by Elle Klass
I carefully crawled through the mats and tapped on Bryce. His green eyes opened and stared into mine. He lifted up on his elbows while I pointed towards the window and mouthed, “Shed.”
He arose without making a sound and crawled with me to the back door. I grabbed my ax from our weapon piles that we kept on shelves near the door. I handed him one of the guns as he lifted the heavy wooden board that locked the door. Together we traipsed outside.
“Cover me and I’ll head towards the shed,” he whispered, taking a step away from me.
I grabbed his arm. “You cover me with the gun. If the lion is anywhere near you can shoot him.”
He nodded as I took careful steps towards the shed, keeping my eyes on the woods. Bryce’s eyes darted around as he kept watch -- the bodies a few feet from me now, I slipped on a muddy splotch and lost my balance. I pushed my hands out in front of me to break my fall and heard rustling in the woods. By the time I looked up, the lion stood a few feet away, his eyes staring into mine. Not dead and staring beyond or through me, but right at me.
Bryce had the gun raised, but I put my hand up. The lion hadn’t moved closer and, if science class was right, male lions have manes and don’t usually hunt, nor do they usually seek humans for a meal. I glanced at his body and it was thin, meaning he hadn’t eaten in a while. I didn’t want to be his first meal in days. My racing heart slowed a little and I steadied my breathing as I lifted up.
Bryce moved away from the house, keeping the gun on the lion. One slow step at a time, he moved toward me. The lion shifted his eyes towards Bryce. The three of us stood there for several seconds before I moved closer to the dead people. The lion wiggled his nose and shook his head as if disgusted.
That gave me an idea. He reacted the same the day I first saw him, when they dragged the bodies outside. I took another step towards the dead people and another. The man was closest to me, his legs within my reach and lower than the rest of his body as they were resting in a deep groove. The lion watched but didn’t move so I swung my ax hard and cut off a chunk of leg. It surprised me how easily the ax went through the dead zombie man. The lion shifted his eyes towards Bryce and stepped closer to him.
I cringed and picked up the jellified zombie leg chunk. It oozed over my hand and I gagged as I tossed it towards Bryce. The lion backed up more. I chopped more pieces and threw them towards the shed, towards Bryce, and at the lion. He shrunk back and retreated to the woods.
I waved Bryce towards me and we rushed to the shed. As we reached it, I realized it had a padlock on, so I swung my ax with force and the lock dropped away. I pushed the door open, not aware of what may be on the other side and not caring as we rushed inside and threw the door closed.
Surrounding us were walls of tools and pelts of various sorts. I spotted a sink and ran towards it, letting the cool water wash the zombie gook off my hands and ax. Strips of meat or homemade jerky hung from the ceiling and in the middle was a van. The wheels were large like it was made for the mountains. Our eyes met and smiles covered our faces.
Before we checked out the van, we searched every nook and cranny of the shed to make sure we were alone, and that’s when I heard my father’s voice: “Maddie, Bryce.”
“We’ve been discovered,” I said, walking towards the door. Bryce followed and we opened it. My dad gave us his what-the-heck-are-you-doing face and I slipped him a crooked guilty face smile.
“See what we found,” Bryce shouted, “and stay close to the body parts.”
My father lifted his brows but followed Bryce’s instructions and kept his steps beside our trail of arm and leg chunks. “What’s that all about?” he asked when we closed the door behind him.
I shrugged. “Encounters of the lion kind. He doesn’t like the smell of dead zombie.”
My father nodded in dismay, then he eyed the van, “Does it run?”
“We don’t know yet, but there’s a set of keys hanging on the wall over there.” Bryce pointed.
“Let’s give it a try.” My father opened the van door and peeked inside. “It’s clear.” He climbed onto the driver’s seat and Bryce handed him the key. He cranked the motor and it caught. “It’s about time luck was on our side.” He smiled.
Back inside the cabin we announced to everyone about our treasure and made plans to leave -- a map, a vehicle, and plenty of weapons.
Chapter Nineteen
There’s a second exit out of the shed and a manmade dirt road. Bryce, my father, and I decided to take the van and the map and explore a little before we took our entire little village away from safety. We loaded up with weapons just in case -- it’s a dangerous world -- and brought the map to guide us.
The manmade dirt road was slow going, mostly because my dad was easy on the gas as it bounced along. Potholes and slippery areas mottled the road. I watched out the window looking for life. If lions, monkeys and fish were out there, maybe other animals were too, but I didn’t see any, just lots of trees.
At the end of the road, it turned onto another road that was in better repair and my dad pushed the van a bit faster. We passed more trees and a cry like the sound of a baby wail broke the silence. My eyes darted into the woods and my dad slowed the vehicle. Our eyes searched the woods and sky around us.
Instead of getting out we continued, our eyes peeled, and shifting to every noise in the woods. The wail cut through the air again and my dad pulled over. “Maddie, stay in the car. I mean it.”
“Dad, I was fighting zombies when you were incapacitated,” that sounded far more mature than ‘tied up’. “I can handle it!”
“Fine, stay close to us. We don’t split up.”
I rolled my eyes as he turned towards the door and opened it so he wouldn’t see. Once we got out of the van, we gathered in the front and followed where the sound seemed to come from. Stalking through the woods they were silent, not a leaf rustle or crack of wood. Then somewhere above our heads the wail screamed, blasting through my eardrums.
I shifted my eyes upward and spotted the source. A large, black bird with strange dark feathers that stood on end like a bad Mohawk on its head, and a sleek, long crimson beak. A zombie bird?
The long beak and size made me immediately think ‘carnivore’. Its eyes followed us as we stepped backwards toward the van. A slight breeze carried the rancid odor I recognized all too well. I turned on my heels to head to the van and came face to face with the first zombie I’d seen in days.
His glassy eyes stared through me and his clothes were covered in dirt but was otherwise physically in one piece. If I hadn’t seen his face and recognized the jerky movement of his body as he stepped closer to me I’d have thought he was still among the living. Without a second thought, I threw my ax hard into his neck and yanked it out; blood spurted everywhere.
Someone grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the van. I glanced at my father beside me, then glanced to my other side and spotted Bryce. We climbed back into the van and my dad cranked the motor and pressed the gas. The van kicked up dirt and we were back on the road.
The events sifted through my head. The lion didn’t like the zombies. The monkeys don’t like the zombies, and the ugly bird hollered. Was it warning us? Were all the animals warning us, or looking for safety? I kept my thoughts to myself.
Maybe another half hour down the road, the trees became less dense and my dad pulled over. We were on top of a peak of sorts and could see the vast ocean. Getting out of the van, my father walked forward. Bryce and I exchanged glances then followed him.
Our eyes fixed on what he saw. A huge ship -- like a naval ship -- was sailing on a direct course to us. Remembering what Jack said about our location, I twisted my head, observing what I could. To my left was a rock I used to orient myself, the Rock of Gibraltar, making the strait below us and the Atlantic in front of us.
“What do you think it means” I asked.
Bryce and my father glanced at me and my dad said, “I don’t know, except we aren’t alone.”
W
e stood there, a slight breeze blowing against our faces, and watched. My stomach twisted in horror and dread instead of the happiness and joy I should have felt. By the looks and stances of my father and Bryce I assumed they felt the same as me.
“We need to get back,” said Bryce, shifting nervously.
The adults had a pow wow when we returned. I listened as they attempted to keep their voices low and heard comments ranging from ‘we’re saved’ to ‘maybe they’re responsible for the zombies’. They finally decided on keeping an eye on the whereabouts of the Navy and observing from afar until we had a better idea what was happening. Siding with caution was always wise, and I was growing more and more curious by the minute.
Bryce sat on his mat studying the map. I dropped down beside him and whispered in his ear, “I say we wake up early and take the van. We can spy easy, just the two of us.”
A sly smile erupted across Bryce’s face. “Sometimes I think you read my mind.”
Maybe I did. We did share a dream that started this whole thing.
The following morning, armed with binoculars, the map, the compass around my neck, and my trusty ax, I slipped out the door with Bryce. He carried the sniper rifle, his shovel, and a flashlight. Quiet as snakes, we left the cabin and scurried to the shed, following our zombie body part trail even though the lion was nowhere in sight. Bryce lifted the heavy wooden beam locking the door and rushed back to the van. Once we were both settled and he’d cranked the motor, the shed front door creaked open. My breath caught, then I spotted a plume of dark ringlets pulled into a high ponytail move through the door – Sarah.
In her hand was a shovel. She opened the side van door and climbed inside. “I’m coming with. You guys get all the excitement.”
She was right. So far she’d stayed behind on all our missions, but not this time. She leaned against the front seats and put her hand out. We smiled, exchanged glances, and I put my hand over hers and Bryce topped our hand pyramid.
“Let’s do this,” she said, filled with excitement that I guessed was mixed with anxiety.
Since we knew the way, it didn’t take long, and we followed the road further so we were above the large military boat. Bryce turned off the road and pulled the van into the trees and we stole across the street. The dry mountain air chilled my skin. We walked for a bit, my eyes and ears on high alert as I knew we weren’t alone. Five or six yards from the van we found a spot between two high rocks and cowered between them. The ground between was like hardened clay from the dried volcanic dust. When I squatted, it cracked from the force of my feet. I propped my head above the rock in front of me and focused the binoculars on the military ship beneath us. Bryce did much the same thing with the rifle.
The deck of the ship looked like a runway with a pad on each side. Several helicopters were parked on the deck and soldiers milled about as though they were preparing the flight deck and copters for take-off. In the middle of the deck was a large structure I assumed was a control tower of sorts used for steering, navigation, communication, and anything else. On top of it was a panel-like object that moved, maybe it was radar or communication. I didn’t really know. On the side of the tower structure were the words Beware of Jet Blast and Motors, next to that was a giant 6.
Along the side of the ship were the combination of letters that said LHA 6 and further down USS America. This was definitely a US carrier and, as large as it was it was, was much smaller than I expected a carrier to be, at least the ones I’d seen before. As a Floridian from Jacksonville, I’d seen my share of carriers. I’d have to ask Jack about it. As a former Coast Guard he should know. My own parents weren’t military. My mom worked at a bank as a loan officer and my father sold smart phones.
A stream of soldiers, possibly fifty, exited the ship; over their faces were gas masks, and covering their bodies was bulky camouflage and boots on their feet. Over their heads they wore helmets. They rushed off the boat using a large ladder-like structure, carrying large rifles in their hands and into the city below.
“I think that’s Casablanca,” said Sarah. The map was spread out before her. I glanced where she pointed. The map showed the city off the Atlantic and the ports below.
I jumped as gunfire rang through the air and into my ears. They fired their large rifles in short bursts and zombies were dropping to the ground. This went on for thirty minutes or so, becoming less and less. We all watched in near horror. At the same time, I admired the efficiency. It was a faster, less messy process. Hundreds, scratch that, thousands of zombies littered the ground in piles.
Within another thirty minutes or so Sarah, the binoculars pasted to her eyes, asked, “That looks like the same ship we saw exiting the Strait of Gibraltar and heading towards the US. What are they doing?”
Without binoculars I couldn’t make out well what was happening below, but Bryce answered her question. “Those people are healthy, like us.”
Sarah handed me the binoculars and I watched. My mouth dropped when I saw the soldiers forcing people onboard the ship. Many people went willingly, but some bucked and struggled, not wanting to leave their homes. My mouth dropped. What would they do to us if they found us?
From beneath the boat, vehicles that looked similar to tanks emerged and sped through the water. On the deck the helicopters whirred into action and, one by one, lifted off the deck, moving in different directions over the land.
I gulped and we swapped glances. “Get down and stay put,” said Bryce as he lay over us.
“Can you breathe Sarah?” I asked in all seriousness.
“Yeah,” she squeaked. “Really, Bryce?”
“I’m wearing gray. Your pink shirt and Maddie’s red one makes you stick out like beacons.”
I hadn’t thought of that. “Why do you think they’re taking the survivors?”
“Because they’re alive, testing maybe. The Navy gets their orders from the government,” he said.
“I’m glad we aren’t the only ones alive. They must have dragged fifty people onto the ship. Instead of hiding, maybe we should go with them,” Sarah said as she shifted beneath Bryce.
I wasn’t sure about that. I didn’t believe the military or government was out to get us, but I wasn’t sure about going with them. We’d come so far on our own and my mission wasn’t over. Right now, there were no rules for us, and I wasn’t giving that up, not yet. “How long are we staying like this?”
Bryce lifted up. “I don’t hear or see the copters. Quick, let’s get across the street.”
The sun was high overhead, beaming against our heads and backs. The ash cloud lowered the temperature a few degrees and, I hoped, marred the helicopter pilot’s vision. We slipped across the street and into the woods for cover. Once we reached the van we slipped inside and regrouped. If we headed back now, the van would be a sitting duck for the helicopters. The vehicles with big guns that exited the bottom of the ship Bryce said were amphibious and would drive up on land.
Obviously their mission was to kill zombies and take the survivors. If the Navy was operating, that meant we had some semblance of government in the US. The location of our country, the Pacific and Asia to the West, and Europe and Africa to the East, Central and South America below us, and Canada above gave us the perfect location to send out these kill and capture missions. Not to mention we had the military resources. Unable to see their faces under the masks, I wondered if the soldiers were all from the US or if other countries were involved and how many.
“I think they still have communications and are possibly responsible for blocking radio, TV, and cell for everyone else,” voiced Sarah. “They had that obvious radar or whatever moving on the top of the tower and if they’re on missions they need communication. These are trained soldiers not mercenaries.”
She had a good point that we all agreed with. Bursts of gunshots and the whirring of helicopters went on and off all afternoon. We cowered together inside the van as world war 3 raged around us. I wondered how our families were.
Th
en a cracking of twigs grabbed all our attention. “Lie flat,” I whispered, tossing a thick blanket that was bunched up behind the seat. There were windows on both sides, not to mention the ones on the back doors. The metal floor beneath us was cold, it made the heat from the blanket bearable. We lay flat as the noise grew closer; definitely footsteps.
“Not much dust on this, hasn’t been here long,” said a muffled observant male voice.
“Try the door,” said a female voice with a southern US accent, possibly Georgian. Through the gas mask, it was difficult to be sure.
The driver’s door rattled. My heart pounded against my chest. I felt Bryce’s beside me. We lay still and quiet as all the doors were tried, the only sound was our hearts and I felt their breath against me as heat.
I was so glad we’d locked all the doors. “Doors are locked.”
Static buzzed like from a walkie-talkie or radio. BZZZ-SHHH “10-19.”
Squawk, BZZ, “Roger that,” the male responded.
“Probably belonged to that group we found earlier,” the female voice announced.
Group? Not our group. Urgency rippled through my body and anxiety rolled in my gut at the thought of them finding our little group and there was nothing I could do about it until morning.
Once we heard their footsteps walking away from the vehicle, we threw the blanket off and drew in large gulps of air.
“Do you think they found the cabin?” said a near hysterical Sarah with wide brown eyes.
“No, they couldn’t. Everyone is safe,” Bryce said, his voice wasn’t convincing but the words calmed Sarah.
“We need to get out of here and I’m sure the adult units are really pissed,” I urged with wide eyes.
“They’re gonna have to be pissed. We don’t know how many others are wandering around and it’s growing dark,” barked Bryce.
“He’s right. If we leave before sundown they might see us if they’re still out there. If we leave once the sun sets we risk them seeing the lights on the van. Either way, we’re stuck until morning.” Sarah leaned back against the interior paneling of the van.