by John O'Brien
The impact turns the woman’s head, the round angling along the side of her scalp, leaving a deep furrow that plows through her ear. Red streams down the side of her head, but she turns her face back to him and keeps charging.
In terror, he lowers his hand and fires, the gunshot echoing across the courtyard. He sees a tear develop in her neck, with streams of blood racing outward behind her. Her head flops to one side, her body suddenly coming to a halt, sagging to the ground like a rag doll.
Koenig turns, his hand held out in front of him, expecting more to appear. He has no thoughts; nothing seems real. There’s only the utter fear and a sense of amazement that he’s still standing, not really aware of what he’s doing or why he’s there. The two unmoving and bloodied bodies on the ground at his feet don’t make any sense.
What? Why?
James…James…James,” a voice penetrates.
“James, it’s okay. We’re okay,” the voice continues. “James?”
Awareness floods back. He gasps for air as if he hasn’t had any in some time. The realization of what happened returns. He feels Liz’s hand on his shoulder, unaware that she even exited the car.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Are you okay?” he asks, looking to make sure the two bodies aren’t moving.
The man lies in a pool of dark liquid slowly seeping down to the low points of the courtyard. A hole is in the soft part of the infected’s neck, the edges puckered and blackened. The woman’s face is destroyed on one side, her head lolling to one side, nearly resting on her shoulder. As with the man, a large hole is torn into her neck, liquid slowly draining out of her corpse.
The dawning realization that these were infected gives him a start, first checking that Liz’s suit is still sealed, then his own. He doesn’t see any rips and their masks are still in place.
Okay, good, he thinks, now fully back in the moment.
“Where did you learn to do that?” Liz asks.
“What?”
Liz points to the bodies.
“I…I don’t know. I wasn’t even in my body,” Koenig answers. “But, we need gas. I’m going to get those bolt cutters.”
“Do you think that’s such a good idea, James? I mean, it didn’t go well the last time. Maybe we should just get out of here and look elsewhere,” Liz says.
“No—we earned this gas, and we’re going to get it,” Koenig states.
* * * * * * *
Chapter Twelve
South of Pineville
October 8
Emily sits up suddenly, coming out of a deep sleep. Her back is sore from the hard ribbed metal of the culvert that runs under the highway. The previous day was filled with alternating emotions after leaving Pineville. Mostly, it was boredom, but with a deepening anxiety. The scenery seldom changed and the act of turning one pedal after another became monotonous. Her gnawing worry is that she doesn’t know what she’s doing, doesn’t have a destination in mind. She’s not actually cycling toward anything. Her only thought is that she’ll eventually run into someone who can help.
As the day wore on and the sun lowered to the horizon, she began searching for a place to spend the night. Her legs and back ached, with her head throbbing after spending a day under the sun’s glare. The endless plains didn’t offer much in the way of protection until she came across the large pipe running under the freeway. It was dry and out of sight. Ending her day early, she maneuvered her bike down the gravel sides—mostly maneuvering herself while the bike slid down. Parking it by the entrance, she crawled in, drank some water, and ate. With light streaming in the sides, she pulled out one of the phones, found out how to initiate the service, and played some games she downloaded.
Wiping her eyes, Emily tries to remember what woke her. Something startled her out of her sleep, but she isn’t sure what it was. There’s a touch of silver light showing at each end of the pipe, but not enough that she is able to make out details. Inside the tube, it’s pitch black. Her imagination begins to run rampant, envisioning all sorts of monsters prowling the night just out of sight. A whispering sound comes from her left, the sound magnified in the steel tunnel.
She reaches toward her feet, feeling for the flashlight she left by her side. A crunch as if something lightly stepped on gravel enters her cave. Her hand moves frantically, hoping to come into come into contact with the round cylinder. Fingers feel it, but only manage to scoot it further away, the metallic skin scraping against the ribbed steel. The beat of her heart quickens and panic begins to rise. Slapping at the ground, she finally grabs hold, her fingers closing around the light.
Prodding, she finds the button and clicks the light on, the beam illuminating the large pipe and casting long shadows of her and her back along the tube. Emily glances quickly to where the sounds came from. At the end of the tunnel, two bright orbs of greenish-gold shine back, a demonic presence glaring in.
Emily’s startled squeak of fear echoes down the tube. The glowing eyes vanish and Emily barely brings her light up in time to see the furred body of a medium-sized dog vanish beyond her sight. She holds the light toward the end of the culvert, the beam shaking. Her overactive mind tells her that the dog was a decoy, that the real threat is sneaking up behind her. With a gasp, she turns the beam in the opposite direction, anticipating a monster already crawling quietly up the pipe. Nothing is there.
Quickly, she shines the flashlight back. Nothing. She doesn’t know what to do. Should she venture out where she can see further, or stay inside where she’s better protected? Outside, she can be more easily seen and approached from any direction. Inside, she doesn’t know what awaits her just out of her line of sight.
Alone, at night, in the middle of nowhere, she’s never felt so scared and lonely. She can’t run downstairs into the protective arms of her parents, or crawl into their bed. This is the real world where she has only herself. Far off, the forlorn howl of a coyote rolls through the night, answered by one much closer. The calls are frequent for several minutes, the closer one seeming to get fainter with each howl. Silence again descends.
Deep down, Emily knows that the animal she saw was a curious coyote, but she knows nothing about them. She remembers reading somewhere, or maybe it was on TV, that predators went after the young and weak. Being a kid certainly puts her in the first category, but she doesn’t know if a pack would attack.
If that one was calling out to others about my location and organizing an attack, wouldn’t the howls have grown louder, not quieter? she ponders, alternating the beam of her light between the opposite ends.
After a while, she lays back against the pipe’s hard surface, paralyzed by indecision. The wearying day wraps around her like a dark cloak, sending her into fantasy lands filled with monsters and heroes.
A rustle wakes her. She promptly feels for her flashlight. Aware of sunlight filtering in from both ends, she stops her frantic search. Another rustle. She looks out one side to see a bird flit away, a branch of one of the bushes swaying. Grabbing her flashlight, she notices the bulb isn’t on. Several clicks of the on/off button doesn’t change that.
Crap! I left it on all night, she thinks, rummaging through her pack for more batteries.
Pulling her pack along with her, she makes her way out of the culvert. She empties her bladder near the bush where the bird was, shoulders the backpack, and pushes the bike up the steep incline. The sun is only a little ways up in the sky. She looks up and down the highway, the gray stretching out of sight in both directions as it cuts a straight line through the plain. Should she head back or continue forward? If she heads back, that means going back to her aunt’s, and she can’t really imagine living for long in a city filled with bad people, whether they attack her or not. Ahead, though, lies the unknown.
“City of bad people…the unknown,” she mutters, jostling her hands up and down as if one will weigh more than the other and make the decision for her.
She gives up, thinking of some other way to figure out the right thing to do.
> What would that sergeant guy do? Well, he wouldn’t go back to the bad people, would he?
A gust blows across the road, ruffling the blanket draped over her. A couple of paper scraps roll across the pavement, their choice having been made for them. Shading her eyes, Emily looks across the plain. Both sides stretch for long distances. Far away all around her, she makes out the rise of hills, the steppe coming to an end at the slopes. Barely visible behind her, she can just make out the tops of the hills through which she and the soldiers once passed.
Emily stands in the midst of a vast basin filled with fence lines, bushes, and the occasional line of trees along snaking waterways. One small child holding a bike in a large vastness. She feels so far from home, not that the term holds much meaning for her anymore. It seems like a dream, a comfort that she won’t ever feel again. She misses her mom and dad.
Emily turns her bike south, continuing in the same direction. She figures there’s nothing for her behind. The top of her legs and calves hurt as she pushes off, as if someone pounded on them with hammers. The aches go away after a little while and the boredom of cycling down the road sets in. She tries to dream up stories, envisioning herself on some kind of adventure, but each falls apart after a few scenes and she finds herself only endlessly pedaling down the road.
Emily’s arms and cheeks feel warm, as if held above open flames for too long. The sun glares as it drifts across the blue sky, heat waves rising that blur objects in the distance. Each inhalation feels overly warm in her throat and lungs. Not searing, just warm. Even though the aches of the morning have abated, her legs feel rubbery. She stops, unable to force her feet to make the pedals go around one more time.
Straddling her bike, she removes a water bottle, the lukewarm liquid running down her parched throat. She dribbles some over her arms, the instant coolness raising goosebumps. Upending the remainder of the bottle over her head, the water runs through her hair and pours down her face. She then removes the draped blanket and feels immediately cooler, her sweat evaporating into the air. Taking a roll off duct tape, she secures the blanket to the bike’s crossbar as best as she can, pushing off any worry about its removal until later. Feeling a little more refreshed, she puts her foot on the pedal and pushes. She isn’t sure how much longer she can do this, especially with the sun burning her skin, but she’ll go as far as she can.
I’ll need to remember to get sunscreen from the next store I see, she thinks, the whir of the wheels on the pavement and squeaking chain her only companions.
Emily halts under an overpass, the shade giving some comfort from the relentless sun. Near the shadows’ edge, she looks to the gray road leading across the plain in both directions and wonders if she should take it. A sign just before the exit ramp indicated that it leads to towns, but she can’t see any sign of them. She looks along the highway she’s traveling on to see the same.
She wheels her bike over to one of the concrete pillars and props it there. Removing the phone she’s currently using and her solar charger, she connects the cord and lays them in the sun. Settling to the ground, she takes out a couple of sandwiches and a water. It’s as good a place for lunch as any, and she needs to think about which direction she should take. Once the phone is completely charged, she’ll download a map application and determine which way the nearest town is. Satisfied that she has a good plan, she downs her sandwiches in just a few bites.
Emily wakes in a panic, not remembering having closed her eyes. She turns her head quickly to each side, her heart pounding against her ribs. The fact that it’s still daylight does a little to keep her calm, that her bike is still leaning against the pillar helps even more. She rises, arching her back to work the kinks out, and retrieves her phone. The signal on the plains is poor and she’s not able to connect to a tower. Stowing everything, she thinks continuing on the path she set is the best idea. If she started making turns here and there, she might not be able to find her way back. She doesn’t plan to anyway, but it is an anchor that she holds on to. Emily feels that if she loses that, she’ll lose everything, including her hope.
With the overpass far behind, she truly begins to think that the decision to leave was a mistake. She second-guesses whether she should have taken one of the other roads. Even though the hills to the south, the direction she’s traveling, are slowly growing in size, Emily doesn’t feel like she’s making any progress. The wheels turn, one revolution after another, but the landscape remains the same.
Lost in her thoughts of doubt, she is slow to realize that the bike is handling differently. Thinking the blanket might have come untaped and entangled in the spokes, she stops. The blanket is firmly secured to the crossbar. Leaning to the side, she sees the rear tire mushrooming to both sides.
“Crap on a stick!” she says, her mind working through ways to remedy the flat tire.
She considers just ditching the bike, the effort of having to push it almost too much. However, it can serve as a pack mule so she’ll have a little relief. Pulling off the pack, her knotted shoulders feel immediately better. Emily wraps the backpack around the handlebars, pulling the straps tight. It’s not easy pushing the bike, always having to lean slightly, but the relief on her upper body is worth it.
The sun wends its way into late afternoon. Emily’s speed has been cut by more than half, but she’s mostly forgotten why she set out in the first place. The fact that she’s now on foot dampens what little spirits she had. It’s no longer about trying to find help; to her, it has become about not dying.
For the hundredth time, she thinks about turning around and heading back. Without being able to ride, she knows it will take her days, but she’ll at least know her destination…there will at least be a goal she’s working toward. Looking the way she came, the endless gray highway stretches into the distance, ending in the same nothingness.
Gazing back to the south, heat waves shimmer, turning the landscape into a blur. The rays of the sun and radiating heat turn the countryside ahead into a lake, but she knows it’s not a body of water she’s seeing. A blast of wind blows through, erasing the mirage in an instant. Gusts blow in fits and starts. The coolness they bring feels good on her skin, but does little to lift her dampened spirits and sore body.
As if a curtain is suddenly raised, Emily sees what looks like a town perched on the plain. A sense of relief pierces her depression and rising panic. A city means people, or at the very least, supplies. Regardless of what is there, it’s something other than the endless plain—a place where people were, and hopefully still are. It’s something. The sight of the small community turns her mind to retracing her route back to her aunt and uncle’s place. With a push on the handlebars, she again sets herself in motion.
The sun is much lower in the sky when she reaches the outskirts of the town, the wind bringing the sound of an occasional scream coming from within. Emily pauses at the edge of town, worried about entering. She needs supplies, but wonders whether the bad people in this different town will leave her alone like the last ones did. Her experiences have been mixed, so she’s not sure of anything anymore.
Maybe it was just that one place, she thinks, staring up the highway that cuts through the middle of town.
Scraps of paper tumble along the street and the now-constant breeze flutters the legs and sleeves of her clothing. Her hair whips behind her and across her face. Holding the strands out of the way, she watches as two people run into an intersection from a side street. They stop and turn their gazes her way, leaning forward as if to get a better look. Emily freezes, knowing that there’s nowhere to run and hide. Her heart pounds heavily and panic rises. With a shriek, the two start toward her.
With a scream of her own, she drops her bike and turns to run. Emily knows that she won’t be able to run far before she’s caught, but her mind is in a panic and all her body knows is headlong flight. A few steps along the paved shoulder of the road, she looks over her shoulder. The two, now joined by others, have stopped. They give her another look a
nd then all turn and trot down their original street.
Emily stops. She wants to just keep running, but the lure of the town is still strong after days on the empty highway. There’s also the fact that her legs are tired and won’t carry her much further. Another small group emerges, looks at her, and vanishes down another side street. With hesitant steps, she returns to her bike.
A stronger gust whips through, bringing more coolness, especially along her legs. Looking down, Emily sees a wet stain seeping down both legs.
When did I…I don’t remember…well, crap, she thinks, adding clothes to her list of things she needs.
Feeling embarrassed and hoping the wetness dries quickly, she begins slowly wheeling her bike into town. She’s still scared and wary of the bad people. The first ones seemed to charge at her, but then left her alone. The ones afterward just left her alone. The key point is that they all left her alone.
The rubbing of the flat tire on the pavement, the scrape of her shoes, and the moaning of the wind are the only sounds as she pushes past a gas station on one side and a bank and fast food joint on the other. Several cars are in the lots, some parked in a haphazard fashion. Those buildings give way to a series of shops crammed together like an extended strip mall. The side streets have a few cars parked in the middle of them, their doors partially opened. It looks much like the streets of her hometown when she escaped with the soldiers, the aftermath of panicked flight remaining long after the event.
Many of the shops have broken windows, with huge shards of glass left on the sidewalks, twinkling as the late afternoon sun’s rays strike them. With the screams of the bad people having silenced since her entry into the town, Emily sets out to find stores that will have what she needs. Down one of the side streets, she spots a large tricycle lying on its side in the middle of the pavement. Although still worried about the bad people, she turns out of her way to investigate.