by JT Sawyer
“What does that mean?” said Amy, joining the others who had stepped out onto the porch. “Maybe they’re just on lockdown or something, right?”
“Or the radio wasn’t able to get past their wavelength?” said Jared.
“No, that beacon is only activated when there is a base-wide security breach where all personnel have either evacuated or…” Shane said, pausing to look around the room. “Or there is a large-scale terminal incident.”
“They’re all dead—you’re saying everyone at that base is gone,” said Jared, whose face had changed to a petrified expression. “How’s that possible?”
“We’ve been away a long time,” said Carlie. “They must have gotten overrun by creatures in the region or had someone inside get infected and spread the virus.
“I wonder if Eliza and the president made it out, or General Adams?” whispered Carlie, interlacing her fingers and trying to ignore her sweaty palms.
“Now what?” said Pavel. “What were your emergency protocols in the event your facility at White Sands was compromised?”
Everyone shot grave looks at each other as the room grew heavy with silence. “I figured that no one came looking for us after the destroyer went down because they were stretched thin on resources but now,” she said, rubbing her chin, “now, it seems like they may have all perished, and no one else knew about our mission and location.”
“But your protocols…” Pavel said again. “Surely there must be other bases that would be operational and would take up the helm of command.”
Shane put his glass down on the floor beside his chair. “The only place I recall hearing about that was still functional was Fort Lewis in Washington. That would become the new central command in the western U.S. if White Sands fell.”
Matias grabbed the large wall map they had looked at earlier and unrolled it on the floor in the middle of the group. “We are here,” he said, pointing at a tiny dot of land in the ocean east of Cancun, Mexico. Then he slid his finger along the map past Mexico City, San Diego, San Francisco, Portland, and stopped just south of Seattle. “And this is Fort Lewis.”
Jared was scratching the scruff on his left cheek. “Damn, that’s a helluva stretch.”
“I’d say over two thousand miles at least,” said Matias.
“How are we going to get there from here?” said Amy.
“We could mountain bike,” said Jared with a smirk. “Or use a hot-air balloon. Shit—this whole thing sucks.”
Amy shoved him back in his chair. “Just shut up, genius. My leg doesn’t hurt as much from all the painkillers but don’t make me expend energy kicking you in the ass. Besides, I haven’t decided if I’m even gonna travel with you again after this.”
“What about sailing up the coast from here to say, Galveston, Texas or Corpus Christi?” said Alejandro. “There’s no shortage of sailboats near Cancun. The trade winds are good now and will be in full swing until late winter.”
“Except none of us are experienced sailors. That sounds like it could just lead to a replay of being a castaway again,” said Amy.
“You mentioned a helicopter near the beach in Cancun,” said Matias. “What can you tell me about it?”
“It was used by maritime security and mostly kept by the resorts for med-evacing drunken college kids who sustained head injuries from diving off the hotel balconies into the swimming pools,” said Alejandro, leaning back to his desk and pawing through a green bowl full of keys. He fished out a large silver key with a white fingergrip and tossed it to Matias. “I got those off the Maritime Security boat along with the weapons in my possession—those belong to the helicopter according to the captain’s logbook.”
Matias rubbed the key between his fingers. “Probably a twin-engine chopper similar to what our Coast Guard used,” said Matias. “Those are pretty standard along the coast here in Mexico and Latin America. If that’s the case then it will have a decent fuel capacity so we would be able to make it as far as northern Mexico along the Arizona border before we need to top off the tank. From there, it’d be a straight shot to San Diego. Then we’d have to hit the outlying airports on our way up the coast towards Washington. The rural airstrips are far more likely to have fuel left.”
“There are those federale airstrips south of the Arizona border that we used to use during joint-DEA ops,” said Shane. “Those would be a good bet.”
“Look, as much as I’d like to get back to the States and see what’s happening, this plan sounds like a helluva gamble,” said Jared. “I mean, we’re all dependent on that whirlybird to get us across vast swaths of rugged country and then hope we find fuel along the way.” He waved his arms up in the air. “We’ve got a good thing going here—a fairly secure island, a gracious host, a mild climate, and from what Alejandro has said, an unlimited supply of food on those cruise ships, not to mention resources left on the mainland by all those hotels.”
Before Carlie could answer, Amy spoke up, looking at her. “Look, I owe you a world of debt for all you’ve done for me since we met, so don’t take this the wrong way, but do you really want to risk venturing back into the storm again? For the first time in nearly two months, we’re safe, we have a roof over our heads, and we can sleep through the night without waking in a cold sweat gripping our machetes.”
Alejandro moved beside Carlie, looking at the map and then over to her. “Sense of duty can be crippling or it can be liberating.”
Carlie balled her fists and put them on the table. “Let’s say we stay and play Swiss Family Robinson living here in the trees. Next month or next year, we could be overrun by those creatures or by a group of survivors with more firepower than us. There’s only strength in numbers and the military bases offer the best hope of finding that,” said Carlie.
Pavel, who was stroking his gray beard, tapped his finger on the location for Fort Lewis. “As we’ve talked about these many weeks around the campfire, if we can make it back, I can resume my research on the virus. I’m still guessing that there aren’t too many people at your U.S. facilities who possess my background.”
“Look, people, we’re not even sure what happened to White Sands so a military base could be a good bet to hedge against the future but it just doesn’t seem like there’s certainty in even that anymore,” said Jared.
Carlie reached back for her wine glass on the table and took a sip then rolled her wrist around, staring at the red elixir as if it was revealing her future. “The bottom line here is that we have to think beyond ourselves and to the future of humankind. I know we’ve been solely focused on our own survival for a long time and that this place we’re in now is a paradise but we need to get Pavel back to the States so he can commence work on finding a cure for this virus.”
She finished her wine and then placed the empty glass down on the edge of the map. “I’m not going to twist anyone’s arm here to make this trip. You’ve already risked enough but if Matias will fly this helo, then I’m headed back to Fort Lewis or any military base we can locate.”
Matias grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “You never have to ask me to join you, Carlie. I’m with you for the long haul.”
“Matias might steer you off course by accident and could use a navigator,” said Shane. “So, count me in. Besides, Carlie, you might not be taken seriously when you arrive with that bleach-blonde hair and California tan. The commander at Fort Lewis is going to think you’re a surfer.”
Jared swigged down the last of his wine then stood up. “Shit, if Shane’s going, I’m going. I couldn’t leave you guys at the mercy of this raconteur frogman and all of his bullshit stories of bravado.”
“If I excel at bullshitting it’s because your influence has rubbed off on me, you inbred hillbilly,” Shane said, smiling.
Pavel shakily raised his glass and toasted the group, his eyes looking glassy from too much port. “I salute you all, my friends. Your conduct has been admirable not only now but in these many weeks together, watching over me and making me a part of yo
ur group. I hope not to disappoint you.”
Amy sighed and sat back on a chair. “Really—you’re really gonna make me leave this slice of heaven? It’s probably going to be snowing in Washington.”
“Spoken like an Arizona girl,” said Jared. “I’ll make sure you have some heated slippers after we arrive there.”
Amy used her right hand to simulate cranking a pulley on her left hand as her middle finger rose up.
“Alright, everyone is in. Outstanding,” said Carlie as she glanced around the room, letting out a stilted smile. “Now all we have to do is get past a beach full of zombies, procure that helicopter, and obtain a deck of cards for the long trip back.”
Chapter 12
Eliza and Willis had run for nearly an hour, darting past abandoned homes and cattle-loading stations while making numerous evasive moves in their retreat until they were sure the slow-moving crowd of zombies was unaware of their location.
The sun was hanging low in the western sky as they made their way to a lone farmhouse below a set of massive weeping willow trees. The knelt down beside a propane tank and examined the layout and windows for any movement. When Willis was certain the path ahead was relatively safe, he motioned for Eliza to follow him around the rear.
He entered the two-story almond-colored house through the unlocked back door and swept through each room on the first floor. They made their way upstairs and found each room to be immaculate, with even the beds made. A layer of fine dust was on the furniture and there was evidence that a family of mice had taken over the bathroom.
“I’m gonna go outside and see if the circuit breakers are on or if there’s a generator we can use,” said Willis. “Why don’t you look around for food and candles. It’s gonna be dark in another half hour.”
She nodded and then followed him downstairs. She went through the kitchen cupboards and found some cans of soup, beans, and cat food. As she stood up from under the kitchen sink she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“I didn’t find much but there are….” She turned and saw the ulcerated face of a stout creature in coveralls pawing at her face. She shoved the large figure back but its overgrown fingernails gashed her across the left cheek. Eliza frantically raised up her rifle and pulled the trigger but nothing happened. She glanced down at the weapon, trying to find the safety as the large beast rushed at her. Eliza screamed out for Willis and then clumsily sidestepped over to the fridge. She searched for the fixed blade on her belt and yanked it free from its nylon sheath.
The zombie snapped its crusty black teeth as it resumed its frontal assault, its arms flailing wildly. Eliza felt herself nearly hyperventilating as her vision narrowed and a feeling of nausea welled up in her stomach. She squeezed her eyes closed and drove the blade forward into the creature’s throat. Then she looked at it and saw it was still thrashing. The rest seemed to happen in slow motion—her hand pulling out the blade and thrusting it in again and again and again. She felt her fear turn into a furious wildfire inside her and she moved forward, hacking the beast as she let out a feral scream. The zombie’s predatory growls gave way to a gurgling sound as its head separated from its body and it tumbled back onto a chair, shattering it.
Eliza stood over the decapitated figure and started kicking the lifeless corpse in the ribs as tears ran down her face, stinging the parallel wounds on her cheek. She thought of her father and then saw General Adams’ face as she continued kicking the zombie, wondering if she was living through someone else’s nightmare.
As her leg grew tired, she stopped and barely noticed Willis standing to her left with his rifle at a low-ready. She saw him gazing at the headless figure and then back at her, then down at her blood-stained knife. She felt her iron grip upon the blade waver and then looked at him as tears continued to fall. Eliza let the weapon slide out of her hand onto the marble-colored floor. Willis moved up and held her, the rage having burnt out of her. She tried to slow her raspy breathing but finally succumbed to the narrowing darkness closing in on her, slumping to the floor.
Chapter 13
The white lace curtains on the antiquated window frame were illuminated orange as the rays of dawn crept into the upstairs bedroom where Eliza had just awoken.
She felt the strange comfort of clean bedsheets upon her and the contour of a soft down pillow beneath her aching head. If it wasn’t for the sting of the wounds on her face and recent events, she would have thought that she had woken up in a country bed-and-breakfast.
On the tan couch next to the bed were her soiled clothes along with her boots and pack. She heard breathing over to her right and sat up on one elbow to see Willis still asleep in a recliner in the corner, his rifle across his lap. She barely remembered him cleaning her facial wound thanks to the morphine from the trauma kit.
She went to get up and noticed that she was only dressed in her underwear and bra. Before she could slide back under the sheets, she saw an orange terrycloth bathrobe land beside her.
“Don’t worry,” said Willis, who was arching his back in a yawn. “I’m sworn to secrecy so I won’t reveal that you wear underclothes just like the rest of us.”
She pulled the robe up to her chest, covering herself. “The way I feel right now, I’m not worried about much of anything let alone my public image.”
“You must be hungry.”
“Yeah, I am getting there. Feeling a little nauseas still.”
“The morphine will do that—and slaying zombies while jogging cross-country for hours on an empty stomach.”
She reached up and rubbed her eyes. She looked past the thin curtains at the mountains in the distance, dwelling on the horrific image of the creature that had attacked her in the kitchen. She glanced down at her stiff fingers that had gripped the bloody knife and felt like she was looking at someone else’s hand. Eliza felt a row of goosebumps emerge along her forearm and then tried to force away the ghastly memory. She squinted back at the window to the fields of brown grass fluttering in the wind and thought about Adams’ fate.
“What do you think that creature was that got the general?”
“Not sure. Some kind of variant. There were a few reports out of White Sands about such sightings but I don’t know anything more than that. Let’s just hope they travel alone. I’d hate to encounter a bunch of those things.”
Eliza slid on the robe and moved to an old dresser made from walnut by the window. Pulling her curly black hair back, she gazed at her face and nervously pulled back the gauze pad. Two raw, finger-long gashes ran parallel along her left cheek. She felt her heart skip a beat and wondered if her face would ever be the same. She looked down at the carpet for a moment and felt her spirits sink, thinking that her looks were one more thing that had been taken from her in this awful world. Eliza looked back at her reflection as if looking upon some distant relative she had heard about but never met.
She felt tears pushing to the surface again and then forced them back, thinking of her father and what lay at stake with the return of the laptop to Ft. Lewis.
Willis’ image appeared in the mirror as he moved beside her. “You got nailed pretty good but that will heal up in time.”
“I thought you were an honest man.”
He put his hand on her shoulder. “We’ll get through this and get back to Ft. Lewis. Maybe not by this weekend but we’ll get there.”
She looked into his confident eyes and his assurance lessened her sorrow over recent losses. She desperately needed to hear his words, to know that there was hope worth living for before the walls of anguish closed in around her soul. How has my world come to this? Will we ever make it to Fort Lewis and what will become of me once I’m there now that my father is gone? Who is even running this country? She looked around the room, feeling like she was trapped, her heart racing again as if she was back on a plane that was plummeting through a featureless sky.
She felt the warmth of Willis’ hand upon her shoulder and forced herself to stand up straight while taking in a measured breath. Eli
za focused on his reassuring eyes and felt the tension in her chest ease up. He turned and walked to the door. “Why don’t you get dressed and come downstairs. I’ll fix us up something to eat. There’s a pretty good storehouse of supplies in the root cellar and we’re miles outside of town so we’ll be safe here for a while until we can figure out what comes next.”
Eliza looked at him and then down at the pistol on his hip. “I want you to teach me how to use that. I want to know how to fight so I’m never afraid like that again.”
“Alright. I will teach you the physical moves of combat. As for the mental part and the will to survive, I’d say you’ve already got that hardwired.”
Chapter 14
One week later at dawn, Alejandro led Carlie and her group down to the beach a half-mile from the treehouse encampment. As the trail ended, a small thumb-shaped estuary covered with thick palms revealed a 29-foot sailboat that was anchored in the calm, chest-high water.
After scanning the surrounding groves for any zombies, Alejandro motioned to the others to follow him along the half-moon of the landform until they were twelve feet away from the boat. He slipped into the emerald waters and swam to the boat while the rest of them followed, keeping their weapons above their heads.
Once on board, he gave them a quick tour of the vital pieces of gear such as the first-aid kit, extra ammo, and a small compressed life-raft.
“Sure as hell hope I never have to use one of those again,” said Jared, staring at the inert yellow tube that comprised the raft.
After hoisting up the sails, Alejandro unmoored the boat and angled it out to sea where a southbound wind quickly propelled it away from the island. The waves were relatively calm as he steered it parallel to the island for two miles and then veered east into the open ocean.