by Brad Knight
Mack glanced at the rearview mirror. Amber was wiping the sleep from her eyes. He didn’t know much about kids, especially teens. But he knew to tread lightly around a recently awoken adolescent.
“Still in Texas. About an hour from the border to Oklahoma.”
“Oklahoma huh?” Amber climbed into the passenger seat. It was a bit clumsy, but she made it the couple of feet in one piece. “I’ve never been.”
Stretched out before Amber, outside the car windows, were fields as far as she could see. They were lit blue by the dawn. On the highway were patches of abandoned cars. She couldn’t see any people.
“Why Oklahoma?” asked Amber as she fiddled with all the knobs and buttons on the dashboard.
“Storm cellars.”
“Expecting tornados?”
“Cellars have doors that lock. And they usually have food and water. I figure we can find one and get some shut eye.”
“Been in a lot of storm cellars, Mack?” Amber mocked.
“I grew up in a place a lot like this. My folks had a storm cellar.”
“You need some rest? I’ll take over.” Amber was only half joking.
That’s not happening.
“Can we stop, I need to pee and don’t see any empty bottles in here,” asked Amber.
“Sure, I mean I was going to wait till we reach Wydell. It’s only about ten minutes away.” Mack hoped that the teen would see reason. He was clueless.
“But I really have to go.” The tone of Amber’s voice subtlety changed. There was a bit more hostility. Most would take it as a warning. Mack didn’t pick up on it. Nor did he heed it.
“You can’t hold it?”
“Stop the car Mack.”
“Wydell is ten minutes away. Wouldn’t you want to use a toilet rather than some bushes?”
Amber’s eyes almost burned holes in the side of Mack’s head.
It’s not worth it. “Yeah, okay, sure. I’ll pull over.”
The truck came to a slow stop at the side of the road. There was tense silence inside, interrupted only by the sound of tires on gravel. Before Mack could ease the situation verbally, Amber got out.
There weren’t any bushes by the side of the road. The tree line of a small patch of woods was far off in the distance. She wasn’t going to walk that far to take a squat. But there was a barn and a harvested field of wheat.
Amber crossed her arms putting her hands under her armpits. It was considerably colder than Dallas. Since it was morning, the temperature was even lower. Limbs and appendages are the first parts of the human body to go hypothermic. She remembered that little fact from health class.
Upon getting closer to the barn, Amber was disturbed by what she found in severed stalks of wheat. There were bodies, looked like a family. Blood stained the soil around them. Immediately, Amber started to back up.
What’s taking so long? Mack decided to get out of the minivan. He needed to stretch. Three hours of driving without rest was taxing.
After he was done stretching, Mack checked out his and Amber’s ride. The vehicle was in rough shape. Black blood splatters from the meat puppets he ran into and over back in Dallas covered the grill and hood. Dents, scratches and scuffs from jumping curbs and charging through congested streets covered the minivan. But every tire stayed inflated. And the engine ran. So everything was good, appearance aside.
“Start the van!” Mack just barely heard Amber’s voice but he couldn’t see her. There was a small incline that separated the highway from the surrounding farmlands. In order to get a better look he walked over to the edge.
“Start the van!” Amber almost knocked Mack over as she ran up the incline just as he looked over it. Four meat puppets were chasing after her, but weren’t close. They were the family from the wheat shield.
Mack helped Amber up then ran over to the minivan. Both of them got in. Neither wanted to stick around another second longer.
“Did you, you know?” asked Mack as they sped away. The tires squeaked as he weaved around the abandoned cars on the highway.
“I think I’ll wait till we get to Wydell.”
Mack smiled. Amber turned her head to hide it, but she grinned as well.
***
Wydell, Oklahoma wasn’t a big town. Back in the days of the frontier, it was a rest stop on the pony express. During prohibition it was one of many stash towns in the Midwest. But since then only ranchers and farmers lived there.
The minivan sat idle as Mack and Amber stared at Wydell. They were just outside town near a decaying sign intended to welcome visitors. There was no visible activity. It was spooky, even in the daylight.
Just beyond what looked like a downtown area was a cluster of houses that made a small neighborhood. A small road connected the two. The residential area looked just as abandoned.
“I dunno, that place looks kind of creepy.” Amber gave the town in the distance a suspicious look.
It does look creepy. But there might be some food and somewhere safe to sleep. Plus there might be some people. I can get rid of the extra baggage, leave her with them and not feel guilty about it.
“Doesn’t look like we got much of a choice,” Mack shifted from neutral to drive.
Wydell only got bleaker as the minivan slowly approached. From down the road, Mack and Amber could spot the sun ravaged exteriors and boarded up buildings. There were only a couple of cars, abandoned and parked in front of structures that surely would have been considered condemned in any other town.
All this place needs is some tumble weeds. Mack scanned the desolate town as they cautiously drove through. They passed a grocery store with broken windows, a hardware store that looked as if no one crossed its threshold in decades and what once might’ve been a one screen movie theater. But there were no people.
Mack turned the wheel at the only curve on Wydell’s main street. Once on the other side, they saw the first buildings that looked as if they may harbor life. There was a restaurant. Across the street from that was a pristine chapel.
The other half of the main street also bared gruesome signs of struggle. Streaks of blood went up and down the sidewalks. A burning body had to be driven around as it was in the middle of the street. Over the stench of burning human, Amber and Mack both smelled the distinct odor of death.
“Like I said, this place is creepy,” commented Amber as she looked out the passenger side window, wide eyed.
“We won’t be here for long. Let’s get some food and we can move on.” Mack had to fake bravery and confidence. Even he had no idea if Wydell was safe or not. It certainly didn’t look the part.
Mack parked the van outside the restaurant called “Mama’s Place”. The small dining establishment appeared to be intact. It also looked just as deserted as the rest of Wydell.
“This is a bad idea,” said Amber as she got out of the minivan. Before closing the door she retrieved her backpack.
“It’ll be fine. Let’s just get in there and eat something.” Mack hoped it would be that easy.
The little bell on the front door dinged as Mack opened the door with the barrel of his double barrel shotgun. He peeked through the crack, into the restaurant. There was no one there. At least he didn’t see anybody. So he used his freehand to open the entrance up all the way.
“It’s safe, c’mon.” Mack kept his shotgun at the ready as he surveyed Mama’s Place.
One of the first things Mack noticed was that all the lights were on. Ceiling fans were spinning. And there was a single television propped up high in a corner. It was on. There was still power in Wydell.
Inside, the décor of the restaurant was plain but pleasant. It was clear that whomever ran the business wasn’t rich. The walls were wallpapered with a pleasant and neutral floral design. There were about fourteen tables, each of them were wooden, surrounded by chairs made of the same. Simple white table cloths covered each tabletop.
At the back of Mama’s Place was a wide window meant for finished orders. Waiters and waitresses
would retrieve their customers’ orders and serve them. Through the window, Mack saw a kitchen.
“I’m going to go fix something up,” said Mack as he lowered his shotgun and headed towards the kitchen.
“I’m gonna go pee.” Amber made way for the bathrooms.
Every surface in the kitchen was made of cold and shiny stainless steel. The morning sun shined through the couple of windows in the room, reflecting off the metal counters, shelves and appliances. Mack thought it was empty, until he heard a weak voice from behind one of the counters.
With his shotgun raised again, Mack slowly checked behind the kitchen counter. He saw a Hispanic man sitting on the tiled floor, leaning up against the shelves below the prep surface above. His neck was contorted and bulging to the side. On his chest there was a name tag that read “Gustavo”.
“Por favor, mátame,” pleaded Gustavo. He didn’t move. Only his eyes met Mack.
“What happened here?” asked Mack with his shotgun aimed directly at Gustavo.
“Mátame. Kill me,” still Gustavo didn’t move.
He must’ve broken his neck.
“Kill me before I turn into one of those monsters.”
“I’m not going to kill you Gustavo.” Mack lowered his shotgun. “At least not in here. Can you move?”
“No.”
Mack put his shotgun on one of the counters. “This is probably going to hurt buddy. But I don’t see any other way.” He spotted a wooden spoon. After retrieving it he put it in Gustavo’s mouth. “Bite down on it.”
Just as Mack predicted, moving Gustavo was very painful for the beleaguered cook. Screams of agony were muffled by the wooden spoon. Mack dragged the man by his shoulders through the swinging door that separated the kitchen from the dining room at Mama’s Place.
“The toilets work. Who’s that?” Amber was coming out of the bathrooms at the same time as Mack was putting Gustavo into a chair at one of the dining room tables.
“His name is Gustavo. I found him in the kitchen.”
“Is he…?”
“No he’s not dead. But I think he’s paralyzed.” Amber gave Mack a confused look when he explained. “He can’t move.”
“Oh. So…what are we going to do with him?”
“Leave him here I guess. We can’t drag him around with us.”
“Mátame,” pleaded Gustavo after he spit out the wooden spoon.
I’m not going to kill you. That’s one thing I don’t need on my conscience.
“What’s he saying?”
“He wants us to kill him.”
“We’re not going to, right?”
“Of course not. We’re not murderers, apocalypse or not.” Mack didn’t notice but Amber cringed at his answer.
“Okay. What are we going to do?”
“We leave him here.”
Mack walked back towards the kitchen. “Sit down, take a load off. I’m going to find something to cook.”
There was a large stainless steel refrigerator. Mack opened it up and found it stocked with all sorts of meats. The man wasn’t much of a cook, so he chose the easiest thing to prepare. He took out two frozen hamburgers.
The grill, where’s the grill? Not far from the fridge, next to a still on deep fryer, was the grill. Mack threw the frozen burgers on to it. They slid across like air hockey pucks and bounced off the back. He turned the knobs on the front. In less than a minute, the burgers started sizzling.
“Are you hurt?” asked Amber knowing damn well that the man propped up in the chair across from her was indeed injured.
“My neck,” answered Gustavo. His voice was affected due to his ability to only breathe through his mouth.
“Was it them?”
Gustavo didn’t answer.
“Yeah… it was them. So what happened here? It doesn’t look like the meat puppets ran through.” Amber was referring to the fact that Mama’s Place wasn’t a mess. The inside and out simply looked as if everyone got up and left.
“Fine, don’t talk to me.” Amber got up and decided to take a stroll around the restaurant.
On the industrial carpeted floor of Mama’s Place, Amber found a wallet under one of the tables. She picked it up and rummaged through, figuring that its owner wouldn’t mind. The first thing she took out was a card on the left side. It was a driver’s license.
“Bernard Pierce,” she read the name on the license. The picture on it was of a meek looking man with gold framed glasses and a brown goatee. “Hello Bernard. Let’s see what else we can find in here.”
In the opposite pocket of the wallet, Amber found what looked like another identification card. It also had Bernard's face and name on it. “Galatea Systems” was printed on the card in big blue letters. From the look of it, it was a logo. According to the ID, Bernard was the chief engineer.
“You want cheese!” yelled Mack from the kitchen.
“Sure,” answered Amber as she secreted away Bernard Pierce’s wallet, into her hoodie pocket.
Amber sat back down at the table next to Gustavo. She watched the television. It was either turned to the news or every channel became the news. Either way, that was what she was watching.
There was video after video of meat puppet attacks. Some were taken with cell phones. Others were captured with legit news cameras. What was clear was that the creatures weren’t contained to just Texas or even the United States.
No lettuce, tomato, onion or pickles. Oh well, beggars can’t be choosers right? All Mack had to work with was some buns and cheese. He put them on some plates and carried them towards the dining room. Mack emerged from the kitchen with burgers in hand. Wedged under in his armpits were bottles of water. He saw Amber with her attention on the TV. Gustavo just stared ahead, silent. A little bit of drool started to dribble down his chin.
“You seeing this?” asked Amber. Mack slid the plate with her burger on it, in front of her.
“The news? Let me guess, it isn’t good.” Mack took a bite of his hamburger. “Eat. Who knows when you’ll have hot food again.”
“It’s everywhere. How is that possible?”
“No clue. Eat, I’m serious. We can’t linger,” insisted Mack with a mouth full of bun and burger.
“It doesn’t look like anyone knows what they are. All they said was that people should stay inside.”
Stay inside and you’re dead. All these peoples’ homes will only serve as comfortable coffins. I need to keep moving. Hopefully there’s someone left here in town. There’s no way I can keep looking after this kid.
“What did you do before all this? Were you a fireman or a cop or something? I figure you must’ve been seeing how you used that ax.” Amber ripped her burger in half. While asking her questions she didn’t look up at the man she was addressing.
“I was a prepress technician.”
There was an awkward silence. Both Amber and Mack just ate their food. Gustavo didn’t chime in. Then Amber looked up at Mack.
She has no idea what that is. Why should she? She’s fourteen. Mack wiped his mouth and swallowed the food inside it. “Back before everything was online, newspapers and magazines were big business. It was my job to prepare the page, make sure it looked good before getting printed.”
“So, like what, font and stuff?”
“Exactly.”
“My mom used to love magazines. She had a pile of them on our living room table. I don’t know about what was written inside, but I loved the pictures. They were so…I dunno the right word.”
“Vibrant, rich,” said Mack with a smile.
“Look at you,” laughed Amber. “Mr. Grumpy all night. Then I talk about magazines and you’re all smiles.”
“How about you? I assume you were in school. Where?” What are you doing Mack? Don’t ask her any questions. You might become attached.
“Well I did used to go to East Boone Middle School. That was before I got suspended.”
“For what?” Stop.
“Clarissa, this girl in my class was al
ways being bullied. For whatever reason, she wouldn’t stand up for herself. I kinda got sick of seeing her cry. So I decided to beat up the kids making fun of her.”
“And you got suspended for that?” You’re hopeless.
“Well… I kind of put one of them in the hospital.” There was a calmness in Amber’s voice which was a little disturbing.
“Oh.” Mack was a little taken aback. The small teenage girl sitting across from him was more formidable and vicious than he thought. Part of him thought that was a good thing considering their circumstances. But her confession of her violent tendencies, combined with her willingness to shoot at people, worried him a bit.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t hurt him too bad. He just needed some stitches.”
“Just some stiches?”
“Whatever, my turn. You have any family? A wife? Kids?”
Tell her the truth. Tell her you’re a loser with not even a girlfriend. “Nope, neither. I wanted kids but my life just didn’t work out that way.”
“Why?”
Why? How the hell am I supposed to answer that? “It just didn’t happen. Life has a funny way of speeding up the older you get. One moment I had all the time in the world to start a family. Next thing I know, I had more years behind me than ahead of me. It would be kind of selfish to try and start a family now.”
“Plus it’s the end of the world,” commented Amber before taking another bite of her burger.
“There is that.”
***
Amber and Mack finished their burgers. As the latter cleaned up, the former endeavored to figure out a way to get Gustavo some water. If they weren’t able to feed him or take the poor soul with them, why not give him a drink.
“I know I need to be careful. Broken necks are tricky. Or at least I remember reading that somewhere.” Amber unscrewed the top of her bottle of water. Then she made sure that Mack wasn’t watching. For he wouldn’t likely approve.
“Open up,” asked/ordered Amber as she brought the water bottle nearer to Gustavo’s slowly opening mouth. “C’mon, help me help you.”
Gustavo tried to drink. But moving anything down his throat wasn’t just laborious but painful. And Amber, eager to help but still a child, poured too fast. The man was drowning trying to drink from a bottle.