Accepting the risk, I told my story to the stranger. He heard about it all: the kids, Sarah, my parents’ farm, our plan to escape. There wasn’t enough time for me to play it safe. McAllister needed to understand why I was here and why I wouldn’t leave without the means to save my family. I searched his expression for some change that would indicate acknowledgement or even sympathy to my situation. Short of begging the man, I felt that I had sufficiently pleaded my case. Uncomfortable silence followed. I grew antsy waiting for a response and scratched at the healing gash above my eye.
“I have a daughter... a son too,” he said, filling the quiet void with words that took me off guard.
I was afraid to comment knowing how fortunate I was to still have loved ones with beating hearts. He didn’t look at me anymore, instead, his gaze drifted to the floor between us.
“Where are…?” my words were hesitant since I knew each one of them could potentially push Ian over the edge.
“With their mom… I hope. They haven’t seen me in a few years.”
“McAllister, I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry, man.”
He shrugged. “Don’t be. I’m the one who left them. There’s not much that can be said about that. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about it. I constantly replay the night I decided to keep driving. They are around the same ages as your kids. It’s been long enough that they probably don’t even remember me. I may be their father but the night I left I gave up the title of ‘dad’.”
“That’s not true. Sure, we just met, but I can hear the regret in your voice. It’s the job of a dad to constantly regret the mistakes that affect your kids, no matter how insignificant they are in the grand scheme of things. Lord knows I beat myself up all the time about little things they probably don’t even know about. Those times that I yelled over something minor or didn’t make the time to do something with them. If you don’t hold yourself accountable for that, well, then you don’t deserve to be a dad.” Moisture welled up in the corners of his eyes. The man was obviously filled with regret. “Have you thought about trying to go back?”
When he shook his head, a tear fell down his dirty cheek, drawing a line in the dirt and blood that stained his skin. “I started thinking about going back every night since the first one I was away.” He rubbed his eyes then tried to change subjects. “This was the first place I could think to come when shit started getting bad out there. People were getting sick in my apartment building before the first reapers showed up. I’ve seen all the movies, brother. I knew this was going to be bad. You know?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I had a feeling too. When the bulk of them started showing up I was stuck at work downtown, but the house was already boarded up. We tried to stock up on some supplies before that night just in case. Glad I listened to my gut enough to at least have a stockpile to draw off of but a lot of it got ruined when our car was wrecked last night.”
“Me too! I had a bag packed in the car with some extra food. If I had stayed there I would have been a dead, or worse, in no time. The night I saw the press conference when the president announced the military would be deployed in cities and that air and rail transport was shut down I knew it. Even though they didn’t say anything about the mail I knew it would be grouped somewhere in there too. With all the budget cuts over the last few years they probably jumped at the chance to shut it down until this all sorted itself out.” He looked downtrodden. “This place was empty a day before the dead showed up. I was able to get in with my key then emptied the stuff in my car in the warehouse before things got too risky to be out. I’ve been here ever since.”
He was smart; I had to give that to him. The postal warehouse had the space, some supplies, and the security benefit of the police station without being a beacon for everyone nearby that was in trouble.
“I’m glad you made it,” I said. “The plan obviously worked.”
Ian smiled widely from my recognition of his preparation. “Thanks, brother.”
“Thanks for what? You thought ahead and that’s why you’re still alive. Not only did you think ahead, but also you went a place that wouldn’t be noticed. It didn’t matter how much I planned because I was still stuck in a building with a generator. The lights went out in the rest of the city and our station literally became a beacon for the infected people. Once they stopped being people, we were surrounded.”
“How did you get out?”
“I went with two others in a tunnel system that let out the next block over. We were able to get away from most of them.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Three of you went… what about the others?” Then he bit his lip upon seeing my shoulders slump. “Never mind. The important thing is that the three of you got out.”
“Three of us got out, yes, but not all of us made it very far.”
He scratched his head nervously. “I didn’t know, man. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. How could you have known? We’ve all lost so much. The important thing is that I made it back to them. Now do you understand how determined I am to get my family out? I can’t beat myself up about leaving those people I worked with behind, even if I should, because I made it back to the ones I care about more than an entire city’s worth of people.”
He looked pale. He rubbed his wrist looking worried. “You did what I wish I had done. If we met before all this mess you probably would have pushed me to find my kids when it wasn’t too late. I’m always doing things too late. Hell, I tried to go, right at sunrise today, actually.”
I remembered the excited crowd of undead near the postal entrance. “There was a bunch of them in the front before I rode through the bowling alley lot. I assume you are the one that stirred them up?”
“Yeah.” Ian nodded, looking embarrassed. “My food was getting low. I’m still good on water but I knew I would have to go out for supplies soon enough. Last night I was planning where to go, yet all I could think about was my kids. Are they still alive? Are they safe? It didn’t matter what the answer was because I felt that I had to go to them. I was going to take the food I had left and just go. Somehow I was going to find them.”
Distracted, seemingly by his own thought process, he trailed off for a second. Then he regained his composure sounding like a criminal justifying the crime. “The fucking world ended. If there has ever been a time they need their dad it is now. I tried to get to my car. The sun was still coming up and it was pretty dark. From the side door I went out of I could see a few of the bastards by the street. I should have thought to get on the roof or something to check the blind spots.”
During his pause to breathe and wipe the sweat beading on his face I interjected, “They are more dangerous at night. After they turn their pupils get huge. I’m guessing it makes them better at hunting during the night.”
He took a swig of water. “Must be. I wish I had known shit like that because the second the side door closed a handful of the fuckers got to me quick. Even though they are slow moving it’s crazy how fast they can corner you. Have you seen them jump at you when they get close enough?”
I remembered climbing the fence at the Cary Street Field with Lance. That infected lunge Ian referred to nearly did me in back then. “I’ve seen it more than I’d like. The ones still able to walk can definitely get a little burst of speed when they are close to prey.”
“Prey? Hunting? I thought these were walking corpses not some kind of predator.” He sounded very confused. It all validated his claim that he was locked in here before things got really bad. I would bet a couple of hours before my arrival was the first time he had encountered the undead up close.
“From what I read before everything went down, I think the R33PR virus uses the infected people as a carrier for the virus once they pass. After seeing it personally, and much more personally than I’d like, it makes sense. The person dies then the virus takes over. Living people are most vulnerable at night so that’s the time the reapers are most effective. When they are close to their target they lung
e like a snake bridging the gap between it and food. We are food and the next potential carrier for the virus to keep going.”
“It does make sense. Sounds like you’re speaking from experience. I don’t envy you for that.”
I shrugged. “I’m here now… that’s what matters. So what happened?”
“What do you mean?”
My voice went from willing casual conversation back towards an element of seriousness. “In the parking lot. You said a group of them got to you. What happened?”
Sweat dripped from his brow tracing more lines in the grime coating. His mannerisms reminded me of a child getting caught in a lie. He picked up his bat and my hand immediately found the Kukri tucked at my side. “I fought them back and made it to the door.” Then he held the bat up to show the plastering of organic slime from his battle.
“Come on, McAllister. I can see it all over your face. Something else went down that you’re hiding. Are we in danger here?”
“No! We’re not, really! I blocked the door. It would take a few hundred of them to get through it.”
“I see that. Did one of them bite you?”
He shook his head in denial. “No! I told you when you first came in that I’m not one of them.”
“We’ve been having a conversation so I can tell that you’re not one of them, but it doesn’t answer my question. Were you bitten?” I stood up from the rolling desk chair. The grip I had on the handle of my sheathed blade was no longer concealed from view.
His head drooped. A mixture of tears and sweat had cleared more stripes beneath his eyes. The bat released from his right hand; it clanked to the floor then rolled to the wall. He moved his hands together then pulled the work glove off the hand that had been holding his bat. Beneath the glove was a small wound on his wrist. I yanked the Kukri free and whipped it above my head.
Ian screamed, “It barely got me! This doesn’t mean I’m going to become one of those motherfuckers out there!”
I took a step back. “That’s exactly what it means and you know it.”
Tears flowed freely then. “I was almost back to the door. They were all around me. When I bashed a lady missing half of her face another one jumped while my arm was still extended. I tried to fight it off but it clamped down on my wrist. The pressure was insane, man! It felt like my wrist was slammed in a car door. I punched that fucker so hard with my other hand that its skull caved in around the eye then it let go. Its teeth barely made it through the glove and it was just in one small spot.”
“One small spot is all it takes. Don’t you get it?!”
“I do… I do. All I wanted was to see them again.”
“I understand. Probably more than anyone else, believe me. I completely understand how you feel, but it’s too late. Right now you’d be more of a danger to them than anything. That’s not how you want them to remember you, is it?”
“No! Of course it’s not.” He put his glove back then stood from his seat. I jumped back ready for defense.
“I don’t want to do this again, McAllister. Don’t make me kill you when your heart is still beating.”
“What the fuck do you mean ‘again’? You’ve had to do this before?”
My face was like a statue. The cold expression I showed him hid mountains of regret. I killed Phil as a man, not a monster. There didn’t need to be another face to haunt my dreams. In response to his astute question I answered, “There are no limits to what I will do for my family.”
“I won’t fight you, Nathan.” The crying stopped. In lieu of the death sentence he had just accepted, peace overcame him. “Let me help you. Infected or not, my heart is still beating. I can help you. No one knows those trucks out there better than me because I kept them going for the last few years. Let me do something worthwhile. Let me get a truck together so you can do for your family what I couldn’t for mine. Who knows, maybe you will even meet them someday then you can tell them their dad wasn’t the coward who walked out of their lives. Please, let me help you.”
I sheathed the Kukri. “Ian, you’re not a coward. I’m also not in a position to refuse the offer. Just know that if—”
“If I act like I’m about to change then end it. Like I said, I won’t fight you.”
“I believe you,” I said, sighing heavily. “We don’t have much time so let’s get this done.”
Chapter 13 – Trust
0940 hours:
McAllister pulled a bottle of Jack Daniels from the file cabinet he had used as a seat. He took a long swig then offered me a taste. I waved my hand. “No thanks. As much as I would enjoy a drink right now it’s probably best I keep a clear head.”
“Your loss, brother.” After another drag on the bottle he put it back in the drawer. His hand emerged holding a half-inch three ring binder. “This is the log for the trucks. I had to change it out every couple of months. I already have one in mind for you but I want to double-check a few things.
“Will I be able to fit all four of us with supplies?”
He used his sleeve to wipe the beading sweat off his brow. The infection must have been raising his body temperature by this point.
“We’ll make it work. I’ve always wanted to mod the shit out of one of those buses but administration would never let me get away with it.” A smile grew over his goofy face. “Is it weird that I’m excited about this? You know, the whole Frankensteined mail truck thing? The turning into a zombie thing fucking blows.”
I let out a quick chuckle in response to his morbid sense of humor. “I grew up on science fiction and LEGOs, so I’m not one to judge you. You’re right, though, this whole thing blows. I wish we had known each other before this all happened.”
For a moment he looked distant. I was shocked at how well he had kept himself together. The few times I thought I felt my living seconds tick away I was far less composed than he was. He answered my comment with an acknowledging grunt then the conversation turned back to the pressing matter at hand. “I was right! Number 522 is the one. The driver that had it was a piece of shit. She lied on her vehicle logs all the time so the truck was nearly totaled because of the amount of routine maintenance that had been put off.”
I wasn’t following his logic. “Why would I want a truck that was almost totaled?”
“Because the thing was in such bad shape, when they found out what the bitch was doing to it, they had to take it to the central shop on a flatbed. Central is like a fucking spa for mail trucks, brother. They replaced everything! 522 has new tires, brakes, shocks, battery, you name it! When they brought it back on the flatbed all I had to do was change the oil then double check all of the replacements. Now she purrs like a kitten. I finished with her three weeks before the shit hit the fan and it never got put back in service. You might as well be getting a new truck, trust me.” He spoke with such pride, I nodded excitedly because it’s what Ian needed to see. Inside I was devastated knowing that I would have to kill him before the sun went down.
Cans and bottles rattled across the floor when he turned a plastic recycling bin over. I cringed from the noise. The bin was quickly filled with tools from his pegboard wall. He snapped a battery into the underside of a construction-yellow power drill then pulled the trigger bringing it to life. “Good thing I kept the battery pack on the charger before the power went out, eh?” he chuckled.
“Are you going to need help taking anything to the truck?”
“Nah.” He lifted the green bin trying to hide the pain that must have surged from his infected wound. “This should be all I need for now. I’ll scavenge most of the materials from shit I have in the lot. We can always run back in to get hardware but I think we’ll be good.”
“Just let me know. I’m far from a mechanic but I know how to handle a power drill. I’ll do whatever you need.” He smiled then headed towards the door. When his back was to me I grabbed the rifle, tucked it under my arm and followed. “I gotta check in with my wife. We got so caught up talking I forgot to radio in. They are probably worr
ied sick.”
“Shit, man.” McAllister laughed. “I’d be more afraid of pissing her off than fighting a zombie.” The laughter continued until the door closed behind him.
Then I was alone again, wondering whether or not letting Ian out of my sight was a good idea. Somehow, I knew my fears were misplaced. This stranger was genuine in the face of certain death. I trusted him. There weren’t many people left out there with enough humanity remaining to do what he did. I honestly didn’t know if I could give so much to someone that I knew pressed slowly on the proverbial trigger.
I removed the walkie tucked in the middle pocket of my pack. The positioning of the tiny notch confirmed the radio was still on channel three. Gradually I rotated the volume nob until that beautiful red light illuminated for a moment then went dark again. Press, pause, talk. The voice of my instructor in dispatch school was etched in the back of my mind whenever the using a handheld radio.
Softly, while not quite a whisper I said, “Guys?” I paused to see if there would be a response. “It’s me. It’s Daddy. Are you there?”
Calise sweetly answered, “Daddy!”
Tears instantly weighed on the corners of my eyes. It had only been a couple of hours since we were together. I was a five-minute pre-apocalypse car ride away from home, yet upon hearing her voice, it felt magnified to months and miles. “Hi, Princess. Is everything okay there? I was expecting Mommy or Maddox to answer.”
“We’re okay but I miss you, Daddy. Are you done fighting the monsters so you can come home? Mommy said we were going to see Grandma and Grandpa soon. That makes me really happy.”
I sniffled. “I’m fine, baby girl. I’ll be back tonight. Where is everyone else?”
“Downstairs. Mommy told me to stay in the attic with the radio. I didn’t like it very much.” Her pouting tone painted a vivid picture of her uncanny and manipulative fat lip. “But I’m happy now because you called.”
(Book 2)What Remains Page 11