by John Ringo
More glass crashed in the store, and so Mia waved Danny through the door, her .45 still in her hand. She followed quickly, pausing just long enough to pull the door closed behind them. Hopefully, the infected in the store would cause enough of a ruckus to draw any others that way and keep them off the van.
They moved quickly, staying low, crouched next to the building in order to try and hide in the shadows as much as possible. When they rounded the corner, they could see the gas pumps, but no van. For one heart stopping moment, Mia couldn’t decide between being grateful to Hashim for getting her kids out and to safety, or being furious that he’d left her and Danny behind.
Fortunately, she didn’t have long to waffle. Before they could blink, the van came out from the alley that ran along the back of the building and pulled alongside them. The door opened and arms reached out from inside to pull them both in. Mia felt a bit like a kidnap victim as she was tossed to the floorboards, hand truck and all, and the van took off, tearing across the parking lot, lights off, headed back to the highway and freedom.
“Mia?” Hashim asked as Jessa and Yolanda pulled the door closed behind her and Danny. “Mia, were you bit?”
“No,” Mia said, pulling herself up and into the passenger seat. “No, I wasn’t. Danny?”
“Nope!” he said. “Didn’t even get any blood on me!” He sounded so ridiculously pleased by this that Mia laughed, despite herself. After a moment, Jessa giggled too, followed by Elia. Before long, they were all laughing, even poor Sonia, tied in the back, flushed with fever.
“We got some supplies, too,” Mia said, as soon as the laughter died down. “But how’d you know where to find us?”
“We didn’t,” Hashim said. “We just saw the horde at the front door, and knew you would not make it out that way. Jessa suggested the alley around the back.”
“You should have just left,” Mia said, looking down to reload her magazine.
Hashim looked over at her wryly. “Mia. I am only one man. You gave weapons to nine of your twelve cheerleaders. Do you think they would have let me leave you?”
Mia looked up, startled, then back in the back. Jessa met her eyes, a hardness in them that Mia had never seen before.
“We’re a team, coach,” Jessa said.
Mia felt a lump rise in her throat. She nodded. “So we are,” she said. “So we are.”
* * *
By eleven, Sonia had turned. Dawn, Yolanda and Gina, were also showing signs of infection. They’d all been restrained in the back couple of rows, making liberal use of both bungee cords and duct tape.
Mia and Hashim had traded off driving duties. Both of them subtly bearing down on the gas, and the van, surprisingly, would do ninety on a straight stretch with very little issues. Max had called once more, to tell them that he’d stopped for gas in Aneth, UT. Aneth was a tiny little town in the middle of an oil field on the Ute Mountain reservation in southern Utah. Mia knew the gas station Max mentioned. They stopped there sometimes when they travelled during the day. Mia wouldn’t have stopped at night if she could help it. It had always looked sketchy. According to Max, though, the old guy who ran it was uninfected, and he appeared more than happy to help. Mia was keeping it in mind, just in case. Since Hashim had been able to fill up both tanks back at Shiprock, she didn’t think it would be an issue, but it was nice to have a backup plan.
Or any kind of plan, for that matter.
Mia scrubbed her hands over her face and lifted her Red Bull to take the last swallow in the can. She made a face as it went down. Sugar Free Red Bull was meant to be drunk over ice, in her opinion. It was never the same out of the can, and its flavor deteriorated rapidly if it wasn’t icy cold.
She had the sensation of diving through the darkness, as the van carved its way down the apparently deserted highway. While, given the circumstances, Mia was more than happy to be in such a sparsely populated part of the country, it was, to say the least, a little eerie as they drove.
Particularly with more than half of her team dying in the van behind her.
“Hashim,” she said softly, not wanting to wake him if he were asleep. The microbiologist stirred and opened his eyes, looking at her. “If they haven’t turned yet, can you use the vaccine on them?”
He shook his head sadly. “I could try, but Mia, if they are already sick, then the virus has begun to attack their tissues. The vaccine will only be more viruses. It would only make the problem worse.”
Mia nodded. That was about what she’d expected. She drove on, accelerating just a little faster, as Sam and Bella, both seniors, started to join in the coughing behind her.
* * *
The eastern sky was starting to lighten when they had to slow down. They’d made it in to Utah, but the road to Torrey took them through Capitol Reef National Park. The Park, as it was known locally, was a geographic wonder, and one of the best kept secrets of the American southwest. Towering red stone formations thrust up into the sky, creating near-vertical canyons and labyrinthine twists and turns. Butch Cassidy and the Hole in the Wall Gang were known to have had hideouts up in the Park back in their day. Legend had it that there was still stolen railroad gold cached up there somewhere.
Mia slowed the van as they wound down the senic highway. In part because it was necessary, thanks to the lingering darkness and the windiness of the road. Also, there was also the threat of hitting one of the huge herds of deer that lived in the area. But the real reason she slowed was because she knew that Max was somewhere up here. Somewhere in the Park, there was a cache of weapons and supplies that her mother and stepfather had prepared for an “End of the World” type scenario. She had the coordinates for it on her phone, even. That was where Max would be.
But she couldn’t go there, not yet. Not with Sonia, Dawn and Yolanda already turned, and from the looks of things, Gina, Sam and Bella not far behind. They had to get to the clinic. They had to get Hashim to the vaccine. She had to keep her promise. Her kids would not die in vain.
Torrey was only about six miles past the park, and the grey light of false dawn lined the eastern horizon by the time they came to the town limits. The sign claimed a population of 180 people, which Mia thought was a good sign. Especially since many of those would, theoretically, be living out on their land away from the town center. Torrey was as rural as it got.
“The community clinic is up here on the left,” Mia said as she drove, slowing to turn in to the parking lot of the small, nondescript building with the sign that proclaimed it to be their goal. She pulled up next to the door, killed the engine and set the parking brake.
“Now, how do we get these guys inside?” she asked.
“Let me go in first,” Hashim said, hefting a bag he’d stashed under the passenger seat. “I must find the lab and the x-ray machine, and we may need to clear it out. We can leave the kids here with the weapons.”
Mia looked over her shoulder at Jessa. The team captain nodded and hefted the rifle she hadn’t given back to Danny. He’d taken Sam’s instead. “We’ll be fine,” she said. “We’ll get them ready to take in for you,” she said.
“Don’t take any chances,” Mia said, wishing she had some better advice to give. “Don’t get bit.”
Jessa smiled grimly. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I have a plan.”
Mia raised her eyebrows, “I’m glad someone does,” she said under her breath. When Jessa’s only answer was a widening grin, she shook her head and refused to comment further. Instead, Mia took one of the shotguns and her .45 and slid out of her seat, after tossing the keys to Jessa. Just in case.
“Do you know where the lab is?” Hashim asked her as they approached the front door of the clinic.
“Not a clue,” Mia said.
Hashim laughed. “Fair enough,” he said. “Let’s go.”
He pushed open the door which, surprisingly or not, was not locked. The metal squealed against the linoleum floor, letting out a sound which raised the hackles on the back of Mia’s neck, and made
her curse softly in response. So much for stealth.
From somewhere down the darkened hall in front of them, an answering keen rose. Then another. Hashim grabbed her arm and hauled her quickly behind a counter that had once served as the receptionist’s station. He reached in his bag and pulled out a road flare. “Cover your eyes,” he warned, then popped the flare.
Red light hissed to life as Mia belatedly turned her head and covered her eyes. She looked back just in time to see Hashim toss the light into a room opposite, that looked like a bathroom or something of that kind. Sure enough, three infected came running, stumbling down the hallway toward the light and the noise. As they came, Mia stood and began firing the 12-gauge. Three rounds, three dead infected. Five more followed after, drawn by the light and the noise. Mia dropped behind the corner as Hashim took her place, firing his pistol economically, dropping them with the headshots he’d perfected a lifetime ago in another desert a world away.
The 12-gauge could hold six rounds, and Mia took the time to reload three more while she had a moment. As she was doing so, another infected, this one a child of about five came around the corner of the counter from a back room.
“Aw, shit,” Mia said as the little zombie rushed toward her. “You’re gone already,” she told the little boy as she kicked a rolling chair over to intercept his path. He stumbled, which gave her time to get her weapon up and fire into his face that had been framed with soft golden curls. Still cursing, Mia got to her feet and went over to check the room that had produced the infected little boy. The smell about knocked her over. There was another child in there, a girl, about three or so. This one was still clothed, and her middle was one bloody mass where it had been eaten away. From the resemblance, Mia guessed that they’d been brother and sister. She closed her eyes briefly, then turned and emptied the contents of her stomach into a corner.
“Mia,” Hashim called softly. She straightened up, wiped her mouth with her sleeve and went back out to the reception area. An impressive pile of bodies lay in front of the desk, but no more movement toward the back. “I think we must move on,” he said, his eyes sympathetic. Mia nodded, and forced one foot in front of the other.
Despite all the odds, the building appeared to be clear. Mia and Hashim checked every closet, every compartment they could see, but there was no one else. Either no one else had made it to the clinic, or all the survivors had already evacuated. They did find the remains of several others that had been partially eaten, and Mia threw up one more time.
In the last room they checked, Hashim found what he was looking for. He immediately went over to the X-ray machine and began pushing buttons and dials. It must have had an integrated generator of some kind, because it fired right up, though the lights in the room stayed off. Mia watched him for a second, feeling lost, before backing up a step. “I’ll, ah, go get the kids,” she said. Hashim was already absorbed in his work and didn’t appear to hear her. So she shrugged and went back the way they’d come.
Outside, seven or eight more headless bodies bore mute testimony of the amount of noise she and Hashim had made, but her kids were all okay. Elia opened the van doors as she approached, and Danny and the two sisters, Mackayla and Mackenzie started moving their turned teammates out. Mia nearly laughed when she saw them. The kids had emptied their cheer bags out and were using them as hoods to cover the faces of the infected. With the cheer bags duct taped over their heads, and their hands and feet tied, the infected cheerleaders were effectively helpless. All of a sudden, Mia was extremely glad she’d grabbed the hand truck back in Shiprock, as it came in very handy for transporting their lost teammates as gently as possible.
One by one, they transported them inside. Sam, the senior, and Jessa’s co-captain. Sonia and Dawn, their two freshman flyers who’d been good enough to make the varsity team. Yolanda, another senior, who had earned a cheerleading scholarship to the University of Texas, Gina, a Junior who had been earmarked for captain next year, and Bella, another senior, who had had plans to get married next spring. They rolled them in and strapped them down to the rolling gurneys that Hashim had assembled in the lab area.
“I don’t want to hurt them, if you can help it,” Mia said, her voice rough as they finished securing Bella in place.
“They do not feel pain at this stage,” Hashim said, “But I understand. I will give them morphine to kill them, and then we will harvest the spines. We must hurry, though, I can do nothing with the tissue if it’s too long dead.”
“We’ll help,” Mackayla said, and her sister nodded. Elia too. “We’ll all help,” the little sophomore said. “Just tell us what to do.”
Hashim nodded. He walked over to Sonia with a syringe, which he inserted into her arm. The infected girl thrashed against her bonds, letting out that high, keening wail before falling silent. Without a word, Hashim grabbed a very large bone saw from a drawer and began cutting around her neck. While her teammates looked on, Sonia was decapitated and her spine removed and placed into what looked like an emesis basin.
“Can you do this?” Hashim asked. Mia nodded, and though their faces were white as sheets, the surviving cheerleaders followed suit. Hashim handed out the syringes and bone saws, and they went to work.
* * *
It was the buzzing of her iPhone that woke her. Despite everything, Mia had drifted off to sleep, leaning against the wall of Hashim’s lab beside the sheet covered gurneys that held the remains of half her team. Her surviving cheerleaders lay curled together on the floor next to her, Danny and Jessa holding Elia between them, Mackayla and Mackenzie holding each other. Mia stretched the crick in her neck and pulled the iPhone from her pocket. It was a text, from Max.
Found cache. All good. You? Max.
Mia looked up at Hashim, only to see the microbiologist standing over her with tired eyes, a triumphant smile on his face, a syringe in his hand. “Mia,” he said. “If I could have your arm, please? Your vaccine is ready.” Mia smiled back at him as tears of relief and reaction filled her eyes.
“Do the kids first,” she said, blinking furiously as she fumbled with her phone.
Vaccine done. Hold tight, baby. See you in a bit.
How Do You Solve a Problem Like Grandpa?
Michael Z. Williamson
Andy Thompson was tense. Going to see his grandpa shouldn’t be a meeting. It should be a visit.
This was a meeting.
The house was a nice brick split, well-maintained. The grass and trees were trimmed and pruned, but there was no other landscaping. It was plain, and clean.
Grandpa Thompson had always liked guns, hunting, the outdoors. His collection of knives and guns had been amazing. Now it was full-on hoarder. The man had crates of MREs, racks of cans, drums of water, god knows how many military rifles. He’d blown through most of his income and savings, keeping just enough to pay the bills.
The man did pay his bills, and his food, and his taxes, but there wasn’t much left over, and the next progression in behavior would be past that point.
If they could resolve it now, he wouldn’t have to try to put Grandpa in a home. Although, with Grandma gone, that still might be something to discuss later.
James C. Merritt, his attorney, was graciously coming along on a very modest fee, and Doctor Gleeson was along to gently advise. Grandpa was as areligious as Andy, so there was no point to a clergyman.
Grandpa met them at the door.
“What’s wrong, Andy? A lawyer?” Grandpa said after a glance. He was still sharp. “And who’s this other gentleman? Come in, sit, please.”
“Grandpa, Doctor Gleeson’s been mine and Lisa’s marriage counselor. Good man. He’s along for support.”
“I hope no one’s died. Is Andy Junior in hospital?”
“No, everyone’s fine, Grandpa. This…” he looked at Gleeson, who nodded. “This is about your spending, and the guns.”
The cabinet here in the living room contained high-end hunting rifles, behind armored glass to protect them while show
ing them. That case had cost a couple of thousand dollars. It was also the wrong background for this discussion, because those were valuable and personal.
“What’s the issue? Everything that needs to be papered is. I have a lot of them in trust for you and the great grandkids. I don’t spend more than I have. I’m pretty sure my debt’s less than yours.”
The old man wasn’t angry, but he was certainly alert.
“Grandpa, it was fine when you had a dozen, or even a couple of dozen, but you’ve got what now, a hundred?”
Grandpa leaned back in mock relaxation. He was tense.
“Since you ask that way, none of your goddam business. Andy, I don’t want trouble with you or anyone, but how I spend my pension and my wealth is really not your concern. You’ve seen the trust and the will, and even if I was cutting into those, which I’m not, that would be my choice while alive. But I’m not. You don’t have some notion of trying to declare me incompetent, do you? I have lawyers, too, and probably better ones, with no disrespect intended to you, sir,” he added to Merritt.
This was not going well. He nodded to Merritt.
Merritt said, “Sir, my client is concerned about your assets, and has asked that I act in advisory capacity. While I assume you are completely within the law, your collection has been mentioned at the city council and elsewhere. They’ve got concerns.”
“Mentioned by whom? I don’t generally advertise.” Grandpa’s gaze wasn’t getting any more relaxed.
It had been Andy’s younger brother Sam, who meant well, but wasn’t very good at these things. He’d gotten a bug up his ass, decided the government would know what to do, and gone to see the mayor. It was a small town. Word got around. They all knew the old man needed to stop “collecting,” but that hadn’t helped. Although, that had gotten the action they had here, if it worked.
Merritt was good. He answered the old man’s inquiry with, “You’ve been seen at various gun shows, stores, swap meets. Someone took an interest and started following you.”