We ran back to the bus and closed the door behind us. Kyle slid into the driver’s seat, shifted into drive, and pulled away from the curb.
“That was really stupid back there,” Kyle said to me, looking at me through the oversized rearview mirror. “Stupid, but badass,” he added almost smiling.
Satisfied, I leaned back into my seat.
“Why don’t you guys get some sleep for now?” Kyle suggested. “We can drive in shifts.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Jordan said.
I picked up Kyle’s sleeping bag and wadded it up to make a pillow. I lay down and curled up in the seat. It wasn’t the Hilton, but it was better than the gym floor back at the high school. I was tired and sore from the last fight with a zombie, and as I tried to relax, I became more aware of the physical discomforts; and the emotional ones. One by one, everyone I cared about was disappearing from my life. First my dad, and even though we weren’t as close as I wanted to be, it left me feeling somehow incomplete. Losing Mom was a stab that went just a bit deeper into my psyche because even though she worked all the time, not having her out there somewhere felt like a loss. Derek was difficult to explain. He annoyed me to no end, and the way he came into our lives and forged a bond with my father was a type of pain I couldn’t put into words. It was as if I wasn’t good enough for Dad somehow. At times I hated Derek and just wanted him gone, and then guilt descended on me for feeling that way. After all, what kind of person would hate a kid with a disability who had been so abused he was taken from his home and placed in foster care?
As the zombies picked off everyone around me from the soldiers to Mr. Woods, and even Trey Bronson, I felt like death’s invisible lasso had encircled us all and was slowly tightening. It took Matt. I felt a painful stab in my gut just thinking about him. He’d had such a bright future. He, Jordan, and Harley felt more like my family than my real one did. I thought about Harley and wished I could have told her we would be back with help. She would be worried sick. I wasn’t much of a praying person, but if God was listening, I asked that all of us would be spared next time, or at least that we’d be taken at once. It would be the kind thing to do. As I was drifting off to sleep, I thought I heard my dad’s voice saying, ‘things are never so bad that they can’t get worse. Be thankful for what you have.’ But it couldn’t have been him. He was dead.
◆◆◆
When I woke up, it was so dark I couldn’t see anything. For a moment, I was disoriented and confused about where I was. My hand felt the back of the seat, and I remembered I was on the school bus. We had stopped moving. I sat up and frantically looked around, squinting into the darkness. What was that smell? The air felt cold and moist, and a strange scent hung around me. It smelled like floor wax. I could see nothing. “Kyle!” I shouted.
“What?” he answered. His voice was thick and dry. “What’s wrong?” he asked from somewhere in the darkness. “What’s going on?” Jordan yelled.
“Settle down guys,” Kyle said. “We’ve just stopped for the night. Everything’s okay.” “Where are we?” I asked.
“We’re inside a car wash,” Kyle answered. “I pulled in and closed the doors, so I could get some sleep.”
That explained the cold chill and the waxy smell. As my sight adjusted, I could see the outline of the rotor brushes pushed up against the side of the bus. It was ingenious, but the moisture in the air made my skin feel cold and clammy. “Okay,” I said, “but where are we exactly?”
“Ransdell,” Kyle answered.
“Ransdell,” Jordan mused. “Then we’re about 80, maybe 90 or so miles from Ft. Wayne.” “Are we out of gas?” I asked.
“Almost.” Kyle’s voice carried the matter-of-fact tone that suggested there was nothing to worry about. I wondered if they taught them how to do that in the military.
“So, what do we do now?” Jordan asked. He sounded anxious.
“We’ll stay here until morning,” Kyle responded. “It’s safe in here for now.
Tomorrow we can look for some fuel or another vehicle.”
“What about the zombies?” Jordan asked from somewhere in the dark. “There may be no safe time to be out now.”
“The virus may have mutated; shouldn’t it take some time to affect large numbers of them? I doubt there will be many to worry about. We have the gun now and plenty of ammunition to cover us either way,” Kyle reasoned.
I wished I felt as confident. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “I need to go to the bathroom,” I said.
“Me too,” said Jordan.
“There’s room to go outside the bus,” Kyle said. “I went earlier. Turn to the right just outside the door and walk to the end of the bus. There’s space back there. Be careful walking around the brushes though, they’re damp.”
I never thought I would miss being at the gym, but working toilets were now a luxury I missed a lot. At least it was dark. It wasn’t that I thought Jordan or Kyle were creeps that would look, but I always felt this primal kind of need for privacy.
“You go first,” Jordan said.
I got up and walked toward the front of the bus and felt my way down the steps to the folding door. Folding the panels open, I stepped carefully down onto the concrete floor. I allowed my fingertips to trace the bus and work my way around the brushes as I felt my way toward the back. It was a tight squeeze between the carwash apparatus and the bus.
Thankfully, the back corner did indeed offer more space for me to pull down my shorts to squat. Right now, I’d even prefer a port-a-potty to this. It was a balancing act trying to position myself without touching anything. All the surfaces around me seemed to be wet with condensation. Outside, I could hear the wailing of zombies in the night. They sounded far away, but even that felt too close. Although I knew we were safe for now, I felt vulnerable being away from the school. Here, there were no bars on the windows. I was certain there was no twelve-foot Sing Sing wall around the carwash. It felt as if a layer of security had been pulled back, leaving us exposed. It was a feeling I didn’t like at all. I felt my way back to the bus door and groped for my seat. I mistakenly grabbed someone I the dark.
“Hey!” Jordan called out. “I’m in this seat.” “Sorry,” I said, quickly jumping back. I wished I’d counted the seats before I left so I’d remember where I’d been lying.
“Ouch!” Kyle groaned. “You kicked my shin my foot.”
“Sorry.”
A small flame appeared in the darkness as Jordan flicked the lighter he’d found earlier in someone’s abandoned book bag. It lit up the bus, and I could see my way back to my seat.
“My turn,” Jordan announced, moving toward the door.
“Oh sure,” I muttered. “You get a light.” Jordan grinned and stepped out the door.
“Hungry?” Kyle asked me.
I was. “Yeah. You?”
“Starving,” he admitted.
I heard him moving in the dark, followed by the sound of a zipper. “I have some tuna in here,” he said. Cans rattled in the dark. I heard the metallic snap of a can opener breaking through aluminum.
“I smell tuna,” Jordan said, climbing back onto the bus. “Yum!” he quipped in an exaggerated tone that betrayed what he really felt about the prospect of canned fish for breakfast. He ignited the lighter again, and it afforded enough light for Kyle to hand me a can. He opened two more cans, gave one to Jordan, and kept one for himself.
“Enjoy!” Kyle said.
I missed having utensils. Eating tuna from a can without a fork in the dark wasn’t easy. I didn’t want to touch it because we had no way of washing our hands. I opted on sipping the water before pouring the minced fish it into my mouth. I scooped the remaining morsels out with my tongue. It was a slow process, and I dribbled some of the pungent fluid onto my chin and shirt. As I finished it off, I became more anxious to get moving again. “Any idea what time it is?” I asked.
A faint green glow appeared in the dark. “Four o’clock,” Kyle answered, looking at his military is
sue watch. His face appeared briefly in the glow.
“When can we get out of here?” Jordan asked.
“I figure we have a couple of hours before daybreak,” Kyle said. “I’ll open up the doors, and we’ll move on. Hopefully, we can find some gas or another vehicle soon.”
We all finished our tuna, and I wiped my hands on the canvas material of one of the duffle bags that rested on the floor. My hands still smelled like salty fish. I missed the trickling water back at the high school as I thought again about Harley and the others and hoped they were okay. We didn’t have much time to waste trying to find this safe zone Kyle mentioned. I wondered if he even knew for sure where it was. A strange mixture of hope and fear swirled in my chest. I hoped they could help us, but what would I do if they didn’t send a rescue unit for the others? Would they listen to us or throw us into some kind of quarantine?
“We should rest some more while we can,” Kyle said.
“Yeah,” I assented. “I guess so.” I lowered myself down in the seat, pulled Kyle’s sleeping bag over my shoulders, and slept.
Sometime later, I awoke to the sound of the large overhead door opening in front of the bus. I sat up and watched Kyle hoisting the door up using chains that hung to the side of it. Light streamed into the dank, musty car wash. Outside, I could see the deserted street. Kyle climbed back onto the bus and reached under the steering column to start it again. The engine sputtered twice and then started.
Kyle pulled the oversized vehicle out of the garage, and onto the street. I watched the houses pass as we drove by. “Think we should look for some supplies?” I asked.
“I’m not sure we should stop anywhere right now. Is there anything you need that can’t wait?” Jordan queried. “What do you want?”
“We need to find some water,” I said. “I also wouldn’t mind getting some jeans.”
“How can you think of clothes at a time like this?” Jordan asked.
“I’m not trying to make a fashion statement. It’s not just about clothes,” I said. “If we end up walking I want some jeans. They’ll be safer if we run into zombies than wearing shorts.
I could get scratched more easily in these.”
Jordan shot me an incredulous at me. “Don’t be ridiculous! It’s too risky.”
“She’s right,” Kyle said, interrupted. “We may be walking through some rough terrain, and we do need water. It’s as important as the fuel. Besides, we may not have another opportunity to get supplies when we get into rural areas.”
Jordan didn’t look convinced, but he stopped arguing. “Turn right,” he instructed. “That’s the way to the business district. My grandmother lives here.” Silence hung in the air. “Lived here,” he corrected himself. I watched his face but saw no sign of emotion. I think we all understood that dwelling on loss was an indulgence we couldn’t afford if we were to focus on our survival. I suspected all of us had moments of reflection, but like me, Jordan shifted immediately to matters at hand. “If there’s anything left, I’m sure we’ll find it there,” he suggested, pointing ahead. On the right, a small strip mall came into view.
I looked at the dilapidated structure, and my hope sank. Not only was the building old, the storefront, like in downtown Ft. Wayne, was damaged with broken windows and doors. The area had been looted. None of the stores had recognizable names.
“We’ll stop here,” Kyle said. “There’s a gas station and some stores. With some luck, we might be able to get everything we need.”
The gas station, much to my disappointment looked old. The pumps out front were short, squared-off boxes with the antique-looking displays for the gallons and price. Nothing was digital. “Do these even work anymore?” I asked.
Jordan frowned at me. “Just because it’s old doesn’t mean it doesn’t work,” he said. “In fact, it’s exactly what we need.”
Kyle pulled the bus up to the gas station. A lone diesel pump stood off to the side. He maneuvered the vehicle up to it. We all looked around for signs of zombies, but the area seemed deserted. We climbed out, and Kyle stood ready with the gun. He told me and Jordan to connect the fuel line to the bus. I looked inside the station and wondered how this was going to fly.
“How are we going to get the pump turned on?” I asked.
“That’s the beauty of an old gas station,” Jordan explained. “These old pumps were locked up at night with a key. There’s no remote control in Mayberry RFD,” he laughed.
Jordan removed the gas cap, and I pulled the hose from the unit around to the tank and inserted it into the receptacle. Jordan moved to the pump and flipped a lever on the side. The large plastic numbers on the pump’s display panel whirred and spun to zero with a clattering sound. He stepped back to the bus and began filling the tank.
Diesel fumes wafted up from the hose. Fuel sloshed into the tank, and the noise it made rang out in the otherwise deathly silence. “Crap!” I said. “What if somebody or something hears us?”
“Don’t look like there are any somebodies around here,” Jordan said. He surveyed our surroundings with wary eyes.
The fuel stopped flowing much faster than I’d hoped. Apparently, we were not the first customers. I replaced the hose, sticking the nozzle back inside its holder while Jordan secured the cap on the tank. We boarded the bus again and drove it over closer to the entrances of the stores. Annie’s Dry Goods and the 1-Stop Shop were our only options.
We decided to go into the clothing store first. Again, we climbed off the bus and stepped onto the pavement and slid the bus’s bifold doors closed behind us. Kyle led us into the store, and Jordan and I kept an eye out for any potential threat that might come from other directions. As I’d suspected, the broken store windows were valid evidence that the store had been burglarized into, but it looked like only the cash registers, which were upended on the floor, had been targeted.
“Seems strange that most of the merchandise is still here,” Jordan commented.
“In a crisis, people target money, food, water, and weapons,” Kyle informed us, “That’s especially true in the suburbs. If we were in downtown Ft. Wayne, it might be a different story. People in cities are more likely to loot for resale.”
I watched him step onto the sales floor. His muscles were taught, and his stance was slightly crouched. His stealth movements reminded me of a cat stalking prey.
“Sounds like you study these things,” Jordan said.
“Not from a book,” Kyle responded. I waited for more of an explanation, but it didn’t come.
We quickly moved back to the women’s department, and I found a rack of jeans. I grabbed a couple of pairs, and we ducked out of the store. We hurried next door to the convenience store, and as Kyle suggested, it had much more damage. The shelves were mostly empty with the exception of the ones holding low-value items like office supplies and a lucite rack holding spools of lottery tickets.
“We’ll have to check for a stock room,” Kyle said.
Jordan and I exchanged leery glances. The back of the store was darker. “Let’s go,” Kyle said. “We can’t waste time.”
We walked toward a pair of swinging doors at the back of the store. Kyle motioned for us to get behind him. He opened one of the doors and scanned the area. It was dim, but we could still see. “Come on in. It’s okay,” he said. “But keep watching.”
We entered the stock room. It too had been looted, but there were still some unopened boxes stacked around.
“There’s still some water,” Kyle said, pointing toward the back corner.
We took ginger steps forward. Jordan and I grabbed two, gallon-sized jugs each. We had just turned to leave when Kyle held up his hand. We stopped and then heard what had startled him. Raspy breathing was coming from just outside the swinging doors. I heard Jordan gasp as the doors gave a tentative rattle. Kyle turned and held a finger to his lips, shushing us both. The familiar foul stench of decaying flesh filled the air, and I notice a slimy pool of dark fluid forming beneath the doors. My breath c
aught in my throat as the doors pushed inward, and a hand appeared. The panels parted further, and the silhouettes of four zombies appeared in the opening.
Kyle stood at the ready, his gun leveled on them. With an inexplicable move, he took his hand off the stock and reached for me. His hand grasped my arm, and he pulled me close to him. He maneuvered his body in front of me and again took hold of the stock.
The zombies inched forward, seemingly uncertain of what to do next. One turned and looked at us. Its breath rattled, and something akin to a voice came from its mouth. In a fraction of my heartbeat, Kyle fired. The first zombie’s chest exploded, and its body fell to the ground. Jordan jolted backward in terror, bumping Kyle as he fired a second shot that hit the wall. The other three beasts lurched forward. One of the creatures lunged at Jordan with lightning speed. He flung his arm at it, hurling the jug of water at its head. The jug made contact with a sickening thud. The force dislodged its head. It snapped off with a crunch and burst on the floor. The crash sent bits of bone and brain sliding across the concrete on jets of black blood.
Unfazed, the remaining two lumbered toward me and Kyle. I dropped the jeans and jugs of water. I darted to the side, scrambling to get around them. My foot made contact with a blood splat, causing me to slip and sending me spiraling off balance. I landed on the floor on my hands and knees and scrambled to stand. The slippery ooze on the polished floor made it impossible for me to gain traction.
The corpse-like figure lurched forward and came down on me, knocking me onto my back. In desperation, I grabbed it by the neck and started to squeeze as hard as I could. Horrible smelling mucous dripped from its rotting mouth and spilled onto my clothes. It seemed to falter, and I kneed it in the gut as hard as I could. It flew sideways off me, and I scrambled away. I reached a dry area of the floor and managed to stand. Kyle was fighting the other zombie, furiously punching its face.
Viral Series (Book 1): Viral Dawn [Extended Edition] Page 19