"Brainless," said Karen, finishing his sentence. "They just aren't very smart. Do they think they can find a cure?"
Hunter opened his mouth and then he closed it again, considering her comment. "I hope so," he said, scratching his head slightly. How could they cure something this insane? "In the meantime, don’t get infected. Where are you?"
Doc started sniffing the packages and reading the labels again, sorting them into some sort of piles.
"Still in the library. But there's a mob just outside. We've barricaded the doors, me and Hank… There's a few other people here," she said softly. And then he could hear the rustling noise again.
"What is that noise?" Hunter said softly. He imagined the swarm of people was pushing close to his wife, muffling their call.
"Sorry. I was trying to hold my fluoride sign," she said.
Hunter started laughing. "You still want to protest fluoride, while we have this giant disease." The tension in his neck relaxed as he laughed again.
Doc ripped open another silver liner, and out popped a pink, crunchy square.
"Ha, I guess it is kind of funny," she said, and he thought he heard the sign slide to the ground. "I just… I don't know. We are safe here, but… I don’t think we can get out of here unless that mob goes away. It just keeps getting bigger."
Hunter ran his fingers over his forehead. "How big is it?"
"Maybe a hundred?" she said softly. "More keep joining them. Right now, they fill the street."
Hunter let out a long whistle. "Okay, okay. I'm… A bit trapped too at the moment." Hunter coughed nervously. "But the kids are safe; they're locked in the kindergarten classroom. And you're safe; you're locked in the library. So I just need to… get myself out of this mess and go rescue y'all."
Karen let out a soft chuckle. "I guess so."
"Okay, good. They can break through glass, so keep an eye on them. Just in case," said Hunter nervously.
This time, Doc stayed standing, pulling up his pants a little and sorting the rest of the food into whatever piles he was making. When he was done, he left one pile and put the other pile back in the box.
"All right, they are pushing on the building, and the glass, anything. But…" Suddenly, Karen let out a frightened gasp. "Holy cannoli! Delilah is out there," Karen said. Her voice went all high and squeaky like she did when she got very excited. "Holy cow! She's… She's one of them!"
"Son of a mother trucker," said Hunter, thinking how much more work there would be to do now that Delilah was gone. He wasn't even sure he knew the password to her computer files.
“Don’t talk like that,” said Karen with a sniff of annoyance. “You know I don’t like it when you swear.”
“I didn’t swear!” shouted Hunter, removing his hat and fanning his face.
“You almost swore,” said Karen with a little tap tap noise.
Hunter sighed. “But I didn’t.”
“Okay,” said Karen, but she said it in the kind of way when she didn’t actually think it was okay.
Doc wobbled back to his crate and sat down.
Hunter rolled his eyes. Here they were in the middle of some sort of viral disaster, and his wife was concerned about his language… Even though it was pretty much PG. Overhead, he heard a loud creaking noise. “Honey, I’d love to stay and argue with you all day long if mother trucker is a swear word or not. But I have to figure out how to get out of here, and then save you and the kids.”
Karen let out a long whooshing noise, and she blew air through her teeth. “Kids first.”
“Of course,” said Hunter. “I love you.”
“I love you,” said Karen, and then the phone clicked to silence.
Doc was eyeing the window at this point from his vantage point on the crate. “I think I might be too big.”
“You might,” agreed Hunter. The window did not seem particularly huge, unlike the doctor. “It’s still our best bet,” said Hunter. He sighed and started pulling a little stepladder over towards the window.
“Are you sure we can’t just wait here?” said Doc, staring nervously at the small window. “Are you sure? We could wait for the Army… You know?”
“We can’t wait,” said Hunter with determination. “My family needs me now.” He glanced at Doc and then added, “And the town.”
Hunter and Doc were trapped in the basement. Hunter shoved the little stepladder up to the window. His concern was growing quickly because Hunter knew that Doc wouldn’t be able to fit through the window.
He started battering the wood frame with his hand, trying to make it come loose. It had been painted over at least five times, the paint thickly plastering it shut. "You see a screwdriver?"
He could hear Doc rummaging around behind him. The window hadn’t budged.
Doc tapped him on the shoulder. "Found a screwdriver."
Hunter took the flathead. “Thank you,” he said and got to work on the window frame. Hunter started scraping around the edge of the window, tearing through the paint.
He had to open this window. Hunter considered breaking the glass again. Then he stuffed the end of the screwdriver right at the edge of the window and pried with all his might. A tiny bit of wood chipped off, but the whole window scooted a quarter-inch. Now he'd get it! A grin ran across his face. There was a tiny wedge of space. So he stuck the screwdriver in further, prying again. This time, the window shifted even harder. It was difficult. This old wood window in the frame was clearly a bit cockeyed, either from the building collapsing on top of it or shoddy installation.
He used the flat bit of the screwdriver to clear the track from dirt and bugs, begging the window to slide further open. Then he shoved the screwdriver through the open crack and pulled it. The wooden window wobbled slowly open. Now he could fit his full hand outside the window and give it a proper shove. He let out a grunt, and it took two full pushes to finally eke the window open.
Doc was standing behind him. "I got half the food for you. I didn’t think you’d like the astronaut ice cream, so I kept that for me," said Doc, seemingly confident. But he glanced up at Hunter, a bit nervous. "You know I can't get out that window."
"I think you can," said Hunter, even though he didn't believe it. If he left Doc down here, it would be his life.
"I can't," said Doc, completely unconcerned. "You go. I could stay here until… this all blows over. Even if it doesn't, I can stay down here for at least a month or two," said Doc. "And then… I could dig myself out, if you can't come back. I'm not too worried." Doc looked completely bored with the entire idea of hibernating in this basement for months.
"Keep the food," said Hunter. But he was begging for an idea of how to get Doc out of the house.
Hunter climbed up and slowly scooted through the window. He had to Army crawl, and he was no spring chicken. It was difficult to get out of that window. He nearly got stuck when his stomach was too big, having to scoot the fat bits out slowly. Thank goodness he didn’t eat a donut this morning.
By the time he had made all the way through, he was in agreement with Doc; the man could not possibly make it out that window. But before he could contemplate the problem with Doc, he realized he had a new problem.
The cop car was gone and so was John. A burst of sudden anger flew out of him, and he let out a small grrr. “John, you good-for-nothing-scaredy-cat,” Hunter muttered under his breath, biting his tongue so he wouldn’t get carried away.
Hunter let out a long sigh and glanced around. The house had collapsed a bit like a graham cracker house, the walls just toppling in big flat panels. The walls had twisted, the roof lying nearly flat on the ground.
The mob of people were standing together shoulder to shoulder, moving in unison.
They didn't trip often and had pushed through the rubble of the house until they were on the other side. The people in the front seemed a little more alert, sniffing the air, slowly walking towards the nearby shed. The slowest at the back were still on top of the rubble, following along. As the firs
t one got to the shed, he started pushing.
Then slowly, the entire swarm got there, and they all pushed against the shed, demolishing it. It was bizarre to see, them knocking down the buildings. They didn't seem to be looting or ransacking, simply knocking it flat from the pack’s force. They hadn’t seemed to notice Hunter; they were too focused on the shed.
As soon as they demolished the shed, they walked to the nearby barn and started pushing on it.
Hunter could not make sense of what they were doing. He quietly walked over to Doc’s car. The keys weren't in the ignition. The mob was still working on the barn. Quickly, he ran back to the window. "Hey, Doc!" he shouted while trying to whisper. He glanced up, but the mob didn't hear him. "Do you have the keys to your car?"
Doc nodded. "Yeah, sure. Did John bail?"
Hunter couldn’t believe that his deputy was such a chicken. "Yeah," he replied dejectedly. He’d definitely be fired by the end of this.
Doc handed him the keys through the window. He was standing on the stepladder, sticking his head out the little hole of the window. He leaned out and looked at the mob pushing down the barn. "At least they seem busy."
Hunter nodded quickly, then ran back to Doc’s car, delighted at how easy his escape was going to be.
He paused before he opened the door. He glanced back at Doc's ancient head wobbling out the window, with his white hair blowing in the breeze.
The mob seemed totally preoccupied with demolishing the barn. He scanned the house to see if there was something he could pull away so Doc could climb out. Hunter thought about Linda’s house—he’d been here before years ago when Samantha was the same age as Jack was now. Linda and Karen’s friendship had faded a little. He tried to remember if there was a second door to the basement, an outside one.
He glanced over at the crazy people. They hadn’t even glanced his way. The herd was pushing slowly and the barn was starting to sway in time with their efforts. It would collapse soon. He walked over to the ruins of Linda’s home. Hunter spotted the second door to the basement; there was half a house laid over it, but he could make out the handle and that was all he needed.
Hunter was breathless from running. "Hey. Do you see the cellar door?" he whispered.
Doc looked around, confused. And then he replied, "Yes. Behind those shelves." He pointed at the row of the shelves.
Hunter smiled. "Here is my plan. The mob is busy, so I'm gonna tie rope from the car to the cellar door and yank it off. You run out and hop in the car and we will get out of here." Hunter's heart was pounding, either from his high blood pressure or the running back and forth… Or that he was scared. The mob seemed completely disinterested in them, though, so maybe they had a chance. "Okay?" Hunter said.
Doc wobbled yes with his head. Hunter took a deep breath and then said, "Got anything we can use to tie the doors to the car?"
Doc disappeared back into the basement, then returned with some rope. "Yeah. Here you go."
"You ready to run?" Hunter said, even though he wasn't even sure if Doc could run.
"Wait!" said Doc before Hunter turned. "Take the food."
Now Hunter could see why he needed to stick to his diet, or he’d end up like Doc. "Not now. Let’s get you out of here before you start worrying about your next meal," said Hunter with a grin and headed back to the cellar door with the rope.
“Take it. If this is an apocalypse, food might be scarce this month,” hissed Doc.
Hunter had a flicker of guilt. He thought the man was just obsessed with eating, but in reality, he was planning ahead. “Okay.” He took the box.
He glanced over to the mob. Good, they’re still busy. It only took a moment to set the box on the hood of the car. The barn was swaying. The mob seemed entirely focused on the building.
Hunter tied the rope tightly around the cellar door handle and pulled it a few times to ensure that the rope wouldn’t fly off. The handle looked sturdy, so hopefully it would be strong enough.
Then he headed back to Doc’s car. Luckily, Doc had parked the car sideways close to the house. It was close enough that he could tie the rope without having to move it into place; however, it was sideways. He had towed enough cars to know he needed to pull the door off the house in a straight line. Turning the car would be tricky. If the rope didn’t have enough slack, he would have to back up. He tied the strap around the hitch of the car, threading it around the bulb and tying two knots, then threading it around and tying up another knot.
This was risky. If a tire snagged the rope and wound around the axle, the car would be ruined. He’d have to be extra careful not to drive over the strap. He glanced at the mob. They were still fully focused on the barn. Would starting the car attract them?
He wasn’t sure.
Quickly, he ran to the front of the car and opened the door, tossing the box of food inside. The door let out a scream as it opened, the hinges screeching, painfully loud and sharp. “Cheese and rice! John, why did you have to take my car and leave me with this rust bucket?” Hunter muttered.
Hunter's eyes went wide as he suddenly remembered Doc pulling in with his car, the door squeaking, the engine squealing at the top of its lungs.
Hunter hissed, "Fudge nuggets." He took off his hat and fanned his face a little. He turned the key, but the car started to scream as it turned over and over. One of the mob had turned slowly his direction. He looked up. No! The engine was not turning on, the starter complaining loudly.
He stared up and the entire mob, hundreds, maybe even thousands of them, and they were turning his direction, leaving the barn standing. They were moving together, but not very quickly. "Start! Start!" begged Hunter as he pumped the gas pedal.
Finally, the car started.
The engine was no better, still squealing in painful pitches. Now the mob was starting to move faster towards him. Hunter backed up the car, trying to stay calm, trying not to run over the rope. He turned the wheel so they would be pointed the right direction to pull the door free. Fear gripped the back of his neck. He took a deep breath and accelerated slowly. The engine was squealing louder and louder.
He knew if he slammed on the gas right now, the rope would break, and Doc would be stuck down there. He had to go slow and get all of the force against the door. Finally, the rope tightened, but the mob was now only two yards away.
"Banana shenanigans!" shouted Hunter, breathlessly afraid. What if Doc couldn't get out in time?
Hunter eased his foot deeper into the gas pedal, pressing with more and more pressure as the tires started to spin, adding to the commotion.
The mob was about to reach the car, their mouths gaping open, biting down on the air like they could taste Hunter’s fear. Panic was rising in his throat, and his heart was pumping painfully in his chest.
But then he felt it, the pop as the cellar door flew up from the rubble. It was Hunter’s flying hero as it whipped through the sky, taking out a few of the mob.
The door was free from the rubble, and suddenly, the car leapt forward. Hunter floored it, driving away, leaving a trail of dust kicked up behind him and the cellar door bobbed along behind Hunter like a newlywed’s prank. The mob was following behind, but there was no way they could catch the screaming car. He could see in the rearview mirror a bewildered Doc poking his head out from the basement. He looked terrified.
Hunter couldn't wait for him, trying to draw the crowd away. He eased on the gas, letting the mob get closer before driving forward again. He needed to get the herd far enough away that they wouldn’t kill Doc.
The pain of guilt was in Hunter’s stomach as the farmhouse vanished behind him.
Hunter drove away, looking anxiously in the mirror. His thoughts were on Doc, until he realized he recognized one of the mob. Hunter was driving about twenty miles per hour, and the mob was keeping up just a few yards from the mangled cellar door he was dragging.
The man worked in Burns Junction grocery store and always bagged Hunter’s eggs wrong. Karen loved that grocery
store because it had more organic food than the one in Pine Crest. How had he come this far?
The car was loud, which was driving the mob larger. He could see people slowly filtering out of houses and joining. They seemed to all keep pace, with only a few falling behind, only the wounded or children.
Hunter blinked repeatedly, trying not to tear up.
He pulled out his phone to call John. There were no bars on his phone. It wasn’t working. Maybe he could only receive calls and couldn't figure out a way to dial out. Dumb phone.
He fiddled with the radio, but it was still just static. Hunter began to wonder just how far this problem had spread.
Hunter sped up a little. If they topped out around twenty-five miles per hour, that was a good thing. It was possible to outrun them, whatever they were. Whatever they had become. He debated if he could make a U-turn and run them all over, but the idea made him queasy. He still had hopes that maybe these people could be cured, or maybe this would be a passing virus.
He need to shake them off. Hunter turned a hard right, slamming on the gas. The car complained, just like it had been doing this entire time. It made a couple of painful popping noises. Why was Doc driving such a piece of junk? he wondered to himself. He was completely frustrated with the old man. He squealed down the little dirt road he had chosen, flying at forty miles per hour now.
And John! How could he have left him?
He swallowed and remembered that the building had collapsed on top of him. Why would John have assumed he survived? Might not have even known about the basement. Hunter preferred that idea. The herd was dropping behind, and he took the next right and tried to go even faster.
Hunter tried not get too angry at John. It'd been a crazy day. He turned right again, coming back up near the back of the mob. They were slowly turning around, following the noisy car. The door bounced on the rope and suddenly flew up and clocked into some of them. They toppled, and one started bleeding profusely. He hoped he didn't know her name.
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