Willy just shakes his head.
“You’re a lunatic. You know that, kid?” Michael says. “Amy has a bat back here somewhere, you know.”
“Look, out there,” Sheryl says with her head turned toward the passenger side window.
“What are they doing?” Amy asks.
“We saw some choppers before, torching the places where meteors hit. Maybe it has something to do with that.” Sheryl says.
Marcus sees them. A few men out in the field are wearing strange full body bio-suits with equipment on their backs, carrying some kind of gadget in their hands. “They look like scientists,” he says.
“Maybe they can help,” Sheryl suggests.
“It might be more dangerous out there. Those suits... we don’t have that kind of protection on our bodies,” Amy adds.
“Yeah. You’re probably right.” Sheryl sighs.
“You think we’ll be able to get past the quarantine?” Amy asks. “Michael and I had to go through an abandoned subway tunnel to get out of New York. They had the bridges and tunnels sealed up and guarded with military.”
“Got to be tough to blockade every inch of land on the border. Shit. Mexicans cross our border every day, right?” Marcus says. “The main roads’ll be guarded. That’s for sure. But we should be able to pass by somewhere. Like in the wilderness.” If prison walls couldn’t contain me, ain’t no way a fence across a road is gonna hold me back either. But what about my truck? I can’t leave it behind.
“There’s more of them ahead,” Sheryl says.
Marcus slows down to a crawl and pulls over, stopping on the side of the road.
“Hey what’s going on up there? Why are we stopping?” Brandon yells from back in the truck bed, eager to drive in some runs.
Three scientists wander back and forth across the highway up ahead, sweeping the ground with a spray of some kind, from large tanks strapped to their backs. Their shiny yellow biohazard suits flicker and shimmer in the sunlight, and the wet road reflects their shapes, creating a ghostly mirage of golden floating apparitions.
“Everyone stay here,” Marcus says. He hops out of the truck and walks over to the scientists. When they see him they become apprehensive and huddle closer together. One of them draws a gun. “Wait! Hold your fire!” Marcus yells.
Upon hearing this Willy pulls up his rifle and rests it on the roof of the truck, putting the armed scientist into his crosshairs. Brandon follows his lead. “Don’t shoot,” Willy instructs him.
#
“I’m unarmed,” Marcus says as he walks away from his truck. “We don’t mean any harm.”
“Stay back. The chemicals are dangerous, and I’ll shoot you if you try anything,” the scientist warns.
“Okay.” Marcus takes a step backward, off of the wet asphalt. The scientist lowers his gun and approaches him. The other two men continue to spray the road. “What’re y’all doin?”
“Apologies for pulling the gun. It’s just that we’ve heard about people on this side attacking scientists and taking their badges.”
“Better safe than dead, I get it. But what do you mean, badges?” Marcus asks.
“We’re the only ones allowed to cross back and forth. They give us these passes, like ID cards, that we show the military at the border. Then they let us back through. People found out about it and started killing us for the passes so they could go across to safety. We’re always armed; at least one man per group, to fend off the dead if we have to. But now we’re permitted to use them on living attackers. It doesn’t even matter though. For many of us it’s still a one way trip.”
This disease has a worse effect on the living than it does on the dead. The old priest was right. The living are worse than the dead. “What is all this? What’s happening to us?” Marcus asks.
“Still trying to figure that out. The meteors hit and the debris made everyone sick. It’s some kind of parasite or organism that came in with the meteor. That’s really all we know. The government is trying a few things, trying to stop it, hoping one will work.”
“So what’s it that you all are doing?”
“Chemical spray, and collecting samples. Ain’t too many things can live in harsh chemical soup, so that’s what they’re having us try. A good sized meteor hit close by here, out in those fields. Some places they have choppers using flame throwers to burn the area. But us, we have to spray and collect samples. Sometimes there’s not enough helicopters to spray from above, so we have to do it on foot.”
“How tight is the border sealed up?” Marcus asks.
“I have no idea, truth be told, but my guess is that it’s become military priority number one. Above even our mid-east operations. I just know that no one crosses that barricade without a pass.”
“Why ain’t they letting uninfected people cross, like us, who have masks?”
“They’re worried you might be carriers if you breathed it in or if your skin was exposed. We still don’t fully know how this thing works. At least they aren’t telling us grunts out here, doing the dirty work.”
“Y’all are the new heroes. Like the 9/11 workers who went in and did the search and rescue, the cleanup.”
“Yeah. Can’t wait to see all the lawsuits that come in afterwards. No doubt this chemical stew will make my balls shrivel up and my dick piss blood, despite all the protective gear. But what else can we do? We have to keep trying something, because nothing seems to be working.”
“I got a feeling only God can stop this,” Marcus says. “Would y’all be willing to give your passes up, for the two women and the kid I have with me?”
“No way in hell, my friend. Even if I wanted to I couldn’t. It’s against direct military orders. Would you?” The scientist lets out a short, disdainful chuckle.
No way in hell, he says. This is hell. Would I give mine away? That’s a self sacrifice. Jesus did it for all of mankind. I’m supposed to do as he did. Orders or not, I’d have to be willing to sacrifice myself for someone in need. Maybe that’s the real test for me in all of this, not Harley. One day, it might come to that. Give my life to someone else. Give up my own life to wash away my sins with Christ’s blood. Maybe if I did something like that, God could find the grace to forgive me for what I’ve done.
“I would,” Marcus gives a delayed answer. The scientist just stares blankly at him. “Aight then. You don’t gotta worry about us. We’re just passing through,” Marcus says.
“Going to try to make it across?” the scientist asks. “Hey don’t worry about me. I ain’t gonna tell anyone.” Marcus doesn’t respond.
#
Michael hops out of the truck bed while Marcus talks to the scientists. He walks around to the side of the truck and leans into the cab through the window. “Did you see that one guy’s outfit back there on the road? Underneath his jacket there was a prison suit,” Michael says to Amy and Sheryl.
Amy rolls her eyes.
“I didn’t notice,” Sheryl says, but Michael is looking past her to Amy.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me. I told you I don’t trust this guy. Why did he know that other guy? How? I bet they escaped from prison together. Why’d you think he had all this money?” Michael waves a wad of cash that he had stuffed away in his bag and coat.
“You took that?” Amy asks, astounded. “What an asshole,” she mumbles under her breath.
Sheryl, feeling awkward in the crossfire of a lovers' quarrel, tries to break up the tension. “I didn’t notice, but he did save us. If he hadn’t been there, Willy would be dead, Brandon would be eaten, and I’d be gang raped. At least that’s what that asshole made it sound like. You don’t really think they would’ve eaten Brandon do you?”
“No. Sounded more like a sick joke to me,” Amy answers.
“Me, personally, I don’t care what Marcus did before, because what he just did now was courageous and good. Plus I think he’s kinda hot,” Sheryl adds with a nudge to Amy.
Amy smiles and sighs a quiet laugh. “He saved us too,
and I don’t care what his past is either. He opened up his doors to us and gave us shelter just before we were about to be eaten by a pack of monsters, and then he offered to give us a ride to my parents’ house. My husband seems to forget that.”
“No. I haven’t forgotten. I’m just telling you I was right. I knew there was something shady about this guy.” He turns to the others in the truck bed and speaks louder, walking away from Amy. “He was in prison! A criminal! He’s an escaped convict!”
“Just let it go. As a wife you learn to pick your battles,” Sheryl offers.
“Believe me, I know. I’ve been picking battles and ignoring wars for too long now,” she laughs. “Where’s your husband?”
Sheryl says it flatly, plain as fact. “Dead.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, I...”
“Don’t be,” Sheryl interrupts. “The prick deserved it. I shot him myself. After he turned, of course,” she adds when she sees Amy’s face wince behind her mask.
“Is that your son back there? Your father?” Amy asks.
Sheryl shakes her head no. “I lost my two boys.” Her voice is solemn.
“I lost my parents. My dad was killed, and my mom, she turned. I had to shoot her.”
“My one boy died in an accident. The other. He came at me. I just wanted to see him one last time. In the morgue, at the hospital...” Sheryl begins to cry. Amy takes Sheryl’s head onto her shoulder.
“I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what that must feel like.”
#
“Why can’t I shoot ‘em? He pulled a gun!” Brandon argues with Willy as they both train their eyes down the barrels of their rifles. They watch Marcus as he talks to the scientists.
“Cause they’re talking, that’s why. You shouldn’t be so quick to kill a man.” Willy isn’t concerned about Brandon firing his gun. The safety is on, and no matter how bad Brandon may want to pull the trigger, it won’t fire.
“Why not? You were, back there,” Brandon argues.
“That’s different. I was a soldier, you know.”
“So. I cleared Body Bags in one weekend on expert mode.”
“That’s different too, whatever the hell you’re talkin’ about,” Willy blows him off.
“It’s a game. What the hell are you doing with a gun anyway, kid?” Michael pries as he walks back from the side of the truck.
“It was my dad’s. And don’t try to tell me I’m too young to have one. I already used it a bunch to save my life. I killed people you know. Killed them dead.” He eyes Willy. “Saved your old ass at the gas station too, remember?”
“I do. I never said you was too young. When I was your age I used to take my own guns on a bus to go hunting with my cousins for deer and duck,” Willy explains.
“They let you on a bus with a gun?” Michael asks, astonished.
“Course they did. It’s my right.”
“Yeah well your right, as you call it, is being taken advantage of by lunatics who shoot up schools and movie theaters, and bad parents who keep guns around mentally deranged kids. Guns should be banned from civilian hands. Just look at what’s happened in the past day or two with guns in peoples’ hands. Even the kid says he killed people with his gun. To me, that’s a horrible thing no matter how you slice it,” Michael argues. “And as for hunting... Times have changed. We have grocery stores now,” Michael adds with sarcasm.
“There’ll always be a crazy person willing to do anything to finish his sick deeds. Even if you think criminals like those road warriors back there won’t still be able to get guns, if you take away guns then a crazy person will just use a homemade bomb and kill even more people than he could with a gun. Gun rights are s’posed to be there for us to protect ourselves from criminals, and keep an overbearing government at bay. It ain’t just about hunting.”
“Right, right. Spare me the gun lobby talking points.” Michael turns back to Brandon. “So the tough delta force video gamer is good with real guns? Who’d you kill with your gun, kid? Some of these zombies?” Michael asks.
“Yup. My own parents. Killed my daddy with a sledge hammer, and put a bullet through my mom’s head like Lee Harvey did to JFK,” Brandon answers coldly.
Michael is taken by surprise with his answer. “Damn. Was she riding in a convertible, near the book depository?”
The reference goes over Brandon’s head. “Killed a living guy too, at least I think so. He fired first though. Dumb chink bastard...”
“My wife is Chinese, you little twerp,” Michael interrupts.
“Quit talkin’ like that. You sound like a damn fool,” Willy scolds Brandon right after.
Brandon ignores them and keeps bragging on with his story. “I got lucky though. I shot wild, but it got him. Dropped him right in front of his house, on the lawn, right next to the two zombies that were trying to get inside.”
“Wait a second. Did the house have a glassed-in porch?” Michael asks in a panic.
“Yeah. Right on my own street too. Maybury Street. I took out a couple windows on accident when I was firing at the stinkers.”
“Shit!” Michael goes back over to the truck window near Amy.
Willy pulls his eyes off the scientist at the end of his sights and puts them on Brandon. “Gimme the gun, kid.”
“No. Fuck that. This is mine and I got a right to have one,” Brandon snaps.
“I know you do, son. I ain’t gonna keep it. Just wanna hold it for a minute.”
Brandon points the gun at Willy. “I’m the one in charge here. I have the map, and I’m the one who’ll get us into the compound safely.”
Willy sets his own rifle down in the truck bed, and slowly puts his finger into the barrel of Brandon’s gun. He balls a fist with his other hand. With Brandon’s eyes fixed in bewilderment at the end of his gun barrel, Willy punches him square in the face, knocking him back onto his ass. Brandon squeezes the trigger but there’s only a click. He looks down to see that the safety is still on. Willy grabs Brandon’s rifle and yanks it from his hands and gives him a good hard smack to the back of the head.
“That’s for aiming at me,” Willy says with a stern finger extended.
An instant later Amy drags Brandon backward over the side of the truck bed and onto the street. Her hands wrap tightly around his neck, squeezing the life out of him. He struggles to breathe inside his mask. Amy fumes over him, lifting one hand off his neck and moving toward his mask straps.
“You little shit! You killed my father! Now I’m gonna rip this mask off and watch you turn into one of them. Then I’ll smash your damn head in!”
Sheryl runs up behind her and pulls her off before she can get her fingers around his mask. They fall backward to the ground, rolling around and wrestling with each other. Willy comes between them, holding them at a distance.
“Calm down! You don’t wanna go fighting, and pulling each other’s masks off.”
“Yes I do!” Amy yells, glaring at Brandon as he gets up from the street, breathing deeply in his mask to catch his breath.
Marcus runs over when he sees the scuffle on his way back from talking with the scientists. He holds Brandon back with his massive arms locked around him in a bear hug.
“What’d you do, little man?” Marcus asks quietly in Brandon’s ear.
“It was her parents. I was scared. I’m not a tough guy. I’m just trying to be brave. I was trying to practice shooting zombies. I was alone, going out to get supplies. I just went inside to see if there were any more and then he shot at me. It was all a misunderstanding. I shot back just to scare him. I didn’t even aim, but I hit him. Then I ran. I ran. And then I saw Willy and Sheryl. I didn’t mean it, I swear! I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He cries through it all. “And my parents. It’s my fault they’re dead. They must have been trying to get in while I was knocked out. I killed them. It’s my fault. It’s my fault,” Brandon says through his sobbing.
Sheryl goes to him. She thinks of her boys; that panicked, gasping kind of crying that
can only be consoled by a mother. It breaks her heart. She takes Brandon in her arms.
Michael holds Amy as her anger turns back into sadness. She starts to sob. “I had to kill my mother. I had to kill my mother.”
“So did Brandon,” Willy says. “His dad too. He’s been trying to tell himself that he wanted to, that he even liked it, just to deal with the fear, the guilt, the loneliness. Believe me, I know what you guys are going through. No one should have to experience this. It was forced on me, in the war, just like it’s forced on you now. You can’t escape it. And I’ve had to live with what I did ever since. Don’t go killin’ each other. What Brandon did to your daddy was a mistake, Amy.” He turns to Brandon. “And what happened to your parents was out of your hands.” Brandon hugs Sheryl tight. “I believe what he says now, because I saw through his tough guy braggin’ right down into his soul. Lots of young guys just like him came over in the draft. That bull headed, macho attitude is just one way of dealing with the stress, the fear. Another way is goin’ crazy, or turnin’ to drugs and booze, and worse; suicide. I feel like I’ve dabbled in all of it, and the only way to get past it is you gotta first recognize that it’s happening.”
There’s silence. After a few moments Marcus relays everything he learned from the scientist, and they solemnly move on.
CHAPTER 37
“Hey! Stop the truck, you gotta see this!” Brandon wraps on the cab window.
Marcus pulls over. “What is it?”
“Look. Through the clearing there. See it?” Brandon points.
A mushroom cloud towers up into the sky from where the largest meteor impact struck the earth. The black soot that once stood in solid contrast against the bright sky behind is now dispersing, blurring the image of the monstrous plume of deadly debris. Everyone takes in the horrific sight.
The Lazarus Impact Page 18