Wheels' End: Book Four in the Wheels and Zombies series

by M. Van

  Minutes later Mr. and Mrs. Marsden led the way as I rolled at Mars’s side while Rowdy sat on his shoulders. Mars had been right: the wind was a bit chilly, but the clear sky gave room for the sun to warm us up.

  As the others had found a spot for our blankets, I balanced my chair down the steps until I hit the sand. By that time, Mars was on his way back and stopped in front of me, inspecting the sand at his feet.

  “That stuff is a killer for your bearings,” he said and grinned. “Now if I were Mags, I’d probably throw you over a shoulder.”

  “And I’d be pissed,” I said, shooting him a dirty look. He looked thoughtful as he inspected the chair. Then he bent down, clamped on the brakes, and moved around me, and before I knew, it was lifted into the air. I was sure my face flushed all kinds of red as he carried me across the sand, but I had to admit this was better than being thrown over a shoulder. Although I couldn’t blame Mags for that. It probably wasn’t the easiest thing to haul me around. From Mars’s breathing I could tell carrying me, chair and all, was pretty exhausting for him too.

  “Dude, you better not break it, or you’re goin’ to be the one to fix it,” I said teasingly. “The repair kit is mounted underneath the seat.”

  “I won’t break it,” Mars replied with a chuckle.

  Moments later I was settled on a blanket, the chair at my side as I watched Rowdy. He laughed as he fled the water rolling onto the beach under the watchful eyes of his grandfather. Mrs. Marsden stood close by, snapping pictures with her camera. It all felt so normal, as if everything were right with the world. I felt glad to be part of it, although the feeling of foreboding that settled in my stomach warned me that it wouldn’t last.

  I glanced over my shoulder, seeing Miller and Baker scanning their surroundings. They had left their cozy SUV in front of the Marsden house and had followed us—supposedly to protect us. The sight of them fueled the twisting sensation in my gut, and I turned to Mars, who sat back as he leaned on his elbows while he held a prideful eye on the antics of his giggling son.

  “You can’t tell her,” he said without taking his eyes of the kid.

  A bit surprised, I opened my mouth, but my mind was still processing, figuring he meant not telling Mags about Warren, although unable to understand why, and so no words came out. Mars turned his gaze on me and, with piercing eyes, conveyed the seriousness of what he was saying. “She doesn’t know it yet, and I don’t want her to know. They’re about to send her on a mission.”

  “Wait, what?” I said as my brain tried to catch up. Mags didn’t go on missions; she was just supposed to be the guinea pig that helped with the development of a serum to prevent infection by Mortem virus. She wasn’t a soldier or an FBI agent. “That wasn’t the deal.” The strain in my voice was evident, but I couldn’t help it. A bad feeling had already settled in my stomach and this just added to that.

  “I know,” Mars said, “but they’re close to a solution and need more people to test it on. Only a few soldiers have volunteered, and someone brilliant idiot has opined that people in the right circumstances might be more easily convinced.”

  “What does that have to do with Mags?” I asked.

  “They would like her and Angie to join a team to seek out survivors in a zombie-infected area and help them get out with aid of the serum.”

  “This is bullshit,” I said. Anger started to build inside me because this wasn’t what General Whitfield had promised us. “This thing was supposed to take three weeks, and it’s been months, and now you want to put Mags and Angie in danger again.”

  Mars sat up and turned so he could fully face me.

  “Trust me,” he said, raising his voice. “I’m not happy with it either, and I’ve tried everything to get them back.” His eyes shot to his son and parents not far off, but they didn’t seem to have heard his small outburst. His face looked sad as he turned back and lowered his gaze to the blanket. “I hate it, but there is nothing I can do about it.”

  “So why tell me?” I asked. “You said she doesn’t even know yet.”

  He tilted his head up and said, “I don’t want her to worry. She needs to keep her head on the game.”

  “And you don’t mind it if I worry?”

  He gave me a sheepish look and shook his head.

  “You always worry about Mags,” he said.

  I shrugged. He was probably right. I didn’t like being so far apart while our lives seemed to be in the hands of others.

  “But I don’t keep things from her,” I said in a low voice.

  “I know, and neither do I, at least not anymore,” he said, reminding himself and me that he had lied to us before. Mars had told us we could come and stay at his parents’ home in Colorado, but that had turned out to be a high-security military facility. His intentions had been good, though, but that didn’t stop it from stinging. “But these are strange times, and God knows how someone might react. I need Mags to be compliant, or else someone might get the idea that she or Angie could become a security threat and lock them up—”

  He broke himself off and stared of across the ocean. I didn’t know every aspect of the situation and didn’t even want to understand the political crap. What I did understand was that Mags, Angie, and I were security risks. Our blood could become the source of another outbreak if we weren’t careful. The fact that I was staying with the Marsdens had been solely Mars’s doing, with a little help from General Whitfield. It still amazed me that Mars trusted me with his son, and I was utterly grateful for it. If he hadn’t, I’d probably be stuck in some isolation room in one of those refugee camps.

  “I can’t lose her,” Mars continued. “So I’m asking you, please don’t tell her tonight.” Mars was referring to the video call he had set up for us. That was one of the reasons he was here today, to take me to Monterey. The military had a communication station set up at the airport over there.

  If I were honest with myself, I didn’t trust my answer. That’s probably why I nodded instead of voicing my reply.

  Mars blew out a breath in relief and then said, “I’ll be inside the coms room with you, but you can’t tell her I’m there.”

  Before I could question that, I was hit from the side and keeled over with a giggling Rowdy sprawled on top of me. The kid’s laugh was infectious and made me forget my strain of thought. I rolled on to my back and lifted him into the air. That made him laugh even harder.

  | 5

  Mags

  The day had dragged on and wouldn’t seem to come to an end. The running and shooting guns had left my body drained of energy, but I’d been looking forward to talking to Ash or Mars the entire day. There had even been a little bounce in my step as Angie and I had approached the building where we would get to hold our video call.

  After we’d arrived, the communications officer had told me that it would be Ash on the other end of the line, which was great. It was during these moments as I sat waiting behind this screen inside this tiny office that I realized how much I missed being around her. Although it didn’t lessen the disappointment I felt over Mars not being there.

  In hindsight, it seemed strange that a man with whom, over the year or so that I’ve known him, I had only spent a couple of days with had come to mean so much to me. He’d been a rock for me to lean on ever since the virus had claimed its first victims and zombies had started to roam JFK airport. He had saved me then and had come to rescue Ash and me from the hands of Dr. David when he held us captured at his research facility in Florida. It felt as if he’d been there for me all this time, but in truth, we’d spent only days together and mere hours in private.

  I guessed many would consider this a fragile foundation for a relationship, and I would probably be the first to agree if it hadn’t been for the fact that under normal circumstances cancer should have ended my life over ten months ago. I had been given a second chance, and if this disaster that had struck the world had taught me anything, then it was that you should embrace the gifts you were given, and Mars
had just been that—a gift.

  I blew out a breath as a young female soldier poked her head inside the room.

  “I’m sorry for the wait, Ms. Vissers, but there should be a connection now,” she said in a perky voice. I shoved the mouse, and the screen turned from black to blue. A bar on the bottom of the screen filled up, and then Ash’s face appeared.

  “Got it,” I said and glanced back at the young soldier. She nodded, offering a polite smile and closing the door behind her.

  Left alone in the room, I stared at Ash’s image, as it seemed to be stuck in place. Her blond, near-white hair looked shorter than it had the last time and sat tucked behind her ears. The expression on her face took me aback a little. Those big blue eyes of hers looked sad, and something of concern radiated off her. I dismissed my observation, knowing it might have just been an awkward moment as the frame had stilled, and I wondered if I had spoken too soon by indicating to the young soldier that a connection was made, but then the image was set in motion.

  “Hey, kiddo,” I said as my lips curved into a smile, “what’s up?” Ash smiled, and those big blue eyes of hers brightened, although I could still detect a hint of concern in them.

  “Hey,” she replied, “it’s about time. I’ve been waitin’ like two weeks and twenty-five minutes out here.” I grinned at the familiar retort and the thick Brooklyn accent I had missed. “How long we got?”

  “They didn’t say,” I said, “but I’m guessing fifteen minutes or so.” Ash huffed as she adjusted her chair. She seemed nervous and kept glancing over the screen beyond the camera as if there were someone else inside the room.

  “How is everyone?” I asked.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Marsden are okay. They send their love and Rowdy is drivin’ me crazy,” she said as some of her spunk returned. “The kid is like a whirlwind—always wantin’ to ride along with me in my chair. I swear he sees me as his personal transportation device.”

  The smile as she spoke of Mars’s son was infectious. I hadn’t met the little guy in person, but on the screen he seemed like a handful. This, of course, veered my mind into a different direction.

  “Have you heard from Mars?” I asked.

  “He’s been around,” she replied, “but he’s busy doin’ FBI things and such.”

  I wanted to ask more, but Ash fiddled with the fabric of her sleeve, which was another indication that something was up.

  “Are you okay?” I asked hesitantly.

  Her eyes widened a bit as she gazed at the screen. “Yeah, why?”

  “You seem …” I said and hesitated. Ash wasn’t the type to be fussed over, and I didn’t want to be the person that did that. I wanted her to have the space she needed, but then a fifteen-year-old kid might not see my intentions. “I don’t know—distracted.”

  A half-grin slowly formed on her face as she peered into the camera as if I had caught her in the act of doing something she wasn’t supposed to. But as soon as I felt some relief that she was okay, her eyes dropped to inspect the table in front of her.

  I was about to ask again when someone knocked on the door and, without waiting for a reply, opened it. Angie stood in the door with a grin plastered on her face.

  “I think you two have had about enough alone time,” she said. “I wanna see the kid before the connection goes down.”

  Angie maneuvered around the table with a goofy smile on her face.

  “Kid!” she said, drawing out the word as she leaned over my shoulder to stick her face inside the frame.

  “Hiya, Angie,” Ash replied. At that, Angie shot me a look and raised an eyebrow.

  “What’s up? Have you been tearing up the beach with those wheels of yours?” Angie said as she continued, but I had caught her insinuation, and it confirmed my assumption that something was on Ash’s mind. If there weren’t, she would have never let that kid remark slide. It had become like this thing that mostly Angie did to tease Ash and also to remind her sometimes that she still was a kid.

  Ash had been through so much as a young child. She had been a vessel from birth to help save her sister’s life, only to lose her anyway when Alison had taken her own life to protect Ash from further medical procedures. And then Ash fell ill herself. No one should have to suffer through those things, and it had caused Ash to grow up fast.

  So sometimes Angie and I felt as if we needed to remind her that she was actually still a kid. The opposite side of that coin was that Ash would never let that remark slide without some harsh retort, and if she did, then something was off.

  I wasn’t sure whether I should ask about it, and with Angie in the room, the conversation quickly shifted to the usual banter, which was something we all needed. I decided I would talk to her about it next time.

  “You’ve been quiet,” Angie said as she stomped up the three wooden steps that lead to the door of the apartment building that held our quarters. I glanced up at her and then turned to see the row of buildings we had just passed without me even noticing it. Streetlamps reflected on the freshly snow-covered streets. Other lights gleamed behind the tiny windows of the still-occupied apartments, although most were dark. Except for the sound of an occasional truck passing by, it was quiet—too quiet.

  This base was the size of what I would consider a large town, although I didn’t know whether anyone in this country shared that opinion. Nearly nine thousand deployable soldiers and airmen, with God knows how many men and women working support services, were hosted on this base. Except now, nearly half of them had been sent all over the country to join the fight against the zombie infestation.

  Most of the activities in and around the base had been centered on certain areas, but it seemed Colonel Marshall had deemed it necessary to stick Angie and me in housing as far away from the rest as possible. We had joked about it before, but being treated as a leper had started to wear me down.

  Angie stomped her feet again to rid herself of the snow stuck to her boots.

  “I don’t know,” I said as I climbed the steps, “I’ve just been feeling …” I paused, not sure how to vocalize what I meant.

  “Like something’s off,” Angie offered.

  “Maybe,” I said and stomped my boots, but then shook my head, “I don’t know.”

  Angie opened the door and stepped inside a hallway that would lead us to the small apartment assigned to us. Just before the door slammed shut and she left me to stand outside in the cold on my own, I heard her say, “There are some things left. You do know, right.”

  I exhaled and watched my breath billow out into the cold night air. A chill ran down my spine, and I turned to follow Angie inside.

  “Something was definitely up with Ash,” Angie said as I closed the door to our apartment and started peeling off the layers of clothing.

  Our housing for the past few months had a small hallway that held all the stuff and gear we needed to even set a foot out the door. This meant the tiny space was clogged with coats boots, mittens, parkas, and all the other things we needed to keep ourselves warm. The tiny hallway opened up into a single room with a small kitchen on the left, a sitting area in the middle, and two beds tucked away at the far right. A small bathroom sat around a corner.

  I didn’t know whether all the apartments looked the same or if this one was just meant for the misfits, for the likes of us. On socks, I moved to the seating area and sank into one of the two armchairs without even bothering to change out of the moisture-wicking layer of underclothes I was wearing.

  “I know,” I replied, “and I tried to ask, but …”

  “What?” Angie asked.

  “I had a feeling she wasn’t alone in that room,” I said.

  Angie was rummaging around in the kitchen and stopped to look at me. “You mean like monitoring what she said.”

  “In a way,” I replied. “As if she wasn’t supposed to mention something or something.”

  “Hmm,” Angie said and frowned before she continued her search for whatever it was what she was looking for.
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  I glanced at our bunks. Angie’s side was pitch-perfect, ready to endure that bouncing-coin test I had seen on TV. Neither of us had much stuff, but the things she had gathered up lay neatly on her nightstand, and though her clothes were hidden inside a locker, I knew they’d be neatly folded and stacked.

  My stuff, mainly clothes, lay scattered on and over a chair. An olive-green shirt had missed its target and landed on the floor next to that same chair. I sighed as Angie closed a cupboard door and walked into the sitting area with two glasses and a bottle.

  She also still wore the sand-colored underclothes as she sat down in the other chair and placed her feet on the small table in front of us. I narrowed my eyes and focused on the bottle she swung challenging in front of me. I gawked at the bottle with the golden-brown fluid.

  “Good old No. 7,” Angie said with a grin.

  “Where’d you find that?” I asked.

  “Well,” Angie said as she started to pour, “remember what Marshall had said about our friend PFC Hickey.”

  With a shrug, I shook my head.

  “That if we needed anything, we should just ask. Yesterday, I decided to test that.”

  I smiled as she handed me a glass, saluted, and took a sip from the whiskey. As far as whiskey was concerned, I preferred a single malt, but nonetheless, I savored the taste in my mouth and then felt the liquid’s warmth trail down my throat.

  “So, Ash,” Angie said.

  “Am I being paranoid?” I asked.

  “Considering the fact that you both have been abducted by the psychopath who released a zombie virus into the world and then chased you across the country all the way into a high-security military facility,” Angie said before pausing. Then, she creased her brows and scrunched up her nose. “Maybe just a little.” She let out a chuckle, and I shook my head.

  “You’re not exactly helping here.”