by Dirk Patton
Lebanon wasn’t a large town and we were soon north of it, moving along US highway 231. My plan was to keep going north until we came to state highway 10 where we would head west to Gallatin. From there a series of small highways would keep us well north of Nashville and eventually to Dyersburg, Tennessee where I hoped we could cross the Mississippi River. I had spent some time scouring the atlas and had been surprised to find there was only one bridge across the river between Cairo, Illinois and Memphis. I wasn’t about to go anywhere near Memphis and I’d heard reports that the upper mid-west had been hit hard by the nerve gas as well.
I didn’t have a solid plan B in the event the bridge at Dyersburg wasn’t passable. It could be jammed with abandoned refugee vehicles. It could be swarming with infected. It could be being used by survivors to ambush unwary travelers. It could have been blown up and dropped into the river by the military so infected couldn’t cross. The odds were not in our favor, but it was our best option at the moment. I had a couple of ideas for plan B if it was needed, but wasn’t too fond of either of them.
We pushed on, driving through sunshine, but the storm clouds on the northern horizon were foreboding. The highway was completely empty. No wrecks or abandoned vehicles. No other traffic. It was like the world had just packed up and left us behind.
We hadn’t driven long before coming to the Cumberland River. I slowed to under 40 as we approached the bridge, scanning for any signs of ambush. If someone like me was lying in wait I’d never spot the ambush until it was too late. Fortunately, there aren’t too many out there like me. If my wife, Katie, were here she’d say that was very fortunate.
The bridge over the Cumberland was big, rising up from the shore to crest at the midpoint of the river. Reaching the crest I came to a stop and looked out the side window at the water below. I didn’t know what a normal level was for the river where it went under the bridge, but I could tell the water was higher than usual. A lot higher. Neither bank was visible as the river was high enough to have flooded well into the trees on each side. Looking around and feeling fairly secure I put the truck into park, left the engine running and stepped out of the cab. Dog hopped out with me to take advantage of virgin territory for his mark and a moment later Rachel got out as well.
Standing at the railing I leaned out and looked at the muddy water rushing under the bridge. The surface of the river was maybe twenty feet below the bottom of the bridge deck. I watched for a few minutes, noting the height of the water mark on the concrete pilings and saw it rise noticeably in the few minutes I was standing there. Looking up at the northern horizon I saw the storm clouds still piled up, and the breeze blowing in my face was heavy with the smell of rain.
We all got back in the truck and I picked the atlas up out of Rachel’s lap and started checking our route for river crossings. After turning west we had a crossing over what was labeled as Old Hickory Lake, but on the map it appeared to be part of a river that ran down from the north. After that we had another half a dozen crossings, including the Cumberland again, before reaching Dyersburg then the Mississippi.
I re-checked the atlas, looking for routes that would avoid the rivers, but Tennessee is full of them and there weren’t any better ways. I looked to the north of the route I had planned but there were just as many if not more bridges. Oh well. Onward, and we’d deal with what we found.
8
We kept heading north and soon passed a sign that told us the turn off for Gallatin was 19 miles ahead. The storm clouds to the north continued their push in our direction as we drove. The entire northern horizon was obscured with swollen, black clouds for as far as I could see to the east or west. I didn’t know this area of the country well, didn’t know if it was normal for storms this large to roll into Tennessee. I briefly wondered if the multiple nuclear bombs that had gone off in New York were able to influence the weather this far away and that lead to concern that the storm might contain radioactive fallout. I have such cheery thoughts.
I kept my attention on the road ahead, alert for any problems we might encounter. While I drove, Rachel started fiddling with the big touch screen in the middle of the dash. She navigated through several menus and after turning the AC on high twice, let out a sigh of frustration and stabbed at the screen.
“What are you trying to find?” I asked, not pausing in my scan of the upcoming pavement and shoulders.
“I’m hoping Max made it out of Georgia,” she answered. “There really wasn’t anywhere else for him to go other than Tennessee and if he made it, maybe he’s broadcasting, but I can’t find the damn radio. Everything else – I can tell you how many hours this engine has been turned on, how many gallons of fuel this truck has used since it was built, but I can’t find the… ahh.” Rachel stabbed another button and music started playing loudly. That got my attention. Since the morning after the attacks there hadn’t been any commercial broadcasts and I was very surprised to hear a radio station.
“What is that?” I asked, trying to watch the road ahead and the screen at the same time.
“Satellite radio. It’s still broadcasting.” Rachel kept selecting options and soon brought up a menu of the satellite stations. Selecting the news category she started picking stations, but every one she tried yielded silence as perfect as only digital radio can be. Getting the hang of things she switched the system to the FM band and had it scan, but it swept through all the frequencies without finding a signal. She came up with the same results after scanning the AM band. Back to satellite, Rachel started scanning everything that wasn’t news and found many of the music stations still broadcasting. She stopped on one she apparently liked and turned the sound way up.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see her moving around in her seat as the music blasted and I turned my head to see her dancing in the seat with a smile on her face. Dog’s ears were straight up and he was staring at her too. The song sounded familiar but I didn’t know what it was until I checked the display screen. Michael Jackson’s Don’t Stop ‘Till You Get Enough. Are you kidding me? The world has ended and I’m listening to Michael Jackson?
Rachel was really getting into the music, moving her shoulders and head to the beat and when it hit me I started roaring with laughter. I tried not to look at her but couldn’t help myself, and the more I looked the harder I laughed. Tears started rolling down my face and I had to slow down for fear of driving off the side of the road I was laughing so hard.
“What?” Rachel shouted over the pounding music without missing a move, a half smile on her face.
“Did you ever see Rush Hour? Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker? You dance like them! How the hell did you make a living with dance moves like that?” I barely sputtered the last line out, nearly choking myself as I laughed. Part of me knew her dance really wasn’t that funny, but after what we’d been through we were both ready for any little bit of levity.
Rachel smiled sweetly at me and worked a raised middle finger into her dance. I could only keep laughing, finally getting it under control as the song ended. Both of us were smiling and it felt good to have one minute to think about something other than the apocalypse.
“Oh, hell no!” I said when the next song started and I recognized something by the Bee Gees. Stabbing buttons, I got the radio moved off of the offending station and for the hell of it hit the menu that scanned the AM band. Rachel and I both jumped in our seats when a voice we recognized as Max blasted out of the speakers, the volume still high from Rachel’s dance party.
“…tell you the truth.” Max paused and lit the usual cigarette he liked to smoke while broadcasting. I fiddled with the touch screen and turned the volume down to just below ear splitting and braked to a stop in the middle of the highway so I could concentrate on what Max had to say. “We’ve made it out of Georgia and into Nashville, but I’m not sure we’re any better off. This town is falling apart around us as I speak.
“I’ve got a lot to tell you, so make sure you’re in a safe location and hunker down. I’ll s
tart with the more important stuff, what’s going on for you folks within range of my voice. There has been a new outbreak, or a second outbreak, or whatever you want to call it. A little over two weeks ago we had the attacks and most of the people that weren’t outright killed were exposed and infected. That seemed like it was going to be the end of it, but a couple of days ago people who seemed completely normal suddenly became infected and started attacking those around them. The latest word is this was designed by the Chinese. I can’t tell you if people are still turning, or if there will be another outbreak, but watch your backs.
“Now on to the herds approaching Nashville. The Air Force took a playbook from the Vietnam War and tried carpet bombing the herd coming up from the south. It slowed them down, but we just don’t have enough bombs to stop them. There was also a stand made in a town called Murfreesboro but it only slowed the leading edge of the herd for a couple of hours. They’re back on the move and have reached the southern suburbs of Nashville. If you’re still here, you need to do what I’m going to do and get out. They’ll be walking through downtown in about five or six hours.
“Safety lies to the west, but there’s a problem. The military has destroyed all the vehicle bridges that cross the Mississippi river.” Rachel and I looked at each other and she reached out and took my hand in hers. “The only crossings still open are railroad bridges, and there’s not many of those. The only way to cross the river is on a train, or take your chances and try to walk across the bridge, but there’s steady rail traffic and if you get caught mid-span you can either jump or get run over.
“Herds are also coming west from the eastern seaboard as well as moving south through Kentucky. The military was especially hard hit in the most recent outbreak and there aren’t enough soldiers left to defend us. Nashville is going to fall.” Max paused, coughed a couple of times and lit another cigarette. I wanted one so bad at the moment I could taste it.
“On to the rest of the world. The Navy has stopped the Chinese battle groups in the Pacific. It’s not looking like there’s going to be a land invasion. That’s about the only good news there is. The US with assistance from NATO has launched more attacks against China, dispersing the same nerve agent that they used on us and China is in complete chaos. Unfortunately China also launched attacks on Europe and the entire continent is in shambles. In the Middle East, Israel has launched pre-emptive nuclear strikes against Iran, Syria and several other radical Muslim countries. Russia remains neutral and is on full military alert. So far they haven’t been attacked by anyone. Africa has disintegrated into civil and tribal warfare. Closer to home, Canada is in no better shape than the US as all of its major cities were also victim to the nerve gas. Northern Mexico is in chaos and the Mexican army, with assistance from several South American countries, has set up a defensive barrier 200 miles south of the US border. Everything south of that barrier, including Central and South America has not been affected. Australia is also free of attacks.
“I’m boarding the last train at midnight, heading west. You must get out. There’s not anyone left to come help you. God bless you, and God bless America, what’s left of it.”
After a brief moment the signal shut off and a blast of static sounded over the speakers. Reaching forward I shut the radio off and leaned back in my seat with a long sigh. Rachel was quiet too, processing what we’d just heard.
“What are we going to do?” She finally asked in a low voice.
I pulled out the thick road atlas and flipped through until I was looking at a map of Tennessee. It took me a moment to spot our location. We were northeast of Nashville, maybe a 45 minute drive to downtown in the old days. Now, it could take hours or even days to cover the distance. Thoughts were swirling through my head, some dismissed as soon as I had them, others quickly categorized as good or bad. After a couple of minutes staring at the map I looked up at the navigation screen in the dash and started pressing buttons to access the menu.
Several miscues later I got the damn thing to display a listing for Nashville’s Union Station. Selecting the station as my destination a small circle spun on the screen for a few moments before a map drew itself with a route from our location to the train station highlighted by a thick, blue line and what I assumed was an alternate route shown by a thick, yellow line. A female voice spoke over the truck’s speakers telling me two route choices were available to reach my destination. Route one was 41.6 miles and route 2 was 49.1 miles.
I stared at the screen. The blue route took us back through Lebanon to I-40 then west into downtown Nashville. The yellow route continued on to Gallatin as we had planned, then turned south on I-65 and again into downtown Nashville. I wasn’t happy with either choice, but the longer we could stay north of the city, the better off I thought we’d be. Reaching out I selected route two, which took us through Gallatin, and the voice told me to proceed in my current direction of travel for 16.4 miles. I stepped on the throttle and roared north towards the approaching storm.
9
“What’s the plan?” Rachel asked again, eyeing the navigation screen as I drove.
“We’ve got two ways across that damn river,” I said. “Fly, which unless you have a skill you’ve kept to yourself, won’t work, or catch a train. We’re going to catch a train. I’m not happy about it, but I don’t see any other option at this point.”
Rachel thought about what I had to say then nodded her head. Dog was just happy to be along for the ride, as usual.
“Can we make it into Nashville? This map looks like we have to go right downtown.” Rachel said, still looking at the screen.
“I’m not seeing any option other than trying. It’s going to be hard. Sounds like there’s infected all over the place, and the survivors are going to be in a panic. I'll get us there, but I don’t expect to be able to just drive up and park. Max said the last train leaves at midnight. If we’re not there and on that train by then, we back out and try to come up with something else.”
Rachel had listened closely as I talked, her hand drifting to rest on top of Dog’s head. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the contact. Not for the first time in my life I thought I’d want to come back as a dog if there really was such a thing as reincarnation. Sleep, eat and get your head rubbed. How bad can that be? Then I remembered the whole neutering thing and decided being a human wasn’t so bad.
It didn’t take long to reach the turn for Gallatin, the disembodied voice warning me the turn was coming a mile before we got there. Slowing, I steered us onto the new highway as the first drops of rain splattered on the truck’s windshield. The leading edge of the storm was here and blocked out the evening light from the setting sun. We drove on through the gloom, the intensity of the rain increasing with every mile and the wind picking up enough to occasionally push the truck around on the rain slicked pavement.
The Dodge had good headlights and I was running with them on high as we approached Gallatin. We started passing the occasional house and double wide, then a small gas station. All were dark and looked abandoned. Nothing was moving, survivor or infected, and the rain intensified as we rolled into town and passed an empty Walmart.
“Where did everyone go?” Rachel asked, but in a low voice that sounded like she was just musing out loud so I didn’t bother to answer with what would only have been a theory.
Quickly the number of buildings along the road increased and we were soon passing dark and abandoned fast food joints, bars, strip malls and the omnipresent Starbucks. What I wouldn’t give right now for an iced mocha and a cigarette. Daydreaming about past vices nearly ended our day early when I was slow to react to the vehicle that barreled out of a side street. I wrenched the wheel to the left and jammed the brakes as the car scraped along the passenger side of the truck. Rain was pouring and the road was slick and we went into a skid. I lost the battle for control as the big truck slid off the pavement and into the grassy median that divided the highway. We came to a stop without any further incident and the car roared off into the
distance, clouds of water thrown up by its tires momentarily hanging in the air behind it.
Rachel had a death grip on the grab bar on her side of the cab and Dog had wound up on his back somewhere behind me, grunting as he scrambled back to his feet. What the hell was that about? Then a bad thought hit me and I turned to look out the back window of the truck at the road the car had come from. A dozen figures were visible, sprinting toward us through the rain. Infected females. The other driver had been in a panic, running for his life. They were still a hundred yards away and weren’t an immediate threat so I gently pressed on the throttle to get us back on the pavement and out of there. The engine got louder and a moment later I heard the high pitched whine of tires spinning on wet grass. Shit!
Letting off the accelerator I shifted into reverse and fed a little power but got the same results. The truck was two wheel drive so I couldn’t just pull a lever and go into four by four and drive us out. This truck wasn’t going anywhere without a little assistance to get back onto the pavement. Rachel and Dog were getting antsy and I glanced over my shoulder at the approaching females. They had cut the distance in half and were still sprinting.
“Time to fight,” I said to Rachel, popped my door open and stepped out into the rain. Dog followed me out and Rachel scrambled across the cab, slipping on the wet running board as she started to step out, ending up face down in a large puddle of water. I yanked her onto her feet and turned my attention to the fast approaching females.
The truck was sideways in the median and between me and the infected. I raised my rifle and rested my arm on the bed rail, acquiring my first target and firing. The body dropped and I started picking off the other running figures. Two of them from the back of the pack changed direction and ran perpendicular to me as soon as I started firing. Fuck me, but here were more smart ones. I had hoped the ones I’d encountered in the woods back south of Murfreesboro had been an anomaly. Apparently not.