by James Cook
But I learned something on that hellish afternoon when the flames roared high, and the smoke choked the air, and the sky turned black, and a great empty maw of nothingness swallowed the sun. When I saw people being torn apart, eaten alive, screaming for help. When I saw a panicked mother abandon her child, and watched that child disappear beneath a swarm of hungry infected, her piercing screams tearing at my heart and my sanity. When I saw the limp body of a toddler and his father lying side by side, ghouls burying bloody faces in their guts, snapping at the entrails in their teeth, sucking them down like errant pasta noodles. When I saw a man in a suit and tie standing on top of his car firing a pistol at the ghouls who crawled up the hood and trunk, not killing them fast enough to stop their advance.
He emptied a mag, reloaded, and counted down from fifteen in a grim, strident voice. When he got to one, he squeezed his eyes shut, put the gun to his temple, and pulled the trigger. He left a wide, bloody smear on the roof of his Mercedes as the undead dragged him to the ground.
I learned something that day, all right.
Television doesn’t prepare you for shit.
FIFTEEN
Near San Marcos, Texas
When I had seen enough, I quietly handed my rifle to my father, took a few steps away, and was violently sick. When the dry heaves subsided enough so I could stand again, I felt my Dad’s hand on my shoulder.
“You all right, son?”
“Do I look all right?” I snapped, shrugging him off and snatching my carbine out of his hand. “And why does everyone keep asking me that? I think the answer should be pretty fucking obvious at this point.”
My father’s palm cracked across the side of my head so loud the others heard it and snapped their heads to look. I stumbled back, stars dancing across my vision. Dad had hit me plenty of times in training, but never in anger, and never full-force. Oddly, I didn’t mind. The pain and stun of it was a welcome distraction from the hellish scenes burning themselves into my memory. When the cobwebs cleared, I looked at my father, expecting to find him angry. Instead, he simply looked worried.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “Your breathing was rapid and your pupils were dilated. Your hand shook when you took your rifle from me. Did you even notice?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You were showing signs of panic, Caleb. You can’t go into shock or hysterics. Not now. Not until we get to safety.”
I rubbed my head where he had struck me, the hot skin raising into welts under my close-cropped hair. “Okay. Sorry, Dad.”
His hand squeezed my arm. “You got your head screwed on straight now?”
I nodded, forcing the images of the carnage on the interstate to the back of my mind. “Yeah. I think so.”
Dad watched me for a second, then grunted in satisfaction. He turned to the others. “We’ve seen enough. It’s time to get moving.”
The other men muttered agreements and dispersed to their vehicles. I turned to head for the rear Humvee, but Dad grabbed my elbow. “Wait,” he said. “I want you to take over for Sophia. You’re close to her age, so she’ll probably listen to you better than the rest of us. I want you to look after her, all right?”
My heart sped up at the thought. I swallowed dryly and nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”
Dad took a step closer, whispering. “I know you like her, Caleb. It’s natural; she’s a pretty girl. But you need to clear that shit out of your head right now, understand? We’re in survival mode. Act like it.”
Survival mode. That I can do. “Yes sir.”
He patted me on the arm, hesitated a moment, and then pulled me into a tight hug. I hugged him back, squeezing hard.
“I love you, son,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
I had to blink a few times and clear my throat before I could speak. “I love you too, Dad.”
“We’re going to get through this. We’ll do it together, just like we always have.”
For a moment, I wondered who he was trying to convince. Pushing the thought aside, I said, “Damn right we will.”
Dad stepped back, and although I could not see his mouth under the respirator, I could see his eyes. He was not smiling. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
*****
Sophia gratefully surrendered the wheel.
I tried unsuccessfully not to stare at her ass while she scrambled over the center console and plopped down in the passenger’s seat.
“I can’t see shit out there,” she said, looking at me as we drove away from the overpass. “How can you drive in this?”
“Your dad is wearing NVGs in the lead Humvee,” I replied. “He can see the way ahead. I’m just following tail lights.”
We were silent for a few miles as we headed south, bypassing San Marcos and eventually merging onto Highway 12. The wind-blown dust and ash gradually lessened the farther west we drove, but nightfall prevented an improvement in visibility.
Sophia sat curled in her seat next to me, knees under her chin, chewing nervously at her fingernails. I thought about asking her to put her seatbelt on, but being that we were driving less than twenty miles an hour, I didn’t figure it would make much of a difference. Under other circumstances, I would have had a hard time not staring at her eyes, or hair, or the graceful curvature of her legs. But right then, just staying on the road and maintaining visual on the lights ahead of me consumed all my concentration. Nevertheless, from the corner of me eye, I noticed Sophia shooting curious glances at me as she shifted and fidgeted in her seat, broadcasting a sense of growing agitation.
“Do you have any idea where we’re going?” she asked finally.
I thought for a moment, eyes narrowed. “You know what? That’s a damn good question.”
Our radio was in a cup holder in the center console. I picked it up and keyed the mike. “Blake, this is Caleb. Got a question for you. Over.”
Static. “Roger. Go ahead.”
“Where the hell are we going? Over.”
It took him nearly a full minute to respond. “Well, we have a few options …”
“We’re going to Canyon Lake,” Dad interrupted. “An old friend of mine owns a cabin there. He gave me a key years ago, told me to use it whenever I wanted. We’ll be safe there for a while.”
Mike keyed in. “What about the fires? What if they catch up to us?”
Dad said, “Dale owns a cabin cruiser big enough to fit all of us. If need be, we can take it out on the lake and wait the fire out. I doubt it’ll be a problem, though. There’s not much to burn around this place; it’s mostly sand and rocks. A few trees, but none too close to the cabin. We should be all right.”
Blake spoke up. “Any objections?”
No one responded.
“All right then,” he said. “Canyon Lake it is.”
*****
We followed Highway 12 northwest until we came to a side road marked as Cascade Trail and took it south until it terminated at a narrow two-lane labeled Hugo Road. From there, Mike spotted a dirt two-track headed southwest, which later gave way to an open patch of bare field that ended near a small pond. Dad said we should stop and rest a few minutes, and asked Blake to find a route to the lake that avoided the main highways. We could see the lights of the cars on those roadways in the distance, and it did not look as if anything was moving.
“If we go off road for about a mile eastward,” Blake said over the radio, “we can pick up Estrellita Ranch Road. That’ll take us to the access roads around the lake. Joe, where’s this cabin we’re looking for? Over.”
“Look for Colleen Drive,” Dad replied. “It’s on the point of the first peninsula south of Comal Park.”
Sophia and I waited, exchanging a quick glance in the darkness. The moon was full that night, but the soot-filled sky allowed only a fraction of silvery blue to sift down and light upon her face. I could see the curve of her cheek and a faint glimmer of red where the tail lights of my father’s truck floated in her eyes.
“What?” sh
e asked.
I realized I had been staring, blinked, and looked away. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She shifted and stared out the window, arms crossed over her knees. “Guys stare at me all the time. It’s like when a boy sees a pretty face his brain falls out of his ass.”
I felt my face burn, embarrassment rousing my temper. “I said I was sorry, Sophia. You’re beautiful. I’m human. Sue me.”
“Just don’t get any ideas. You try anything, and my dad will break your neck.”
I snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Even in the gloom, I could see the anger on her face. She started to say something else, but the radio interrupted her.
“Okay, got it.” Blake said. “Route is plotted. Mike, please tell me you have a compass up there.”
The big Marine keyed his radio. “Who you talkin’ to? Just give me a bearing.”
Blake did, and we were off. Sophia stewed in anger next to me, eyes focused out her window steadfastly refusing to look in my direction. That was fine by me. She may have been pretty, but I did not appreciate her implying I might try to do something against her will. The fact she would even think me capable of something like that knocked her down several notches in my book. Furthermore, I was willing to bet I had a better relationship with her father than she did, and Mike knew damned well I would never lay a hand on a girl without her permission. For her to threaten me with his wrath, a man I loved almost as much as my own father, rankled even worse than her accusation of being a pervert. We did not speak to each other for the rest of the ride to the lake.
At just after 2300, our little convoy turned onto Colleen Drive and rolled through the dark, silent neighborhood to Dale’s cabin. Dale Forester was one of Dad’s old army buddies, a man he had gone through basic training and AIT with. They had served in the same infantry unit before Dad moved on to Special Forces, and they had stayed in touch over the years, getting together at least once a summer to start drinking too early in the morning and feign interest in catching fish. Dad always brought me along, claiming it would give me a better appreciation of nature. This was a lie. He just wanted someone to fetch his beer and drive the boat when he and Dale got too drunk.
As we approached Dale’s place, I searched the neighborhood around us for signs of habitation. At that time of year, there should have been at least a few people vacationing in their lake homes, not to mention retirees who lived in the area year round. But only a few driveways had cars in them, and there was nary a light to be seen. This struck me as odd until I noticed that even the streetlights were out.
Grid must be down. Good thing Dale has a generator.
At a word from my father, all the cars cut their headlights. Mike and Tyrel switched to the Humvees’ blackout lights, making them practically invisible in the darkness but still allowing them to navigate easily with NVGs.
At Dad’s direction, Mike pulled into the appropriate driveway and drove around to the other side of the house, out of sight of the road. The rest of us followed suit, lining up and parking near the shore of the lake. The property’s sizable backyard sloped down a hill to the shoreline, not too steep, but enough to keep us hidden from the casual observer. If someone wandered into the yard, however, they would have no trouble spotting the five vehicles.
The cabin cruiser sat atop its large trailer in the backyard looking like a white beached whale. Since Canyon Lake did not allow private docks, Dad would have to drive it north to Comal Park to launch it. From there, it would be a short transit to anchor out away from the property. A dinghy near the shore would allow us to travel back and forth.
Once parked, I climbed out of the truck and had a lengthy stretch. It had been a long, grueling day, and I was exhausted. I wanted nothing more than to collapse into one of the guest beds in Dale’s cabin and pass out for twelve hours. But there were things to do before I could allow myself the luxury of sleep.
“All right,” Dad said, motioning everyone to gather round. “First things first: Caleb, you’re on refueling detail. When you finish, reposition the cars so we can get out of here quickly if need be. Got it?”
I gave a thumbs-up. “Got it.”
He turned to Blake and Tyrel. “Y’all mind helping me launch the boat?”
Tyrel grunted assent. Blake stifled a yawn and said, “Not at all.”
“Mike,” Dad said, “how about you fire up one of the emergency radios and see what you can pick up?”
The big man nodded tiredly. “Will do.”
Dad dug his keys out of his pocket, found the one that unlocked the cabin, and held the keychain out to Lauren. “You and Sophia go inside and get some rest. We’ll be along shortly.”
Lauren accepted the keys, then stepped in and leaned her face against Dad’s chest. “Don’t be too long, okay?” she said, arms tight around him.
“I won’t. I promise.”
She kissed him, then walked over to me and stood on tiptoe to give me a peck on the cheek. “You be careful too, you hear?”
I nodded. “Yes ma’am.”
She hugged me around the waist, her arms too thin and her shoulder blades too sharp under my hands. The hard knot of worry plaguing me since her attack had begun aching anew. It might have been my imagination, but I could swear I felt her trembling against me. I gave her a kiss on the top of her head.
“It’s gonna be okay, Lauren,” I said. “Dad and I will take care of you.”
She looked up and gave me a weak smile. “Thank you, Caleb.”
I watched her walk toward the cabin, motioning to Sophia to come with her. Sophia took a moment to shoot me a baleful glance, daring me to look away. I kept my face blank, showing nothing. When a few seconds passed and she didn’t get the reaction she wanted, she rolled her eyes and stomped along behind Lauren. Mike watched the exchange and waited until Sophia was inside before walking over to me.
“Mind telling me what that was all about?” he whispered.
I looked him in the eye. “She’s pretty, Mike. I got caught looking. She took offense and told me not to get any funny ideas or she’d have you break my neck.”
Mike closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead. “And what did you say to that?”
“I told her not to flatter herself.”
At that point, I fully expected some kind of indignant reaction from Mike, even going so far as to brace my feet in case I had to elude his grasp. But instead, I watched his shoulders hitch as he fought down a chuckle. “You really said that to her?”
“I’m sorry, Mike. She insulted me for doing nothing worse than telling her she was beautiful. I was angry. I wasn’t thinking.”
He gave me a conciliatory pat on the shoulder. “And you think she’s pissed at you, now, right?”
“Isn’t she?”
“You don’t know much about girls, do you, boy?”
Now I was confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
This time, there was no attempt to hide the laugh. “You’ll figure it out soon enough, kid. In the meantime, do what your dad says and go gas up the cars.”
He grabbed an emergency radio out of his truck and then disappeared into the cabin. I stared after him, brow knitted.
What the hell is he talking about?
SIXTEEN
Canyon Lake, Texas
Dale’s cabin had an open floor plan on the ground level, a two-car garage, a basement, and three bedrooms upstairs. Walking in the front door, the living room was to my right and the kitchen was to my left. An island with a countertop made of the same material as cutting boards separated the two rooms, complete with a few stools positioned under the overhang on the living room side.
Mike sat at the table, head low, thick fingers adjusting the tuner on the emergency radio. Lauren and Sophia had already gone upstairs, leaving the big Marine and me alone downstairs. I pulled up a seat next to Mike and kept quiet, listening. After a minute or two, Mike shook his head in frustration and turned off the radio.
“Anything ne
w?” I asked.
“Not much. Most everything within fifty miles west of the Mississippi has been evacuated, but we already knew that. California is a clusterfuck, riots everywhere. Wildfires spreading from East Texas west to Baja and north to Colorado and Kansas. Been a dry year. Bad time for fires to break out.”
“I heard something about Canada.”
“The Canadian government closed the border. Nobody allowed in or out.”
I digested that for a moment. “Anything about … you know. The infected.”
Mike turned and looked at me in the gloom, exhaustion etched in the lines of his face. “Yeah. Looks like those guys your dad knew were right. There’s only one way to kill ‘em.”
“How’s that?”
Mike switched the radio back on, turned the dial a few times, and pushed it over to me. “Listen,” he said.
I held my ear down close to the speaker. “…not to be treated as living people. Repeat, those infected with the revenant virus are not to be treated as living people. Once an infected person reaches the reanimation stage of infection, they will exhibit psychotic, cannibalistic behavior, and will attack anyone who comes into contact with them, including friends and family. If a member of your family becomes infected, report them to the authorities immediately. If there are no authorities available, be advised the only way to stop an infected person past the reanimation stage from attacking is to destroy their brain or sever their brain stem. Anyone bitten by an infected person will also become infected. Do not attempt to physically restrain or subdue an infected person, as this may result in bites, which will cause further spread of the contagion. This is a joint safety advisory from the Department of Defense, Federal Emergency Management Agency, and the Centers for Disease Control. Be advised, infected persons are not to be treated as living people. Repeat, those infected with the revenant virus are not to be treated-”