The Beginning of the End (Book2): Road to Damnation

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The Beginning of the End (Book2): Road to Damnation Page 6

by Kidd, Sean


  “Any problems at the mall?” she asked.

  “None at all,” I said, as I looked at the dog again.

  I headed over to check out our new addition. Charger was on her back, and Sage was rubbing her belly. She looked like she’d been starving for attention. I bent over and gave her a belly rub, “Do you like that, Charger?”

  She thanked me by rolling over onto her feet and giving me dog kisses on my face.

  For a brief second, everything felt normal again. I’d forgotten what happened to us, and everything that was still happening around us. For now, I couldn’t help but smile. Charger brought me back to a better time. I grabbed her by the jowls and gave her a few kisses, and she obliged by kissing me right back.

  “Can we keep her, Mom?” I called out.

  My mom let out a little laugh, “Only if you promise to feed her and walk her every day.”

  The laughter passing over the group was infectious.

  Charger knocked me over, kissing me with her sloppy tongue, “I promise, Mom. I promise.”

  Chapter 12

  Daniels led Bunker and Destiny through the corridors of the office area. Before they turned the last corner, there was a faint scream.

  “That’s Ceci,” Bunker said.

  They quickened their pace and Bunker lifted the barrel of his slung M4. He passed Daniels as they turned the last corner.

  An older dead man in a business suit banging his head against the door provoked a second scream. One of his arms reached through the hole in the door. Bunker stopped a few doors away from the businessman and screamed, “Hey, dead guy!”

  The man’s bright red tie with sea anchors and swirling blue eyes distracted Bunker for a moment. He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger on his rifle. The M4 fired, releasing an explosion of sound and flame. When he opened his eyes, he saw a small plume of smoke rising from the barrel, and the businessman lying dead on the floor.

  “We’re back. Is everyone okay in there?”

  The door opened a few inches and Cooper poked his head out, “What the hell took you guys so long?”

  “Destiny had to grab her purse,” Bunker answered.

  Daniels led the way into the room and threw the MOLLE vest on the desk. He pulled the Beretta out and gave it to Cooper, “Here take these too. They’re extra mags.”

  Daniels motioned for Cecilia to come over. He lifted the MOLLE vest off the table, and slid it over her head, “I know it’s heavy, but it’s bulletproof, and bite proof. It will help keep you alive. Bunker throw yours on Kaden.”

  Bunker strapped the vest on Kaden and snugged up the side straps.

  “What about these?” he asked, holding up his M4 and the 9mm Beretta.

  “You keep the M4 and give Ceci the Beretta,” Daniels answered.

  “Do you know how to use this?” Bunker asked handing the pistol to Ceci. She examined the gun twisting it in her hand. It was heavy, black, and radiated a smell of gun oil and metal.

  “Don’t you just pull the trigger?” she asked.

  “Let me see it. I’ll give you a quick lesson.”

  Bunker spent the next two minutes explaining how to rack the action, dump the mag, and replace it with a new one. After a few tries, she was as proficient as the rest of the crew.

  “Okay, Destiny. Now, how the hell do we get out of this place?”

  Destiny thought of the quickest route from their location, “Well, Sugarpie, you said the main concourse was full of dead just roaming around, so we’ll try the back door. Where we went left earlier, we’ll take a right there. We’ll go down to the Station Master’s Office and head down the stairs to the Biltmore Room. From there, we can cut over by Central Watch and head out through the 45th Street Passage. I do it all the time.”

  Daniels paused, “That route seems like it’s got a lot of potential for contact with zombies.”

  Destiny lifted her eyebrows, a bit insulted, “Well, honey bunny, we’re on the Vanderbilt side of the buildin’. If we’re goin’ the other direction, we’d be comin’ out on Lexington Avenue. You don’t want to be doin’ that. Keep in mind, baby, this buildin’ is as big as yo momma’s ass, and there are twice as many people, as she gots pimples. So you better be listenin’ when I tell you which way to go.”

  “Well, I can’t argue with that,” Daniels laughed.

  They headed out the way they had come earlier, but Daniels was sure to take the right to avoid the main concourse. Once down the set of stairs, Daniels peered through the steel door window leading into the Station Master’s office. The office was empty and beyond the desk, he could see the Exit sign that would lead them down into the Biltmore Room. He looked back at their anxious faces, “I don’t know what to expect after we go through this door, so be ready. Cecilia, you’ve got a gun now. Remember, they’re zombies. That means they’re already dead. Don’t be afraid to use it. Trust me, you’ll be doing them a favor.” Daniels looked around at the rest of the group, “Is everyone else locked and loaded?” Everyone was ready except for Kaden. He stood there with empty hands, “What about me?”

  Daniels knelt down beside him, “Listen, little man. You stay close to me. There’s a good chance we will run into something in there, and I don’t want to be looking for you. As soon as we find more weapons, we’ll give you one. For now, you’re my shadow. Are you ready? Here we go.”

  Daniels burst through the door pulling a lanyard on Kaden’s MOLLE vest keeping him close, and supporting the M4 with his free hand. A quick scan of the room revealed two zombies by the stairwell they were heading toward. The charging group alerted the two zombies, but Daniels’ expedited room entrance didn’t give them enough time to even turn before being struck down with the high velocity 5.56 rounds. The zombies fell to the floor as Daniels dragged Kaden along. Daniels knew the sound of the rifle had taken away any element of surprise as they entered into the small stairwell. He raced down the stairs, and paused at the bottom, as it opened into a larger room with a single exit on the far side. Straight ahead of him was a newsstand.

  For years, an elderly New York native named Earl stood inside the stand. Day after day, year after year, trying to provide for his family. Now, all that was gone and what stood before Daniels was nothing but a moaning creature that Earl had become. Thrashing his arms at hanging magazines and candy, trapped inside, the newsstand had become his coffin. He’d rot there until nothing was left of him. Daniels scanned the room around the newsstand and counted five dead. To his surprise, the shots from the Station Master’s Office had not given away their position. Without speaking, Daniels used a series of distinct hand gestures to lay out the plan. It was interpreted by Bunker as, “Cooper, you take out the two on the right. Bunker, you take out the one in the middle, and I’ll shoot the two on the left.”

  He added an additional gesture to the end which Bunker took as, “Destiny, please, please, keep your mouth shut.” Daniels raised his M4 and repeated a series of head nods while he mouthed, “One, two, three, go.”

  He moved out of the stairway landing, took two steps left, and paused until Cooper and Bunker were clear of each other. Three shots rang out in concert. Two head shots and a chest. Daniels fired a second round knocking down another zombie. Bunker took his target out with a single round, but Cooper was still firing as the two zombies charged at him.

  “Shoot them in the head!” Bunker screamed.

  Cooper fired and knocked down one of the advancing zombies with a headshot. The second zombie was already on top of him, close enough for Bunker to strike him in the temple with the butt of the M4.

  Bunker spun the rifle around and fired a single round into his forehead.

  “Listen, rookie. These things aren’t really dead until you destroy the brain. And the fights not over until all of those things are dea....”

  Two loud cracks stopped Bunker in mid-sentence. A zombie collapsed on the floor landing on his ankle.

  Daniels lowered his M4, “What were you saying, Bunker?”

  He moved
his ankle away from the zombie’s head, “I guess the fight wasn’t over.”

  Daniels gave the zombie a light kick on the arm, checking to see if it was dead, “He was behind the newsstand. I never saw him.”

  “Is everyone all right?” Daniels asked.

  The kids were a little shaken up, but other than that, everyone appeared to be fine.

  “Where are we going next, Destiny?”

  Destiny pointed straight ahead, “Honey, we almost there. Right down through that lobby, past Central Watch, and we’ll be at the 45th Street Passage.”

  “Okay, what are we waiting for?” Cooper said as he took off running.

  “Cooper, stop!” Daniels screamed.

  Chapter 13

  The storm that had been threatening us for the last two hours was almost on top of us now. Lightning struck a wooded area in the distance. It was time to get moving again. There were seven of us, and the Humvee sat four comfortably. That meant two in Sophie’s Jeep and five people plus the dog in the Hummer. It was going to be tight, something we’d have to take into consideration at some point. For now, it was time to head south on Interstate 87. We’d travel on it a few miles and then cut over to Route 9 to get us to Port Kent. Once there, we could gas up both vehicles at the Lake Champlain ferry docks and grab more supplies at the gift shop. I’d been there a few times before and knew they had a supply of beach food. This late in the season, I hoped there’d be some left.

  Chevy and I climbed in the Humvee’s front seats while Mom, Sidara, Sage, Sophie and Charger squeezed into the back. We’d have to find another vehicle soon.

  My senses peaked as I watched Cowboy and Luther head toward Sophie’s Jeep, wondering if it was a good idea to let them hang out again. I didn’t have time to worry about it now, we needed to get going. Besides, it was not more than a twenty-minute drive to the ferry docks. Cowboy pulled up next to the Humvee and gave me a couple of honks, “I’ll follow you, hoss.”

  Chevy gave him the okay sign, and we were on our way. I wondered if this would be the last time I’d ever get to see my home.

  Plattsburgh continued to get smaller in my side-view mirror until it disappeared entirely. I felt a little pain in my heart. I guess deep down I knew I’d never return.

  Chevy was in the passenger seat laughing and joking with the girls. It was good to be with my friend again, even if it had only been a couple of hours.

  Chevy stopped fooling around and scanned the horizon. “What are you staring at?” I asked.

  “I’m wondering where all the cars are? I mean on any given day, you can’t drive a mile without seeing someone else.”

  It was interesting he picked up on that. I was driving and hadn’t noticed, “I guess as people got sick they drove home to die. No one got sick on the highway, and anyone who did had the sense to pull over off the roadway first. That would explain the sporadic cars parked along the median.”

  Sophie leaned forward from the back seat to explain why, “Part of the reason is they closed the borders. People coming from Canada were stopped, and they refused to let them through the border. That’s where Bob and I got attacked. The stupid fool stopped because he wanted a dead Border Agent’s rifle.”

  Sophie ran her hand along the barrel of the M4 that was resting against her seat, “While he was teaching me to shoot this very same rifle, a dead woman attacked us, and killed him. All he ever tried to do was help people, and I left him buried in a shallow grave behind a vet clinic.”

  Tears rolled from Sophie’s eyes. The pain inside of her was too much to bare, and she had to let it out. I reached back and grabbed her hand, “Is that the same rifle you saved us with?”

  Sophie nodded her head and squeaked out a, “Yes.”

  My mom leaned over and wrapped her arms around her, “Maybe he knew.”

  Sophie looked up, confused about Mom’s comment.

  “Sophie, maybe Bob knew the two of you needed that rifle for a greater reason. In a way, he may have sacrificed himself to save all of us. Bob put that rifle in your hands, and you did just that. Maybe he knew we’d help you save the world. We’ll do it for Bob’s sacrifice.”

  Sophie dried her eyes while Charger bombarded her with kisses. Not expecting the sloppy tongue, she pulled away and laughed.

  “I guess she knew you were upset.” Chevy laughed.

  Sophie gave Charger a deep tissue rub behind her ears, “I love you too, girl.”

  Everyone laughed as Charger crawled into the seat dropping her seventy-pound frame on Sophie’s bladder, “How much further? I suddenly have to pee.”

  “About two minutes,” I said over my shoulder, “we’re just about there. This is where Chevy and I fish for bass in the summer. This is the part of the lake that turns into a swamp. The fish love it.”

  “Hey, Ty. Remember that time you snagged that huge beaver. That thing was scary as hell. It was right off that point over there.” Chevy said, pointing out the window.

  “Yeah, thanks for reminding me. I lost a seven dollar lure on that beaver.”

  We all chuckled as we crossed the train tracks leading to the ferry entrance.

  We crested the final hill as the ferry dock came into sight. I thought coming here would be a good idea. The advantages were, the ferry dock had food, gas, and the majority of the residents who stayed there in the summer left by September.

  It was October 14th, and they’d be long gone by now. The one potential problem I could see, the ferry dock was at the bottom of a quarter mile hill. The hill was the only way in or out of the ferry docks. If we got trapped down there, we’d have nowhere to run. We’d have to put up a hell of a fight or we’d die.

  It didn’t matter now, this Humvee was almost out of diesel There was no place as safe as this for miles. We’d have to chance it. I checked my side mirror. I was happy to see Cowboy was still behind us.

  If he had any thoughts about ditching us, this would have been his best chance. His vehicle was loaded up with all the supplies, and we’d never be able to give pursuit. The Jeep was too fast, our Humvee would never catch it, plus he knew we were low on fuel.

  I reached out the window and gave him a, “Follow me,” wave. We took the hill down to the docks slow and steady. Chevy and I scanned in every direction looking for anything dangerous, or to paraphrase, zombies.

  Port Kent offered ferry service for over a hundred years from N.Y. to Vermont during the summer months. Even though it was an hour trip one-way, it was a popular summer destination for walkers and bicyclists. The advantage being, it docked right in the city of Burlington. Giving New York residents the opportunity to bike the many Green Mountain trails or even enjoy a walk on its famous Church Street Market Place without having to ride in a car for an hour.

  The ferry dock was also home to a small marina, where local Port Kentians could dock their vessels. Being this late in October, only two boats remained, an older green cabin cruiser and a fancy looking white Baja speedboat with a red stripe. In another month, and with no one to pull them out, they’d succumb to the ice, and then sink to the bottom during the spring thaw.

  “Where’s the gas tank?” Chevy asked.

  “It’s behind the concession building. There’re two tanks, one’s diesel, and the other is regular gas. We’re gonna need both, so have Luther help you grab both hoses.”

  “You got it, Two-gun,” he said while giving me a Gomer Pyle salute.

  I crawled out of the Humvee and walked over to Cowboy and the girls. “Why don’t you girls check out the gift shop and cafeteria while Cowboy and I check out the ferry. But be careful. There could be zombies in there.”

  Mom and Sophie had the M4s. Sage took the HK-416 that she had first used back in the metal building at the fairgrounds. Sidara decided against a rifle and put all of her faith in that .44 caliber hand cannon she kept on her hip now. It could stop a rhino, but was inaccurate as hell after fifteen yards.

  During the summer months, the ferries run twenty-four hours a day. The New York boat cre
w must have docked the boat here and tied it up when everyone started getting sick.

  Cowboy removed his hat, eyeing the wheelhouse on top of the ferry, “So, are you thinking of boating over to Vermont, hoss?”

  “No,” I said, stepping on the ferry, “I’m thinking of taking this to New York City.”

  Cowboy wiped his brow with his sleeve and replaced his Stetson. He looked intrigued.

  The storm missed us, and the clouds had given way to an intense fall sun. I hadn’t realized I was sweating. It had to be over eighty degrees now.

  “Can you take a boat all the way from here to New York City?” Cowboy asked.

  “Sure you can. I remember my dad talking about some friends who had driven a boat from Plattsburgh to New York a few years ago. He said it took them twenty-four hours.”

  “Sounds like a good plan, hoss, but why not just drive? It will take a quarter of the time.”

  “Easy answer, Cowboy. No zombies.”

  “I guess you got a point. Do you know how to drive one of these things?”

  “Sure I do,” I said. “How hard can it be, it’s a boat? We’ve got a Yamaha LX2000 at home. I take that out all the time.”

  We headed up to the wheelhouse and broke in using the tomahawk to smash out a port window. I went to work on the ferry’s control panel.

  Thirty minutes later, Cowboy and I had flicked every switch and turned every knob on the ferry. No matter what we did, we could not get the thing to turn over.

  “You know, Ty. I used to watch a show where all these guys made a living catching crab in the Bering Straight. On one episode, their boat was dead in the water. The Captain and the Engineer were in the engine room trying to fix the problem, it looked like they might have started it from down there, and it wasn’t as easy as turning a key. There was a whole process to it. I think your idea may not work.”

  I hated to admit it, but I knew he was right, and I was sick of flicking switches.

  “Do you want to check the engine room or do you want to call it quits and take the vehicles?” I asked feeling defeated.

 

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