He got his feet moving, skirted the closed garage doors, and barreled into a steel door set into the breezeway that connected the building, a house he realized, to the garage. A second of fumbling, breathing hard, panicked completely, and the door swung inward. Warm, stale air rushed out to meet him. He stumbled inside, kicked the door shut and collapsed to the floor. A few minutes of stillness and his eyes began to adjust to the sparse light. Moonlight leaked in from windows in the garage. Most of that light was blocked.
A few seconds later as he laid Pearl out flat on the floor in the near darkness, he heard the door handle rattle. He was on his feet fast, turning the deadbolt to the locked position, locking the handle-set, but the dead on the other side of the door had heard and they knew he was there. A snarl came to him as he backed away from the door. The door shook as it was tested again and again, and then silence descended. Silence in the near absolute darkness. A bad place to be.
The dead made an odd clicking sound on the other side of the door along with the occasional snarl, a sort of strangled scream, which, Billy supposed was all they could do with no air to move their lungs. He pulled a lighter from his pocket and clicked it on, holding it high as he turned and looked over the garage. An SUV loomed out of the darkness, illuminated by the flickering flame and the moonlight through the dusty windows. A second later Billy had the door open and Pearl tumbled inside onto the passenger seat. He worked the seat belt around her body, really beginning to panic now. She was covered in blood. Her entire face and the front of her shirt. He loosened the shirt he had made into a tourniquet for her leg and allowed the blood flow to return. He carefully cut her jeans away from the wound, a long nasty gash, that was, fortunately, shallow. The bleeding had stopped, the tourniquet had done the job, the wound was starting to close.
She didn't move or speak. He forced himself to stay calm, belted her in and moved around to the drivers side of the SUV. He watched a shadow pause by one dusty window as he made the drivers side and jumped inside. He heard the breaking glass as he slammed the door on the dusty garage and shot his hand toward the ignition. Nothing. He slammed one hand against the visor, driving it down. Again nothing. His eyes swept around the garage and fell instantly on a board with several sets of keys by the inside doorway near the breezeway.
The shadow at the window was forcing itself through the opening piece by piece, snarling, the garage wall shook from the exerted force. More behind it, he supposed. It seemed hopeless.
He decided, flung the door open and slammed it shut. He ran straight at the zombie, a woman, or she had been. Her breasts were shredded green-black flesh in the sparse light from forcing herself through the too small opening. Her face lifted to his, gray-black, gold eyes, almost iridescent, animal like in the semi darkness. He shot her once in the head and watched her relax, half in, half out of the window: Blocking it momentarily. He didn't wait to see how long she would remain blocking the window, he sprinted for the board, gathered all the keys and ran back to the truck. A moment later he was inside. His breath a ragged, tearing pain in his chest. He glanced at the window and watched as more dead ripped the body from the opening and began shoving themselves through. A split second later another pane of glass broke, then the divider that had held the glass panes apart, and a second after that the opening was large enough for them to crawl through.
He dropped the keys on the seat top and pushed them apart, the SUV key was not there. A Chevy key was what he needed, and there were none there. He looked again, nothing but old keys. His eyes wandered off the edge of the seat to the floorboards. The key was there, one mixed with a half dozen others on a worn leather fob. Had they been there all along? Had they fallen as he had dumped the others on the seat top? Was it the right key? A second later it was in the ignition switch. He hesitated, scared. He closed his eyes to say a small prayer and one of the dead slammed into the side of the SUV. He sucked a hard breath in, twisted the key, and the motor began to turn over slowly. He stopped, his eyes swiveled to the glass. A man stared back, inches away. Lips curled over yellow-black teeth. Gray-green skin stretched over too prominent cheekbones in the dash light. Eyes gold flecked orange. Billy slammed his fists against the steering wheel just as the zombie smashed its own hands against the glass. The window shattered, Billy twisted the switch, the motor roared to life and just as the zombies hands reached for his throat he slammed the truck in reverse and roared out of the garage, the hands clutching against his t-shirt, ripping part of it away.
The SUV hit the aluminum door and just the edge of the small wood trim at the far edge next to the breezeway. The door itself crumpled, wood splinters flew, the SUV bounced hard, tires screaming, and flew across the pavement heading into the street. Scattering the debris before it as it went.
Billy managed to lock up the brakes, shift into drive and tore away down the street. A few minutes later he made a hard right onto the main road, and drove the broken pavement fast, lights dead, running hard in the moonlight.
EIGHT
Alabama Island
Mike and Candace
It was not far into the night when the nose of the truck rose out of the water and skimmed along across no more than a few inches of water. The moon had drifted behind the cloud cover, the headlights were on, but they did more to hide the surface of the water than anything else. They illuminated a small area ahead of the truck and then seemed to be swallowed by the night.
Before the bottom had risen, the water had been growing steadily deeper as they traveled. They had once again been slowed to just a few miles an hour, plowing through close to two feet of water, and there was a current with the depth that tried to pull them sideways. Mike had been close to calling it off, turning around, or getting the boats ready if there was not enough time to get back before the tide was fully in. A few minutes later they had begun the climb from the water and found themselves where they now were, proceeding slowly through the darkness in just inches of water.
The moon peeked out from the edge of the clouds and an island took shape before them, partly hidden in mist, the island stretched away on both sides. A quarter mile to the beach, no more. The moon slid free and the island was lit up fully. Trees, broken pavement delineating a road that disappeared into what looked to be a jungle. They were both standing on the rooftops now, knees flexed, arms pumping, screaming, as the trucks finally left the water behind and drove up onto a wide sandy beach. Birds lifted from the surrounding trees, momentarily blotting the moon out once more, as Candace bumped the truck up onto the wide beach, followed closely by John and Alice.
~
The fire burned brightly on the beach. They were close to the tree line, watching the tide bring the water up the long sloping beach., waiting for sunrise.
“Never make it at high tide,” Ronnie said. He worked open a pack of peanuts and tilted them above his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully.
“Probably has risen a good eight feet out here,” Candace said.
“At least,” Jayne agreed. She blew across a cup of broth and sipped at it.
“Maybe an hour until daylight,” Mike said now. He shifted his back where he rested against a tire, one arm around Candace.
“Be a good time to bring something in by boat though,” Alice said.
“Yeah,” Ronnie agreed. “Plenty deep enough now.”
Rifles and pistols lay nearby. There was no way to know what to expect, but to think there had been no living souls on this land that had died and turned would be foolish they had agreed. They would get no sleep tonight, and at sunrise they would start inland, looking the island over.
The conversations flowed back and forth along with the occasional subdued laughter in the darkness. The Sky began to lighten behind them, gray light spilling across the tops of the trees. Far out on the water the first red-gold arrows of light touched the water and awakened what looked to be an ocean.
“Hard to believe we drove across that,” Candace said from his lap. Her head rested against his thigh, eyes slitte
d. She rose to one elbow and then sat up as the others began to stand.
~
The broken roadway ran through the jungle of vegetation and they drove it slowly into the interior of the island. There were several roads that cut off from the main blacktop, but there was no time to follow all of them. They passed through the overgrown remains of two small towns. Empty. Cars sitting on the streets on flats, buildings overgrown with kudzu and other vines. Mounds of sand trying to wipe out everything the Kudzu had not taken.
In places the road looked washed out, as if water had flowed across it at some point. The four wheel drive took them down into the resulting ravine or through fields and dry stream beds to get around it and up the other side. They drove through a slightly larger town twenty miles inland. Several large stores, a few car dealerships still stood: Sand covered most of the roads and streets everywhere they drove. The doors that lead into the stores were drifted shut four feet high in places. They stopped to dig one out, broke the locks from the aluminum door frames, only to be rewarded with a moldy interior that had obviously been flooded at one time. Somewhere inside a clicking came to them, a few moments late three dead, not much more than putrid flesh on skeletons, had come from the aisles to meet them. They had taken them out quickly and nothing else had come from the depths. Even so they had forced themselves to walk the interior to be sure. They were even more convinced the entire store had been submerged when they left it an hour later. The aisles were full of sand in places. The roof had collapsed in others and sand and what had probably had once been seaweed clogged some aisles.
Ronnie opinioned that most like every car or truck in sight had a motor full of sand and was worthless. No one argued the point. They had gone through the town slowly after that, but they encountered no more dead. They had returned to the main road, driving farther into the interior of the island.
Fifty miles inland the land rose steeply and then flattened out. They stopped once the island began to spread out below them. They could see all the island from this point. The end of the journey was not far ahead. No more than five miles ahead, cliffs dropped down into the ocean. A much deeper area of water than what was behind them capped that end of the island. The western and eastern views were nearly equal. Off to the west there was a second smaller island that was removed from the main island by a small channel, at least it looked small from where they were. The distance was hard to judge, they would have to drive it, but it was far less than the fifty miles they had driven, maybe half that, Candace thought.
Whether heading east or west, roads snaked here and there, away from the main route, or what they considered the main route: Woods covered parts of the island, wide plains other areas. Nothing alive moved anywhere they looked.
“I think,” Mike said as they sat on the hoods of the trucks and drank warm bottled sports drinks, “This whole place, or most of it, was flooded over. I guess we can all see that, but I mean for a time, a long time. Any life washed away... Including people.”
“So what's to stop that same thing from happening again,” Alice asked. She looked nervous even as she said the words.
“I would bet a tidal wave... No, tsunami triggered by the quakes, rolled right over everything on the coast. Probably took days to recede. That's why there is no one here.” Jayne said thoughtfully.
“Wouldn't happen again?” Alice asked.
I don't think so,” Ronnie said. “I think it's been quiet for months now... I think this place is safe now... Maybe the only place in the world without dead. I think the dead in that store were trapped by the place being locked up. Probably locked it up themselves for protection... Drowned when it flooded.”
“We'll have to be careful if we come across something like that again,” Jayne said, more to herself than anyone in particular.
Silence held as she finished, a few nods of agreement.
Mike upended his bottle, drank deeply and then grimaced. He looked at the label. “Cherry Cucumber,” he said aloud. “For real? Who in hell thought that up? Candace, take a letter to...” He paused as he looked for the manufacturers name on the bottle without success. “Well, to these sonsofbitches,” he said in his best Clint Eastwood imitation. “Tell 'em we won't be drinking no more of these bastards.” He grinned, turned and spat on the ground. Ronnie applauded.
“No more Clint Eastwood, that sucks,” Alice said with a sad face.
“Or cold beer,” Ronnie said and grimaced.
“Or panty-liners,” Jayne said and then pulled a face. Candace broke into laughter so hard that tears squirted from her eyes. Alice joined in. Mike, John and Ronnie just shook their heads and looked at one another.
“I... I can't believe you said that,” Candace said. She laughed harder.
Mike cleared his throat and looked out over the island. “A perfectly good conversation,” Mike said and sighed dramatically. Candace gave him a shot in the ribs with one elbow. They all laughed then.
Okay... Okay,” Jayne said eventually, “but really... Here we are, what is this place now that we've found it?”
“Alabama Island,” Ronnie answered promptly.
“Yeah... Alabama Island,” Mike agreed.
“Okay, but what is it to us,” Jayne said
“Home,” Candace said. “It's home.”
The silence held as one by one they each nodded.
“We'll need to make more trips,” Jayne said at last.
“A lot of trips,” Ronnie agreed.
“What do we need,” Mike asked, as Candace produced a small pad of paper and a pen.
Watertown New York
Billy and Pearl
The road grew worse as he drove away from the city and he had to slow the truck down. It wasn't a question of driving away from Watertown and leaving: They had a job to do. It was a question of safety. Get Pearl far enough away so that she could be safe, but where was that place.
His eyes scanned the sides of the road as he drove. He caught sight of a small weeded blacktop surface off to his left leading into the forest and took it. The blacktop was only a suggestion. It hadn't taken the world long to break it down and turn it to mostly earth. The earthquakes, the rains, the unchecked growth of vegetation. He had no idea what it had been before, but now it was barely recognizable as a road. He slowed to a near crawl as he entered the woods and the darkness dropped down heavily. The road went away, or at least the pretense of a road went away. What was left was a bare pine needle covered lane that twisted away into the woods. No weeds, no growth, probably much as it had been left a few months before.
Nothing moved in the tress. The light swept by, white and cleansing and found nothing at all. Ten minutes of driving bought him to the top of a rise and a small metal building perched there, nearly on the edge. The star light had assumed its place in the sky once the trees had opened up to this clearing atop the hill, and Billy switched off the headlamps and coasted to a stop on idle at the top of the rise just past the small, metal building.
Below him a valley stretched out, running east to west, or what had been east to west. In the darkness there were no landmarks to tell him what he was looking at, but glimpses of silver through the trees cover told him a river flowed far below, the Black, he was sure, and farther to the west the opens waters of a lake: Ontario.
He drove in a tight circle around the building, looking it over. His eyes tried to watch everything at once. The trees, the building, the dark valley below, all of it. In everything he saw nothing that suggested life, danger, it seemed to be as desolate as it looked.
He stopped at the front of the building that faced the worn out road. Two garage doors were set into the metal sides. A metal entrance door off to one side. A few black windows along each side, one in the front. He circled once more. Two more windows in the back. All intact, all whole and unbroken. And why was his mind simply repeating things he knew again? Rephrasing them? Nervousness. Stalling tactic. He drove back to the front of the building, switched off the motor and lifted Pearl's rifle
from the seat top. He checked it over. A full clip. Safety off.
He took several calming breaths and then laid two fingers against the side of her throat. A strong, steady pulse beat there. It made him worry less, but for the steady pulse he would be convinced she was dead. Her eyes were shut, no movement behind them. Her breathing shallow, quiet, he couldn't hear it over the rumble of the exhaust and he couldn't hear it now that the truck was silent. He didn't like it at all. He bent closer, brushed his lips against her own, and then left the tuck before he could change his mind.
The night was graveyard silent: Back within the trees the darkness seemed to be thicker. A living thing. Out here at the top of the valley it seemed less so, but every bit as worrisome. There could be dead inside the building. Inside the tree line. On the sides of the valley waiting to climb the slopes and find him, waiting only for him to settle in. He looked back through the glass at Pearl and then forced his feet to move once more.
The back door was locked, the windows gave away nothing as he walked close enough to cup his hands and look inside. He thought of another place very much like this place in Arizona where he and Beth had been holed up for several days as she had healed from an attack. That place had been fine. Dead, but dead that had been and would remain dead. In fact they had known almost nothing about the dead at that point. They weren't a concern, not really. That building and this building had nothing in common at all, and that one being okay didn't mean this one would be. He continued back around to the front and scouted the area carefully. Nothing.
He walked to the front door, twisted the knob and pushed the door inward. A dry, dusty smell wafted out. There were no dead here. From the inside there was plenty of light to see by once his eyes adjusted. The windows flooded the inside with moonlight. He closed the door behind and checked the rest of the garage and a small office. Empty, nothing at all. No vehicles, some tools and benches, grease stains on the concrete here and there, but little else. Whatever this had been it didn't appear to have seen any use since March, maybe long before that. He levered one wide garage door up, trotted to the truck and drove it inside.
Earth's Survivors: box set Page 123