The greasy gore didn’t want to cut with the ammonia-based cleaner and only seemed to smear as he wiped it with the paper towels. He covered the glass with the spray and let it soak a moment. While it soaked, he sprayed the wipers down and cleaned as much dried blood and chunks of flesh from it as he could. He held back a gag as large wet chunks fell from the bumper and onto his shoes.
Spraying the glass once more, Bob pulled a wad of paper towels from the roll and began swiping at the windshield. He cleaned what he thought was a passable porthole on each side when Buck yelled from the side of the RV. “We got company!”
Hatcher led Olson and Richardson along the fire roads until they came to a very steep rocky road. “We’ll probably have to use four-wheel-drive to get up this.” He pointed to the lever on the side of Olson’s ATV. “Lift that until it clicks.”
She followed his instructions, and soon, the trio were slowly crawling up the rocky hillside. Mitch felt sure, more than once, that his overabundance of mass would cause the machine to topple, sending him screaming to his untimely death. Survive a night against insane cannibals only to fall off the side of a mountain. What a way to go.
As the trio crested the rocky hill, the base of the watchtower came into full view. Hatcher pulled the ATV to the small shack at the base and shut off the engine. He dismounted and walked to the front door of the shack. Digging through his keys, he came up with the right one and unlocked the heavy wooden door. “Access to the tower is through here.”
Mitch and Candy entered the shack and Hatcher lit a small lantern before shutting the door. Once the door was secure, he threw the bolt, locking it from the inside. “Nobody gets in unless we want them inside,” Hatcher announced. Mitch glanced at Candy who only shrugged.
Hatcher pushed past the two and went to the rear of the shack. He pulled down an access door with a ladder built into it. “Mitch, pull the door up after you. Deputy, you’re after me.” He then started up the ladder with the lantern in his hand.
Candy looked to Mitch again. “What’s with him? He’s gotten all bossy and—”
“Detached,” Mitch said as he watched Hatcher disappear into the moonlit sky. “I don’t know. But I’m sure there’s a reason.” He stepped aside and motioned for Candy to follow. “After you.”
Olson sighed and began to climb the ladder. She looked up and watched the lantern sway in Hatcher’s grip as he took the steps two at a time. She struggled to keep up at one at a time and decided to simply climb at her own pace. She tried not to look down since she had a true fear of heights, and, instead, would occasionally glance out at the horizon. The view took her breath away. Even in the darkness she could see the mountains painted in black against a dark purple sky, sprayed with thousands upon thousands of pinpricks of lights. The moon cast an eerie glow upon the forested land below and the dull glow of light in the distance made her realize how serene the isolation truly was.
She continued to climb until her hand brushed Hatcher’s boot. She stopped and stole a glance upward. Hatcher stood on the ladder, one arm wrapped around a rung and holding the lantern, the other hand running through his ring of keys. He found the one he was searching for and reached up to unlock the padlock under the bottom of the watch station. After unlocking it, he slipped the padlock into his pants pocket and pushed the trapdoor up and over with a loud ‘whump.’
Hatcher climbed up and into the watch station and Olson followed. She climbed the ladder up into a station with a 360-degree view. She stepped off the ladder onto the solid wood floor of the station and watched as Mitch’s massive head appeared in the trapdoor. He wriggled first one way, then the other to force his massive shoulders through the narrow opening. He stole a glance up at her and shot her an embarrassed smile.
“I hate these tiny little holes,” he chuckled. She bent down and offered a helping hand, but he waved her off. “I got it.” Mitch exhaled as much as he could and quickly squeezed his massive chest through the hole.
He finished climbing up through the hole and pulled the trap door shut. “Wouldn’t want anybody to fall through the floor.” he said with a grin. Candy paled at the thought.
Hatcher was already seated at the radio, the lantern hanging above his head casting an eerie glow around the tower. As he fired up the radio, Mitch walked around to the windows and began opening some to allow a cross breeze into the tower.
“This is one of the older style radios,” Hatcher informed them. “Tube type, so it’s going to take a few minutes to warm up.”
“Sweet.” Mitch stepped over and took a look at it. “Damn near short wave, ain’t it?”
“Almost has that kind of range.” Hatcher patted the top. “The antennae is really the limiting factor here.” He sat back and waited. “Still, even if we had full power and the right antennae and…it’s no short wave. Just really old.”
“Hey, buddy, as long as it works.” Mitch grinned as he clapped his shoulder.
“Old school is often the best.” Hatcher rolled the chair over to the file cabinet and began digging in a drawer. “I’ve got a frequency chart over here somewhere.”
“Umm, Hatcher?” Candy asked, staring out the window.
“What?” Hatcher answered absently, continuing to sift through the file cabinet.
“Isn’t that the really steep road we just came up?” she asked, pointing down.
Hatcher cast a glance over his shoulder to see where she pointed “Yeah.” He knew that list of frequencies was in here somewhere. “Why?”
“Oh, shit,” Candy muttered.
Mitch suddenly became interested. “What’s wrong?” He closed the short distance from the radio to where she stood.
“It looks like there’s a whole lot of people tearing ass up that road,” she said with a frantic tone in her voice.
“Son of a…” Mitch groaned. “Hatch? This ain’t good, man.”
“How many?” Hatcher asked as he dug more frantically through the cabinet.
Mitch shook his head. “A lot! It’s too dark to tell, man, but there’s a shit load of them.”
Hatcher lifted his hand up in triumph, a laminated sheet of paper clutched in his grip. “Got it!”
“That’s great, buddy, but what do we do with these crazy muthas?” Mitch asked.
Hatch rose from the chair and crossed the short distance to the window. Staring down at the fire road and the dark figures scrambling up the rocky terrain, he shook his head. “I don’t know. We can either try to bail and abandon the idea of radioing for our people and hope to leave them behind, or we can pin our hopes on the radio and maybe get some help out here.” He turned and looked at Mitch for his vote.
Mitch ground his teeth and shook his head as he watched the figures continue to scramble up the steep road and slide back down, some finding purchase in the dry rocky soil and pulling themselves closer. “Maybe I can lead them away,” he offered. “If they followed the sound of the engines up here, maybe they’ll follow the sound if I keep going. You two can stay up here and use the radio.”
“No!” Candy said, stepping from the window. “We can wait them out here. We’re safe. They can’t get through the doors. And if they do, we keep the trap door shut.”
“There’s no food and very little water,” Hatcher explained. “This tower isn’t set up for long term manning.”
“Then it’s settled.” Mitch stepped toward the trap door and lifted it. “I’ll lead them away. You try to radio for help.”
“Then I’m coming with you,” Candy said. “I’d rather stay on the move than trapped in one place.”
Hatcher stared at her a moment and considered there might be more to her wanting to leave than simply not being cooped up. Had it been him that wanted to leave and Mitch that wanted to stay, he was almost certain she’d want to stay here where it was safer. Wherever Mitch was, Candy would want to be. “Take my ATV. There’s spare magazines in the rear storage and gas cans strapped to the back.”
“Word.” Mitch smiled and pulled Hatch
into a quick man hug. “Call in the National Guard or some shit.”
“Cover your six, big man,” Hatch called as Mitch began squirming through the access hole. “And watch out for Deputy Olson.”
“Where does that fire road go if we follow it down the other side?” Olson asked.
“It swings you back around between the campsites and the lake. There’s a road that will bring you back up through the campgrounds and past the hot springs,” Hatcher told her. “It’s a little rough, but you can handle it. Just take it slow and easy.”
She stepped up and gave Hatcher a quick hug. “Take care of yourself. We’ll see you soon.”
“I’ll give you some cover fire if they get too close.”
As Olson started down the ladder, Hatcher went to the rifle locker and pulled out the .30-06 bolt-action. It was stashed as an emergency only firearm, and he couldn’t think of another situation that could possibly be more of an emergency.
Pushing open the side door, Hatch stepped out on to the overlook, basically a wraparound shallow porch and leaned over the railing. He began loading the cartridges into the rifle and chambered the first round. Bringing the rifle to his shoulder, he twisted the focus ring on the scope and sighted in the lead figure. He felt an unfamiliar twist in his gut as he realized, this was a human being he had in his crosshairs and he had to pull his face away for a moment and breathe. He could feel bile rise up in his throat as he brought his eye back to the scope and placed the reticle on the target.
Hatcher watched as the figure scrambled with hands and feet, clawing at the dry, stony earth to pull himself up the steep fire road. He was at least three lengths in front of the pack; dry blood had plastered his flannel shirt to his chest, and Hatcher could clearly see a large bite mark on his cheek. Hatcher followed the man with the rifle until the angle was perilously steep. Knowing he was quickly running out of time, he squeezed the trigger and watched as the top of the man’s head erupted and his body jerked stiffly then rolled back down the hill, knocking those behind him off of their own feet and sending them rolling down the hill.
Hatcher listened as the ATVs fired up, their lights reflecting off the trees and vegetation surrounding the base of the tower. He turned and stepped back into the tower as the engines faded into the darkness. He could still hear the figures below screaming into the night as the ATVs drove off and he took his seat beside the radio.
Hatcher pulled the lantern from its hook and turned the light low. Setting it on the counter next to the radio, he began going through the different frequencies, warning first the park personnel, then the sheriff’s department members of the people running crazy through the park. Lastly, he dialed the frequency for the National Guard. He paused before keying the mic and considered exactly what he was going to say.
As he listened to the fading screams echoing through the woods, he thought of Shelly and his throat tightened. Visions of Mitch and Candy ran through his mind then the girl with the red eyes in the motorcoach that clawed up Shelly’s neck. He thought of how many people that had traveled here just for the concert and were now either running for their lives or crazy with…whatever this is. Hatcher stared at the radio a moment then sighed and keyed the mic.
Bill pushed the little Wrangler a bit harder than he thought he should, but the Jeep ate up the rough terrain like it was made for it. Although they had lost sight of Richard’s house shortly after turning off the trail, they knew that it was at the top of the mountain. As long as they continued going up, they were headed in the right direction.
Richard said little other than to point out when he was getting too close to trees or large rocks on the passenger side and Bill would either turn to avoid them or back up and go a different direction. The trip up the mountain took longer than either thought it would, but just as they both thought that it couldn’t possibly be any farther, Bill pushed through a stand of small saplings and literally drove into Richard’s back yard. The look of shock on his face was only matched by Richard’s.
“Excellent driving, my friend!” Rich exclaimed as he pointed to a spot near the driveway. “Just park it over there.”
Bill pulled the Jeep over by a Buick SUV and put it into park. “Is this your wife’s car?”
“Yup. Looks like she beat me home.” Rich opened the door and stepped out of the Jeep. “Come on in and decompress.”
Bill stepped from the Jeep and shut the door. He didn’t want to look at the damage, but did. He raised his brows at the lack of damage. Other than a few light scratches from tree limbs, the Jeep was no worse for wear. He patted the hood as he walked by. “Good boy,” he muttered.
Richard opened the door. “Hi, home, I’m honey!” he called jokingly.
“Grandpa!” Jason yelled as he ran down the hall to embrace his grandfather. “Did you bring fish?”
Richard pulled his grandson into a hug and laughed. “Not this time, buddy. But I brought a friend.” He stepped back and made introductions. Jason seemed like a bright eyed and intelligent young man. Bill took to him right away, but both men seemed to have an urgency in their actions. “Where’s your grandmother?” Richard asked as he stepped past Jason and into the large living room.
“She’s in the bedroom changing.” Jason said. “She had to clean up a bit on the way home.”
Richard gave him a strange look. “What’s that? Why?”
Jason flopped on the overstuffed leather couch. “We were almost home and grandma stopped to help a man on the side of the road.”
Bill and Richard both felt their hearts drop to their stomach and Richard turned and headed to the bedroom, “Harriet!”
“Rich!” Bill warned. “Don’t.” He tried to grab the man’s hand, but he had already slipped past him and was headed down the hall. Bill turned to Jason and told him, “Stay here. Do not get off that couch unless we tell you to.” He took off after Richard.
“Harriet!” Richard called as he pushed open the bedroom door. He looked all around the large bedroom and saw clothes scattered across the bedroom floor. He bent and picked up a blouse and his heart skipped a beat. He saw the unmistakable stain of blood smeared across the front of it. “Oh, no…” he moaned.
A sound from the attached bathroom caught his ear and he turned his head. Slowly he stood and barely registered Bill coming up next to him, his pistol in his hand. “I can do this for you if you want.”
Richard looked at him as if he were crazy. He shook his head no, and went to his bedside table. He opened the drawer and pulled out his own 1911 .45 caliber semi-automatic pistol. Pulling the slide back slowly, he watched as the hollow point round readied itself. He let go of the slide and felt his guts twist as the slide hit home.
He looked up at Bill with red-rimmed eyes and nodded. Bill stepped back toward the doorway, but kept his gun at the ready. Richard took a tentative step toward the bathroom, then paused. He closed his eyes and remembered the day he met Harriet. He remembered how the sun reflected off of her golden hair. He remembered how blue her eyes were. He remembered how much nerve it took him to ask her out, and he remembered how he chuckled when she told him that it had taken him long enough.
He took another step toward the bathroom and his mind flooded with more memories. He remembered when he finally asked her to marry him. He remembered how he asked her father’s blessing first, then he dropped to one knee and asked her, and he cried when she said yes. He remembered how it rained that day and she never looked more beautiful to him.
He took another step, and his throat tightened as the tears rolled down his cheeks. He remembered how she told him she was pregnant with their first child. She hung a set of baby booties from his rearview mirror with a note to him that he was going to be a daddy. He remembered how she could burn water when they were first married, but no matter what she tried to cook, he would eat it and swear it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.
A sound echoed from the bathroom and he froze in place. He stared at the bathroom door and slowly turned to Bill. Bill st
ared back at him as he stood there and cried. He never said a word, nor did he give any indication that he’d barge past him and do the horrible deed that he knew he’d have to do himself.
He swallowed the horrible metallic taste in his mouth and steeled his reserve. Stepping forward, Richard reached for the doorknob to the bathroom just as the door swung open. Harriet stood there in her faded jeans and a bra, scrubbing at her hair with a towel.
“Oh!” she squealed. “Good lord, Richard, you scared the heavens out of me.” She stepped back, clutching the towel to her chest.
“Harriet?” His mind racing with bewilderment. “You’re okay?”
“Of course, I’m okay. I just took a quick shower,” she said as she pushed past him.
She walked to the bed and grabbed the t-shirt she had laid out. Picking it up, she began to pull it over her head when she spied Bill at the door. Harriet screamed and covered herself with the shirt.
“Who is that?” She pointed at the strange man with the gun in his hand.
“Oh, this is Bill,” Richard explained, his mind still in shock.
Bill smiled and waved, then quickly turned around. “Sorry, ma’am.”
Harriet fumed at Richard. “You could have warned me, Richard!” she spat as she pulled the t-shirt over her head. “It’s not every day you bring a strange, gun-toting man into our bedroom…Richard?”
“Yes, dear?” Richard asked as he stared at her.
“Why do you have a gun in your hand?” she asked, her hands firmly planted on her hips. “You do realize your grandson is in the house.”
“Oh, um…we can explain.”
Slowly, Harriet’s brows rose as she stared at him. “This had better be good.”
“Were you bit?” Richard asked.
“Or scratched?” Bill asked over his shoulder.
“What?” Harriet stared at them both as though they had lost their minds.
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