by Tim Morgan
“Yeah, right,” Dave said.
Chris walked over to the right so he could piss into the wind. He didn’t walk very far since he left the last of his modesty back in the refugee camp. He breathed a sigh of relief as the pressure in his body was relieved. As he was zipping his fly a cold hand shot out from beneath a pile of wreckage and grabbed his foot. Chris shrieked.
He tried to step backward, wrestled to break the grip of the hand about his ankle to no avail. As he stepped backward he tripped and fell flat on his ass. He pulled against the hand and heard the wreckage shifting above him.
A moment later Meghan and Dave were by his side. “What’s the matter?” Meghan asked.
“Something’s got my foot!” Chris said.
Dave grabbed Chris under his arms and pulled. The debris pile shifted again, a hundred tons of jagged wood splinters ready to tumble down on them.
“No!” Meghan said. “You’ll bring all that crap down on us!”
“What should we do?” Dave asked.
Meghan looked around for something—anything she could use as a weapon. There was a piece of splintered wood sticking out of a pile. “Hold onto him,” she said, “but don’t pull yet!” Meghan scrambled over and pulled the spear out of the pile. It was the perfect size for what she had in mind.
She raced back to Chris, got close to the dead hand. “Watch your foot,” she said. Meghan lifted the post over her head and drove it down with all her might. It pierced the zombie’s arm midway up the forearm and pinned the arm to the ground. The zombie moaned, tugging against the stake. As the zombie struggled, the debris shifted.
“We haven’t got much time,” Meghan said. She attacked the zombie’s fingers. She grabbed the thumb and pulled it back with everything she had. Meghan felt the bone snap as she did, and Chris was finally free of death’s grip. The three of them clambered away as the debris shifted. Moments later tons of splintered wood and metal buried the spot where they had been standing.
“You okay?” Meghan asked. Chris nodded. “Please don’t do that again.”
Chris nodded. The blood was still pounding in his ears as he shuffled to his bike. They could hear the zombie calls—they sounded like groups getting closer—when an explosion shook the ground.
All three of them crouched. They cast nervous glances at one another, none quite sure what to say when another explosion tore through the air. The second one was much closer; they felt the dull smack of the pressure wave and a few seconds later saw smoke rising just behind a pile of debris.
“What was that?” Dave asked, “Are we being bombed again?”
“I don’t think so,” Chris said, “I didn’t see any planes fly by.” Another distant explosion tore through the moans. He thought about it a minute. “I bet those are mines.”
“Why would they mine the city?” Meghan asked.
“If there are too many zombies for you to stand and fight,” Chris said, “you want to make this into a giant zombie trap.” He thought about the jets swooping in, dropping hundreds of mines onto the ground. They would be scattered along the road, the debris, and the zombies ambling about would be too stupid to understand what was happening when the explosions tore them to pieces. It was a stroke of genius.
Then Chris thought about why they would resort to mining the city. The situation here must have been even more desperate than back in Milan. There were probably soldiers here during the bombing: some dead, some zombies, some wounded, some alive. Some would be fighting bravely while a few would be cowering or trying to run as the bombers closed in. There may have even been innocent people in the city when it went down. The strategy stopped being brilliant and felt more like a desperate last-ditch gamble to stop the horde.
Dave shook his head. “Fantastic,” he said. “That means this whole city is one giant booby trap.”
“Should we go around?” Meghan asked.
“We need to press on,” Chris said, “The whole city can’t be mined.”
“I don’t know about this, Chris,” Dave said. “I’d rather get home two days later than get myself blown up.”
Chris pointed back the way they came. “We can’t go back,” he said, “Listen.” They heard the sounds of moaning all around them—behind them the moans were loud and getting closer. “They must have heard the explosions.”
“Great,” Dave muttered, “that’s just fucking great.”
“We’ll be fine if we take it slow and watch where we’re going,” Chris said. “Let’s go.”
They mounted their bikes and started riding, with Meghan in the lead. Dave didn’t like that at all—he’d rather have Chris up front, so if they made a wrong turn it would be him being blown to pieces. Dave could go on if he saw Chris obliterated, but if it were Meghan he may as well jump on the mine too.
The roads were filled with junk—in some places they needed to walk their bikes through narrow paths in the wreckage. Moaning zombies sounded closer than ever, their wails just behind the piles of splintered wood and broken glass that covered the ground.
Meghan inched along a few feet at a time, stopping constantly to look around. When she was confident the coast was clear, she would slink along again. She stopped suddenly, her eyes locked on a house off to their left. “Guys,” she said.
Dave and Chris rolled to her side. Meghan pointed.
There was a house—three of its walls had been decimated, leaving one wall still standing. The interior paint used to be white, now it was smoky grey. Spray painted in red on the wall was a phrase in capital letters—“ABANDON HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE.” The paint had run a bit and looked like blood trickling down the wall. Beneath that were messages in different colors with arrows pointing in different directions.
“Someone’s not happy,” Dave said.
“I’ll say,” Chris said.
“Guys,” Meghan said, “Those were painted after the bombing.”
Dave looked again. Fallen beams criss-crossed the wall. The text on some of the messages covered parts of the beams. “I think you’re right.”
“Do you know what that means?” Meghan asked. “There were people here!”
“We need to keep moving,” Chris said.
“Maybe there’s a fort or something,” Meghan said. “Something like Charlie made.”
“We’ll see,” Chris said.
“We need to look,” Meghan said.
“We need to move,” Dave said.
Meghan shot Dave a dirty look.
“We do,” Chris said. “If we find anyone, we’ll stop. Promise.”
Meghan nodded. Chris spoke as she started pedaling again.
“Meghan,” Chris said.
She turned.
“Watch out for those yellow things. I think those are mines.”
Meghan looked around. Scattered in the debris were dozens of small yellow canisters, each about the size of a soda can. A few out in the open had little black fins at one end.
She tiptoed along, her feet just barely touching the ground. This is not happening. This is so not happening. I so don’t want to be here. I’d rather face the zombies. I can’t do this—
A moan echoed behind them, closer than ever. She was opening her mouth to ask what happened when Dave turned, eyes wide, and shrieked, “Meghan—GO!”
Her eyes focused in the distance. A swarm of zombies clambered over the debris; over one another in a mad dash toward the group. Her head snapped forward and Meghan cranked the pedals for all she was worth. This can’t be happening! Not here! Not now!
The bombs won’t hurt you if you don’t touch them. They may explode if you touch them, but they don’t jump up and grab you like the zombies. Oh God, I hope we can outrun them without hitting any mines. This is crazy! This can’t be happening!
The path was narrow and tightly jammed with junk. Splintered wood zipped by when she heard a thunderclap behind them. The pressure wave knocked the three of them off balance as it rattled their guts and their bones. Meghan looked back—Chris and Dave were right behind her, ey
es wide with fear. There was a plume of smoke billowing through the path just a few bike lengths behind them. The sounds of splintering wood and growls erupted from beneath the cloud. Pebbles and splinters rained down on them.
Meghan turned and kept riding. Her heart hammered in her chest and her temples throbbed as she gasped for air. Her legs were burning and her lungs felt like they would burst but she had to keep riding. The stench of the zombies stung her nose and made her want to puke, but she had to keep riding. Dave and Chris are counting on me. We have to get out of here.
They broke out of the debris into a neighborhood that was relatively unscathed. Meghan quickly scanned the road ahead—no yellow canisters. She broke hard to the right and moved to the middle of the street. Chris and Dave were right behind her. Meghan pedaled harder. They gained precious ground away from the zombies when another thunderclap erupted behind them.
Meghan’s mouth was dry and sticky. She reached for her straw and brought it to her lips with a trembling hand. She took a sip of warm water but didn’t really taste it. She swished it around her mouth before she swallowed it. She took another sip before putting the straw back, her hand steadier but her heart still pounding.
“That was close!” Dave said, “That was too friggin’ close!”
“I know,” Chris said. “I know.”
“We should’ve gone around,” Meghan said.
Dave looked back. He heard another explosion, saw debris fly into the air, and a plume of smoke before two of the debris piles slid together in an avalanche. A gray cloud billowed along the street, swallowing everything in its path.
“We could have been back there,” Dave shouted, “That could have been us, not the zombies. Do you understand that?”
“Yeah,” Chris said. “What a rush, huh?”
“Rush? What is it with you? This isn’t a game,” Dave shouted. “We hit a mine and it’ll kill all of us. There are no second chances out here.”
“Screw you, Dave,” Chris shouted, “If it wasn’t for me we wouldn’t have made it this far.”
“Bullshit,” Dave shouted back, “that’s bullshit and you know it!”
“You want to get off that bike and say that to my face?” Chris said.
Dave stopped his bike. Chris did too. They put their kickstands down and dismounted, their eyes locked on one another.
“Guys,” Meghan shouted, “Guys, no!”
Chris grabbed Dave by the shirt. Dave reached out and seized Chris by the hair. Chris howled in pain. “Pulling hair like a faggot!” He punched Dave in the stomach. It was a solid blow that almost knocked the wind out of Dave.
Dave doubled over and gripped harder, shaking his fist and rattling Chris’ head. Chris grabbed Dave’s arm and tried pulling it away. Dave tightened his grip on Chris’ hair, pissing him off even more.
“Knock it off!” Meghan shouted. Dave realized she was there and let go. Chris did the same. Meghan stood between them, palms on their chests, fire in her eyes. “That’s enough!”
Dave and Chris kept their eyes on one another, breathing hard, fists clenched, adrenaline pumping. Come on Chris, Dave thought, give me a reason.
“Don’t do this!” Meghan said, her voice firm and level. “We can’t afford this. Not here. Not now.”
“Him and his stupid decisions almost got us killed!” Dave shouted.
“Enough!” Meghan said. She narrowed her eyes at Dave.
“You think you’re so smart,” Chris said, “ride home by yourself.”
“Shut up!” Meghan shouted. She tapped her index fingers against Chris and Dave’s chests. “You two need to stop. We’ve gotten this far because we stuck together. If we want to get home we need to stick together.” She put her arms down. “I just want to get home,” she said with a softening voice. “I just want to go home.”
Moans echoed through the city. They came from everywhere but nowhere; the horde could have been a mile away or right around the next corner. The three of them looked at one another uneasily.
“Meghan’s right,” Dave said. “We need to stick together.”
“Yeah,” Chris said, “I want to get home too.”
“Try not to be such an asshole,” Dave said.
“Stop being such a dick,” Chris replied.
They tapped fists.
“Let’s get out of here,” Meghan said.
They got on their bikes. “We need to find some water,” Dave said.
“We’ll check the next sturdy looking house,” Chris said. “Dave, your turn to lead.”
Dave nodded and rode ahead. Chris reached under his helmet and massaged his aching scalp.The walls of buildings that stood were spray painted with graffiti. Some of them were just arrows or circles. Some were messages. TORI—IF YOU SEE THIS, MEET ME AT THE WHISKEY ISLAND MARINA DAY AFTER TOMORROW. NEIL.
“You think they got out of here?” Chris asked.
“I don’t think anyone got out of here,” Dave said.
“Someone survived,” Meghan said, “the zombies didn’t paint the graffiti.”
GOD, WHY HAVE YOU FORESAKEN US?
Chris turned to Meghan. “What do you think of that one?”
“God didn’t do this to us,” Meghan said.
“Then who did?” Chris asked.
Meghan took a deep breath. “Sometimes,” Meghan said, “things happen. Sometimes there’s a why and sometimes there isn’t.”
“You think God’s forgotten about us?” Chris asked. He was sincere when he asked.
Meghan turned, made eye contact with Chris. “If He wasn’t watching over us,” Meghan said, “we wouldn’t have made it this far. Straight at the next intersection, Dave.”
They entered a section that was relatively untouched by the bombing. The trees and houses were still standing almost peacefully, though there were bits of splintered wood and smashed brick on the road. Some junk was on roofs or caught in the trees. “Watch it guys,” Dave shouted back, “there’s some broken glass up here.”
As they rolled into the intersection Dave screamed. To the right was a swarm of zombies in their bloody rags. Chris looked to the left—the street was filled with zombies, packed shoulder to shoulder. The zombies broke into a run as soon as they saw the bikes.
The zombies were only a few yards away—how did they get so close without making any noise? Chris thought. They must have closed in on us while we were fighting. This is not good, not good at all.
TWENTY-SIX
Washington, DC (Reuters). Officials at the Centers for Disease Control have confirmed rumors that the Mumbai virus has reached North America. Reports of infection have been reported in Ontario, Calgary, Montreal, and Toronto, Canada; in the U.S. Boston, New York, Miami, Los Angeles, Cleveland, Chicago, and Seattle have confirmed infections.
“After what happened in Asia, we are concerned about what could happen here,” says Dr. Patricia Cormier. Dr. Cormier warns the sun may be setting on human civilization. “We are doing all we can to synthesize a vaccine against this disease, but I stress this is not an easy task. This is a virus the likes of which we’ve never seen before. It could take months—if not years—to develop an effective vaccine. By then it may be too late.”
The governments of Pakistan, India, and China have been brought to their knees by a virulent disease that turns its victims into violent, nearly unstoppable killing machines. With reports of reanimated dead and disarray spreading across Europe many fear the same thing could happen in the United States. The President sought to calm fears.
“The best people in the world are working to control this disease,” says the President. “We are monitoring the situation, as we have been doing all along, and we are doing everything we can to bring this under control. The American people need to remain calm and understand that this is not the end of the world.”
We’re in Pennsylvania. It’s beautiful out here! There are a lot of hills, but they’re not too bad. It’s so—farmy! LOL I know that’s not a word, but I can’t think of how else to des
cribe it.
I can’t believe how green the grass is, or how far we can see. We try to ride a hundred miles a day, and we’ve been doing a pretty good job keeping that pace. The people out here are so nice—a lot of them smile as they drive by, or they wave. When we stop people notice our packs and ask us where we’re from, how far we’re going, and they wish us luck. It’s a lot different than back home!
There were thunderstorms along our route—we had to ride twenty miles in the rain and the lightning. It was scary! By the time we got to a motel we were drenched. We dried off, had supper, and slept through the storm.
We’re camping tonight in a city called Bradford, which is about halfway across the state. I don’t know why we chose Bradford—I think it was about a hundred miles from our last stop. I’ll write again when we stop—say hi to Rocket for me!
They reached Bradford late in the afternoon, after crossing a river and meandering down Main Street. The waning sun turned the sky bright pink. Dave thought the town felt small, a lot smaller than Billerica, and in some ways it was like they traveled back in time. The tallest building was what, three stories? There were a bunch of houses for sale and closed businesses.
“Wow,” Chris said, “kinda sad, huh?”
“Yeah,” Meghan said, “It’s such a pretty town.”
They rode into downtown—if you could call it downtown. There was a little gazebo, a few small stores that were still open, and office buildings waiting to be bought. A police car was parked next to the gazebo—the officer inside was reading a newspaper.
“Let’s take a break,” Meghan said. The three of them rode to the gazebo, parked their bikes, and sat down.
The policeman looked at them. He did a double take, then set the newspaper down and got out of his car. Great, Chris thought, he’s going to tell us we need to move on. Just watch.
“Hi,” the police officer said.
“Hi,” Meghan said.
“Hi,” Dave said.
“’sup,” Chris said.
“Looks like you’ve been riding a while,” the officer said. “Where did you come from?”