“You alright?” Morgan asked.
“Just getting up the courage before I go in.”
“I understand.”
“This is going to go two ways. I’m going to go in there and my family will be fine, or they won’t. If they’re fine, we all figure out the next step. If they’re not, you and I need a direction because I won’t want to stay here. I just can't. "
She hated sounding like a broken record, but “I understand,” was the best response she could come up with.
Ross’ house had a great huge front porch. There was no furniture on it, they probably hadn’t put it out yet. She took a seat on the steps, catching her breath, wiping the sweat from her brow. She’d wait there while Ross went inside his house. It was his to face and his to face alone.
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There were three things that could be found in nearly every Pittsburgher’s home. Chipped Ham, Heinz Ketchup and something Steeler related. Ross had those and he also had something else … a bottle of bourbon. He never ran dry, there was never less than half a bottle. That was just his thing.
He swore he could have drank the entire bottle when he saw the body of his three year old daughter on the living room floor. At first he thought she was alive, that somehow she survived. Her back was facing him, her blanket over her and she lay on her pillow in front of the television. She wasn’t.
That’s where she was and what she was doing when it happened.
His wife was at the kitchen table and his five year old daughter was still in bed.
A part of him knew and he felt they wouldn’t be alive, but he was hopeful, and prayed a lot during the walk there.
Once he found them, he cried. Silently and into his fist, biting his hand trying to take away the pain of his loss. It would never go away, like his badge, he’d wear it on his soul forever.
There would be plenty of time to cry and grieve, but it was hard being in the house. He grabbed the bourbon, took a big drink, sought out the radio from the basement, grabbed his wife’s car keys from the table in the living room and went to the front porch.
“I have a battery for this in the house. I’m gonna pack somethings and then we’ll leave.” He set down the radio and handed Morgan the keys. “Can you put this in the car? It’s that blue smart car up there.” He pointed two doors up.
“Oh, Ross, I am so sorry.”
Ross nodded. “You’re about my wife’s size, I’ll grab you some clothes. You need fresh clothes, too.”
“Thank you.”
Ross went back inside. He drank some more bourbon, grabbed a duffle bag and packed some clothes. Not much, he could get more on their journeys, wherever that would be. He grabbed food, water, and his extra gun. Before he did all that, he carried his youngest daughter and placed her in bed. He did the same for his wife and covered his family.
After he finished packing, he sat on the bed. He had been in the house a while, probably longer than he should have. He needed it. But it was a curse. The longer he stayed in his house, the more he thought about his purpose.
What purpose did he have? His wife was gone, his children, more than likely the rest of his family. He thought about his revolver and if he really wanted to make a journey, or was he already at the end of his journey?
In a moment of weakness he racked the chamber and lifted the weapon near his chin.
It was possible he would have pulled the trigger, he would never know.
Morgan called his name. “Ross.”
The entire time he was in that house she never called out to him, bothered him or came inside. She gave him his time. So why call him now? She said his name once and there was something about the way she said it.
He stood from the bed, grabbed the two bags and headed down the stairs.
“Ross, you need to come out here.”
He shouldered the bags and pushed open the screen porch door. He barely stepped out, about to ask her what was wrong, when he saw.
About a dozen people stood in the street.
They just stood there watching, arms at their sides all spaced apart a foot or so from each other.
“Something is wrong with them.” Morgan looked over her shoulder, standing at the top step.
At first, Ross entertained the ridiculous notion that they were dead and had risen. They looked very much alive. “You got the keys?” Ross asked.
“Yes.”
“Let’s get to the car.”
“Where are we going?”
“Just move,” Ross instructed. He had his revolver still in hand and they walked down the steps. When he reached his yard, Ross recognized one. Tanner Stewart. Tanner lived a block over and his daughter was in preschool with Ross’ five year old. He also knew him from being on the force, he had arrested Tanner twice for bar fighting.
But that was only one. He knew everyone on their street, so why did he only know one person. Who were the others?
They were dirty and sweaty, but they looked almost hypnotized.
“Why are they staring?” Morgan asked.
“I don’t know. Did you try talking to them?”
“Look at them. Would you?”
Ross ushered her quickly to the car, when they arrived the group of people all turned and faced them. He tossed the bags in the car. “Get in.” he instructed, then opened the driver’s door and reached in with the keys, starting the car. “Get in!”
Morgan walked around to the passenger’s side, continuously looking back at the group. She opened the door.
Ross took a step away from the car.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Get in. I’ll be back.”
“Ross!”
He took a few steps back toward the group of people, looking over his shoulder once to make sure Morgan was inside the car, then he walked directly to Tanner.
Tanner stared outward, not even looking at Ross.
“Tanner.” Ross called his name. “Tanner.” He snapped his finger in his face.
Tanner’s eyes shifted and locked with Ross.
“Tanner, are you okay? Can you hear me? Can I help you with …?”
Before Ross could finish, Tanner expression unchanged, snapped out his arm and he gripped on to Ross’ mouth. His thumb pressed against one cheek, while his fingers dug into the other. He squeezed so tight, Ross swore his teeth were going to pop out of their sockets.
He couldn’t even say a word, his hand was cutting off his air. He reached up, trying to pull the hand away. He saw the rest of the group approaching.
Ross was a big guy, strong too, and he couldn’t free himself.
In a final attempt to pull away, Ross struggled out the word, “Stop. Please.” Then lifted his revolver, placed it to Tanner’s chest and fired.
The grip didn’t release and Ross fired two more times until he was finally free.
Tanner dropped to the ground and Ross fumbled to find his footing while aiming outward. He expected the others to immediately come for him, but they didn’t. Lowering his weapon, Ross turned and ran to the car.
He didn’t say anything to Morgan. He slammed the car door, put it in gear, and looked once more in the rearview mirror, before he sped off.
FOURTEEN – DAZED
“My phone is one bar,” Ray said. “Sorry, I can’t talk anymore. I’m buried in eight feet of water, and we’re trying to get out. It’s getting higher. Storms haven’t stopped.”
“Have you had any earthquakes?” Judd asked.
“Some. Minor. Nothing compared to the water. It’s the storms. That much water dumping in the ocean can shift plates. Don’t they teach you that in school?”
“Oceans, I’m in Ohio. There are no oceans close. There’s a lake.”
“I have to go.”
“Wait!” Judd yelled. “One more question. Have you seen … have you seen any strange people just lurking around.”
Silence.
“Hello?” Judd called out.
“The quiet ones.”
“That would be a good name for them.”
“Yes. More and more are showing up. They didn’t die, they just took a while to get up. Like they were in a coma. I think. Yeah.”
“What’s wrong with them?”
“I don’t know. I just avoid them. They aren’t good.”
“So it’s a virus.”
“I don’t know that either. I deliver pizzas for a living, I’m not a ….”
That was it. The end of the call. Probably the last he would speak to Ray of Sunshine. Judd was rattled and he wanted to take away something from the call, but he couldn’t remember what all Ray had said.
“He’s in a big flood,” Judd told Dawson as he kept looking out the window at Tire Man.
“Did he say anything about him?” Dawson asked.
“Not much.” Judd hadn’t bitten his nails since he was ten, yet there he was chomping away as he looked out the window. “They aren’t good. Could be a virus.”
“So he’s a zombie. He doesn’t move fast like World War Z. He’s slow.”
“I don’t think he’s a zombie. He was sweating yesterday. He’s alive. Like that movie Twenty-Eight Days later.”
“They ran in that movie. Super strong, too.”
“You’re eight. Why were you watching that movie?”
“I was allowed.”
Judd bit a nail and peeked out. “This isn’t good. I have to do something.”
“You wanna kill him?”
“Yes. I mean no. I mean …” Judd looked at Tire Man. He just stood there, staring back. He stood in the same spot all night. He hadn’t moved, in fact, his feet were sinking in the mud. “He’s scary.”
“Think you can take him?”
“Probably not.”
“Why don’t you see what he wants,” Dawson suggested.
“We tried talking to him yesterday, remember. He didn’t say a word. He just … stared. He’s scaring the hell out of me and I don’t like being scared. There’s nothing in that survival book about catatonic lunatics.”
“What’s catatonic?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Judd bit his lip. He couldn’t leave him standing there, he was unpredictable and dangerous. Judd was supposed to be protecting Dawson and he was more scared than the child.
How was he going to leave with Dawson if Tire Man was there, out there waiting? “Okay that’s it.” Judd backed away from the window.
“What are you doing?”
“Do you have a baseball bat around here?”
“In the closet.” Dawson pointed to the one next to the front door. “Are you gonna beat him with a baseball bat? Make sure you hit him in the head.”
“He’s not a zombie. I’m gonna scare him away. I don’t want to beat him.” Judd opened the closet. A wooden bat was on the floor perched against the wall. “It would probably break on him.” As he clutched the bat he felt the nervousness creep up and he jumped when thunder blasted. He could hear the instantaneous downpour hit against the house. Judd looked up. “Swell.”
“It’s raining again.”
“I know.” He shut the closet door and reached for the front door. “If something happens to me. Just … just … good luck. I don’t know what to tell you.” He opened the front door. “Jesus.” He took a breath of courage and stepped out.
Tire Man stared at him.
Judd jumped a little when the door slammed. Another breath and he stepped from the porch. “I can do this. I can do this. Think big. Think angry. Be intimidating.” He raised the bat that raised his voice. “What do you want!” Judd blasted.
He stepped off the porch into the pouring rain. His feet melted into the soft mud and water on the lawn.
He charged toward Tire Man. “Go away!” He moved closer. Tire Man didn’t change expression. “Didn’t you hear me!” Judd blasted in his loudest voice. “You got three seconds to go or I swear to God I am gonna bash you. You hear me?!”
Nothing from Tire Man.
“One.” Judd stepped closer, it rained so hard, the water pooled in his eyes blurring his vision. “Two.” He swiped the water from his eyes and moved within three feet of him.
He had played baseball all of his life, softball when he was older. He was good, he was a slugger and Chuck the Tire Man was a threat. Something was wrong with him, and as much as Judd wasn’t violent, as much as he hated to hurt anyone, he couldn’t take the chance with Dawson in the house. Tire Man was a big guy and Judd knew, he had one shot. It had to be good, or else he could be in trouble.
“Three!” Full force he lifted the bat and like stepping into the plate, he moved his leg forward and with all his might brought forth the bat.
A split second before connection, inches from his target, Tire Man lifted his left hand, tilted his head and closed his eyes while making a noise. A groaning noise that sounded like a cat, as if he had no vocal chords, ability to talk or hear anything.
Judd stopped. His eyes widened.
Tire Man lifted his hand again and flinched.
“What the hell?” Judd said, and lowered the bat in shock.
FIFTEEN – DIRECTION
The blinking yellow stop light told Ross and Morgan that the town twenty-five miles north of Pittsburgh still had power. Once they made it out of the city and to the expressway, it was easy to maneuver around the cars. Rush hour was over when everyone dropped, and HOV lanes were clear and empty because they were closed at that time.
It was smooth sailing until the expressway met the interstate, then it was quite a bit of weaving. The tiny smart car worked well, but performed poorly when they ran into wet areas. For that reason alone, they needed a bigger vehicle.
Although, Morgan had no idea where they were going.
“We’ll figure it out when we stop,” Ross told her.
Morgan wasn’t a go with the flow person, it made her antsy. She didn’t bring it up to Ross because she knew he was dealing with a lot. His hands shook a lot when he drove and she really wished he’d stop sipping from the bourbon bottle as if it were a bottle of water clutched between his legs. She wanted to blame the booze for the shakes. Like Ross was some alcoholic who needed a fix, but she was with him the entire previous day and unless he was hiding his adult beverage, that wasn’t the reason.
The tremors were brought on by emotions. He assumed that his family was gone and then he had the confrontation with the crazy people. It was a lot to handle.
She was happy when she saw that flashing traffic light, it signified to Morgan they were going to stop. It started to rain again, not quite as hard as the night before, but it was steady.
It was already mid-day, and without a plan, Morgan had no idea where they would stop for the night. They needed direction.
She also needed Ross to talk to her. That was something he hadn’t done until they stopped the car at a convenience store and gas station named Sheetz. It was a common store to see in the area, the ‘It’ place for gas and decent late night food.
An SUV was parked by a pump, the nozzle wasn’t connected and that meant they either pumped the gas already or were just about to.
Ross stepped out of the car. “We should be good here from any flooding. The elevation is good.” He moved to the SUV and opened the driver’s door. “The keys are here.” He said as he started it. “Full tank, too. I think they have gas cans inside. I wanna fill some. I’ll unload the car…” He rested his arm on the door. “I saw a sign for a motel up the road. We should stop there, even though it’s early. You look pretty pale and should rest. How are you feeling?”
“I’m not feeling too bad. The pain pill is still working. I’d like to unwrap my ribs and redo them. Plus, you know, change into dry clothes.”
“I bet. Me, too.” He went back to our car and opened the back, grabbing one of the bags. He pulled out a tee shirt and a pair of those stretch and comfortable pants that fit tighter. “I didn’t know what size you wore in shoes. She wears an eight.” He handed her sneakers.
“They will work, thank you.�
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“Meet you inside.”
She took the clothing and her purse and headed toward the store.
“Morgan,” Ross called her. “Want me to go check it first?”
“No, I’ll be fine.”
“Be careful.”
Morgan nodded. She probably would have thought the ‘careful’ was unnecessary had they not ran into the group of people outside Ross' house.
She kept her eyes peered and when she got to the store, she looked around. The air conditioning was on and it felt good, the odor wasn’t as bad as it was outside either.
Once in the store, she saw the toppled ribbon that marked off the waiting line for the register, two customers were on the floor. She didn’t see any employees, they probably were behind the counters.
By the soda machine was the body of a construction worker, he still wore his reflective vest. She stepped over him, grabbed a cup and filled it just a little with soda. It was cold and tasted good.
After spotting the rest room sign, she made her way there. The tiny health and beauty aids section was near there and she grabbed a comb that was ridiculously priced, a bar of soap and a roll of paper towels.
An employee mopping the floor had dropped not far from the rest room, Morgan had to step over him.
Once in the bathroom, she double checked the stalls, then she opened the towels, laying a bunch on the floor to have a clean spot to stand on. She was a mess, her face was dirty and injured, her hair looked tangled and muddy. If she could bend over the sink to wash it she would have, but she would wait until the hotel. A shower would be best. She undressed and threw away her clothes.
Undoing the binding felt so good, almost the same free feeling of taking off her bra at the end of the day. She took deep breaths while she washed up. Paper towels and a bar of soap did a great job. She needed to clean up so her injuries didn’t get infected, she had no idea what was floating in that water.
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