by JE Gurley
“They’re like animals,” Mears moaned. “It’s horrible.”
Vince agreed.
“Is anyone alive?” Valarian asked.
At that moment, two people darted out of the Foothills Mall and ran for a car in the lot. They made it to the car just ahead of a pack of zombies, who surrounded the vehicle and began to pound on it.
“Drive,” Valarian yelled, trying to urge them on. “Get out of there.”
For whatever reason, the car did not move. Vince watched with a sickening feeling as the zombies smashed the windows and dragged the two people out of the car; then descended on them like a pride of lions, ripping and tearing away chunks of flesh. He had to look away.
“My God!” Higgins cried. “What has happened to everyone?”
Vince turned to him. “Still want to open the doors?”
Higgins glared at him but turned away chagrined.
“What about Phoenix?” someone asked.
If anything, Phoenix had fared worse. Mesa and the southern part of the city were blackened ruins. The airport looked as if a hurricane had swept through, overturning jets and vehicles. The tail of one 747 protruded from the side of Terminal 3. Zombies thronged the tarmac and highways. Downtown was awash with zombies. People had taken refuge on roofs of buildings, some with handwritten signs begging for help that would never come. Vince had seen enough.
“Turn it off,” he said.
“What about . . .”
“I said, turn it off,” he snapped.
Valarian complied. Vince stared at the dark screen, but the images of the walking dead remained etched into his mind.
Liz Mears came to stand in front of him. “My baby. I have to check on my baby.”
He pointed at the blank screen. “Do you want to wind up like them? If we open the door, that’s what will happen.”
“I can’t stay here. I’d rather die with my baby.”
“I wouldn’t,” Lindsay said. “Vince is right. We stay here as long as we can. Maybe the disease will die out.”
“Maybe, hell will freeze over,” Higgins said, jumping in. He looked at Conyers, his ex-lover. “I say it’s every man for themself.”
Conyers spat at him. “Run, coward. I hope you do die.”
“Look. No one’s leaving yet,” Vince said. “We’ll find a way to communicate with the outside. Then we decide.”
“I say we send Higgins out with a carrier pigeon,” Doyles quipped.
“Screw you, Doyles,” Higgins replied.
“Enough!” Vince shouted. “No one is leaving.”
They all stopped their arguing and stared at him.
“Good. Now Lindsay and I will try to get through to someone. The rest of you just try not to kill each other, okay. Ivers, will you go bring the pilots to me. Maybe one of them will risk a flight to Davis-Monthan or another base.”
He watched Lindsay place the head set over his ears and plop down at his console, one long leg thrown casually over the arm of his seat. The others left. Vince noticed Conyers made the point of leaving with Doyles.
As if we don’t have enough trouble, he thought. We might just kill ourselves before the zombies do.
13
It felt good to be home, but the emptiness of the house only reminded him of missing family. He purposely avoided Josh’s room. Renda’s first item of business was a shower. While she bathed, he and Mace walked around the outside of the house. After two circuits, Mace nodded in approval.
“It’ll do. Like you said, the steep canyon slope will keep out almost anybody and the wall is good and solid. The gate would stop a truck. If we keep a low profile, black out the windows with some dark material, no one will know we’re here. If we pick up some cameras and mount them at the gate and along the wall, we’ll be able to see any unwanted visitors.”
“When do we start?” Jeb looked back at the house that he so recently shared with Karan and Josh and didn’t want to go back inside its empty rooms. Working would be better.
Mace mistook Jeb’s eagerness for enthusiasm and smiled. “Let’s rest today and get an early start tomorrow morning. We’ll locate a Radio Shack or Best Buy and break in, take what we want and set it up. After that, we see what we can find out on my ham radio. Good intel might save our lives.”
Jeb decided he had better level with Mace. “I intend to go after Karen as soon as I can. She’s all that matters to me.”
Mace stared at him until Jeb turned away. “I admire your pluck, but not your common sense,” Mace said. “First, you don’t know where she is. Second, you have no idea how to save her if you locate her. Your last try didn’t go so well.”
Jeb didn’t appreciate Mace’s reminding him about his failed rescue attempt, but he was right. He had acted foolishly and it had almost cost him his life. He considered himself persistent. Karen referred to him as stubborn. “I won’t be stopped,” he said.
“Hell, I’ll go with you, Jeb, but first we have to find out where they’ve taken her, make plans to get there and devise a strategy to rescue her. We need to mesh as a team before that. We don’t know each other well enough yet to trust each other with our lives. Now, if Renda’s finished with the shower, I could use one as well.”
“Go ahead. I think I’ll look around a bit first.” Jeb stared out toward the Catalina Mountains behind him and the snow on Mt. Lemmon.
As if understanding Jeb’s reluctance, Mace said, “It’s going to feel empty, whether you go inside now or later. You’ll have to get over it. It’s not your fault she’s gone and feeling sorry for yourself or holding yourself to blame won’t help matters. You have to put it behind you and face the future as it is. I’ll be honest with you. I don’t think we’ll find her. The odds are too slim. I’ll help anyway. It’s what I would do if it were my wife. You just need to understand what we’re up against.”
“Who’s the psychiatrist here?”
“You got the degree, but you also own the problem. I hear doctors make the worst patients.” He slapped Jeb on the shoulder. “Come on. We’ll set up the ham radio and see what we can learn.”
* * * *
The news was not good. From a farmer in Kansas, they learned that Air Force jets had bombed Topeka in an attempt to stop the zombies from spilling out into the countryside. They had failed. The farmer, Ezra Nobles, was under siege in his farmhouse, surrounded by zombies who had slaughtered his cattle and pigs during a two-day feeding frenzy.
“I got a couple of the bastards with my 12-gauge,” he told them, “but there are just too cussed many.”
Mace shook his head at Jeb’s questioning look. “No one can help him.” To the farmer, he said, “Hold out as long as you can. Someone may come yet.”
“Fat chance,” Nobles replied with a derisive snort. “I live twenty miles from the nearest town and ten from my closest neighbor. The Kansas National Guard passed through a few days ago on their way to Missouri. They’ve packed up and left.” He paused, and then added, “I got half a box of shells and about a week’s worth of food. Got tons of meat in the smoke house and canned goods in the shed, but I can’t get to them. Some joke, huh?”
The man’s story deeply touched Jeb. Nobles had confronted his death and had accepted it. He wondered how many times the exact story was being repeated across the country, how many people had given up hope.
“One of these things is damned smart,” Nobles said. “Bastard’s walked around the house a dozen times searching for a way in. I boarded the doors and windows, but he looks determined. The others seem to be afraid of him, like he’s the leader or something. I tried to shoot him, but he’s too fast. Uh oh.”
“What is it?” Mace asked.
“I hear noises in the attic. Bastards must have got up on the roof and in through the attic window. Gotta go now and see if I can squeeze off a few shots through the ceiling.” He chuckled. “If nothing else, I’ll burn the damned place. Maybe I can give ‘em a hot foot.”
“Good luck,” Mace called into the microphone, but
the radio was already dead. “Good luck,” he repeated anyway. He replaced the microphone and shut down the shortwave. He sat there for a minute, just staring at the dead radio.
“It’s like that everywhere isn’t it?” Jeb asked. He felt suddenly cold and helpless.
Mace nodded. “‘Fraid so. Too many people have died from the flu and a damn sight too many are coming back as zombies. Most people don’t have what it takes to survive. They’re too used to electricity, garbage pickups, grocery stores and automobiles to do for themselves. Even those with weapons will be reluctant to shoot loved ones turned into zombies. That moment’s hesitation will kill them.”
“You sound so cold.” Jeb didn’t mean it to be an accusation; just an observation, but he must have touched a nerve.
“That’s right, I am,” Mace shot at him. “I’ve got no one but me and I’m selfish enough to want to survive. Maybe this thing will die out; I don’t know. I do know you can’t save everyone. You have to choose those that might have a chance, people you can depend on. It’s a cruel world out there. It always has been, but most people didn’t pay much attention. Now that the thin veneer of civilization is stripped away, you’ll have to deal with the cold, hard fact that most people care only about themselves. I can maybe help a handful but if I spread myself too thin, everyone’s at risk.
“We three are a start. We can make a good team. We’ll look for your wife, but if you try picking up a bunch of strays along the way, I’ll cut you loose and you can manage on your own. I ain’t trying to be a bad ass, that’s just how it is.”
“Your two friends at the camp tried to help,” Jeb countered.
“And they’re dead,” Mace said pointedly. “I learn from the mistakes of others. I suggest you do too. Now, how about that shower?”
Following Mace into the house, Jeb wondered just whom he had gotten mixed up with. The next morning, they went into the city of Oro Valley. It was a trip into hell, one that Jeb knew he would never forget. They saw bodies everywhere, some savaged by coyotes or other creatures Jeb didn’t want to think about. Zombies, attracted by the sound of the engine, raced at them from the sides of the road. He dodged most of them, but several fell under the wheels of the Explorer with a sickening thud. Only once did they see another vehicle on the road. Marana was a ghost town.
Ina Road, one of the thoroughfares, was eerily deserted. Traffic lights still functioned and Mace glared at him impatiently when out of habit Jeb stopped and waited for a red light to change to green. Several buildings had burned down. A Mexican restaurant and an Italian pasta chain restaurant were smoldering ruins. Zombies milled about in a Lowe’s parking lot across the street from the Radio Shack that was their destination.
“Better pull around back,” Mace advised, “or we’ll soon draw a crowd.”
Behind the shopping mall, Mace removed a small acetylene torch from a cloth bag, lighting it with a striker attached by a short chain. He donned a pair of smoked-lens goggles and adjusted the flame to a fine point. Jeb looked away from the bright flame. Within two minutes, Mace had soundlessly cut through the lock of the Radio Shack rear door. He turned to Jeb.
“Keep watch while I get what we need. Renda, come help me.”
The two entered the store while Jeb stood outside the door with his rifle, a lever action Marlin 336, pacing a nervous circuit from door to truck. The deer rifle of his youth suited him better than the heavier Kalashnikov he had picked up at the FEMA camp. He kept glancing at his watch urging the pair to move faster. At a movement in the corner of his eye, he whirled and aimed his rifle at a group of people running towards him. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that they were human.
“Help us!” one woman yelled. Around the corner of the building, less than twenty yards behind the small band of survivors, a pack of zombies numbering twenty appeared, growling and slavering like wild beasts.
“Hurry!” he yelled at the group, urging them on.
One man, overweight and clearly exhausted, stumbled and fell. Before he could get up, the zombies were upon him, ripping into his flesh like a pack of hyenas, growling. His blood-curdling screams echoed across the parking lot for only a few seconds before he no longer had a throat with which to scream. Jeb raised his rifle and fired into the group of zombies. They paid no attention to the sound of the rifle. Renda and Mace appeared in the door carrying bags slung over their shoulders. Mace took one look at the chase and raced for the truck. He chunked the bag into the back, shoved Renda in after it and turned to Jeb.
“Let’s go!” he yelled.
Jeb stared at him and then fired at the zombies again, this time killing one. It fell unnoticed by its pack mates. A second man, unable to keep up with the others, veered from the group and ran toward the open rear door but did not make it. A zombie sailed across a garbage can and leaped upon his back, slamming him into the side of the building with enough force to knock him out. Two more joined the first and clawed viciously at the unconscious man’s exposed flesh.
“Get in here!” Mace yelled at Jeb, as he crawled from the back of the Explorer into the front seat, closing the hatch behind him.
Jeb urged the now smaller group to run faster. “The truck. Get in the truck.”
He heard the engine crank, and turned to see Mace sitting behind the wheel, glaring at him. Still, he stood his ground. To his utter astonishment, the three remaining people didn’t even pause at the truck. They continued running down the small alley. Jeb felt the truck brush against his leg.
“Please, get in,” Renda urged, holding the door open.
As he sat down in the passenger seat, mystified at the actions of the small group of runners, Mace stepped on the gas. At first, Jeb thought Mace was trying to chase down the group, but then he saw Mace had the truck in reverse, driving into the oncoming zombies. The truck plowed into them at thirty miles per hour, crushing several. The remainder ignored the vehicle, intent on more easy prey just a few leaps and bounds ahead. Jeb stared in horror as the pack closed over the three remaining runners. The woman fell first, a look of horror frozen on her face as she turned to glance over her shoulder. All three quickly disappeared beneath a dozen of the creatures and did not rise again.
“What are you doing?” Jeb screamed at Mace.
“Saving your damned foolish life,” he said, still looking into the rearview mirror and driving backwards. In the parking lot, he spun the truck around and shot into the road just ahead of a second group of zombies, who continued pursuing the truck, but quickly fell behind.
“You could have gone after them,” Jeb challenged.
“They were dead meat,” Mace snapped. “You saw them. They were so terrified they rushed past the only safety around, your truck. They didn’t stand a chance.”
Jeb turned to Renda for support. She sat in the rear seat, tears rolling down her eyes. “You saw them,” he said. “They were people.”
She shook her head and sniffed. “They’re like people in the FEMA camp. They were beyond rational thinking.”
“You let them die,” he said to Mace. Already Jeb knew he was losing the argument.
“I could have let you die,” he replied. “Shut up and get real. Those people were running mindlessly. They saw the truck, but ignored it. They would have been dead long ago except for the fact that the pack was toying with them, letting them stay just ahead until they tired. We’re damn lucky they were more interested in them than in us.”
“We should have helped them,” Jeb insisted.
“I told you before, you have to pick who you try to save. Those people would never have survived for long even if we had rescued them. They weren’t survivor types. You would have been responsible for them, and they would be dependent upon you for everything until you wised up, cut them loose or died with them. If you want to save your wife, you had better choose sides. If you’re out to save the world, then maybe you’d better just put a bullet in your head and be done with it, cause there ain’t no world left to save.”
Je
b closed his eyes hoping to erase the scene of the pack ripping into the men like wolves. He didn’t open them again until they reached his house.
While Mace installed the video cameras, Jeb confronted Renda. “Why don’t you agree with me? I would think a woman would be more compassionate.”
Renda shot him a withering glance, but after a few seconds, her eyes softened.
“Mace is right. In situations like this, most people are going to be casualties. They’re too soft. I was. I depended on so many things we no longer have. People break down into three groups: Those that can’t make a decision and die; those that make the wrong decision and die; and those that make the right decision and survive. So far, we’re in that last category. We’re just one wrong decision away from dying. I want to survive. I’ve fought hard to survive this long. Maybe I’m selfish, but there you are. Mace saved my life. His two friends probably saved yours, and died for it. Did they make a wrong decision? It’s up to you to prove they didn’t.”
She sat back on the sofa and closed her eyes. Jeb stared at her a moment, but she was through talking. Some of what she said made sense, but he still didn’t want to admit he was wrong. Did he really save anybody at the FEMA camp, or did he just leave them to their fates as Mace had done? His first responsibility was to Karen. To save her, he would need Mace and Renda’s assistance. Therefore helping them stay alive was a priority. He made a solemn promise to help anyone he could, but not if it placed any of the three of them in danger. It was the best he could do. To compromise his principles any further would make him less than he was.
* * * *
Over the next few days, the three fell into a routine, each spending a great deal of time alone, but coming together at meals. Renda did most of the cooking, which was just as well, since Jeb was not a good cook and Mace’s recipes were limited to opening cans and heating their contents. Mace was a wanderer. He slept in three or four-hour shifts, patrolling the grounds or staring at the security video monitor for hours between sleeps. No television stations remained on the air and they picked up no more short wave radio broadcasts. Their entire world had shrunk to within the confines of the walls and canyon.