The Longest Road (Book 3): The Other Side

by A. S. Thompson

  As he moved forward, trees began to thin out, and suddenly Steve found himself heading off a rocky ledge.

  “Oh shit,” he gasped, grabbing a hold of a nearby tree branch.

  The rain had funneled down the mountain and every stream appeared to converge into one river. Filling up both sides of the bank eight feet high, the water was close to twenty feet across and moved at a pace that could sweep away a sure-footed horse.

  Unable to traverse this section of the river, Steve turned around and dropped to a knee.Deep breaths. Don't rush your shots. You got this, he thought, readying the rifle.Five rounds in the magazine and a sixth in the chamber. No scope, just iron sights, but that's okay. Back to the basics...like firing drills with Dad...

  Steve’s first shot rang out, and connected with his target over seventy-five feet away. The man with half a lip dangling from his chin dropped to the ground, dead.

  Steve cycled the bolt, fired, and repeated. The next two rounds hit, but the first was non-lethal striking the attacker's sternum. The second round however, entered the eyeball.

  Following that kill, Steve knew better but rushed the next shot; that round went into a tree as the infected passed behind it at that exact moment. "Shit," Steve cursed.

  Be patient.

  And he was. Steve waited and fired again.

  The bullet blasted a hole through the woman's mouth, and as she fell, she tripped up another behind her. Steve used the opportunity of a nonmoving target and fired.

  Bang!

  The man collapsed on its dead sister and ceased all efforts to get up.

  With a second to spare, Steve ejected the expired magazine. Before the old one hit the rock, Steve injected a new one and moved the bolt back and forward.

  Last five, make ‘em count.

  Steve identified seven additional infected in the immediate vicinity, with the uncertainty of more behind them.

  But the lopsided number of bullets to bodies did not vex him. Instead, he looked down the iron sights and pulled the trigger. He moved his gun right, cycled the bolt and fired again.

  Two for two.

  While pulling the bolt back, he inhaled steadily, but something spooked him.

  He certainly suffered a concussion from the accident, but he could have sworn he heard a voice upstream to his right.

  "Dad?" he whispered. His eyes strayed from the incoming threats, where they panned right and opened wide in disbelief.

  Standing on the rock to his right was a man dressed in Marine Corps Blues.

  Are you hallucinating? It can't be?

  "Dad?" Steve muttered, blinking in disbelief. "Dad, w-what are you doing here?"

  As Tom Brason spoke back, his tone couldn't be classified as yelling, but it wasn't compassionate either. It was in the way a military officer spoke to his subordinate, stern and to the point.

  "Stephen, what are you doing looking at me?"

  "I-I, you-" but a complete thought, and subsequently a reply, evaded him.

  "You have three rounds left and five targets. I know what I'd do. The question is, do you remember what I've trained you to do?"

  Steve looked back at the infected. "I-I think so," he said turning back to where Tom was, but the phantom was no longer there. "Dad?"

  A snapped branch and multiple gargled yelps drew Steve's attention. He looked back to the forest and steadied his aim, then fired. The woman in a muddy sweatshirt dropped to the ground with a hole in her forehead.

  Steve cycled the bolt but didn't take the shot immediately.

  "Come on. Get in view.”

  The next closest infected were a pair of two men, both of similar height but one was sizably fatter than the one in front. They were now inside twenty-five feet.

  Steve waited a second longer, and then fired.

  The round tore through the first man and went to the second, entering his mouth. Both men dropped into a muddy pool of water.

  Two left.

  Steve looked at the one coming at him from north, along the river. Then back inland at the other who was closer and momentarily lost weaving through the trees.

  One round, Steve. Don't think. Act.

  Initially, Steve lined up the one coming from the forest, but was unable to lock in the target. Then he switched to the one along the riverside. It was a clear shot, so he took it.

  The round hit the man in the nose, and sent its body spinning into the river, where the current grabbed hold of it and sucked it away.

  Steve had every intention of facing the last of the infected in hand to hand combat, but as he turned, he was a second too late.

  He felt the impact as the woman tackled him into the river.

  ***

  Steve gasped for air before completely breaking through the surface of the water, but the fresh breath came with a price as a rush of icy water entered with it. Then, once again, he was dragged below.

  The initial shock of the freezing cold never truly departed, but it did lessen, only to be replaced by the sharp, needle-like pain that shot from every open wound. The worst pain, however, was the cold water that engulfed his eyes, as Steve was forced to keep them open to defend himself.

  It was a violent, underwater struggle. The infected woman with a thick unibrow snapped her jaws and clawed at Steve's face and chest, but she had yet to make contact.

  Your knife...Steve..go for....your knife.

  Even his thoughts were beginning to yield to the cold.

  Steve made a move for the knife on his belt, but quickly abandoned the attempt as Unibrow pulled herself closer to him.

  After evading another bite, Steve lasted as long as he could, then surfaced for another breath. The cold air felt even worse than the water.

  With one hand paddling to keep himself afloat, the other was wrapped tightly around Unibrow’s neck, but the muscles in Steve’s hands were losing their warmth. He took in a deep breath and went back under.

  Now! Go for...it!

  Keeping the hand around Unibrow’s throat, Steve grabbed for his knife. He went in for a strike, but missed, piercing the woman's trapezius; very little blood came out when the blade retracted.

  The freshly inhaled breath was running out as Steve’s heart beat and beat and beat with exhilaration. So, he struck again, this time placing the knife under her soft palate. He pushed the blade into Unibrow's oral cavity, but before he could force it into her brain, he was stopped by a terrible jolt.

  Steve’s body smashed into a stony bank. He yelped in pain, releasing precious oxygen, but worse was watching the blade fall from his hand. Fortunately, the same contact that caused his grip to loosen, separated him from Unibrow.

  On the surface and free from an impending assault, Steve turned downriver and spotted a small wooden bridge.

  Try....to grab....on.

  As he passed underneath the structure, Steve reached up unsuccessfully as the closest plank was an inch too far away.

  Damn…it.

  Panick began to set in.

  Unibrow had splashed her way to within three feet of him, and Steve knew that the next obstruction or bank in the river would cause another collision; this time, however, he would be weaponless.

  Think…..Steve...

  But his thoughts were obstructed by hypothermia. Worse, he was in the middle of the river and was losing control of his limbs fast.

  Swim...to the...side? Impossible...there...what...is that?

  Steve wiped a splash of water from his eyes. Up ahead he saw a rotting tree trunk with branches like long, weak fingers sticking into the river.

  He looked back at Unibrow who was flapping her way to him; it would be seconds until her hands were within reach.

  Come on... you...got this...

  Steve tapped into his body's reserves. He inhaled one last time, then intentionally submerged. He pushed off the rocky bottom, and then gave two forceful paddle-like motions toward the bank on the left.

  He came out of the water and fully extended his injured left arm. His hand sma
cked the trunk, but the slick woody surface caused his fingers to slide down.

  He implored his body to grab hold of something, anything. Then, his fingers answered the call and clasped around a pack of frail branches.

  As Unibrow floated by, she clawed at Steve’s legs, but the current was too strong and carried her away.

  Good....job....Steve

  He would have smiled if he physically could, but he was far too cold. And for the shortest of moments he celebrated.

  But then he noticed it.

  Losing nearly all sensation in his extremities, Steve was unable to feel it, but as he looked up at his fingers he saw them shaking and giving one by one.

  He was no longer worried about the infected. The cold was his enemy now. If he stayed in the river any longer he'd freeze to death, or more likely drown first because his extremities would give up before his heart did.

  Steve gulped in and spat out water as he watched his pinky give. Then his ring. His middle was still holding on but not for long. Between his thumb and index, he wasn't sure that would be enough.

  Please...hold...

  But they didn't. His valiant fingers gave all they could.

  He watched the middle, index and thumb separate, and a second later, his hand slid off the wood and his body was once again under the river's control.

  He sank under the surface, but managed to paddle himself up.

  He took in one more breath, but that cost the remainder of his strength.

  His body was sucked back under. No longer did he feel cold, in fact, he was absent of all feeling, numb to every sensation. He was dying, but could not feel death’s cold embrace.

  Just let go,he thought. Oddly, he was able to think coherently.Just let go. Go to her…she's waiting for you. They all are...

  Slowly, Steve’s eyelids shut, accepting fate.

  ***

  "There you go. Easy now," Nick said, lightly shaking Steve back to consciousness.

  Drenched shirt removed, Steve had been laid on his side in the recovery position. His skin was as white as snow and colder and harder than a block of ice. Suddenly, he vomited a small amount of water, and began coughing and gasping intensely.

  Nick pulled Steve in close and cradled him. As his body heat transferred to Steve's, Nick rocked back and forth repeating, "There you go. You're safe now."

  Steve’s body shivered violently. "What happened?" he asked weakly.

  "Give me something dry, anything!"

  Eddy pulled off his outer shell jacket, followed by the flannel he had on underneath. He tossed the warm under layer to Nick, who wrapped it around Steve's neck.

  Lisa came over and offered her sweatshirt. Nick slid the cotton over Steve’s arms, while Lisa began to warm up his trunk with the friction of her hands.

  "Jenny saw you floating in the river," Nick finally answered. "We had just made it to the bridge and I ran after you and jumped in."

  "And he pulled you out!" Jenny added. Her hair was a tangled mess of wet clumps, but she had a big, hopeful smile across her face.

  "Th-thanks" Steve said, teeth clattering. He looked around and found comfort that all of his friends were accounted for.

  Nick breathed hot air into the garment around Steve's neck. "Tell you the truth, I didn't think going for a swim was part of your plan."

  "It wasn't...N-Nick...are hallucin…ations a part...of hypothermia?" The shivering made his response almost inaudible.

  "Hallucinations? Yes, but that would indicate your stage of hypothermia is more severe than I deduced."

  "Okay, good," Steve replied, ignoring the dangerous, second half of the answer.

  "What are you seeing now?"

  Steve's eyes blinked slowly. "No...nothing..now......earlier...dad."

  Nick looked up at the others who were equally baffled as to the meaning of Steve's rambling.

  Eddy straightened up. "I thought you were talking about the kid who was with us up ‘til a few minutes ago."

  "Kid?" Steve asked, perplexed. "What...kid?"

  "Not all the infected went after you. A few stayed on our trail. We were forced to make a stand and we did, but as we fought, a boy appeared out of nowhere; all alone.”

  “Then, one of the infected things saw him and went after him, but before it could do anything, Nick saved him!”

  Kelly looked from Jenny to Steve. "We tried asking the kid where he was from, but he took off."

  "He ran across the bridge, and that's when we saw you-"

  A broken radio call interrupted Nick.

  "Hello...nyone there?"

  The voice was muffled until Jenny pulled it out of Steve's backpack. She rushed over and handed it to Nick.

  "...Steve...tallest building...sat phone...call us."

  "Hello? This is Nick!" he replied, but then he looked over the black device.

  The red power light near the volume knob beat like a slow heart until it shut off permanently.

  Nick popped open the battery compartment, and inspected it. At some point during the trek the electronics had been exposed to water, frying the components. He set the pieces to the side and went back to warming Steve.

  "It's broken."

  "What'd they say?" asked Jenny.

  "I think I heard something about a building?" Kelly followed.

  "Was...that...da?" Steve said, though his words made little sense. He closed his eyes once again.

  "I'm not sure who it was, but if I heard them correctly, they said something about a satellite phone being in the tallest building?"

  "Tallest building where?"

  "What does that mean?”

  “Why would they leave a phone there?”

  “Do you think they are leaving without us?"

  Nick looked at Steve's watch, and then frowned. "I assume so. They must have left their phone in Donner for us. Since Charlie’s group has the other one, maybe they want us to get in touch with them? Perhaps the government will send help? I don’t know."

  Kelly was the most nervous. "What? What does that mean for us? What are we going to do?"

  "We will be fine," Nick said, and then he looked down at Steve, "but we are not out of the woods yet, metaphorically and literally. Steve most definitely has hypothermia. We need to get him dry, warm, and quick or he could die."

  "But where do we go?" Lisa interjected.

  Nick pointed past the group. "There's a trail bearing east from the bridge; the way the boy went. It must lead to Donner.”

  "Then...what... are we...waiting for?" Overly confident, Steve tried to stand on his own. He made it to one knee before collapsing. His face squashed into the mud and he lay there, unconscious.

  Rarely was it so, but Nick's face was full of worry. "We need to hurry."

  ***

  Dawn was creeping into the valley. A low hanging fog layered the forest floor, and as the sun tried to penetrate the dark, moving clouds, everything was cast in a grayish, powder blue.

  Despite being weighed down by backpacks and pained by their own injuries, both Kelly and Lisa assisted Eddy. Jenny walked in front of them, while Nick was in the lead carrying Steve.

  "Looks like the kid went this way," Nick said, following a trail of small shoe prints.

  The man-made path narrowed and zigzagged in between lofty trees, but Nick had no problem following the breadcrumb-like shoeprints.

  Step after step, the trees began to thin out until the survivors came to a split in the path.

  "Which way?" Eddy asked, adjusting his body with the intent to alleviate some weight off the girls. "Up there?"

  The path to the right appeared to wind up a hill presumably ending at a castle. The not-too-distant structure was grandiose. There were three towers with gargoyles watching over the pointy-tops. Bits of the stone exterior had crumpled and fallen off, but despite its dated and decrepit appearance, the castle stood strong.

  "No," Nick said, examining the marks imprinted into the trail. "Unless the boy is an expert and backtracked, he went left."


  "But Nick, what about those tracks?" asked Eddy.

  In between the fallen leaves and pine needles were three other sets of footprints that led up to the castle.

  "Those are older and made before the rains,” Nick commented. Upon further inspection he added, “They are from grown men, not our mysterious boy. We need to go left...”

  Steve was not well. His breathing was slow and his body was no longer shivering.

  "Come on Steve, stay with us."

  From the fork, the positions switched: Jenny took the lead, Lisa and Kelly held Eddy in the middle, while Nick followed with Steve in the rear.

  A quarter mile down the path, Jenny pointed ahead. "I see smoke!" she exclaimed, picking up her pace. "And I think I see a gate!"

  "Hold on, Jenny," Lisa said, struggling to hold Eddy's weight during the shallow yet slippery incline. "Don't get too far ahead. There could be more infected."

  "It's okay. I'll go get her," Kelly said, removing Eddy's arm from around her shoulder. "Jenny, hold up-"

  Then came a loud voice from the far end of the trail.

  "Demons!" shouted a man from the top of a tall wooden fence. "Demons!" he repeated, this time pointing a rifle toward Jenny.

  Petrified from fear, Jenny’s legs seemed to stick in the mud.

  "Jenny!" Kelly gasped. As she ran faster, Kelly’s eyes darted from the armed man to the frightened fourteen year old.

  Then it happened.

  A gunshot rang throughout the forest, scattering a flock of Bohemian Waxwings to the air.

  Kelly tackled Jenny out of the way. Both girls hit the ground hard and rolled into a pool of mud and forest debris.

  "Don't shoot!" Eddy yelled, limping toward the girls. He cupped his hands around his lips and repeated, "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!"

  Wide-eyed, the shooter dropped the rifle and grabbed his mouth.

  A moment later, a second man arrived. Wearing a wide-brimmed leather hat, he looked over the fence and observed the group. Then he grabbed the shooter by the arm, and the two men disappeared below the vertical log wall.

  On the wet ground, Jenny moaned in pain as she rolled out from underneath Kelly.

  Eddy leaned against a nearby tree and mouthed to Lisa, "Go check on them, I’ll be fine!"