“I’m going to see what’s going on,” I tell Steven.
“I’m going to wait until you’re gone and see if there is another bag of chips in your pack,” he grins.
I give him the finger before I squeeze by Midhun and climb off the back of the truck. The bastard is still going to go through my stuff anyway. I’m sure of it. There isn’t much left to take in there anyway, unless he needs a tampon, a sports bra, or my Lady Speed Stick deodorant.
Hoff looks over and smiles as he sees me approach.
“How much farther?” I ask.
“They look to be close to Iowa City,” Lorento says. “If the satellite signal is still viable.”
“We can probably get there before nightfall,” Hoff says. “Couple hours. Maybe three if we hit traffic.”
“Iowa City is a lot bigger than any place we’ve been,” I say. The thought of going into an area with upwards of fifty-thousand undead makes me anxious. “It’s not a good idea to rush into a city that size after dark.”
“We may not have much choice,” Lorento tells me. “Although we may have slowed Bishop down, I am pretty sure we pissed him off, too. He’ll be coming.”
“Then there’s no time to lose,” Hoff agrees. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
Lorento nods and avoids making eye contact with me as she folds up the map and slides back into the driver seat. I roll my eyes and turn myself around to head back to the other truck with Hoff.
“You sure about this?” I ask Hoff.
“Nope,” he pauses to spit out a sunflower shell. “We got a saying in the Seals... Don’t run to your death. Kind of feels like that’s what we’re about to do.”
“It does.”
“You got a better idea, though?” he asks.
“No,” I sigh.
He pauses at the Humvee with his fingers around the door handle.
“I’m not going to bullshit you and say it will be okay. Most of my team is gone already. More people are going to die and you should always be uncomfortable with that. So get comfortable being uncomfortable.”
“That’s another saying, isn’t it?”
“No, I just made that up.” He gives me a wink as he pulls open the door of the Humvee. “Get in the damn truck, Scout.”
I squeeze back into the rear of the Humvee and settle myself back down between Steven and a row of fuel canisters.
“Everything okay?” Steven asks.
I nod and bite my lip. I’m afraid if I say anything, my voice will be shaky and then he’ll know just how worried I am.
“They figure out exactly where we’re going?”
“Yeah,” I manage to whisper and nod again.
“Where?” Steven presses me.
“Iowa City,” I tell him.
“Fuck me,” Steven sighs. He tilts his head back against the cab of the truck and closes his eyes. The vehicles start up again and pull back onto the highway toward Iowa City.
I close my eyes and try not to think about what lies ahead. The vision of thousands and thousands of the dead in the streets of Iowa City is still all I see. I take a deep breath and try to relax like I used to when I could sit around and meditate. But an unsettling scent fills my nostrils and snaps me back to reality.
“Damn it,” I mutter as I open my eyelids. “You smell like Lady Speed Stick, Steven.”
Steven slaps his knee and starts laughing his ass off. He coughs a moment later and grabs his shoulder in pain, but still can’t stop himself from grinning.
“Son of a bitch,” I scold him. I try to act mad but my lips crack a smile.
“Smells very nice,” Midhun adds. He fans his armpits with his hands. “Very fresh.”
“You too?” I say and can’t help laughing. “To hell with both of you.”
“He needed some,” Steven says. “Desperately.”
The truck lurches forward with a growl and we head into the vast farmland of southern Iowa. The two-lane road we’d been traveling on expands to four-lane highway with a grass median separating the northbound and southbound lanes. It rolls on in an endless straight line into the horizon. On either side of the road lie countless rows of untended crops that will all likely rot in the field when no one is there to harvest them. Out here the dead are few and far between. I spot one here and there, wandering through stalks of corn or shuffling along the highway. We pass by a cattle farm with a pack of feral dogs feasting on the carcass of horse in a pasture. For the most part, the countryside is desolate.
Steven nudges my arm and when I turn my head to look at him, he gestures at the road behind us. I notice a couple of specks on the road in the distance. After glancing through the rifle scope, I can make out the yellow flag flying above the pickups in the distance.
“Damn it,” I say. “It’s them.”
“Unbelievable,” Steven shakes his head.
I pick up the radio and notify Lorento.
“How far away is the city?” I ask.
“Maybe ten miles,” Hoff says.
“I think we can make it,” I say as I look back at the trucks in the distance. “They’re going to be right on our ass, though.”
“Maybe we can lose them going through town again,” Hoff suggests. “Buy ourselves a little more time.”
“It might be our only shot,” Lorento says. “Either way, we’re not going down without a fight.”
I grab the duffel bag full of ammo and locate a couple of magazines for my rifle and hand the bag to Steven. The pickups in the road behind seem slightly larger as they begin to close the distance. We pass a sign that says it is six miles to Iowa City. Even if we make it there before Bishop manages to catch up to us, we’re probably in for a fight with the dead. The sun is beginning to set, we have dwindling supplies, and we don’t even know the exact location of the pilot. It will probably take a miracle for us just to make it through the night.
As we exit the highway at Iowa City, Bishop and his men close the distance to half of a mile. There is nothing we can do to keep them from catching up within a few minutes. I keep my eyes open for anything in the surroundings we might be able to use to lose them or gain the upper hand. On the right we pass by an auto scrapyard with rows and rows of demolished cars. Across the road is the Iowa City airport. The wreckage from several crashed planes and hundreds of corpses litter the runways. We round a bend and a river appears along the right side of the road. As we continue toward the center of town, the road becomes congested with abandoned vehicles and the dead.
Hernacki opens up with the big gun in the turret of the lead vehicle to help clear a path. I keep an eye on the trucks closing in behind us. I wave an arm to tell Midhun to duck down. As I raise the rifle to peer through the scope, a bullet clangs off the back of the truck. I dip my head down instinctively, then raise the rifle again and take aim and fire. In the dwindling light, I still count eight or nine trucks in the convoy behind us, with at least four passengers in each of the pickups. I try to aim, but the Humvees begin to swerve from side to side in order to navigate the treacherous traffic on the street. After I steady myself, I fire off a few more rounds that miss wildly. Realizing I am better off saving the ammunition, I turn and glance back toward the front of the vehicles and see the street signs for different buildings of the college campus. Left to the hospital and the football stadium, right is a bridge over the river toward the library and downtown campus. The road beyond the intersection is jammed with a sea of cars and corpses.
The vehicles swerve to the right at the intersection. We cross over the bridge and pass some kind of power plant and then we run into another massive traffic jam. Lorento turns the lead vehicle down a side street to the right and the tires squeal as she takes a hard left at the next turn. We speed up three more blocks and Lorento takes a left to try and get back to the main road. I spot a parking garage up ahead attached to some kind of big building. Maybe we can slip inside the garage and hideout until they pass. It might be our best shot. I grab the radio and click the mic.
&n
bsp; “Lorento,” I say. “Duck inside that parking garage!”
She doesn’t respond, but speeds through the intersection and swerves into the entrance to the parking garage on the left. I watch the road behind us to make sure none of the pickup trucks pursuing us round the last turn in time to see us enter the parking structure. The Humvees pull to a stop at a set of glass doors. Everyone hurries to grab what they can and get out of the vehicles. I grab Stevie out of the backseat and take cover behind a van parked next to the access doors and keep my eyes on the entrance ramp. A handful of corpses from the street begin to wander up the embankment behind us. I look down at Stevie and raise a finger to my lips so he knows to keep quiet. Tires squeal and gunfire rattles in the streets nearby. Several seconds later, I hear more gunfire. This time it sounds farther away, but it’s impossible to be sure inside the concrete walls of the garage.
Hoff cups a hand to the glass doors, then pulls on the handle. The door opens and Hoff waves Hernacki inside to check out the inside of building. A few seconds later Hoff waves everyone through the doors. I linger outside a few moments longer, keeping an eye on the street. Even if we lost Bishop for the moment, it doesn’t mean they won’t figure out what happened pretty quick and come back to look for us. We can only hope they run into plenty of trouble on the downtown streets.
Seventeen
The building is dark inside, with just enough light from the long skylights above to see. It’s some kind of mini mall. Our group gathers near a bench and some fake potted plants by the entrance. Lorento clicks on a flashlight and examines a map of the mall as Hoff and Hernacki hover behind her. There’s a movie theater, a few clothing shops, and some restaurants spread out along two floors.
“We need to check out the building,” Lorento whispers. “I don’t plan on staying here long, but I want to check every way in and out of this building and make sure we don’t have any surprises.”
“It seems pretty quiet in here,” Hernacki offers.
“There’s another exit on the east end of the building near the coffee shop,” Lorento points. “One in the pharmacy to the north. Two in these restaurants on the south side of the building.”
“We’ll check them out,” Hoff says.
“No,” Lorento says. “I’ll take Hernacki. Keep this entrance secure. Let me know the second there is any trouble.” Her eyes scan the rest of the group for a moment. “Make sure nobody goes wandering off.”
“Got it,” Hoff confirms.
Lorento reaches for the bag of weapons and pulls out a pair of silencers and hands one to Hernacki and attaches the other to her pistol. Lorento then retrieves the GPS device from her satchel and examines the screen. I step closer to the group and wait until Lorento looks at me. She seems to have forgotten all about the argument earlier, or at least, she has put it aside for now.
“What is it, Scout?” she asks.
“Maybe we should think about staying in here for the night,” I say.
“We still have to see just how safe it is here,” Lorento says. “Then we will make that call.”
“It’s getting dark,” I remind her. “And there’s too many of those things to deal with out there right now. We don’t have a choice.”
As if to punctuate my point there is a thud on the doors to the garage. A corpse presses against the entry and slaps a palm against the barrier as though it believes it might reach right through the glass. Luckily, these things don’t have such an easy time with doors that have to be pulled open.
“I’m not saying no and I’m not saying yes,” Lorento sighs. “We are going to see what happens.”
“Fair enough,” I agree.
“Damn it,” she growls at the GPS screen.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Our asset is about thirty miles away still,” Lorento seethes. “Or this piece of crap is malfunctioning now.”
She pulls a pen and the map out from her satchel and flattens it out over the map for the mall. For several moments she compares the screen to the map then marks an X to the northeast of the city.
“Tipton,” she says.
“That makes sense. Looks like there’s a small airport,” Hernacki notes. “That means he could be airborne soon.”
“Nah,” Hoff interjects. “Without daylight or reliable satellite data for guidance it’d be like flying blind. He might be crazy, but he ain’t stupid. No way he’ll move at night.”
“Neither should we,” I repeat.
“Either way, I want to be at that airfield at sunrise,” Lorento says. She folds up the map and tucks it and the GPS device back in her bag. “Now let’s make sure this building is secure.”
“I can help,” I offer.
“Me too,” Steven chimes in. I glance back over my shoulder and find him hovering like a vulture as usual.
“All right,” Lorento says. She shines the light back on the map. “Down this hall is the mall office and service area. You two check it out and see if you can find some keys to the building. If we’re going to stay here tonight, we might need them.”
“We got it,” I assure her.
“Just keep quiet,” Lorento says. “No shooting unless you have to.”
“I can help, too,” Nick offers. He runs a tongue over his lips as he examines the map. “I’ll check the sports bar over here. Make sure it’s clear.”
“You’re a big help as usual, Nick,” I groan.
“What?” Nick shrugs and raises his palms in a display of ignorance.
“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” Lorento agrees. “There is an entrance to the bar inside the mall, but there is an exit to the street on the other side of the restaurant, too. Check it out and make sure it’s locked up tight.”
“See?” Nick boasts. He taps his forefinger against his temple several times.
“Hernacki,” Lorento says. “You’re with me. We’ll check out the pharmacy on the far side of the mail. Make sure the street entrance there is secure. I don’t want to be caught by surprise if Bishop figures out our location.”
“Here,” I say. I fish out the list of supplies Fawn gave me when we left the farmhouse. “Maybe you can find some of this stuff in there.”
Lorento stares at the paper in my hand but doesn’t move to take it.
“We’re not going shopping, Scout,” Lorento says.
“It’s for Piper,” I tell her.
“I’ll take it,” Hernacki says. He reaches over and grabs the list from my hand and glances at it quickly. “I’ll see what I can find.”
Lorento jerks her head and leads Hernacki away down the main corridor of the mall. The two of them break into a jog as they hustle to secure the building. Nick follows behind them, strolling casually along the storefront windows with his hands in his pockets. He whistles a few cheerful notes that almost resembles a song as he walks.
I pull the strap of my pack off my shoulder and set it down on the bench beside Stevie.
“Me and your dad are going to have a look around real quick,” I tell him.
“Can I come with you guys?” he asks.
“No,” Steven says. “That’s not a good idea, kiddo. Just stay close to Val and keep an eye out for trouble, okay?”
Stevie looks at young girl with the gentle smile and nods his head. I bend down and kiss the top of his head and then he holds out his hand for a fist bump.
“You got the radio in case you run into trouble?” Hoff asks as he hands me a flashlight.
“We’ll be fine,” I say as I take the flashlight from him. I reach down and retrieve the radio from my pack. “We can handle ourselves.”
“I know you can,” Hoff smiles. He glances at Steven for a second then steps aside and watches as we head for the dark hallway.
I flick on the flashlight as we pass a ticket window for the movie theater. The last film that was played was called “End of Days.” How ironic. The echoes from our shoes on the floor fill the hallway as we head for the mall office. I shine the beam of light on a retail vision cen
ter with a bunch of spectacles eyeing us through the display windows. The smiling people wearing brand new glasses on the posters will never have to see how bad the world has become.
Just beyond the eyewear store we reach a set of three doors at the end of the hall. The one on the left leads to the loading dock. The one on the right is a clear glass door leading to the mall office. The third door is marked as a staircase, which probably leads to the second floor. I shine the beam of the flashlight through the glass doors of the mall office and scan the interior of the room. Several chairs, a pair of potted plants, and a coffee table compose a waiting area in front the reception desk. A hallway behind the desk leads to darkened offices. Nothing inside the room stirs. I give the handle a push and the door eases open quietly.
Steven readies his machete as we step inside. I check behind the front desk as quietly as I can while Steven keeps an eye on the hall. I look up when I hear a crash coming from the other room.
“Get that light over here,” whispers Steven as he squints into the darkness. He clenches his bandaged fingers around the handle of the machete.
I hurry around the desk and shine the light in the hallway. We inch down the hall, the beam of light shaking in my hands. It would be one thing if we could shoot the thing, but making that much noise isn’t an option right now. Steven raises his machete, ready to strike at whatever we might find. I pull out the knife from my jacket pocket. At the end of the hall there is another small room with a pair of cubicles on either side of an aisle. I scan from one side of the room to the other with the flashlight, but I don’t see anything. Steven glances over at me and shrugs. We creep into the dark room, peering around the corners into each of the cubicles in the first row. Both of them are empty except for the family pictures and personal belongings that seem to stare back at me. I try to avoid noticing these things, but I still can’t help but see them when they are there.
As we move toward the second set of cubicles, I hear a soft moan on our left. The sound causes me to freeze for a moment. I shine the light on the opening of the cubicle. A horrific face appears a moment later. The thing snaps its jaws and lunges and then falls to the floor at our feet. Its hands are cuffed to the back of the office chair. I stare at the lifeless eyes at what used to be a security guard as it struggles to free itself from the toppled chair.
Rise of the Dead (Book 2): Return of the Dead Page 10