(Book 2)What Remains

by Barnes, Nathan

  “Good. I’m glad you were there to answer! Calise, I need you to answer my questions because I don’t have long.”

  The excitement cooled a bit. This girl would talk through every second of the radio batteries if I gave her the chance. “Sorry, Daddy. We’ve been packing since you left. Mommy and Monkey are moving the bags we stuffed by the shed. Are we leaving our house forever?”

  Sarah and Maddox were following the plan. It was relieving to know that at least part of the day was going as we planned. “Maybe, baby girl, maybe. I hope we can come back some day. Right now we need to get some away from the monsters. Make sure you bring your kitties, some books, and things to do because we will be in the car for a while.”

  “I will. Do you want me to go get Mommy?”

  I hesitated. Although I would be back by sundown as planned, I would also have to do some terrible things before then. I went through a mock conversation of talking to my wife: I’ll be home soon. I just have to murder the man helping us survive first.

  “No, that’s okay. Calise, I need you to tell Mommy that everything is fine. I’ll call again before heading back. It probably won’t be until later this afternoon. So don’t get worried if it feels like a long time. I do have the radio on, though, and I’m in a pretty safe place so if you guys get into trouble you can call me this time. Can you tell Mommy that for me?”

  “Don’t worry, Daddy. You can count on me!”

  She was just like her big brother. I couldn’t have felt more proud in that moment. “Good girl. I love you, princess. Better start practicing that gigantic hug you’re going to give me tonight when I get home.”

  The giggle brought more tears to my eyes. “Watch out! I’m going to hug you so hard you’ll think I’m a monster!”

  My laugh echoed off the office walls. “Get back to work, goof ball. I’ll see you soon.”

  0955 hours:

  It was a gamble but I decided to leave my pack inside. In the event something happened, and we needed to seek shelter inside, I didn’t want to take the chance of forgetting it where it could be inaccessible. Not to mention, my back hurt like hell. The physical relief almost made me feel naked without the counterweight. The Kukri remained sheathed while the rifle was slung over my shoulder and the crow bar was tucked through my belt.

  McAllister pulled what I assumed was truck number 522 into the warehouse loading overhang area. He wasn’t visible, yet the sounds of his tinkering were hard to miss.

  “McAllister?” I said just loud enough to top the racket.

  His dirty head appeared from behind the truck. The grin he sported from ear to ear wasn’t what you’d expect from a man with only hours to live. “Hey, brother! This is going to kick some serious ass! Come check it out.”

  I marched along the side of the truck that would have been the passenger’s side if this were a normal vehicle. Having the driver’s seat on the right hand side would take some getting used to. Between the electric drill’s humming I heard the furious clatter of the undead at the front of the building. A variety of metal pieces littered the pavement around where he worked.

  His back was still to me so I waited for a long enough pause to get a word in. “Is it safe out here? We’re pretty exposed. And should we be making this much noise? The zombies out front are so excited I can hear them from here.”

  He set the drill down on the bumper. “It’s all good. They aren’t getting through the fence. Well, not anytime soon. Besides,” the hand that was bitten waved towards the source of the undead noise, “the ugly fuckers are all up there. That’s a good thing because you’ll be driving out over there.” He motioned towards the opposite side where a winding delivery entrance met a rolling chain link gate.

  Once again I wasn’t in a position to argue. This was Ian’s area; he knew it far better than I did. “Why didn’t you take one of the trucks when you tried to get escape this morning?”

  He paused, looking embarrassed. “Pretty sad I didn’t think of that before this morning, eh? For whatever reason I thought I would have to get out in my own car. Wish I had thought to take one of the LLVs. Probably would have a little longer to live if I had.”

  There wasn’t enough time for regrets. Although the man did have every right to reflect upon the decisions that brought him to that point, I needed him to focus. I tried to bring his thoughts back to the task.

  “LLV? What the hell is that?”

  His frown gave way to a look of satisfaction, I assume for being able to teach me something. “Every one of these trucks is called an L.L.V. It stands for ‘Long Life Vehicle’.”

  “That’s good news for me. Something tells me I won’t come across a lot of dealerships that are open for business.”

  The drilling started up again. He talked over the noise. “They are supposed to last through thirty years of service. 522 here was in the last purchase line from 1994.”

  “Holy shit! This thing is already over twenty years old?!”

  “Don’t sweat it. If she survived a couple years with that negligent bitch who used to drive her, she can survive anything. Plus, after her time at central she’s like a new car.” He looked confident. I had no reason not to believe him.

  “So what are we doing to her?”

  He handed me a metal bracket of some kind. “LLVs were never designed to have passengers in the back. It’s filled with shelves and storage for the drivers so they can make as long of a route as possible. The manual says they can hold a thousand pounds of cargo, but I’ve never seen that tested.”

  “Maybe it’s good that I’m on the apocalypse diet - lots of exercise and not enough food. I’ve killed almost as many zombies as I have lost pounds.”

  McAllister snorted. “You’re a goofy bastard, Nathan! I wish I had known you before this shit. You probably would have talked sense into me before it was too late. If I take the shelves out then we remove the main tray in the front seat there should be plenty of room.”

  “Can we leave that top shelves on for supplies? I want to pack enough gear to avoid stops in unknown territory.”

  “Way ahead of you, man. I’ll put some cord or something over the front of them to keep anything from falling off. It doesn’t normally happen on a route but you never know. Also, I have some wood in the shop that I’ll use to make a roof rack or a box up top. That way you can stack some things up there to save some room. It won’t be the prettiest thing around but she’ll get you there.”

  “I hope you know how much I appreciate what you’re doing.”

  “Don’t mention it. After all of the shitty things I’ve done during my life I’m glad the last thing I do is something that’s worth a damn.”

  He went right back to removing screws from the fixed shelves. We didn’t talk for at least twenty minutes after that. Ian worked and I assisted however I could without being in the way. While changing the drill bit he stopped to rub his wounded wrist.

  “How much does it hurt?” I asked hesitantly.

  “It hurts. Not as bad as it was a little while ago because it has gotten a little numb. My arm feels hot, like I can feel the shit crawling through my veins.” He must have seen the concern plastered over my face. “Ease up. I’m not dead yet.”

  My right hand instinctively moved to the Kukri and I hadn’t even realized it. “Sorry. Habit.”

  “I get it.” McAllister stepped away from the truck. “Most of the pieces are out. We’ll pull the front tray out after the back is done. If you have to go sooner than we planned I want you to at least be able to fit the family back here. The rest of the work is secondary.”

  “You’re right. What now?”

  “I’ll get the wood and some hardware from the shop. There is some extra chain link rolled up near the front of the fence. Can you go drag it this way? I have an idea for it.”

  I nodded then headed around the bend of the lot towards the front, towards the noise.

  1115 hours:

  Ghouls were lined up across every inch of that fence.


  It was startling for me to see so many of them there as I rounded the bend. A section of fence about four car-lengths long met the parking lot that customers used for the post office. Then it intertwined with trees and a small pond, which created an impassible stretch that led to the first connecting point with the bowling alley property.

  Tightly nestled against the building, immediately after the turn, was the roll of chain link that I had been sent to retrieve. When I stepped forward to grab it the infected audience became unruly. They growled like a pack of dogs being denied a bowl of kibble. All of them were so crowded against the stretch that the group had to be at least two creatures deep. Arms wildly flailed against the metal. Teeth gnawed at sections of wire or even nothing at all. A more petite member of the horde was able to get its arm through the fence but looked to be stuck. Flesh began peeling from the area where the wire was rubbing as the monster mindlessly struggled. The fence’s dull silver coloring had become painted with the dark muck that spewed from the attackers. Only a strip at the top before the razor wire was spared from the staining because it was out of reach.

  Staying in view of the group was hazardous, to say the least. Although the fence was holding them back I didn’t want to test its resiliency. I gripped the roll and pulled. It was heavy, and pain radiated from the healing areas of my body. The metal was so cool to the touch that I could feel the chill through my gloves. When I reached the pavement the wire scraped along like fingernails on a chalkboard. Ian must have heard the noise because he ran up to assist.

  “There’s so many of them against the fence that I couldn’t see the parking lot on the other side,” I said, panting from the labor.

  “The fence will hold long enough. If they ever knock it over, it won’t be while you’re still here.”

  My stomach growled almost as loud as the dead. It made me recognize that I was starting to feel lightheaded. Ian busied himself with 522 so I let myself inside to get food out of my pack.

  It was easily ten degrees warmer in the warehouse with the wind removed from the equation. The sudden lack of sound was almost as noticeable as the temperature difference. Dancing flickers from the candle left burning in the office guided me through the darkness. I hungrily tore into my bag and found a zip lock bag of almonds that Sarah insisted I bring. In minutes my gurgling insides simmered down and clarity return to my train of thought.

  I emerged from the office holding a fiber cereal bar for both my companion and I. The flashlight beam teased my sight with curious hints about what else the warehouse contained. Tall shelves of sorting bins created aisles against the cinderblock wall. An irregularity at the far corner caught my attention. It was a letter that was left in the middle of the aisle. As I walked towards it I saw another, and another, then two more. The trail of discarded envelopes led to a huge pile that had been emptied in a nook formed by a sorting shelf.

  “What the hell?” I mumbled to myself as I crept closer to the massive mound of abandoned mailings.

  There was something taped to the wall. I stepped to the fringe of the pile and my heart sank. Two pictures were taped up there: one of a little girl, maybe three years old; the other of a baby boy in a bright red onesie. This was where Ian must have slept. He probably put the letters down as insulation against the cold floor. Those were undoubtedly his kids, taped up to motivate him through the lonely nights.

  This was not what I needed to see. Deepening my connection with the man I was to kill would make the act that much more difficult. I quickly walked out of the warehouse. A chill washed over me the second the door opened, serving as a slap across the face that reminded me to focus on the dreaded task that was ahead.

  1400 hours:

  When I went back out, Ian had lined up five jugs of gasoline. A length of rubber hose was looped through the handles of each container. He appeared from the front of 522. “Sorry, brother, but only two of them are full. She’s got a full tank now so you’ll be good for a while. If you want, you can take the hose to siphon from the other trucks. You should be able to fill the other cans. I got a stick of gum for afterwards if ya need it.”

  I’d never siphoned gas before. The thought of it alone was unpleasant, however, I doubted this would be the last time I would encounter the job. Twenty minutes later all of the gas cans were full and I wished Ian’s gum was a stronger flavor. I lined them up on the overhang platform then tried to do whatever possible to speed things along.

  McAllister worked tirelessly. He assigned me little tasks like cutting sheets of the fencing with my bolt cutters or holding something up while he screwed it into place. Mostly, I did my best to stay out of his way. I watched from the warehouse stairs as his initial excitement for the project gradually simmered into calculated execution of steps with no hint of the creative spark he had exhibited hours before. Every drop of sweat that fell from Ian’s brow seemed to take his color with it; soon he was pale and weary looking.

  I was always afraid to ask him how he was feeling because any answer to the question would only draw us closer to the inevitable conclusion of our friendship. As the minutes turned into hours the chatter reduced to nothing. We had gotten to know each other in a very brief period. The familiarity that grew between us would make the end so much harder to bear.

  “So what happened before?” he spoke up with words sounding slurred by exhaustion.

  “With what?”

  He came off as slightly cross. “Don’t bullshit me, Nathan. You know what I’m asking about. In the office you said you had to kill someone before this. What happened?”

  “Is this really what you want to talk about under the circumstances?”

  “Fuck yes I do. When else are we going to talk about it?” All the while he continued bolting a large sheet of chain link over the windshield.

  I sighed loudly. “His name was Phil. When I was fighting my way home I saved his life when I pulled him out of the river. A little while after that he returned the favor by saving my life.”

  Ian’s confusion was understandable. “This sounds like a good story. When did it change to a bad one?”

  “He was bitten. Sometime before I pulled him out of the river one of the infected bit his leg and I didn’t know it until the last minute. I suspected something was up, but at the time I was so happy to be around another person that I didn’t listen to my gut.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “We were on top of the railroad bridge that runs over the James River near the Powhite Bridge.” He nodded to indicate that he knew the area I spoke of. “The sun was down. We barely made it up the bridge and I wasn’t in great shape. Turns out he wasn’t much better. Phil was starting to change. I could see his veins getting dark, his eyes were going black. He was delusional, still talking about coming back to my house. He refused to accept that he was going to become one of them and jumped at me at the same moment I was holding my blade out between us.”

  “That blade?” He pointed at the Kukri in its scabbard.

  I nodded. “He was still alive. Even though it had started take over him, he hadn’t turned yet. He took a step back after getting stabbed, tripped, and tumbled off into the river.”

  “Jesus Christ…”

  “This piece of steel has saved my life more times than I like to think about. I’ve used it against dozens of those fucking things. In a way it has become like a friend, an ally. If I didn’t have it while I was fighting my way home then I doubt I would have made it there alive. I’m so grateful for it. Yet, I’m haunted by the knowledge I used it against the man who saved me. Every night I wake up in a cold sweat from revisiting the time above the river in my nightmares. Every night my gratitude shifts slightly towards resentment.”

  The drill started to click loudly. Its noise prompted a welcomed end to my story telling. Apparently, its battery was drained to the point where it couldn’t muster the torque to keep operating. McAllister threw it down, causing the battery to separate altogether. All the drill components skipped along the paveme
nt. I jumped from the sudden burst of sound, knocking the rifle that I balanced against a support beam to the cement floor.

  “Battery is dead. That was the only one, so the drill is just a clunky screwdriver now.”

  My eyes widened, fearing the job modification was lost along with it. “Did you…”

  “Finish? Yeah I was done a little while ago. The drill started pulling more than usual; its torque was low so I knew it meant the power was starting to fade. Normally I’d pop the battery back on the charger then use another to keep going but that one’s all we got. So I finished the primary stuff knowing everything after that was just a bonus. You never know what is going to be pulling on this shit. I wanted to make it as strong as possible.”

  “McAllister,” it felt like I was starting a eulogy for him even though he was still alive, “I don’t know how to thank you for this.”

  “We’ll call it even. You’re going to keep me from becoming one of them. That’s more than those poor bastards on the fence got.” He wobbled and put his hand against the truck to stabilize himself. “Quit the sappy shit for a minute and come check out my little enhancements to our lady 522.” His chest heaved with every word. The infection was burning him up inside.

  McAllister was proud of himself and he had every reason to be. His modifications were nothing short of extraordinary. We circled the truck and he pointed out the various federal offenses that had been committed to this piece of government property. Where racks and trays of letter sorting compartments were hours before now was an empty space that could fit all four of us. The uppermost shelves were left in place with three lengths of rope hooked between the roof and the shelf edge to keep anything from flying off. Halfway between the shelf and the floor he attached three handles to the truck walls.

  “Are those to hold onto in the event the road gets rough?” I questioned, pointing to the curiously out of place grips. My gloved thumb ran over one of the random bolts that jutted out of the metal walls; each one an anchor point for the additions to the truck’s exterior.