Desolation

by Mark Campbell

  Witt laughed.

  “It will feel like miles… trust me… out here it is very hostile territory.” He stopped laughing and looked over at Andrew and Jerri. “Whatever you do… don’t go into any of the buildings, avoid dark places, and stay off of the dirt and sand. We can trick humans, but the zombies don’t care how many guns we’re packing. Stay close and don’t talk to anybody. You both understand?”

  Jerri and Andrew nodded as Witt turned his flashlight off and slid it into his pocket.

  Andrew did the same.

  As they walked down the alley, they stared at each shuttered building they passed. Most of the buildings were ramshackle and had been gutted by flames. Many of the doors had been sealed shut by plywood and still had old orange signs stapled onto them from the pandemic’s onset.

  A few of the buildings were wide-open and revealed darkened hallways and hidden crevices. Muddy footprints and tattered pieces of clothing led into the dark recesses of the tombs.

  They didn’t have to guess what would be waiting for them if they chose to venture inside. Skeletal remains littered the alley and were strewn amongst heaps of trash sealed inside red biohazard bags. The stench was beyond description.

  They walked past one man who was busy digging in a mound of garbage, picking through the torn biohazard sacks. He was scrawny, covered in sores, and had long greasy hair that hung past his shoulders. He turned his sunburned face towards the group as they walked past, mouth agape.

  The man’s eyes lingered on Jerri and then grew wide at the sight of the baby she was holding.

  Jerri felt uncomfortable and quickly covered the baby with the shawl, hiding the innocent child away from the man’s crazy eyes. Witt froze and chewed on his toothpick, casually pointing his shotgun towards the man. The weaponless man looked at Witt and then held up his dirty hands, shaking his head weakly. He looked away from the group and started to dig deeper into the trash, scavenging whatever he could find.

  Witt, sensing that the man wasn’t a threat, propped his shotgun back onto his shoulder and kept walking down the alley as he methodically moved his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other with his tongue.

  Andrew and Jerri followed, making sure to keep a good distance from the trash digger.

  As they reached the end of the alley and approached a street, Witt held up a hand and signaled the group to stop.

  Andrew and Jerri froze and peered over Witt’s shoulder, staring at the street with intense curiosity. A few burnt vehicles sat on the street, stripped bare. Small groups of haggard individuals sat huddled in front of the various shattered storefronts, either staring into nothingness or exchanging meaningless small talk. Everybody made sure to stay away from the buildings that had their doors open and everybody kept their voices down.

  A tall man pushed a wobbling shopping cart full of jugs of dirty water down the center of the street, steering the cart around the potholes that littered the pavement. He was wearing a tattered overcoat and had a small caliber rifle slung over his shoulder.

  “This is horrible looking,” Jerri muttered, shaking her head. It made the camp look divine by comparison.

  “And you think Canada’s streets look any better?” Andrew asked rather harshly.

  Before Jerri could respond, Witt spoke. “This is everyday life out here,” he said. “You either adapt or you die. Come on. Let’s walk,” he said as he pointed over at another darkened alleyway across the street.

  A teenage boy bolted from around the corner, slunk around Witt, brushed past Jerri, and bumped against Andrew. “Hey!” Andrew shouted, stumbling backwards. “Watch where you’re going, you little shit!” He glanced down and noticed that the small flashlight he once had stuck inside his pocket was gone.

  Andrew quickly turned and aimed his pistol towards the boy but was too late; the boy had already disappeared around a corner. Witt quickly reached over and placed a hand on Andrew’s gun, lowering it.

  Andrew looked over at him, shocked.

  “Gunshots draw them out, especially in tight alleyways like this. Shoot only when you have too,” Witt whispered. “It’s just a flashlight.” Andrew nodded, face red with anger. He wasn’t used to being told what to do.

  Witt turned and started to walk across the street.

  The people gathered around the sidewalk immediately stopped talking and stared at the stranger packing the shotgun.

  The man pushing the shopping cart froze and placed one hand on his slung rifle, a friendly reminder not to fuck with him.

  Andrew and Jerri walked close behind Witt, carefully scanning the crowd while Jacob continued to sleep.

  Witt looked over at the man pushing the shopping cart and nodded.

  The tall man nodded back, cordial yet cautious. Just as soon as Witt finished crossing the street and reached the alley, two men emerged from behind a rusty dumpster. Each of the men held rifles.

  One of the men, an elderly black man with gray hair wearing a Hard Rock Cafe shirt and tattered jeans, pointed his weapon at Witt’s head.

  The other man, a fat white kid, no older than sixteen, wearing overalls with no shirt and no shoes, pointed his gun at Andrew. Witt quickly leveled his shotgun at the black man and stared at him calmly. “We don’t want any trouble,” Witt finally said.

  The black man laughed.

  “Funny,” the man said, “three white motherfuckers walking up in my place with guns seems like trouble to old Omar.”

  The people the street slowly got up and shuffled away from the scene, wanting no part of the ensuing altercation. Witt shook his head and kept chewing on his toothpick. “We’ll take another route,” Witt said. “Sorry for disturbing you.”

  The heavyset white kid stepped forward, pressing the rifle barrel against Andrew’s chest.

  Andrew didn’t lower his pistol and kept it centered on the kid. “It’s too late for that,” the white kid snorted. “Now you’ll have to pay a toll.” “The toll?” Andrew asked.

  Omar grinned.

  “Yeah,” Omar cackled. “How about you give us everything you’re packing and then we’ll allow you to go find another alleyway. Otherwise we’ll shoot you and just take it all anyway.”

  Witt slowly rolled his toothpick over to opposite side of his mouth, mulling over the offer. He kept his shotgun leveled. “Is there room for negotiation?” Witt asked calmly. Omar stepped forward and pressed his barrel against Witt’s throat. The man smelled like body odor and pee.

  “What do you think motherfucker?” Omar asked in a sharp tone. “Drop your weapon ‘fore I drop you!”

  Witt sighed and spat his toothpick onto the ground. Before Witt could think of a way to take both men down, the heavyset white kid stepped towards Jerri and reached towards the bundled Jacob.

  “What do you got hiding in there?” the boy asked. He snatched Jacob’s shawl and pulled it aside, revealing the baby’s ashen corpse and sunken eyes.

  “Leave him alone!” Jerri shouted as she pulled Jacob away from the boy.

  Jacob’s limp body dangled upside down out of her arms and a plume of putrid gas expunged from the baby’s gaping mouth. The heavyset boy pissed his pants and screamed as he stumbled backwards, falling into a pile of red biohazard bags.

  “The fuck you goin’ on about?” Omar asked in an aggravated tone as he looked at the ghostly-pale boy.

  The boy stammered and stuttered as he lowered his gun and pointed a fat finger up at Jacob’s corpse. Jerri looked down at the frightened boy with confusion. Clearly the boy wasn’t stable. She quickly covered Jacob with the shawl and tucked the baby against her chest protectively.

  Omar stared at Jacob with disbelief. “Y-you’s some crazy fuckers… What the fuck is wrong with you…?” he asked in a shaky voice. “Y-y-you did that to a kid?! You’s some sick motherfuckers… You in that cult shit aren’t you?”

  Witt’s eyes lit up. “That’s right. We needed his blood. So now you know the kind of sick shit we’ll do to you if you don’t get out of our way,” W
itt said in a growl. He pushed Omar’s shaky rifle aside and walked forward down the alleyway.

  Andrew and Jerri followed, looking over at the two frightened men nervously.

  Omar backed against the brick wall and let the group pass, lowering his weapon.

  The heavyset white boy looked up at him, body trembling. He stared at Omar and asked a question with his eyes.

  Omar quickly shook his head.

  “No sir,” Omar said. “I don’t need none of that hoodoo shit followin’ me round. There’ll be other fish to catch.” As Witt traversed deeper into the alley and weaved around the mounds of red plastic bags and shoved aside stacks of cardboard boxes and old wooden pallets, Andrew and Jerri followed close behind.

  “What was all of that about?” Jerri finally asked.

  “They were crazy,” Witt said flatly. “That’s all.”

  “You played it close,” Andrew said.

  Witt nodded.

  “The best fights are the ones you win without firing a single shot,” Witt explained. He grinned. “It almost came to that though. It’s a cut-throat world out here.”

  Jerri was thankful that Jacob was asleep through that ordeal. She reached a hand under his blanket and tickled his bloated stomach. When she pulled her hand out from under the blanket she stared at her fingertips in confusion; they were covered with a thin layer of Jacob’s skin.

  She blinked and sniffed her fingers; they smelled horrible. Something didn’t feel right, but she brushed it off.

  At the end of the alleyway, Witt saw a street half-obscured by an old rusty dumpster.

  “Wait here,” Witt said. He slunk past the dumpster and walked out blindly into the street… right into the center of a graveyard. The crows that covered the street took frantic flight and revealed the horrific scene on the asphalt below, cawing as they ascended into the sky. Skeletal remains lay strewn all across the pavement, littering the street for miles. Most of the corpses were laden with supplies but many of them appeared to have been former shamblers. Each of the corpses had been shot in the head.

  It all looked exactly the way he remembered from his last scouting trip to the base.

  Witt stared down the sloped road towards the bottom of the small hill… The base was a large complex surrounded by a razorwire-topped fence. The road was the main thoroughfare into the complex and was congested by multiple tanks, abandoned Tucson police cruisers, and an armored SWAT van. The gatehouse next to the road had a tattered American flag waving above it and had the chain-link fence rolled shut, preventing anybody from easily entering the complex. A long sign above the gate read ‘Davis–Monthan Air Force Base – East Entry – Welcome to the Home of the 355th’.

  Soldiers were patrolling the catwalk that ran over the entry and over the gatehouse, taking position in front of the Davis–Monthan sign. Witt stepped back into the alley and ran his hand along the back of his head, thinking. “Well?” Andrew asked.

  Witt shook his head.

  “We’re going to have to sneak around from the other side and take them by surprise. They’re keeping a close eye on the main entry,” Witt said.

  Andrew rolled his eyes.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake,” Andrew said in an aggravated tone. “Wait here; I’ll go talk to them.”

  Andrew started to step out of the alley just as Witt put a hand against his chest, stopping him.

  Witt shook his head in disbelief.

  “Are you off your meds, son?!” Witt asked. “Those men aren’t what they appear to be! They’ll shoot you before you say a word!” Andrew brushed Witt’s hand aside and stepped out into the street. “I know what I’m doing,” Andrew said pointedly. He knew the base wasn’t abandoned and he knew that the soldiers weren’t deserters. “Wait here.”

  Andrew walked out onto the street and down the hill as he sauntered towards the base with his hands raised above his head. Witt shook his head, aggravated and confused. He pressed his back against the brick wall and looked over at Jerri.

  “Does he want to get shot?!” Witt asked. “Is he insane?!” Jerri didn’t hear him. She was too busy staring down at Jacob with confusion, trying to figure out where the odor was coming from. Witt rolled his eyes and gave an exasperated sigh. “Great. This is my life,” Witt muttered. He thought about the SWAT van parked in the middle of the street and had an idea.

  38

  Andrew maneuvered around the old SWAT van parked next to the ancient tanks and made his way down the steep street towards the bottom of the hill with his arms raised above his head.

  Six soldiers were standing sentry on the catwalk that ran across the base’s closed entryway.

  One of the soldiers spotted Andrew approaching and quickly pointed his rifle towards him.

  The other soldiers snapped to attention and quickly followed suit. Six red laser dots appeared in the center of Andrew’s chest, clustered in a tight circle.

  Andrew froze, smiling.

  “That’s far enough!” one of the soldiers shouted as he kept his rifle aimed steadily at Andrew.

  “I’m no enemy,” Andrew said. “I traveled here from Camp 6–” “Then I suggest you turn around and go back to Camp 6,” the soldier interrupted. “Raiders burned it down to the ground,” Andrew said as he stared at the lieutenant insignias on the soldier’s uniform. He nodded. “There is nothing left for me back there, lieutenant.”

  “Your problem, not mine,” the lieutenant calmly replied. “I don’t take kindly to deserters.”

  Andrew closed his eyes and tried to control his tone. “I work for FEMA,” Andrew replied with his arms raised. “My credentials are in my back pocket if you’d like to verify.” The soldiers kept their rifles centered on Andrew, unimpressed. “What do you want, FEMA?” the lieutenant asked.

  “I need safe passage to the Capital for me and my wife,” Andrew answered.

  The soldiers looked at each other in disbelief.

  “Sorry,” the lieutenant said, “but we’re not Southwest Airlines. I suggest that you go back to your post… whatever is left of it.” The soldiers chuckled and kept their weapons pointed towards Andrew.

  “You don’t understand,” Andrew replied calmly. “I need to get to the Capital. I’m part of Project Lazarus.”

  The soldiers looked at each other with sudden concern. “You worked on it?” the lieutenant asked as he lowered his weapon.

  Andrew nodded.

  “Let me see,” the lieutenant ordered. “Pull out your papers and toss them to me, slowly.”

  Moving methodically slow, Andrew pulled his tattered leather credential wallet and tossed it up towards the lieutenant.

  The lieutenant caught the wallet and carefully scrutinized the credentials, narrowing his eyes.

  The soldiers kept their weapons pointed at Andrew. “Stand down, stand down,” the lieutenant ordered the others. “His story checks out.”

  The soldiers lowered their weapons and the tension eased. Andrew smiled.

  “Why didn’t you evacuate with the others?” the lieutenant asked.

  “There were complications getting here,” Andrew said, not sure who ‘the others’ were.

  “Well we only have one plane left and it’s for cargo. Where’s the wife you mentioned?” Andrew nodded and pointed behind him.

  “She’s right up the hill waiting for me,” Andrew said with a smile. “You’re a lucky bastard,” the lieutenant said.

  “How so?” Andrew asked.

  The lieutenant laughed.

  “If you came just a few hours later you’d find an abandoned base,” the lieutenant said. Andrew frowned.

  “Abandoned? A key location like this?” he asked.

  The lieutenant nodded.

  “We haven’t heard anything from the Capital in weeks,” the lieutenant said. “We were going to load the last of the devices and head up north. We sure as hell don’t have enough jet fuel to fly around and deploy what we have left. Between the scavenger attacks and the nightly shootouts with the infected, we’re run
ning out of supplies.”

  “Where are they with the plan?” Andrew asked.

  The lieutenant blinked and stared blankly at Andrew.

  “How would I know? Hell, we’ve been glorified deliverymen this whole operation,” the lieutenant answered with a shrug. “Flying from city to city dropping off those devices… Fuck, I could put together one of those in my sleep by now!”

  The soldiers chuckled.

  Andrew shook his head and smiled, embarrassed.

  “I’m sorry. I’m just… curious. I haven’t heard a status update for a while,” Andrew said.

  “You and the whole fucking military,” one of the soldiers shouted. The outburst was met with laughter.

  The lieutenant looked up the hill and narrowed his eyes.

  “What the fuck is that?” the lieutenant asked. “Did you bring backup with you?”

  Andrew, confused, turned at stared at the approaching vehicle in horror. The driverless armored SWAT van was coasting in neutral with the driver’s side door open. It gained momentum as it barreled down the hill towards the base’s main entrance.

  “That stupid fucking Witt!” Andrew said between his teeth with an expression of feral rage.

  “It’s a trap! He’s mounting a siege! Open fire! Open fire!” the lieutenant shouted.

  The soldiers hastily aimed at Andrew and opened wild bursts of sporadic fire. Andrew abruptly turned and sprinted off of the street as bullets whistled past him and ricocheted off of the asphalt. He dove behind an abandoned sedan and cowered behind it, covering his head with his hands as bullets peppered the car and shattered the windows.

  The armored van whooshed past him and crashed through the base’s chain-link gate and it plowed a path through a stack of concrete highway dividers that had barricaded the entryway.

  A shrill alarm started wailing.

  The armored van coasted to a stop a few yards into the base as it veered off of the main pathway and got stuck a ditch. Shambling corpses started to hobble out of the darkened buildings and alleyways at the top of the hill at the sound of the alarm and gunshots. They uniformly made their way towards the breached gate, sniffing the air and following the noise.