The Trip

by Tim Morgan

  “If this is the end of the world,” Dave said, “there’s nobody else I’d rather be with.”

  Meghan blinked a few times. “Me neither.”

  They sat there and watched the fire burn down to embers. They talked the entire time, remembering every detail of their trip and their journey home. They talked a lot about Chris.

  “I don’t think I’d have done this without him,” Dave said.

  “I know I wouldn’t have,” Meghan said.

  Dave thought a moment. “If we didn’t where would we be?”

  “Probably dead.”

  They watched in silence as the embers died. Then they slept.

  Meghan woke to the sound of moaning at first light. She scurried to the window and looked outside. No zombies—but they were close. Damn! The fire was a stupid idea. The zombies knew they were there.

  “Dave,” she said as she crawled back across the floor. “Dave!”

  Dave stirred.

  “Zombies, Dave!”

  Dave sat up with a start.

  “Shit, where?”

  “I don’t know—close.”

  “Should we try to ride for it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Dave looked outside. The first zombie was stumbling into view. And another. He opened the window and could hear the sound of moaning. And something else. Something familiar. Something modern. An engine!

  Meghan was at his side. “What’s that?”

  A gunshot rang out. Then another and another. A huge beige truck rumbled down the street, turned at Meghan’s house and parked right on the lawn!

  “What the . . . ” Dave said. Six soldiers jumped out of the back and knelt on the ground, scanning. One fired his rifle as six more people jumped out of the truck and ran to the door. The knock was so loud it startled Dave and Meghan.

  “Hey!” A commanding voice called, “Anyone alive in there?”

  “We’re here!” Meghan shouted.

  “Lie down on the floor, hands on your heads. We’re coming in.”

  Dave and Meghan did as they were told. The door burst open and the sound of boots on hard wood echoed through the house. They checked the floor, called all-clear.

  One of the soldiers—a black woman—knelt beside them. “Anyone else in here?” She unclipped a pouch on her vest and took something out.

  “No, just us,” Meghan said.

  “Doc,” the soldier with the thundering voice called, “we got hostiles.” A gunshot rang out.

  “I’m working on it, sergeant. Open your mouth,” the woman said to Meghan. Meghan did. The doctor ran a cotton swab inside her cheek and put a few drops of something on it. Nothing happened. “Can you walk?”

  Meghan nodded.

  “Get your stuff and get in the truck.”

  “What about him?” Meghan said.

  “I need to check him first.” Dave opened his mouth. The doctor repeated the test. The swab turned pink.

  “Shit,” the doctor muttered.

  “What does that mean?” Dave asked.

  “Either you’re infected, or you’re immune. There’s only one way to be sure,” the doctor said. “Finger.”

  Dave gave the doctor his hand. She pricked his finger and drew a drop of blood. She put it on a little strip of paper that she fed into a handheld computer.

  Meghan froze, watching, waiting.

  “Sergeant, get her into the truck!” the doctor shouted.

  The sergeant grabbed Meghan by the shoulder. “Dave—Dave!” she called.

  “Go ahead Meghan,” Dave shouted. “It’s going to be all right.”

  Dave had no idea what that test was, but he knew if he failed this one they were going to leave him here. The doctor watched the device, muttered something under her breath. She looked up at him.

  “Okay, you’re clean. Can you walk?”

  “Yeah,” Dave replied.

  “Get your stuff and let’s go.”

  Dave went back for his pannier and saw Meghan had left her laptop behind. He grabbed her laptop instead of his belongings and ran out the door.

  “Let’s go!” the doctor shouted.

  On both sides gunfire exploded.

  “Hostiles!” someone shouted. Dave ran for the truck with everything he could give. Gunfire rang out on either side, the concussions pounding his ears. A gloved hand reached down from the truck—an Asian guy a little older than Dave. The soldier’s eyes were tired but determined. Dave took the hand, threw the laptop up onto the truck, and climbed in.

  He found a spot next to Meghan as the sergeant climbed aboard and the engine rumbled to life. They pulled back onto Wyman Road. Dave couldn’t see much outside but knew they were going pretty fast. The sergeant steadied himself with one hand, counting his people off.

  “How did you find us?” Meghan asked the doctor.

  “Drone spotted the heat from your fire last night,” she replied. “We wouldn’t have known you were there without it. That was the smartest thing you could have done.” She pointed out the windown in the back of the truck.

  Before they rounded the corner, Dave and Meghan saw the horde of zombies surrounding Meghan’s house.

  “It’s okay,” the sergeant said. “We got to you first. You’re safe now. We’re not going to let anything happen to you, are we people?”

  The soldiers hollered back in unison, “No, Sergeant Archer!”

  Meghan took Dave’s hand.

  “We’re safe,” he said, tears streaming down his face. “We’re finally safe!”

  “I know,” Meghan whispered. “I know . . . ”

  THIRTY-SIX

  Stillwater, MN (Reuters). The Mumbai virus tightened its grip in America as evacuations continued for the second week. Cars jammed roads out of major cities on both coasts as the living ran from the dead. The President has ordered a dusk-to-dawn curfew in all refugee centers.

  “I have ordered our armed forces to restore domestic order. In the interest of national security I am federalizing all services. The last thing we need anyone to do right now is panic.”

  Citizens are advised to avoid urban centers, arm themselves if possible, and remain indoors after sunset. Try to have at least two weeks food and water and a battery-powered radio available. Officials will continue to broadcast evacuation orders, locations of medical facilities and safe havens, and other important information during the crisis.

  It’s late and I can’t sleep. This place sucks. There isn’t enough food, there aren’t enough bathrooms, we’re lucky if we can take a shower a week. We’re jammed in here like packing peanuts. It smells. I’ve seen three fights since we’ve been here. There was a guy with a knife running around trying to cut people when the soldiers shot him.

  And as if the live people aren’t bad enough, the other day the zombies showed up in the middle of the night. We heard gunfire and explosions for two hours—in the morning the soldiers went outside and set the bodies on fire. There must have been a ton of them; I could see smoke rising well into the afternoon.

  I can’t take any more of this.

  Meghan got up with the morning sun. The air was hot, heavy, and still. The stink from the port-o-potties hung over their tent. I have to get away from that smell before I puke. She crawled out of the tent and unzipped the flap.

  As far as she could see were people. Cars. Tents. Trailers. Mobile homes. Scattered like toys carelessly abandoned in the rolling fields. Sprinkled throughout the camp were military vehicles. The outer perimeter was a ten foot earthen wall on three sides topped with barbed wire, hastily plowed up by bulldozers. The fourth side was the Mississippi river, with a smaller wall bulldozed along its banks. There were scattered guard posts and the occasional pair of soldiers standing watch on the wall.

  She wiped sweat from her forehead and checked the bikes. They were still next to the tent where they left them. All around were people—milling about, staring one another down. In the distance she could see a bunch of soldiers trying to break up a fight as gunfire rang o
ut along one of the walls. She couldn’t tell which one, not that she cared.

  Meghan ran a hand through her hair. It felt greasy and matted and it stuck together in clumps. She realized she could smell her own body odor, and it wasn’t subtle. What’s it been, four days since we showered? Maybe it was six. The days were all blending together. Salt was caked on her skin and it made her clothes stick to her skin in the heat, and it chafed inside her thighs and under her arms. If she got in line now she might get a shower before lunch. She decided to wait. When she got back to the tent Dave and Chris were sitting on the grass out in front of it.

  Chris picked a blade of grass and started pulling the seeds off, one at a time. Guess I’m not going to see Seattle this summer. This sucks. Before you know it I’m going to be in college, and I’m going to have to work, and I’m not going to have time to do this again.

  Meghan sat down next to them, her knees drawn up to her chest. She stared off into the distance. “The showers are all backed up,” she said.

  “That sucks,” Dave said. He picked a pebble up and flicked it toward the tent. It bounced off and rolled along the ground a few inches before stopping. He looked around for another pebble to throw.

  The worst part of sitting here, Chris thought, is having nothing to do. We sit, every day, and we wait. We wait for the bathrooms, we wait for the showers, we wait for food. Wait, wait, wait. All we fucking do here is wait. They told us a couple weeks when we got here, it’s been a couple weeks, and there’s no sign they’re ever going to let us go.

  “This waiting is killing me,” Meghan said.

  “Amen,” said Chris.

  “I don’t like waiting either,” Dave said, “but at least here we’re safe, and we’ve got food . . . ” It’s not that bad—it really isn’t.

  Chris cut him off. “There’s not enough food, Dave,” he said. “That’s why we’re down to one meal a day.”

  “There’s got to be more coming. They’ll ship supplies in,” Dave said.

  “There’s no more,” Chris insisted. “We have what we have.”

  That guy can be such a dick, Dave thought. “We’re going to get out of this. We need to give them more time.”

  “We’ve given them enough time,” Meghan said. “I want to go home.”

  “We do too,” Chris said.

  “No—I mean I want to go home now,” Meghan said quietly.

  “It’s okay,” Dave said. He put a hand on Meghan’s shoulder. “We’re all homesick.”

  “I’m not homesick,” Meghan said. “Don’t you guys get it? What if this is the end of the world? If it is, I need to be with my family.”

  The words stung Dave—not because he disagreed, but because he had been thinking the same thing since the virus hit America and the riots started. This really could be the end of the world. What if it was? He really didn’t want to die out there in the middle of nowhere, half a world away from his family.

  Chris spoke quietly. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. I’m sick of waiting.”

  “You think we can do it?” Dave asked. “I mean, you really think we stand a chance?”

  “If we’re careful, sure,” Chris said. “We ride like hell, keep our eyes open, check the news sites to figure out where the zombies are . . . and Meghan’s got a GPS.”

  “What about food and water?” Meghan asked.

  “We ride from outpost to outpost,” Chris said. “We’ll be safe.”

  Dave thought about it. There must be fortresses like this scattered across the country. There would be some distance between them, but they could easily ride a hundred miles in a day. “Sure,” Dave said, “We’ll be fine.” What could go wrong?

  “So we’re going to do it?” Meghan asked.

  “I’m in,” Chris said.

  “Me too,” Dave said.

  “Think we could shower before we leave?” Meghan asked. “It may be our last chance for a while.”

  Chris laughed. “If it makes you feel better, sure.”

  They packed their tent early the next morning and rode for the gate past a lot of curious people. The soldier at the entrance held her hand up as they approached. She was maybe in her early twenties. Behind her was a plywood shack that stood before the gate of chain link topped by razor wire.

  “What’s up?” she asked.

  “We want to leave,” Chris said. “We’re going home.”

  “Sorry,” the soldier said. “I can’t let you do that.”

  “What do you mean?” Meghan asked. “We’re not prisoners!”

  A male voice came from inside the guard shack. “What’s going on?”

  “I’ve got three kids out here that want to leave.”

  “Then let them go.”

  “Can we do that?”

  “Our orders are to keep the zombies out, not the people in.” The man came out—he was a little older, his face tanned. “Once you go outside the wire you’re on your own. You understand that?”

  Dave and Meghan looked at one another.

  “Yeah,” Chris said.

  “I mean you’re totally on your own. There’s nobody out there to help you,” the male soldier said.

  “Yeah,” Chris said, “we get it.”

  The soldiers looked at one another. The male shrugged. “Let them go.” He walked back into the guard shack.

  The woman unlocked the gate and pulled it open. She waved them through, stopping Meghan as she passed through. “Which way are you heading?”

  “East,” Meghan replied. “To Boston.”

  “The next outpost you’ll hit is in Muscatine, Iowa.”

  “That doesn’t sound too bad,” Chris said.

  “It’s over three hundred miles away,” the soldier said. “Three hundred miles outside the wire. You still want to go.”

  Dave put his feet on the ground and started backing up.

  “Yeah, we’re sure,” Chris said. “Come on, guys.”

  Chris was the first one to leave. Meghan followed.

  Dave took a deep breath and left last. He turned and watched the soldier as she closed the gate. “Good luck!” she shouted.

  What am I doing? Dave thought. This is nuts. This is totally nuts. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

  “Come on, guys!” Chris shouted.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Washinton, D.C. (API)—The President spoke for the first time from the newly reopened White House yesterday. “We have survived the greatest catastrophe in human history. Estimates place between sixty and seventy percent of the human population either dead or infected. I need to stress that this is an estimate—it’s going to be years before we know the full toll this plague has extracted on our species.

  “While the immediate danger has passed, we are by no means out of the woods. We must persevere. We must work together not only as neighbors, not only as citizens, but as people to rebuild human civilization. Our first task is to secure our borders and normalize our nation. There will come a day when you will go to work, collect a paycheck, and buy your groceries at the supermarket. The areas where we are restoring power, water, and other essential services expand every day. My second term ends in two years; by the time I leave office I expect our nation to be stabilized to the point where we can hold normal elections.

  “By no means will the damage to our nation or the reconstruction of our society be complete in two years; that will take decades. What I do plan to deliver is the return to a somewhat normal life.

  “My plan is bold, and will require hard work and sacrifice from every American. But we are a resilient people, we are a driven people, and I have the utmost confidence that together with our friends, allies, and neighbors we will rebuild our world.”

  Mom, I can’t believe it’s finally April. Six months I’ve been stuck here, waiting, doing not much of anything. The worst part has been knowing you and dad were stuck up in Canada, and with the borders sealed you weren’t able to get back down here. Thank God for the Internet! They say the borders are open, and th
e woman in the relocation office says she’s in the final stages of getting your travel pass approved. Once you get your health clearance, they’ll fly you down here and we’ll be together again! I can’t wait! I miss you guys so much!

  The families here made a little memorial out in the base center where they tack up memories of the people who died during the plague. I put Karen’s name up there. I still can’t believe she’s gone . . . I’d give anything for another chance to talk to her again, to let her know even though she drove me nuts I still love her. Every time I think about what happened to her I cry my eyes out. I was thinking we could have a funeral for her and bury some of her clothes so we have a grave we can visit when we get home.

  Dave’s taking it worse than I am. His family ran during the first few days. Their car was found abandoned on 128 near the Mass Pike. Everything they owned was still packed inside, and the doors were still open. The soldiers say the road is still jammed with cars; it’ll take months to clear the road and sort out what happened down there.

  This is about all the time I’ve got. I’ll see you soon!!!

  Love, Meghan

  Dave closed the door to his apartment—he called it an apartment, but it was more like a room. It was a bed, a dresser, and a desk. It wasn’t much, but it was home for now. Things were improving off-base, and there was talk that reconstruction could begin by summer barring another outbreak.

  Outside the spring air was cool and clean; it actually smelled like spring instead of the faint stink of rot Dave had gotten used to during the pestilence. He put his hands in his pockets and walked toward Meghan’s apartment. The roar of jet engines shook him to his core. He watched a gray cargo plane lift off into a clear blue sky.

  Dozens of people were walking around the grounds, no doubt taking advantage of this first nice day of spring. There were soldiers patrolling the base; a few in cars, many on foot with dogs by their side. The guys on foot had rifles strapped to their chests; there were Humvees armed with machineguns parked by the gates. Dave heard the distant crack of a gunshot. No, we’re not out of the woods yet, he thought. We won’t be for a very long time.