and water to survive. Just like us. Only they didn’t eat, so their bodies didn’t get the food they needed to keep going. Add to that all the traveling they do. I bet most collapsed on the road and died from dehydration within the last week or so, while we were resting up at Cathy and Brian’s house.”

  “That makes sense,” Peaches said. “Maybe these will die off at some point too. Their bodies are so weak as it is.”

  “Hopefully,” Ted said. “Until then, we kill them off one by one as necessary. They don’t come back from a bullet in the head.”

  “Whatever the case, I think it makes the most sense to get out of the city as soon as we can,” Robinson said. “Find a quiet place in the country that we can stock with supplies and lay low for a while.”

  “That’s an option,” Ted said. “How about we get a good night’s sleep and figure it out in the morning.”

  Not surprisingly, with the rough day we’d had and our bellies now full, we all became sleepy i
n no time. Before passing out, we divided up the three bedrooms. Peaches and I would take one of the rooms upstairs, while Aamad and Naima would occupy the other. The master bedroom downstairs was reserved for Robinson only, mainly because Bowser refused to share a bed with him. Although even if Bowser slept on the floor next to the bed, Robinson’s snoring would probably still keep him up all night. Thus, isolating Robinson was good for everyone. So he didn’t have to go up and down the stairs with his problem leg, Bowser decided to sleep on the living room couch. Ted would sleep nearby on a recliner.

  Just like at the Mattress Barn weeks earlier, one of us would be up at all times to keep watch, with each of us doing an hour at a time. See anything. Hear anything. Don’t hesitate to wake everyone up. I was lucky to draw one of the first shifts.

  I sat outside on the wooden rocking chair, gently swaying forward and back, enjoying the night air and the uninterrupted silence. Sally lay on a table next to me, ready to break into action at a moment’s notice, though I doubted that I’d have to use her. The night was calm, quiet and dark. The only light was from the moon. No streetlights. No lights on in the other houses. With the shades drawn, I couldn’t even see the candle burning on the dining room table inside the house behind me. Our nightlight. I was comfortably hidden under the cover of darkness, waiting, watching, trying hard not to fall asleep on duty. Should a zombie pass by, he or she or it most likely wouldn’t see me. But I was still confident I’d spot them, or at least hear them coming.

  My thoughts were interrupted by the front door cracking open. Robinson poked his head out and whispered, “Mind if I join you?” He quietly shut the door and then stood next to me, looking out at the dark street.

  I checked my watch. I could barely see the tiny hands in the dark. “It’s not your shift yet,” I whispered back. “Still got fifteen minutes till nine.”