Nuclear Undead: Wake the Dead

by N. J. McConnell

  “Essentially, yes.” Jason estimated solemnly then added, “I understand what you are saying. If only five percent survived the outbreak and Denver’s population is approximately 500,000, then that means there are 475,000 zombies walking the streets.” He looked stunned.

  Dad patted him on the back and said, “I knew you’d figure it out, Jason. You have a good head on your shoulders.”

  Once our route was settled, it didn’t take long to clean up from breakfast then head out on the highway again. After finally getting a full night’s rest and a delicious comfort-food breakfast, it was easier to unwind today and just enjoy the ride. I could practically forget that we’re survivors in a zombie apocalypse and instead imagine that we’re friends travelling the countryside on vacation.

  We drove east for about five miles to circumvent the town and prison, then northward to join back with the freeway, but it was still nearer to the city limits than we felt comfortable with. The problem is that for miles there’s a winding river that crisscrosses the land and there’s just one way to go over it, which happens to be only a couple of miles outside the township.

  We reduced the RVs speed before reaching the intersection and Dad instructed, “Listen up everybody!” When he was sure to have our full attention, he continued. “It’s possible that they’ve set a trap for us ahead of the next intersection, so be aware of your surroundings and if anything happens, do exactly what I tell you.” We all agreed and after reminding us to keep our eyes open, Dad pulled out and pulled ahead of our small convoy.

  As we moved toward the intersection, I detected that it was fashioned like a triangle. At the farthest corner of the triangle, a line of cars were positioned creating a road block on the lanes leading into town. There were no people standing in the open, but the sunlight reflected off of something shiny and I could almost swear it was a rifle, though it was difficult to tell for certain. The morning rays of the sun was in our eyes as it rose from the east and it was blinding.

  Dad took the exit that headed north, about a quarter mile before the road block and gunned it. I immediately heard the sound gunshots pinging off the side of an RV. Nicole took Coco and lay with her on the floor in case one of the bullets was able to work its way through the metal armor attached to the body of the motor home. Several cars that had made up the bulk of the roadblock backed up and started our direction. I can’t imagine how frightened Virginia was in the rear vehicle Pete was driving, but my heart was pounding out of my chest as I struggled to maintain composure.

  A silver Honda Accord approached from the left side and a red Chevy Camaro on the other. The occupants were all male, filthy and covered with the prison tattoos that I had seen in many of the inmates I had dealt with in my former job. The drivers were yelling and signaling for me to pull over, but I’m not that stupid. When I didn’t obey, the occupants aimed rifles and handguns towards the RV to intimidate me into complying. I couldn’t speed up and get away because a black Ford Ranger was in the front of the motor home following on Dad’s tail. I was surrounded. They probably chose the weakest link in the convoy to threaten assuming that I would panic and obey them, then the others would give themselves up to save us. They apparently didn’t know me.

  There was only once choice to make if we were going to get out of this.

  “Pete?” I called into the radio with a shaky voice. “Back off a little bit from me. I have to do something or they’re going to get me cornered.”

  Pete complied and Dad ordered me to be careful, but there wasn’t enough time to answer back. If we were going to do this, it had to be done now.

  “Dad, start slowing down gradually and when I tell you to, put your foot to the floor and go as fast as the motor home will travel.”

  “Got it”, answered my dad as he started to lose speed.

  I threw the mike down to where Nicole was laying and ordered, “When I nod, tell Dad to gun it and Pete to put on his breaks. Make sure they hear you.”

  She agreed and when the Ranger was only a few from the grill guard in the front, I nodded. As soon as Dad put his foot down and raced ahead, I rammed into the back of the pickup in a pit maneuver, causing it to spin out of control and then rammed the car on the other side and hit the brakes. The two cars on either side us veered off out of control to avoid the swerving pickup and the Camaro began flipping, then became engulfed in flames. I heard rather than saw the explosion as Pete drove through the subsequent smoke to catch up with me. The chase vehicles following Pete gave up the pursuit, turned around and returned to where they came from.

  As I accelerated to get closer to Dad, Pete’s voice exclaimed, “I’m not sure what you were doing up there, but these folks that were hot on our tails just tucked tail and ran.” He chuckled. “You should’ve seen then skedaddling out of here with their tails between their legs! It was a sight to behold.”

  Dad’s reaction was quite different. “Pumpkin, you know I love you, but if you ever try a stunt like that again, we’re going to have a long talk and you won’t like it. You may be an adult, but I’m still your dad. We’re just lucky that the RV is still able to make it down the road.”

  Pete told Dad to “leave the kid alone”, but I wasn’t worried. Even as kids, Dad had never believed in physical punishment and even though his “talks” were somewhat uncomfortable, they were given as one adult to another. I’ve never been afraid of my father, even if he is a tough Army Ranger.

  “Pumpkin?” he supplemented with a smirk in his voice, “I’m proud of you.” He paused then, “but don’t do it again!”

  Pete clicked his mike a few times and I could hear loud belly laughs in the background. Nicole let Coco go and pushed herself off the carpeted floor. She sat back in the passenger seat, making sure to fasten her seatbelt. You never know what’s going to happen on the road, you know.

  I glanced over at Nicole and grinned. I hadn’t made the decision lightly. I knew a lot of the local cops personally and they had shown me how they executed the maneuver correctly to provide minimal damage to their own vehicles while causing the other vehicle to lose control. I also had faith that the roll bars on the front of the RV would provide extra protection and the layer of metal sheets attached to the sides of the coaches made them safer, not just against zombie attacks and bullets, but also against pursuing vehicles. I guess the metal sheets came in good for more than one thing.

  We drove silently for another twenty or thirty minutes, alone with our thoughts before reaching the intersection of highways we needed to travel northward, but the road leading into the small country town was obstructed with wreckage. It looked like an explosive had detonated. There were numerous craters and the few shops and offices lining the main thoroughfare had burned completely to the ground, leaving only smoldering embers.

  “Everybody pull over and give us a minute to look at the map,” Dad told us.

  As the engine idled, Nicole and I sat silently, just trying to work through all that we’d experienced since waking up and leaving this morning. I didn’t have time to think about what was going on as it was actually taking place, but now that my mind was unoccupied by other things, I had to come to terms with the fact that the men in those cars were dead and I killed them.

  “Oh, my God.” I muttered under my breath as the realization hit me. My hands and chin began to tremble. Tears were cascading down my cheeks, but I refused to sit there sobbing, especially in front of another woman. I just had to suck it up and put on my big girl panties.

  “You okay?” probed Nicole in a concerned voice.

  It took a second to clear my throat and take a breath before I could reply. “I’ll be okay. Don’t worry.”

  I could sense that she was still troubled and I wouldn’t blame her if she wanted to ride with Pete and Virginia instead of me. After all, she depended on my reactions to keep her safe and it seemed that I was sitting here falling apart.

  “Do you think we should call your Dad?” Nicole suggested quietly.

  I hesitated t
o answer because to be honest, that’s exactly what I wanted to do, but I can’t go running to Daddy every time that something like this happens. I already know that he’s thinking about me. When Dad was in the Rangers, he had to kill and he dealt with it. He knows what I’m feeling right now and what I’m going through, but things aren’t normal any longer. I can’t stop to be coddled every time something bad takes place. I have to toughen up to survive this zombie apocalypse.

  What is the saying about survival of the fittest? If you plan to live, you have to grow some balls. Being a woman has nothing to do with it.

  “Okay, change of plans.” Dad’s voice broke the silence. “We’re turning back west onto 64. We’ll take this until we reach 283 and we’ll follow it past Dodge City to interstate 70. I don’t like taking the interstate, but there aren’t a lot of big cities out that way, so we shouldn’t encounter too many problems.”

  We put the coaches back into gear and pulled onto the road. With any luck, the rest of the drive would be quiet and uneventful. We started looking for a place to spend the night a couple of hours before dark. The sun goes down earlier this time of year, so we need something safe by at least five o’clock. We don’t want to take the chance that we’ll be out after dark and vulnerable to whatever walks the night.

  We crossed over into a little place in Colorado named Wray about this time. It’s small enough that the zombie population is low and we located a building off of the highway that’s even more spacious than the one from yesterday. It belongs to a trucking company with six doors leading into the mechanic’s bays that will definitely fit the RVs and give us room to use the slideouts.

  The central structure is yellowish beige and there’s a chain link fence surrounding the property, but the gate is sitting wide open. I’m assuming that whoever runs the place did this to make it easier for trucks to enter and leave. There are some empty Freightliner bobtails parked facing the highway, but a couple of cars were parked in the dirt and gravel lot in front of the main building.

  We pulled all three RVs inside the lot and Pete hopped out of the cab to secure the gate. He and Dad broke into the building and Jason followed close at their heels this time carrying a handgun pointed to the ground. I have to admit to being surprised because to be honest, I couldn’t visualize the professor with the polite English accent even touching a weapon, much less killing a zombie. I’m sure that Dad had his reasons, though, so who was I to second guess him?

  I nearly jumped out of my skin when a number of gunshots rang out. It sounded like a firefight was going down. I got up from the seat and immediately grabbed my loaded gun, buckled the holster onto my hips and had my hand on the door latch getting ready to leave when I saw them walking out. Dad was in front of the procession. A tall man with short brown hair and a couple day’s growth of beard followed behind him. One massive arm was wrapped around a young woman with dirty blond hair pulled back in a ponytail and the other around the two small children walking next to them. My heart skipped a beat when I didn’t see Pete or Jason, but after a moment, they came walking out the door talking quietly to each other.

  Dad strolled over to my RV and I rolled the driver’s window down. “What happened? Who are those people,” I inquired.

  “There’s time for that later” he hedged. “Right now, let’s get these RVs moved into the bays and get the doors locked up.”

  It didn’t take long to pull the coaches inside, close the bays down and secure them with some thick wire cable that we found inside. Just for good measure, the guys jammed some tools into the links before the gear box, so nothing would be able to lift them up. We’d been fortunate once again. We have a secure building in a fenced in area outside of town. I know that it won’t always be this easy, though.

  Virginia and Nicole quickly started to cook dinner for the night. The new people, Greg and Cathy, had been locked inside of a bathroom of the main building for the last couple of days with nothing to eat and they were ravenous. I can’t imagine how difficult it was for them to be there with the two frightened children.

  During dinner, we learned that Greg was a driver for the company and had been on the road delivering a load when the outbreak took place. He dropped the trailer on the side of the road, drove straight back to town, picked up his wife and kids in the bobtail and headed to the only building in town that he thought might be safe. He had no way to know the night dispatcher had already been bitten and turned. A few drivers had shown up soon after and were attacked by the dispatcher. In the end, there were five undead shuffling around the office.

  When Greg and his family got there, they opened the back door and started calling out to see if anyone was still in the building. Greg had his wife and children follow close behind while he was checking out the various offices, but somehow missed seeing the group of zombies sneaking up from behind until it was too late. He and the wife grabbed the kids and ran into the closest room that had a solid door. The bathroom. The door was metal and the undead couldn’t get inside. The bad news is that the door was the only entrance, so they had no way to get out except the way they came, but Greg couldn’t risk opening the door and putting his family in more danger.

  After talking it over and giving them the details of our plans, the couple talked it over and agreed that our plans for Wyoming sounded like the best choice they could make. We rearranged our sleeping quarters to include the family and give them some much needed privacy. Nicole was going to bunk with Pete and Virginia. Dad and Jason will be sharing my RV and the new family will take the one that they’ve been using.

  After a couple more days on the road, we’re making some real headway and are close to our destination, but we can’t get there fast enough for me. The new woman, Cathy, is about to drive me out of my mind. I understand that she had just survived a very difficult and stressful situation, but I don’t think that’s what makes her so difficult to get along with. She’s just that type of person. She enjoys stirring up conflict and drama. You know the type.

  First of all, we’ve asked her repeatedly not to smoke around us or the children. Now, we realize they’re not our kids, but smoking can increase the likelihood that they’ll suffer a respiratory infection and there are no pediatricians around to help if they get sick. If we don’t speak up for the kids, it can cost their lives. Nothing is simple anymore.

  We’re also concerned that if one of the RVs or the building we’re sleeping in catches fire, we might lose everything we have and end up on foot with no protection from the zombies. There’s no fire department to call and we park close for safety, so it wouldn’t take long for a fire to spread from one coach to the other. We also have to keep in mind that smoke is a strong odor and human smells attract zombies.

  Cathy broke into tears when Dad spoke with her and Greg. She promised to go outside to smoke from now on, but she didn’t keep her word. We keep catching her smoking in their RV or in the bathrooms of whatever building we’ve hidden inside. Nothing that’s been said to her really seems to matter. Greg always takes her side, of course. She bats her eyes at him and he protects her. Dad finally had to put his foot down yesterday. He flat out told Greg that he and the kids were welcome to stay, but it Cathy doesn’t kick the habit, she’ll be kicked out of the convoy. We aren’t risking our lives because of a cigarette addiction.

  It’s not that we want to tell her what to do. No one cares if she smokes outside. Hell, she can smoke a carton a day and no one will care. They’re her lungs after all and she’s a grown woman. We just don’t want her doing something that can cause harm to others around her.

  I was beat by the time we pulled into what would be our home for this night. We didn’t find anything on the main highway, and left to go into Glenrock, Wyoming to find a place to shelter. The next closest town was Casper, but it was too populous to be safe. The farther away we are from large population areas, the better we’ll be.

  The place we found is on the access road. It’s a business with three buildings- two of them with bay door
s. One of the white buildings is huge with nine doors and the other has two with a connected office space. There’s a ditch digger parked in front of the smaller building and a travel trailer in one of the bays, but the larger building is pretty much empty. There’s a tan building sitting across from them with a few cars and pickups parked in the gravel lot. They look abandoned, but if they aren’t, we might have a problem staying here for the night.

  We followed the same routine that we’d worked out during the last three days on the road. The last couple of times, both Greg and Jason followed Pete and Dad inside. Jason wasn’t totally comfortable carrying a gun yet, but he had been practicing with Dad and was becoming a decent aim. At least he stopped jumping out of his skin every time he heard the gun being fired. The first time that he took a shot, he dropped the gun and fell backwards on his butt. I did my best not to laugh, but sometimes it’s just too hilarious and you don’t have a choice.

  It only took a few moments for the men to return to the RVs and we were heading out. I asked Dad what happened. He said that as soon as they opened the door in the tan building, they had an entire roomful of hungry zombies to contend with. Rather than trying to kill them all and leaving a bloody mess behind, and not knowing what we’d find in the other buildings, they decided to look elsewhere.

  We drove through Glenrock and the place seemed almost dead. There was the occasional cat or dog roaming the streets in search of food, but no people were seen. Trash was blowing across the road and no lights were on at the businesses or homes. Nothing human was moving. It was almost eerie like the town was waiting for darkness before it came alive. It was reminiscent of a horror flick. Now I understand why Dad doesn’t want us to spend the night in towns, but rather on the outskirts locked away in empty warehouses or in mechanics bays protected by the building’s framework.

  We reached the end of town when Pete’s voice came over the radio. “It looks like we’re running out of options, Dan.”