Apocalypse Aftermath

by David Rogers

  “And after we’re back on our feet?”

  “I haven’t figured that one out yet.” Peter admitted as she started interleaving the gauze strip through and around his fingers to cover the injuries on the bases of his fingers. Pulling a SUV out of a twenty-seven vehicle pileup with upwards of a thousand hungry zombies bearing down didn’t leave much room for taking it easy. His palms and some of the pads of his fingers had cuts and compression splits that, while superficial, were going to be an issue until they healed.

  “Civvies?”

  “That’s the trick. Saving them is easy, but . . .”

  Whitley nodded. “Figuring out what to do with them is harder.”

  “Yup.”

  She finished with the first hand and cut off the extra gauze before taping it down. “You want tape over these or . . . ?”

  “Gloves.”

  “Right.” She started on his other hand. “Go into the protection racket or stay with the white knight thing. Not sure there’s a right answer.”

  “The bus is gray.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah.” Peter nodded, what little there was of the humor in the situation fading. “It’s the medical situation that’s killing me.”

  “Easier to walk away if they’re all healthy.”

  “And I have no idea where we can find a doc.”

  “You’ll come up with something.”

  Peter frowned. “Stop saying that.”

  “You will. I trust you. Everyone does.”

  “Great. Weight of the world, no pressure.”

  Whitley shrugged. “Or at least one Interstate exit’s worth of it.”

  * * * * *

  Darryl

  “So what the word Mr. Soul?” Bobo asked as Tank and Shooter settled down on stools near the bar.

  “Atlanta is gone.” the retired preacher said, his voice calm despite the serious expression on his face.

  Darryl flinched at that, regardless of how unsurprising it was. First zombies, then a bombing by what was left of the military; he hadn’t expected what was left of the city to fare very well. But the flat report of the state capitol’s demise was still a shock.

  “Wait, gone?” Big Chief asked. “How it gone?”

  Mr. Soul shrugged. “Most of the city burning, and if anyone is left to work on fighting the fires, they aren’t getting much of anything done. Whole lot of buildings collapsing or already collapsed in Downtown and Midtown. And the fires are spreading.”

  “Shit.” Vivian shook her head. “The whole city?”

  “Mostly in downtown, around I-20 and the Connector. But there’s a big one at Druid Hills too. They’re saying the trees are helping feed it, but even if it keeps going it shouldn’t jump 285.”

  Darryl lit his cigarette and tipped his head back to exhale straight up, trying to keep his horror at the news from fully coloring his attitude. “I thought all the TV and whatever was based in Atlanta. How they still reporting if it all burning?”

  “PBS mostly. Looks like whoever’s left trying to keep reporting been flocking to them.”

  “We can get PBS out here?” Big Chief asked, sounding dubious.

  “Antenna EZ done rigged up.” Bobo said. “And PBS state wide.”

  “That’s right.” Mr. Soul nodded. “They said a few times they tied all the Georgia stations still broadcasting together into a network. They switching off, taking turns doing local and state and national news. There a few choppers that’ve gone up in places, getting some pictures from the air, but there’s no telling how long it’ll last.”

  “So Atlanta’s gone. We figured that was going to happen.” Bobo said soberly.

  “Naw bro, you the one figured that.” Shooter pointed out.

  “Yeah. You nailed that one back on Friday.” Tank nodded.

  “Don’t matter. It gone. Too much else going on to be worrying about who done called what.” Bobo disagreed. “What else?” he asked Mr. Soul.

  The old man frowned speculatively. “Atlanta suburbs outside the Perimeter a real mess. Whole area’s covered in zombies. Same with Macon, Augusta, Columbus, Savannah, Athens. Near as I can make out from what they’re saying, any place that had any good number of people living there is a zombie town.”

  “They flattened the whole city and didn’t even kill all the zombies?” Darryl asked, unable to help himself.

  “They didn’t level Atlanta.” Mr. Soul said with a sad shrug. “But the fires are doing the same job, just taking longer.”

  “Fire not killing the zombies?” Big Chief sighed.

  “Some. News saying if they burn long enough they go down, but some of the ones that only get scorched are really unpleasant. Ain’t no one or nothing that should be walking around looking like that.”

  “Zombies weren’t bad enough; now we got a bunch of half-cooked ones too.” Shooter frowned.

  “Fucking great.” Tank rumbled.

  Bobo clearly wasn’t as interested in the condition of the zombies, and changed the subject back to the overall situation. “Athens ain’t too far from us.”

  “Yeah, and I’ve been hoping for some pictures, but none of the choppers are anywhere near here. There ain’t too many ground teams running around filming anymore either. About the best they getting from the ground are cameras pointed out windows or from roofs, and a whole lot of rumors collected from people fleeing the bad spots.” Mr. Soul said.

  “Smart bastards.” Darryl grimaced. “That a good way to get eat, poking around near zombies.” he said, pronouncing eat ‘et’, like in ‘get’.

  “Smart, but we could use a little more info about what’s going on around us.” Bobo sighed.

  “I’ll keep watching as long as they’re talking and we got power.”

  “Right now you and them TVs a priority.” Bobo said. “I willing to burn up some gas running a generator just for that. At least for a few days anyway.”

  “Can’t say I disagree too much, we gotta know what we’re dealing with.” Mr. Soul said. “If you want the short version, there ain’t a place anywhere in the state, or in the Southeast for that matter, that sounds like they still holding themselves together.”

  “You saying everyone dead?” Jody asked.

  “No, but whoever left is in small groups like us. Doesn’t look like any of the cities, and hardly any of the towns, are like they were Friday morning before everything got going.” the preacher shrugged. “Choppers spotted a few folks here and there while they were flying around to somewhere more interesting. People holed up in boarded up buildings on the roofs, places that have come up with barricades like we have, that kind of thing. None of them look too big, but they’re out there.”

  “Guess that something.” Darryl said sourly. In less than seventy-two hours, everything had fallen into a state maybe – maybe – a few steps short of complete anarchy. He guessed when millions start dying or eating the ones still breathing that was to be expected, but the speed at which everything had fallen apart was utterly unexpected.

  “What about the country?” Bobo said calmly. “There any hope anywhere?”

  “Tougher to figure that one out.” Mr. Soul frowned. “The reporters are all sort of focused on close to home, but it ain’t much better from what they’re saying.”

  “Well preacher, what happening then?” Tank said as he pulled out his cigarettes.

  “Lots of dying.” Mr. Soul said. “Northeast, down around here, and the West Coast seem like they been hit the worst. There’s a few areas around the Midwest that seem to be sort of holding together, but even they’re having a tough time. Government evacuated out of DC already, but if any of them got out and are setting up somewhere else they’re not saying much.”

  “There ain’t no one coming to help anyone then?” Vivian said, sounding like she wanted to cry.

  “Sister, as far as I can tell everyone’s on their own.”

  “We ain’t alone.” Bobo said decisively. “We got us.”

  “Damn right.”
Tank nodded.

  Darryl nodded as well. “Yup. We holding strong.” He wasn’t sure what he’d be doing if he didn’t have his brothers to stick with. What had been just a social network of guys who enjoyed the same basic hobbies had turned into something much more. Something that offered a chance. Now it was binding them together into a group that had a chance to pull together. Based on what was happening to people isolated by all the lethal chaos, Darryl knew the Dogz were lucky as hell to have each other.

  “Jody.” Bobo said. “You get any better handle on how we doing?” She had been designated the primary ‘store keeper’ for the Dogz, responsible for tracking and doling out the precious food that was going to get them through the days and weeks to come. Darryl knew there was a lot, but there were also a lot of mouths to feed.

  Funny how critical where your next meal was coming from could get when the stores weren’t open, were getting looted down to bare floors, and when trucks weren’t delivering any more.

  “We gonna be heavy on meat meals for the next week, since we ended up with so much. I figure probably the next week some too, then we’ll have run through just about all the cold stuff and be down to boxes and cans.” she said without consulting the notebook Darryl knew she had been keeping. “Then I think we probably good for at least six weeks, but we could stretch it to about twice that if we eat light.”

  Tank frowned. The big biker was enormous, towering over Darryl’s own six foot four by several inches, and even more heavily muscled. When someone like that frowned, it could look a little ominous. Darryl didn’t frown himself, or take Tank’s reaction wrong, but he knew how the big man felt. Being big could be pretty great, but it also gave you an appetite like a horse.

  “Some of the brothers be okay eating light, but a few of us be setting up for serious starvation we get cut down too much.” Darryl offered calmly. “That ain’t greed talking either, that just how it is. Me, Tiny, Tank, 2C, Big Daddy all ain’t small. We can’t go on too well on half rations.”

  “Why you ain’t just throw Bones and Stony in that list too then?” Jody challenged.

  Darryl grinned lazily. “Because them two bros is just fat. The ones I picked out is big, but it by design, not because we fucking pigs.” Jody seemed to be gathering herself, so Darryl offered a further elaboration. “Jody, I got a paper in physical training from UGA, I ain’t just talking out my ass. Someone big burn more energy just being big, and it worse when we start doing stuff. Labor takes calories, and we been working like Dogz.”

  “Damn straight.” Tank nodded.

  “Work up a week by week plan for regular and short meals.” Bobo interjected. “We ain’t so far down yet we gotta eat short, but it don’t make no sense to not be ready just in case. But unless there some good news soon, we need to be ready for the long term.”

  “What you thinking now?” Big Chief asked as Jody sighed and pulled out her notebook and wrote something on one of the pages.

  “We could start checking houses around here, ones that ain’t occupied. If no one home, then let’s clean them fuckers out.” Bobo shrugged. “But only if it just sitting empty. Ain’t no cause to go busting in doors if someone home.”

  Darryl nodded, agreeing on both counts. “Sure. Won’t take too many to do that, and we got trucks.”

  “We running out of places to put stuff.” Jody remarked as she finished writing. “Basement don’t have too much more room. And the barn pretty packed up too.”

  “I with you. We get our hands on some tarps and we can rig up some storage in the yard out back, especially for cans and anything else that be okay not under a solid roof.”

  “We get ourselves some more wood and stuff, we can put up some roofs for that.” Tank pointed out.

  “How much more we talking?” Shooter asked. “We done made a big assed dent in that Home Depot already.”

  “We gotta see what else we can lay hands on.” Bobo said. “Then we can take a look at what might can be done.”

  “When?”

  “Tomorrow, next day.” Bobo shrugged. “I don’t want to get too deep into any of the towns until we got a chance to see if this zombie thing can’t settle out some.”

  “How it gonna settle?” Vivian asked.

  “From what I’m seeing on the news,” Mr. Soul answered, “them zombies are starting to spread out of the bad spots.”

  “They following people.” Big Chief shook his head. “Following the food.” Everyone knew he meant people when he said food. Zombies didn’t eat anything that hadn’t been breathing at some point. And if it was still breathing, they still liked it.

  Heads nodded all around as expressions soured, but Bobo’s voice was still calm. “Ain’t nothing we can do about that, but if they spread out some it’ll help us when we go after a good supply grab. Let’s give it a day or two, maybe things will thin out some. But we had ourselves a little break this morning, and there some good daylight left until dark, so let’s get a couple teams out scouting a little, and hitting houses while they at it.”

  “How far out?” Darryl asked.

  “Not too far. Five miles max.” Bobo replied.

  Darryl nodded and stubbed out his cigarette. “Alright. I’ll get it set up.” He rose and headed for the room’s doorway. Most of the Dogz were still lounging around in the patio area in the back yard. He knew it would take a little doing to get some of them rousted into motion after starting the day taking it easy.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Two – Should we stay or should we go

  Jessica

  Jessica squinted through the windshield. It was tinted, but not enough to completely cut out the glare from sunlight reflecting off the SUV’s vast expanse of waxed hood. “Um . . .” she began.

  “Yeah. I see it.” Austin said, taking his foot off the accelerator and reaching for his radio. “I think we’ve got a problem up ahead.”

  Since they’d emerged from the southeastern Atlanta suburbs onto I-75, they’d made much better time. Austin was generally more willing to let the convoy’s speed creep up to as high as fifty miles per hour as long as he kept to the left lane and the road was clear of anything that might hide a lurking zombie. They’d slowed several times to weave around wrecks, and been forced to detour around one impressive blockage about half an hour ago, but using the surface streets hadn’t cost them too much time. It was only early afternoon; plenty of daylight still left for them to reach Knoxville before dark.

  “Another blockage?” Tyler asked over the radio.

  “Those are people.” Jessica said as she shaded her eyes and was able to get a good look as the SUV’s speed fell.

  “And a whole shi—uh lot of zombies.” Austin added before keying the radio. “Yes, but it looks like we’ve got some stranded survivors too.”

  The road ahead had another mangled collection of trucks, semi-trucks, cars, vans and God knew what else mashed together and scattered across the road. Having had a chance to see quite a few wrecks today, Jessica’s initial impression left her doubting they could clear a way through even without the complication of what looked like at least fifty or seventy zombies. She wasn’t sure of the number, other than what Austin had said – a lot.

  In addition to the crashes and zombies though, there was a small group of people clearly visible atop a semi-trailer lying on its side. The sun outlined them perfectly, making them easy to spot even without the waving arms. Jessica felt her heart starting to race as she studied the scene. That was a lot of zombies.

  “I see.” Tyler finally said.

  Jessica blinked and glanced at Austin. The big man’s face took on something of a set, just a slight flexing of his jaw, but she spotted it. She could see wheels whirring behind his otherwise impassive expression, then he spoke into the radio.

  “Sir, they’re trapped. Surrounded.”

  The SUV’s speed was quite low now. Its mass, significantly augmented by its armor and the boxes of supplies in the back, needed the powerful engine to maintain momentum. T
he fracas ahead was maybe a quarter mile off. The figures atop the trailer were still waving at them as the SUV crept along in first gear. Jessica looked across Austin as movement in the mirror drew her attention. The BMW had swung out into what there was of the interior emergency lane, which wasn’t much before the asphalt stopped at a low guard rail. A fairly thick tree line lay beyond that, preventing her from seeing the northbound lanes somewhere past the trees.

  “How do you know the other side of the blockage isn’t clear?” Tyler asked. “They could get out that way.”

  Austin maintained his impassiveness, which impressed Jessica after having spotted the subtle indication he wasn’t pleased with the tact the conversation was taking. “Because I’d bet they’d already have done that if they could.”

  There was another long pause. Jessica focused on the driver’s side mirror again, and managed to see Tyler in the driver’s seat of the BMW. His head was turned as he held the radio, speaking to the others in his car. His wife seemed unhappy, but beyond Vanessa’s reaction, Jessica couldn’t see what else was going on in the vehicle. The backseat, where she presumed Dennis and Trudy were seated, was too shadow shrouded for her to make out.

  Tyler faced forward and his voice came from the radio as he held it up to his mouth. “I don’t see what we can do to help them Mr. Carter. We’re on a time table here and our people are getting tired. You yourself said any stops were a risk.”

  “Are those people on those cars?” Candice asked from the backseat.

  “Sweetie—” Jessica began quickly, then stopped herself. “We know. We’re trying to figure out what to do.”

  “But—” Candice started, then cut off when Jessica gave her a sharp, unhappy look.

  “Sir, it’s not right to just leave them there.” Austin said calmly, very calmly. “They need some help.”

  “Yes.” Candice declared.

  Jessica couldn’t disagree. She knew exactly what if felt like to be stranded and surrounded by zombies. Maybe not by quite that many; but it only took one to end it all. She looked forward again. The zombies clustered around the wrecked vehicles hadn’t taken any note of the convoy yet. They seemed intent on the people above them. Upraised arms stretched seemingly tirelessly, straining to reach the humans. It was definitely closer to seventy than it was to fifty. It might even be eighty.