Warwick Avenue stood as clear as it had been the day before. The traffic on the street had always been lighter than on J. Clyde, but now that the world seemed frozen in time, the difference was clearly demarcated. J. Clyde was a congested maze of abandoned cars while Warwick was as clear as the empty train tracks at the Amtrak station they’d just left.
She looked up at the towers to her left. She headed toward the apartment complex, using their presence as a landmark to guide her in the direction of the grocery store. From there, they should easily be able to make it through the park to the church before dark. But they might be cutting it close. It was amazing how fast the six miles or so could be driven in a car, but walking hand in hand with a five-year-old made a person move much slower.
Over the bend, she heard it. The wailing behind her. She didn’t want to look, but it was like trying not to look at a car as it careened toward you. Three of them came out from behind a building, their blotchy red skin flaking, and their eyes swollen shut. Did it mean they couldn’t see her? Taking no chances, she took her brother’s shoulder and shook it to get his attention. She placed a finger over her lips. He nodded in understanding, and they made a rush for the tower.
Brad
TAKING THAT BICYCLE WAS THE smartest thing Brad had ever done. With the wind blowing in his face to wick away sweat, he pedaled along at least twice the speed he had been when he was walking. Probably more like three times, really. The best part, zombies didn’t seem to know how to ride bikes and couldn’t catch him as he pedaled between vehicles and avoided them.
The bike maneuvered better than a motorcycle would have, even. With the width of the vehicle, he’d been able to squeeze through some tight places. When he reached the intersection of Jefferson and Oyster Point, he decided to turn and head over toward Warwick with a smile on his face. He let the bike coast back downhill before he realized the railroad tracks were raised above the surface of the roadway, and by then, it was too late. Slamming on the bike’s brakes as hard as he could, he found he hadn’t made the decision in time. The front wheel of the bike slammed to a halt at the first railing, and the rest of the bike launched in the air. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for impact, and skid across ten feet of black asphalt.
When he finally came to a stop, he opened his eyes, and the world spun. He took a couple of deep breaths before pulling himself upright. With his first step, his hip cried out in pain, but it didn’t feel broken. Rolling his shoulder, he found nothing broken or dislocated, but it still ached from the pulling. The leather at his jacket’s elbows was worn down to the white backing and insulation. If he hadn’t been wearing the leather jacket, he shuddered to think what his elbows would have looked like.
Dusting himself off, he headed back toward the bike. The front wheel was bent in an awkward position. Ugh! He threw his hands into the air and spun around with a growl. At least he’d made it this far. He clenched his jaws and shoved them into his pockets. Five more miles to go. Could he find another bike? Doubtful. He limped toward the intersection.
Hugh
HUGH IMAGINED ALL SORTS OF ways to skin that cat when he could get hold of it. He finally understood the science behind the crude cliché. At floor four, he’d thought about calling it quits and letting the cat go. As he headed now to the first floor after the silver bandit, he felt that he might finally get his hands on the cat’s scrawny little neck.
Nonchalantly, the cat stopped at the door to the lobby, sniffing the crack as if waiting for someone to open the door for him. Hugh reached down and scooped Tiger up, wanting to hold the cat up by the scruff of the neck in victory. But he restrained himself as he turned to the two boys who barreled down the last flight behind them. They were a tangled mess of knees and elbows covered in black, orange, and green fabrics. Huffing and puffing, they had broken a sweat in the cat chase.
“Great, Mr. Harris. I’m glad you caught your cat.” Marcel passed Hugh and leaned against the lobby door. “Do you mind if we take the elevator back up?”
With a half-smile, Hugh shook his head. The boy leaned against the door handle and pushed his way into the lobby. Hugh hadn’t been downstairs in three days. The lobby was crowded with people from every floor. They were gathered together in small active groups, talking in hushed tones about what they’d seen or heard. Mr. Dunn from the third floor spoke while slamming the back of one hand into the palm of the other. “I heard tell that the zombies want us to kill them. They are dead anyway and just aren’t being let go because of some alien puppetry device.” He held up a finger. “Who would want to live like that? Not me. I’d rather die first!”
Hugh hadn’t thought of how the zombies themselves might feel. He’d taken to looking at it more scientifically and thought of the motivations of the aliens more than the people infected by what he believed to be either a virus or a parasite.
“Have you heard?” Mrs. Marquis set a hand on Dunn’s shoulder and leaned in, meeting eyes with Hugh and nodding at him conspiratorially. She raised her voice to let him in on what she was about to say. “The radio man said today that the zombies were starting to die. The CDC believes that the virus attacking those poor people has an incubation period of an hour and half and a run time of four to five days. They estimate that up to one third of the population has been infected with the virus.”
“One third?” Hugh asked, furrowing his brows.
Mr. Dunn turned toward Hugh suddenly, eyes wide. “Oh, hello, Mr. Harris. I didn’t know you were there.” With a smile, he added, “Don’t sneak up next time.”
Mrs. Marquis patted Dunn on the shoulder and stepped once toward Hugh. “Yes, that’s what they said, one-third. Isn’t it odd?”
“Isn’t what odd?” Dunn asked.
“Mr. Harris knows what I’m talking about. One third of the population died from the water attack, and one third is dying from the virus attack. It’s awful strange that each attack seems to affect one third of humanity.”
“And the aliens are only attacking humans,” Hugh agreed.
“Right.”
“So, does that mean they probably have one more attack and we’ll be wiped out?” Dunn asked.
The realization stiffened Hugh’s spine. What if this theory was correct? What additional attack could the aliens have up their sleeve? Unless they were counting on the coming ice age due to the solar assault to wipe out the last third? What was the point in all of this? If they wanted the planet for their own purposes, didn’t they ruin it by destroying the sun and the water supplies?
“I think we should get out of here,” Mrs. Marquis said with a final nod.
“How are we supposed to do that? Where would we go?” Dunn asked.
Mrs. Marquis shook her head. “Haven’t you been listening to the emergency radio ban? The military bases are taking refugees. You go in quarantine for two hours, and if you show no symptoms, they take you in.”
“You going?” Dunn asked.
“I’m strongly considering it.”
“How are you going to get past Black? You don’t even have a car, and nearly everyone else is out of gas. Just how will you get to what—Langley? It’s like ten miles away.”
“The church is a little over a mile. Word is they are taking in evacuees until this evening, and they are heading toward Ft. Monroe.”
“A little over a mile? I still don’t know.” Mr. Dunn placed a hand to his rough chin.
The ideas spun in his Hugh’s head like a pinball batted around. Decisions needed to be made quickly. There wouldn’t be a second chance. His own car had run out of gas just before making it to the complex. He’d have to foot his way to the church himself. Tiger suddenly struggled in his limp arms and pulled himself free. The bounding ball of silver and grey striped fur loped toward the double glass doors at the front of the building.
Chasing after the cat was the last thing Hugh wanted to do, but he headed after it again. Tiger stood on his rear paws and looked hard out the glass doors. The cat stayed frozen in that position long
enough for Hugh to scoop him up.
Outside, the day was overcast, greyer and cloudier than usual. A breeze moved the branches of the evergreens across the way, so that the trees danced and swayed in the breeze. Movement caught his eye. A woman and a young child walked hand in hand in a forced march. Behind them, three red-faced, patchy haired infected people followed at a distance of about twenty yards. They shadowed the pair at an aimless pace, almost as if they didn’t know the woman and child were there. The woman looked back, pulling a tendril of dark brown hair from her mouth. Something about her seemed familiar. For a moment, she met eyes with Hugh. Her eyes were the same shade of grey as the sky, and they pleaded with him momentarily before focusing on her pursuers and rushing forward again. As if she didn’t expect any help from him.
Hugh placed a hand against the cold glass. She needed help, and he was tired of sitting around in this vacuum, wearing sweats and sleeping off and on. A decision needed to be made, now. He spun around and faced the couple he’d been talking with in the lobby. “I’m going.”
“What?” Mr. Dunn had moved on in the conversation with Mrs. Marquis and furrowed his brow at Hugh.
Hugh raised his voice so that the crowd of people, including the two teens that had come down the stairs with him, could hear. “I’m going to the church. I think it’s the only decision we can make right now. I don’t know about how much food y'all have left, but I’m out.”
“We’ve got plenty, and we’re willing to share.” The teens nodded in agreement.
“That’s great, but the more mouths you’re feeding, the faster you’re going to run out. It seems like good news that the infected people are out there dying now, but what about the aliens themselves? Aren’t they still attacking people? How will you get more supplies when you run out?”
The boys shrugged.
“Right. So the only option we have is to make it to the church and then the military base. Neither the infected nor the aliens are swimmers. So the best bet is one of the bases. They are all protected by water on a large portion of their boarders, and the remainder has fencing high enough that the Shisa shouldn't be able to climb. Does anyone have a vehicle with gasoline?”
A general murmur went through the crowd of about twelve standing in the lobby.
“I say we should stay right here where we’re safe.” Fred Black stepped out of his apartment, still wearing a velour jogging suit. Hugh was so disgusted he wanted to change out of his own sweats right away. Fred smiled wide. “There’s no point in rocking the boat and putting ourselves in danger. We got enough supplies to last like a month or so. By then we can still make it to the bases if there’s a need, and the military should have things under control. This is America, and we don’t just give up and lie down. Our military boys are thinking and doing something about this as we speak. Have faith.”
Most of the crowd nodded in agreement with Fred.
Hugh looked at Mrs. Marquis. Surely she would back him up and come with him. If he only had one person to back him up in this, the crowd might surely follow. She wouldn’t meet his gaze but instead studied the burgundy carpet like it held the mysteries of the universe.
He stepped over and handed the woman Tiger. “I guess I’m on my own, then. Mrs. Marquis, will you please take care of my cat?”
She met his eyes with her watery blue ones and held his gaze for only a moment. Then, she took the cat from him and nodded.
He stepped toward the glass door again and looked over at Fred. “Okay, Fred. I’m going. Let me out.”
“If I let you out, I ain’t letting you back in, you know?”
Hugh nodded. He had already assumed as much.
“Okay, Teach.” With his velour sweat pants shushing as Fred approached the door, he stopped and looked Hugh over. “Are you sure you don’t want to go pack a bag, shave, or something?”
“I’m sure. I need to go now.” He scanned the street as far as he could see but couldn’t catch sight of the three infected people or the woman and child.
Fred shrugged. “Whatever, then. Good luck.” He spun the key quickly in the lock and held the door for Hugh.
It had been four days since Hugh had breathed in the salty air that rose off the James River. Anything was better than the stuffy apartment complex. It felt like rain. The door lock clicked with finality behind him, and he couldn’t help but glance back. With a wide smile, Fred waved and turned away from the glass doors. Hugh suddenly felt naked. The distant vibrating hum sounded louder and more permeating outside. He glanced up at the cloud-darkened sky and then focused in the direction he’d seen the woman and child going. Toward the church? He jogged on his under-utilized legs. His knees felt a bit shaky from the climb down the stairs after the cat. He could do this. Do what? He had no idea.
Jennie
WHILE JENNIE AND HER BROTHER hid behind a minivan, the small band of wailers headed in the other direction, down the street. She didn’t know her shoulders were so tense until they relaxed, and she let out a long breath.
“Are we safe now?” Mickey whispered. He didn't complain, but his whole body was shivering as the temperature dropped.
“I think so.”
“Good.” His teeth were chattering, and his breath had become visible.
“Let’s go get to the grocery store, okay?”
“Sounds great! I’m hungry.”
“It’s just a little bit farther, so we’ll find something to eat soon.” She hoped.
EVEN LIMPING HAD BECOME HARD for Brad. The blood crawled down his leg like a hideous red snake. The wound he’d gotten when he fell had become much worse than he’d first assessed. When the speed limit signs changed, he knew that it wouldn’t be long before he’d reach Hilton Village. The tree-lined canopy on both sides of the streets was another sign that he was fast approaching home.
Hunger pains began to bug him again, and he couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten.
A rumbling increased on the other side of the hill, and Brad froze where he stood. His joints locked in place. The rumble didn’t quite sound like those lion things, but what else could it be? His mouth felt unnaturally dry, and his muscles went rigid. A diesel bus rumbled over the hill at about thirty miles an hour, and his joints unlocked in relief. He was saved.
He waved his hands in the air and almost stepped in front of the vehicle. “Hey!”
The white bus had blue letters on the brow and the side declaring it “Church Bus.” It came to a squealing halt just in front of him, and the doors flew open. A giant of a man with glasses, a wide smile, and grey-blond stubble of hair greeted him. “Glad to see you, sir. My name is Pastor Billy Crawford. Are you in need of any help?”
Brad couldn’t help the grin that stretched across his own maw. “You are a sight for sore eyes, and I sure am.” Without further words, he grabbed hold of the handrail and limped his way onto the bus.
Hugh
HUGH FOLLOWED THE THREE INFECTED people from a good distance. They stumbled, as they milled about aimlessly, even tripping over each other on occasion. Their group lacked any kind of cohesion or cooperation, and if one of them bumped into the other, they each tried to grab for limbs and bite each other.
This had been his first opportunity to inspect the infected at close range. He dodged from car to car, ducking, and kept a good twenty yards back. One made a sudden turn in his direction, and Hugh gasped. He clenched his teeth as he watched the infected woman stumble a few steps toward him. Her face had a purple hue, like a plum, and her eyes were swollen shut. Portions of skin over her brow were ripped and hanging so that her cheekbones and skull over her forehead were exposed. At least, he was fairly certain it was a woman. The tattered remains of her hair were in matted tendrils of gapped dreadlocks. Blood mixed with the blonde, creating a brownish black base from which the gold sprouted. Red foam dripped from the corners of her chapped lips. Her raw elbows poked from the holes worn into her cardigan, and the hem of her dress hung at a torn angle, exposing knees, like raw hamburger spread
with portions of bone poking through.
How many days had she been like this? If she’d been bitten when the aliens first attacked, she’d be a fourth-day survivor. She stumbled to her face on the black top. Hugh had to restrain himself from rushing over to help her to her feet. For a moment she struggled to pull herself up again. Then she gave up and remained on the ground. Her cries were muffled by portions of her face hanging over her lips.
Hugh thought he might vomit or maybe cry uncontrollably. He desperately wanted to help the woman, but what could he do? According to all the reports that he’d seen, the infected would bite the hand that attempted to help. He slowly pulled himself away from the car he hid behind as another of the infected dropped to the ground. It must be true. They were dying.
Tearing his eyes away from them proved difficult, and he shoved his hands in his sweatpants’ pockets. He turned away, but kept an ear in their direction in case the third ended up being in better condition than the other two. As he increased his distance from the threesome, the wailing faded and soon disappeared.
A shiver ran up his spine. Because he’d left the apartment in his sweatpants and t-shirt, he was grossly underdressed for the weather. He had no idea what time of day it was. As he stared up at the cloudy sky, he tried to judge where the sun was by the brighter spot shining through the clouds. Then, he looked around and realized he wasn’t exactly sure which direction was west, but overall, he’d guess that maybe it was three-ish—at least that’s what it felt like to him.
In this forced autumn, only evergreens still presented green foliage. The stout oaks and maples now stretched bare branches toward the sky, like upraised hands asking why. He judged the entire panorama, looking for the woman and her kid, but didn’t see a single sign of movement. Maybe they hadn’t stopped in their curiosity to study the infected and headed straight for the church. Picking up a brisk pace, Hugh started in that direction.
Sanctuary Page 11