Sometimes We Ran (Book 3): Rescue

by Stephen Drivick

  We began to walk slowly around the yard. Claire and I often took slow walks together when we talked about things. A habit from our days on the road, I guess. We did a lot of walking back then. When we weren't running for our lives.

  “Do you trust him?” Claire asked.

  “He seems harmless. Says he has some medicine for us if we help. Denise and the Doctor want to take a chance.”

  Claire stopped walking. “Can't just hand him the keys and tell him to bring it back with a full tank, huh?”

  “I wish. Can't trust him with the van,” I said.

  Claire sighed. She seemed sad and depressed. The bare trees and cold wind probably didn't help her dark mood. “You sure I'm the right person for the job? I know you caught my discussion with Michael in the infirmary. In case you haven't heard, all I may be good for is watching kids.”

  “The hell with him.” We started walking back towards the house. “I need your help. You're one of the few people I trust not to get me killed out there.”

  We paused at the patio door to the schoolhouse. Inside, I caught the laughter of the kids as Miss Louise passed out the art supplies. Claire turned, and tapped me on the chest with her bat. “If it was anybody else but you, I'd kick you right out of the yard. All right. I'll go. On one condition.”

  I had a feeling I was not going to like what she said next. “I'm afraid to ask. What condition?”

  Claire touched my cheek. “You get rid of that damn beard.”

  “No promises. We'll meet at my house to make a plan, then leave tomorrow after breakfast.”

  “Sounds good. See you then,” Claire said. She turned and walked into the house.

  A few hours sleep and many discussions with my wife Karen later, I was standing with Sidney as we prepared Monique the van for the trip outside. Sidney had done a good job repairing the minor damage from the last trip. He massaged out the slight zombie dents on the side and touched up the scrape in the gleaming black paint. Sidney had even been able to give the van a quick wash, but he still couldn't get the side door open. We would have to load Lyle's friends from the back doors.

  We were putting in some supplies when I spotted Claire coming up the road. Her bat was on her shoulder. She had chosen a brand new silver one to take on the trip. The late morning sun reflected off the surface.

  Claire stowed her weapon in the cab, then walked around to the back. “Where's Lyle, our guest of honor?”

  I slammed the van doors. “Finishing up breakfast. Then, he's going to the armory to get a gun.”

  Another funny look from Claire. “You trust him with a weapon? What if he tries to blow your brains out?”

  “That's why I'm bringing you,” I said. Sidney snickered as he walked by us.

  “Very funny. How did Karen take the news you were going on yet another mission?” Claire asked.

  “She thinks I'm cheating on her with someone on the outside. That's why I leave her all the time.”

  Claire shook her head. “That Karen. What a card.”

  I leaned against the van to wait for Lyle. He better step it up. Time was wasting. “How did Ryan and Alex take the news?”

  Claire leaned next to me, and placed a small bag on the ground. It contained our road trip survival supplies. “Ryan wasn't exactly thrilled, but he understood.” She unzipped the bag, and started rooting around, taking an inventory. “Alex was less understanding. My ears are still ringing from his yelling.”

  “You'll see him again soon.” I almost added, I hope, but decided to keep it to myself. Got to keep positive about our success outside the fences. “You got everything we need?”

  “Think so. Water, food, flashlights with extra batteries, and first aid.” Claire handed me a small handful of maps. “These were the only maps I could find.” They were used and abused, marked up with so many notations they were hard to read.

  “We'll stop at Safety Two and grab some better ones. You have your lock-picking tools?” Claire was our champion lock-picker. She was teaching the skill to all her kids in school. We brought her different locks from the outside to test her. She could usually open every lock we brought inside.

  Claire patted her sleeve. “Right here on my wrist. You remember your extra ammo?”

  I patted one of my pockets, my hand coming to rest on the four extra double-stacked magazines. Fifteen rounds each. “Right here.”

  “No rifle?” Claire said.

  “No, not this time. We should be able to get in and out quickly,” I said.

  Lyle appeared in the distance, flanked by Denise and Michael. When he saw the van, he broke into a slight jog and came up to conversation distance.

  “Hey, John. Good morning.” He showed me the gun and holster that we gave him. “Thanks for trusting me. I'm not the best shot, but I manage.”

  “It's in case we get separated. I don't want you walking around out there without some protection,” I said.

  “Right.” Lyle turned to Claire. “Good morning, Claire.”

  “Morning Lyle. How are you?” Claire looked him up and down, gauging whether or not he was going to kill us.

  “I'm fine. Ready to go,” Lyle said. “Before we do, I just want to say to you two that I really appreciate this. You're the first people I've met that were willing to help me.” He broke down a little. “I just hope my people are still there when we show up.” Lyle turned away to wipe his eyes.

  Claire and I looked at each other, wondering if it was all just an act. I nodded at her, and she nodded back, understanding what I was thinking. I would drive, and Claire would watch Lyle for any bad behavior.

  “We're glad to help. We'll do what we can,” I said.

  “That's all I can ask,” Lyle said.

  We got in the van, Claire first so she could get in the back. I took the keys from Sidney and slid into the drivers seat. Lyle took his place on the passenger side. I started the engine, and the reassuring beats of the strong diesel engine filled the cab. I cranked the heater to full and turned the seat warmers to max. Claire would have to be a little chilly, as the seats in the back of the cab were unheated. I was sure I would hear about that in a moment.

  As the van warmed, Denise stuck her head in the window. She had her gray sweater draped across her shoulders to ward off the cold. “You guys be careful. Doctor Connelly will be waiting to take care of any injuries to Lyle's group.” She shifted her gaze to the passenger seat. “And Lyle...I'm trusting you, and I know you're not planning anything, but John and Claire know how to defend themselves. They won't hesitate to ensure they return safely to Cannon Fields. Do you know what I mean?”

  Lyle looked pale. Maybe it was the cold, but maybe it was Denise's not so subtle warning. “Yes, ma'am.”

  “Okay.” Denise patted my arm. “Good luck, John. Be safe.”

  With that, I rolled up the window and pulled away from the curb. For better or worse, we were on the way to another mission outside. Cannon Fields was in the rescue business again.

  I drove up the road to the front gate. The sun was now out full, and winter started losing its grip on the Alabama countryside. Soon it would be spring, and planting and hunting season. Lyle and his people might be here to help us out.

  After a quick check for roaming zombies, a guard opened the gate. I pressed down on the accelerator and exited Cannon Fields. I turned right and headed for our first checkpoint. The gate closed behind us as we drove away. We were back in the big, bad world.

  Chapter 11: The Junkmen

  I made the turn onto the main road, and headed for the nearest small town. It was a simple little town near the gates. We at Cannon Fields just called it Safety Two. A nice safe place to get off the road for a while. Lyle looked out the window as the distressed countryside passed by. He didn't talk much at first, Claire's laser-beam eyes were making him nervous. “Such a waste.”

  “What's that?” I said.

  Lyle turned away from the window. “All these cars and trucks on the road. All these buildings and houses, abandoned
to the zombies. I guess it's like this everywhere, huh? New York, Chicago, Paris. All over the world.”

  “Probably. I've toyed with the idea of taking a road trip. See what other cities are like. Meet other people, take in the sights,” I said.

  “That would be neat. Except for the man-eating zombies, it would be a hell of a trip,” said Lyle. We all shared a nervous laugh.

  Lyle began to relax a little, and started tapping his knees with his fingers as we drove along. “You and Claire seem to have a special bond. Denise told me you shared some time on the road. How did you two meet?”

  Our story was told so many times and to so many people. A few years ago, we made a deal and now took turns when we were asked. It was Claire's turn.

  “We met in North Georgia, about eight months after the outbreak. I approached John in a zombie-infested intersection. He smoked two Yellow-Eyes with a big, fancy rifle.” Claire said. It occurred to me as Claire told our story that I hadn't seen a Yellow-Eye zombie in a long time. Probably more than three years ago now. Maybe the Red-Eyes and the dogs ate them all.

  “I took a chance and walked up behind him. It was stupid and reckless, and he almost shot me in the face, but I was desperate.” Claire paused to let her words sink in to Lyle's mind.

  “Desperate?” Lyle asked.

  “I was starving. A few more hours and I probably would have been dead in a ditch.” Claire paused again. I looked at her reflection in the mirror, and she gave me a smile. The old days were a tough memory.

  “John saved your life,” Lyle said, admiration in his voice.

  “We saved each other. I was pretty near the end of the road,” I said. “I fed her, and I haven't been able to shake her yet.”

  Lyle laughed. “Yeah...friends are good to have. North Georgia? So you're not from Alabama?”

  I made a quick turn around a minivan in the middle of the road. It was turned over on its side, contents spilled all over the road. “No, Cannon Fields rescued Claire and I from some maniac near Birmingham. I'm actually from north of Atlanta. I lived there with my first wife, Gia.” To my surprise, I choked up with the mention of my dead wife. Maybe it was the words “first wife” that triggered the response. Tears began to sting in my eyes. Thoughts of Gia had not come up in a while. I zoned out and stopped talking for a moment to collect myself. Five years, and I was still in mourning for my Gia. Her image was still crystal clear in my mind, and the hurt of her loss was still there.

  “Karen is not your first wife? What happened to Gia?” Lyle asked.

  “I don't know,” I managed to say. “Never found her.”

  Claire sensed my discomfort, and changed the subject. “How about you, Lyle? Any family?”

  Lyle leaned back in his seat. “I've got family all over the Southeast. If there's a railroad, a house, or something else being built, you'll probably see one of my relatives living nearby. I come from a long line of people that worked with their hands.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a creased photograph, and handed it back to Claire. “But that there is my pride and joy. My grandson, Brent.”

  Claire showed me the picture. It was a blurry composition of a blond-haired little baby and a woman who looked a little like Lyle. Without facial hair, of course.

  “Grandson?” I said. “If you don't mind me saying, Lyle, you don't look old enough to be a grandfather.”

  “I got married young. We had a little accident, and I got my girl pregnant. Me and Betty were married a few weeks later.” Lyle carefully stowed the precious photo in his pocket. “I was about nineteen years old or so. Boy, her parents were mad as hornets. It worked out real well at first. I had a good job as a diesel mechanic, and she was getting help from her Mom. We lived on their farm in Texas. Plenty of room. We had a daughter. Named her Violet after my mother. I thought she looked like a Violet. Life kind of turned after that.”

  “What happened?” Claire said.

  “Betty drank too much, and I cheated on her a little. My fault, I admit it. One day, we decided to part company. We divorced, and she took my Violet as far away as she could. All the way to Savannah.”

  “How sad,” Claire commented.

  Lyle smoothed his mustache. “Wasn't too bad at first. I got to see Violet a few times each year. But then Betty got re-married to some boat guy, and I started moving around a lot, looking for work. I saw Violet less and less. A few years later, I stopped seeing her for good. We drifted apart. Even the cards and letters stopped. She was about nine or ten at that point.”

  “Then you found out about your grandson. That was good news,” I said, trying to sound hopeful.

  “Out of the blue one day, I get a letter in the mail. It had the photograph I just showed you, and a few lines written down on some fancy letter-writing paper with little birds all over it. It said, 'Hey Dad. This is your grandson Brent. Mama says he looks like her, but I think he favors you.' That's all it said.”

  “How old was your daughter?” I asked.

  “She had to be about twenty or twenty-one in the photograph. Nothing in the letter about a father or getting married. All of a sudden I had a grandson. Just like that.” Lyle snapped his fingers.

  “Did you try to visit them?” Claire asked.

  Lyle shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The leather seat made noise as he moved. “I sat down a few times and tried to write a return letter, but I could never find the words. I decided to take some time off and travel to Savannah to find them, but then I just ran out of time.” Lyle trailed off.

  “I guess we all did,” I said.”

  “Yeah. Just ran out of time.” Lyle stared out of the windshield.

  Claire tried to be reassuring. “Maybe they made it through.”

  Lyle smoothed his facial hair again. Must be a nervous habit. “Maybe. I don't know. I'd like to think they're living somewhere safe from all the monsters. I heard things got bad near the coast.”

  Conversation drifted away as we thought about our lost loved ones. Soon, we were riding in silence as we each got lost in our visions of our past lives. Gas stations, and other commercial buildings of a small town began to appear in the windows of our van. After a few turns, I began to look for Safety Two. “Don't miss it,” Claire said.

  “I won't. It's on the main road,” I said, scanning both sides of the road. The streets were clear of cars in this section of town.

  We got to the intersection of the road from Cannon Fields and the main street through town. Cars and trucks were piled everywhere. Several accidents had blocked the road during the panic of the outbreak and doomed the town. The swarms of undead came up from nearby Birmingham and scoured the area. It was a scene repeated in small towns all over the south. Teams from Cannon Fields spent a few weeks trying to clean up the place. We did our best, but lacking heavy equipment, we couldn't totally clear the mess.

  At least most of the Red-Eyes were gone.

  “There it is.” I steered the van towards an unassuming white building along the main drag. In it's pre-zombie days, it had been a grocery store with ample parking. “I'll put it near the back door.”

  “Okay.” Claire got her bat ready for action.

  I pulled the van up to the short block of stairs leading to a back door, parking in such a way to make the van look abandoned at first glance. There were a few dead cars, an orange pick-up truck, and a flipped over trailer next to the building. They provided good camouflage: if you looked quick, the van became part of the supermarket's junkyard.

  I shut off the van, and we exited. We made our way quickly up the short flight of concrete stairs. I unlocked the door, and Claire and I stepped inside. Claire ran off to find a lantern in the darkness of the market.

  Lyle paused at the doorway. He sniffed the air, and backed up. “Smells kind of dead in there.”

  “Rotten food. We cleaned it out as much as possible, but the smell kind of hangs around.” I waved him inside. “It's okay. Nothing dead in here.”

  He stepped inside, and I closed and locked the
door. A warm, yellow glow came into the room and lit up the scene. It was Claire, with one of the camping lanterns we kept in the market. She turned it down to one of its lowest settings to keep it from showing outside and placed it on a nearby chair. “You look for the maps,” she said “I'll go keep watch.”

  “Be careful. Shout out if trouble shows up,” I said, beginning my search for the elusive map of Alabama.

  Claire waved her bat at me. “Will do.” She turned, and scampered into the supermarket.

  Lyle took a few more steps into the storeroom of the supermarket. “Welcome to Safety Two,” I said. “A somewhat safe place to get off the road.”

  “Neat. Did you find anything useful here?” Lyle said, his voice echoing in the large space of the storeroom.

  “Not really.” I began rooting through the maps hidden in the small desk near the office. I still couldn't find the one I needed. This might be a short trip without a map.

  Lyle walked back to the desk. “So, what town is this? I don't think I've ever been here before.”

  “I think it was called Oneonta.” I finally found the map of Alabama, but it was torn in half. Yeah...Oneonta. Here it is.” I showed the map to Lyle.

  “Why this town?” he asked.

  I traced the roads coming in and out of the town on the map. “All these roads come through here. Bad guys often stumble through this place on the way to somewhere else. We can keep an eye on them. Cannon Fields sends occasional patrols down here to keep a lookout.”

  “Pretty smart,” Lyle said, more admiration in his voice. “You guys have this survival thing figured out.”

  “Some things. Most times we just see how it goes,” I said. The maps I found wouldn't work. They were still too marked up and torn to use. I was going to have to find new ones. “And it wasn't easy. This town was pretty infested.”

  “John! We got company!” Claire called from the front of the store. Lyle and I broke into a run.

  The glass front wall of the store offered a great view of the streets around the supermarket. Lyle and I found Claire hunched down, looking across a parking lot full of abandoned cars and trucks. The busted up newspaper and soda machines outside gave us good cover. We cowered behind them and set up a lookout.