by Kirk Withrow
“Tren…” Reams opened his mouth to yell as the Lilliputian rev crashed into him, sending them both onto the table behind, more due to Reams’ attempt to avoid the charging rev than the actual force of the impact. As they landed on the table, two of its legs splintered as one end of the table sagged in defeat. Sliding down the listing table, Reams felt the rev’s face dig into his chest as he settled onto the ground. He raised his head in panic as he simultaneously swept the rev off of him as if he was throwing the covers back to get out of bed in the morning. All this shit and I’m gonna die because we rescued that little bastard! The ear-splitting discord of the second track on the heavy metal album multiplied the tumult engulfing the room as Reams struggled to his feet.
At that instant he noticed two things that his nearly hysterical mind could not compute. First, he saw the paracord-wrapped handle of a combat knife protruding from the base of the rev’s skull as it slid down the sloping tabletop. Gazing at the hilt, he was certain it was not John’s knife. The second thing he saw was an oddly different rev standing just beyond the side door in the kitchen. Its dirty face was disfigured with a portion of its midface missing. Strangely, its eyes seemed intense and full of emotion, in contrast to the eyes of the now dead ass-maggot sprawled next to him. The rev also seemed to be quite agile, bouncing slightly on the balls of its feet as it stared at him with its mouth working furiously. Just as Reams readied himself for the thing to pounce on him, he saw it glance to its left before bolting in the opposite direction as though taking cover. The revs that had been in pursuit of Reams as he fled the front room took notice of something on the opposite side of the room. Whatever vied for their attention gave Reams the time he needed to make it to the back door and of that hellish kill house.
The mist hanging in the cool, morning air combined with the sweet relief of the ear-splitting heavy metal music fading was almost too great a contrast to the last sixty seconds of Reams’ life. He collapsed to his knees in Al’s backyard. Seeing the blood all over his chest, the agonizing reality of what just happened flooded through his mind as he slowly raised the FN to his temple with tears welling up in his eyes.
* * *
John was startled and confused when Pantera began blaring through Al’s house. Immediately, he turned and started toward the kitchen where he saw one of the things facing the door leading to the dining room, its right arm raised as if reaching out to someone in the other room. Noticing John’s movement, the thing turned its ruined face to regard him. John raised his Glock to take the shot and was amazed as the thing dove into a quick roll that put it in the front room safely out of John’s line of fire. What the hell?
John heard the unmistakable sound of Reams, like a herd of elephants, as he tore through the back door. Keeping his eye on the door through which the strange rev disappeared, he backed out the rear door of the house. Outside, John was dismayed to find Reams on his knees with the barrel of his FN planted firmly against his skull.
“Reams! Whoa! What the hell? Put the gun down! Holy shit! Reams!” cried John as he cautiously approached the big man. Though Reams did not turn to face John, the steady trickle of tears down his cheeks was apparent. John thought he heard the choked, muttering of prayer buried within the sobs. “Reams, what are you doing?” continued John, struggling to affect more calm in his voice.
“Stay back, John. Nothing you can do this time. That little shit got me. I have to do this,” said Reams with a grave determination in his voice.
“Reams,” replied John. He felt the lump tightening in his throat and did not know what else to say.
“He didn’t bite you,” came a voice from somewhere to their left side.
Startled, both men turned, pistols raised, and scanned the area for the owner of the voice.
“Come out, now!” said John trying to muster a commanding voice as the lump in his throat instantly dissipated.
“Lower your weapons and I’d be glad to. I mean no harm. In fact, I think I saved the big guy’s life,” said the disembodied voice.
“What?” both men replied almost simultaneously. The emotional roller coaster they had been on for the last few minutes clearly threatened to derail with this new and dramatic perturbation.
“I said, ‘I think I saved the big guy.’ I think I managed to brain that one before he got to you,” said the voice now speaking directly to Reams. “You remember this?” continued the voice as a hand tentatively poked out from the side of house, holding a Ka-Bar by the blade, and exposing its paracord-wrapped handle.
John turned unexpectedly as he saw Reams stand up and move forward with a perplexed gleam of recognition in his eyes. The FN fell from his hand. “Reams?” called John. “Talk to me, buddy.”
“That knife,” said Reams with an airy tone of disbelief as if speaking to no one in particular, “it’s that knife.” The haze of confusion slowly began to evaporate like fog burning off in the mid-morning sun.
As Reams neared the outstretched knife, the hand relaxed its grip, letting the blade tumble to the ground. The owner of the hand stepped out from behind the cover of the house with both hands raised in a universal sign of surrender. Silhouetted by the rising sun, the man looked strangely alien and yet familiar at the same time.
“You,” exclaimed John and Reams simultaneously as the image of the mysterious ‘rev’ they saw moments ago flashed through each of their minds.
Reams, standing only a few feet from the man, took in the details of his mangled, yet surprisingly well-healed face. It was soiled with the dirt and old blood that was requisite in the new world. The skin and bone that should have constituted his right cheek were gone, as was a portion of the right side of his nose. Through the defect, the inside of his sinus and nasal cavity, with its pink, glistening mucosa, could be seen. Even though Reams was not a doctor he could tell that the injury was not a recent acquisition. Despite the extensive damage, however, the most striking feature remained the man’s intense eyes. Standing a couple inches taller than John, he possessed a similar frame and a commanding persona. He looked strong, with the chiseled arms of someone who earned his muscle through hard labor rather than intense sessions at the gym. Unarmed and dressed in dirty camouflage ACUs, the man seemed formidable and dangerous, as well as kind and compassionate.
“My name is Ethan Long. I’ve been following you since you left Hermitage. As I said, I mean no harm. I would love to talk further, but I feel it would be better if we continued this conversation elsewhere,” said the man as he cautiously nodded his head toward something just behind John.
Sensing that the man before him did not pose a threat, John stole a quick glance over his shoulder to see what the man was gesturing toward. About ten feet away, a crippled rev sluggishly crawled as its useless lower extremities trailed behind, flopping and twisting at odd angles like fish out of water. Turning back, John was surprised to see Ethan Long almost at the tree line. Reams was still inspecting the front of his shirt as he rubbed his hands over his chest as though he was trying to clean a stubborn spaghetti stain. John could see renewed tears streaming down his friend’s face, only this time they were accompanied by an elated grin.
“I’ll be damned,” murmured the big man as he slowly shook his head with disbelief plastered on his face. A look of relieved understanding spread across John’s face, and he urgently called for Reams to follow him. Still smiling, Reams fell in behind John, who was already catching up with Ethan as he bounded into the woods.
John was impressed as he watched Ethan thrust the seven-inch blade of his Ka-Bar into the orbit of a rev before launching into what would have been a perfect spinning backfist, except that it ended with the knife buried to the hilt in the orbit of a second rev standing in his path. In truth, John only saw the two revs slump lifelessly to the ground as the man’s body spun furiously between them, barely slowing his pace. The ferocious speed and skill, unleashed without reservation, made John think Ethan must have had extensive training previously. His unnatural ability to pick the be
st path while maintaining his speed through the dense woods left John feeling as though he was chasing a parkour runner. With the raging fire of exertion threatening to incinerate their lungs, both John and Reams were relieved when they saw Ethan slowing somewhat as they neared the far side of the woods. Reams amassed every last iota of breath he could and, amidst gasps reminiscent of a man on his deathbed, he said, “Eth…an, I gotta…stop…for a sec…just need a…minute.”
Chapter 25
October 17, 2015
Urgently looking for safety away from the horde at Al’s house, the three men moved through the forested area surrounding his property with the furtive legerity of white-tailed deer. In defiance of his appearance that more closely resembled a small herd of large animals than anything remotely stealthy, even Reams managed to move through the underbrush with a minimum of noise. When they were a little more than a mile away, the density of revs diminished sufficiently, and they came upon a clearing that was mercifully devoid of the infected. Ethan brought the group to a stop with a quick hand gesture before taking up a defensive position on the perimeter of the clearing. After catching his breath, John broke the silence.
“Ethan, thanks for helping us out back there. I have to admit, when I saw you in the house amidst all the chaos, I thought you were one of them,” said John noticing Reams breathlessly nodding his head in agreement. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen anyone uninfected other than Trenton that…” John trailed off at a loss for both breath and words.
“No problem, I suppose I should have made myself known earlier, but you can’t be too cautious with people these days. I’ve come across several other uninfected folks but most of them are just as sick in all sorts of other ways,” replied Ethan. “I’m sure this didn’t help either,” he added gesturing to the chasmal defect in his face. Reams had been staring at Ethan’s facial defect off and on since they stopped in the clearing.
“Yeah, out here in the light I can see it’s an old injury, but given all the shit we’ve seen since the plague started, I just thought…you know,” said John with embarrassment evident in his voice on account of his assumption.
“So, what’s your story? How have you two made it so far?” asked Ethan, unfazed by their reactions.
“I was out of state and flew in a couple weeks ago, just after this all started. I was working on a reservation and did not have much contact with the outside world for a few days, so I guess you could say I flew into this blindly. Reams is a mechanic at the airport and was the only other uninfected person there. After escaping, we holed up back there at my friend Al’s place and have been searching the city since. We set up a safe-house out at Hermitage as I suppose you know. What about you? You seem to handle yourself pretty well out here, are you military or something?”
Pausing as if carefully deliberating his next words, Ethan answered, “I was in the military, stationed in North Carolina. I was on leave when this all started, and I decided I needed to check on my family—they live just east of Meridian, MS. On the way, my truck broke down here, so after going to Mississippi I decided to come back. I’ve been here since,” replied Ethan with sadness further darkening his already grim features.
Sensing there was much more to his story, but not wanting to pry, John let the conversation die off. He had a feeling he already knew the missing details.
Tentatively, John asked, “Do you mind if I ask how you sustained the facial injury? Was it cancer?”
“No, I got this in the Sandbox courtesy of the haji. I was with a unit out on mounted patrol when the Humvee I was in struck an IED. After I healed up, they made me a prosthesis, but I left it back at the garage. I used to wear it all the time to keep people from having to face the realities of war, you know, but it doesn’t seem all that important to wear it now.”
Reams chimed in, “Listen, I know it’s early, but I don’t have much more in me today. Either of you got any ideas about a place where we can lay low for a while? Or at least somewhere that doesn’t involve us running anymore?”
Smiling, Ethan said, “Your place in Hermitage won’t likely be clear for at least another day or so, if then. Those things usually hang around until something draws their attention elsewhere. I suppose I still have some balloons set up we could use,” he added thoughtfully before continuing. “I know a closer place a couple of miles away. It’s nothing fancy but it’s safe. Follow me.”
John thought back to the balloons he had seen positioned throughout Hermitage, and it was as if a key just aligned all the tumblers of a lock. The balloons were IDDs. He was initially amazed that Ethan had implemented one of the same tactics he and Reams used, but quickly realized that adopting such tactics was likely why he was still alive. Luck was certainly important, but it could only get you so far.
A little over two miles later, the three languid companions stood in front of Elwood’s Auto Repair—an old, two-story brick building that looked as though it had not seen a customer in quite a few years. The white paint peeled off the cinder block walls in several places, while myriad old vehicles that appeared to be well beyond the point of salvage were scattered about the property on the side of the garage. “Here we are. Like I said it, isn’t much, but I haven’t seen any trouble here since the first day.”
John noticed a bloodstained area of gravel next to a tow truck that was still hooked to an older model blue Toyota pickup. Two other bloodstained patches of gravel lay between the tow truck and the door leading into the garage. John assumed these were the result of the ‘trouble’ Ethan referred to as they made their way into the murky building, lit only by the scant sunlight filtering in through the begrimed windows. Silhouetted in the beam of light, the dust hovered seemingly motionless in the miasma of the sepulchral room. It swirled and eddied in the wake of the men as they weaved cautiously through the labyrinth of equipment and random auto parts. Lengths of twine were stretched across every conceivable route of ingress into the structure, presumably serving as tripwires. Gesturing to a staircase at the rear of the garage, Ethan gingerly stepped over the lines spanning their path. They started up the stairs, careful to step on the treads just over the stringers to minimize any unwanted creaking.
Reams, who was last in line, inadvertently snagged the tripwire at the base of the stairs with his rear foot as he attempted to step over. Not knowing the consequence of setting off the booby trap, he feared the worst as he heard a soft ‘click’ before falling hard onto the stairs. Eyes wide and heart racing, he instantly rolled onto his back as he peered into the darkness, waiting for the spikes or blades he was sure were coming. Thoughts of ‘The Goonies’ flooded his mind, as the most incongruous and disconcerting sound filled his ears.
“Don’t tell my heart, my achy-breaky heart, I just don’t think it’d understand,” crooned the tinny voice of Billy Ray Cyrus from the greeting card Reams saw taped to the wall on the side of the staircase. Befuddled, his mind quickly shifted to thoughts of ‘Deliverance,’ as he envisioned the twisted redneck hell he feared they just stumbled into.
Almost as quickly as it started, the dreadful sound stopped as Ethan appeared next to the fallen Reams, and replaced the clothespin that separated the contact points of the switch on the card. The ensuing silence was short-lived, however, as neither John nor Ethan were unable to stifle the laughter they felt as they gazed down at Reams’ flummoxed expression.
The big man’s bewilderment quickly turned to chagrin as he climbed to his feet and stomped rather noisily up the stairs to the second floor break room. “Laugh it up! Country-ass, redneck bullshit,” muttered Reams as he entered the room.
Finally regaining control, the three men sat quietly eating the MREs they had in their packs, and discussing their plans for the days to come. When Ethan asked John what he meant earlier when he said they had been ‘searching the city,’ John filled him in on the details of his family, as well as Dr. Lin San, and what they knew about the plague.
Turning to Ethan, Reams asked, “You came all the way from Nor
th Carolina, was it this bad the whole way?”
John again watched an immense sadness sweep across Ethan’s face like a storm cloud blotting out the sun as he began to answer.
“Things just started getting bad when I was leaving North Carolina. Nothing like this, mostly a bunch of rumors and people generally starting to freak out, you know. I didn’t see much out of the ordinary driving through South Carolina or Georgia, but I didn’t stop in either state. I pulled off at a little mom and pop gas station just outside of Birmingham to fill up. The only reason the guy even sold me any gas was because he was an old Vietnam vet. He said things in Birmingham were getting out of hand in a hurry. He told me a carload of kids from the city came through earlier in the day. One of them was pretty sick and was apparently sleeping in the back of the car. While the kids were in the station trying to contact the police or an ambulance, the ‘sick’ kid got up and attacked one of the kids standing by the car. The other two tried to pull him off, but all three ended up getting taken down by the ‘sick’ kid. The old vet shot all four of them and immediately closed up shop,” said Ethan in a somber tone.
“Anyway, after that I kept going until my truck broke down just outside of town, and I got towed here. The tow truck driver wasn’t even on duty but, seeing me stranded, he decided to help. From his accounts things were spiraling out of control in many parts of the state. He towed me here and it turned out things were no better as the couple that ran this garage was already infected. They pounced on the tow truck driver the minute his feet hit the gravel. I put all three of them down before taking that truck over to Mississippi,” said Ethan pointing to an old Dodge pickup parked at the front of the property.