Zombie Escape

by E. E. Isherwood

  “Yeah, don't fall,” Marty said from a thousand miles away. More like ten thousand miles. Whatever distance it was from Missouri to Korea because the man's face staring up at her for those few seconds was, she was certain, the spitting image of her dead son Robert.

  But he'd been dead since 1951.

  5

  They floated in silence for another half hour. Marty kept her eyes on the water next to the boat, silently hoping the zombie would return so she could reassure herself that it wasn't actually her dead son at all. His body was safely interred at Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery and not floating in the river in some bizarre stroke of bad luck. Fate could not be that cruel.

  Chloe continued to listen for the engine and a couple times she reported hearing it come or go. She was convinced there was only one truck, but she couldn't give any sense of whether that was good or bad. Marty figured that was good news because she'd seen General Jasper with all his military toys and never wanted to be on the wrong side of those men and women.

  That's why I thought I saw Robbie.

  She pieced together all the ways her mind played tricks on her lately. After spending so much time with Jasper and the military, and Al dressed in his soldier's uniform inside her visions, it was natural to think about Robert and his military service. Seeing that zombie in the water only reminded her of her son. There was no way it was really him.

  It wasn't long, and they finally saw the vehicle. It was a multi-colored armored truck with six wheels and it reminded her of the one driven by Hayes and later by Mel and Phil. It was parked on the rocky shoreline pointed toward the water as if it was waiting for them to float by.

  The barge drifted closer to the Missouri side of the river than the Kentucky side, but it was still a hundred yards out on the water. It made it difficult to see the people standing and waving next to the truck.

  Marty gave a tentative wave but mostly because it seemed polite.

  “Do you know them?” Chloe asked.

  “No. Do you?”

  “Nope, but I was hoping you did.” She looked to the two men. “Either of you know them?”

  Mark had Craig out of his sleep but neither man knew who they were.

  The barge floated onward down the river and the people on the shore jumped in their truck and retreated into the trees.

  “Guess they just wanted to wave at us,” Chloe said without conviction.

  Marty shared her concern. In her experience no one did anything anymore if it didn't have a purpose. The four people waving out to the barge had to want something.

  She spent a long time imagining what drove the mystery people to show themselves. Was it a trap? Were they seeking help? Were they trying to warn the boat about trouble ahead?

  A half hour later they saw the truck again. It was parked at the end of a pile of rocks that extended out into the river as part of the engineering works that kept the middle of the river flowing rapidly. The same four people stood and waved while standing in front of the truck at the point closest to the barge.

  Marty's life raft was going to pass the rocky projection with about fifty feet to spare. The four of them moved to the side of the barge as it drifted in the current. This time they would get a good look at the visitors.

  Even with her bad vision she saw the shape of her grandson Jerry.

  Except Liam said he was dead. That made two dead people she'd seen today.

  I'm seeing ghosts.

  The man's identity was confusing, but she was positive the woman standing beside him was Lana.

  “How is this possible?” Marty blurted out.

  “You know them,” Chloe said without making it a question.

  “Yes, but one of them is dead.”

  “I knew it. Somehow I just knew you'd come through for us.” Chloe waved at the people on the bank. “Wait. Dead?”

  When the barge neared the truck, Marty was certain she recognized all four of the people waving back.

  “That's my grandson and his wife. The other two are Mel and Phil. They helped rescue me weeks ago.” Her heart beat too fast for her old body and her head lightened. Had Liam made a mistake? He said Jerry was dead and he attacked Lana, yet there they are.

  “Chloe, would you be a dear and shout to them that I recognize them?”

  Chloe smiled. “Aye, aye, skipper.”

  “Marty Peters says hello!”

  “Hi Grandma,” Lana shouted back with a wild wave.

  “We need to get you off that barge,” Jerry shouted a heartbeat later.

  It was undoubtedly him.

  Chloe spoke without waiting for Marty. “We'd love it if you had any ideas. We're on this waterway without a paddle.” She laughed at her joke.

  There seemed to be some kind of argument on the shore as Phil took off his shirt. The barge floated a bit more and passed directly in front of the truck. Marty used those moments to figure out what Phil planned to do.

  “No!” she shouted. “There are zombies in the water!”

  Her voice might have been heard by those at shore, but it didn't seem to dissuade Phil. He started to scramble down the giant limestone rocks toward the water's edge.

  “No! You can't make it. There is something below us. Find another way!” Chloe cupped her hand as she shouted toward shore and that seemed to do the trick. Phil got right up to the water, but Mel called him back.

  The four people on the shore stared for a moment, perhaps unsure what to do next.

  “We'll think of something!” Jerry finally shouted from afar. The whole group climbed into the truck and it backed off the embankment and disappeared into the trees once more.

  Marty chanced another look over the edge right below her. This time she saw the face before it could dip beneath the waves. She didn't want to believe who it was because it couldn't be him.

  Had she heard Liam wrong? Jerry wasn't dead at all. Was he? Was her brain playing tricks?

  God, please don't let me get dementia.

  As much as she hated asking for anything from heaven above, there would be nothing worse than losing control of her mind. After all that she'd seen and done the past few weeks, it made sense why it would push her mind off the mental cliff at a high rate of speed. If seeing her dead husband in a wonderland of stars and waterfalls didn't do it, perhaps seeing her dead son underneath her boat would get the job done.

  Just thinking about her son evoked so many painful memories of his loss in the Korean conflict. Staring into the muddy churn below made her realize for certain how unstable she'd become.

  I could end it by falling over.

  A powerful voice deep in her soul told her it was the right thing to do. It would solve all her problems. It would ensure no one put themselves in harm's way for her. It would keep Liam from wasting his life trying to track her down and rescue her. All that talk of cure would fall to someone else. Her daughter Victoria was safe with Liam, her dead grandson Jerry came back to life, and her lost son Robert was now found.

  No, that's all mixed up.

  Despite being against her religion, she assured herself it wasn't really suicide.

  The smell of maple syrup overwhelmed her. She'd smelled it before but couldn't place it.

  That last breakfast with Robbie?

  The memory felt wrong. It had something to do with the gator ride back at the ditch in front of Cairo. When the zombies arrived, they brought the smell with them. They brought breakfast with them?

  It wasn't her making the decision. It was them.

  That solved all her ethical and moral dilemmas.

  She was compelled to fall over the side.

  So that's what she did.

  Save Our Souls

  A few minutes outside Love's Truck Plaza, near Charleston, MO.

  “They shot the other driver,” Dave said with a mix of shock and remorse into the camera. “Did you guys see that? Tell me you saw that?”

  It was hard to tell if he was talking to his dashcam or the people inside the truck with him
. Liam wondered if the viewers on the broadcast could have possibly seen anything, especially since there was no direct connection to the Internet. That thought reminded him of something important he'd realized back at the truck stop.

  “Dave, you have to turn that thing off. If the government sees Victoria and I are with you, that's going to cause a lot of trouble.”

  The cab fell silent.

  Dave drove down the highway while apparently thinking it over, but a quarter of a mile later he reached to the dash and clicked it off. The happy-go-lucky young man held the wheel as he turned in his seat to look back to Liam. “Trouble for who?”

  “Whom,” Sabella replied with emphasis. “Trouble for whom.”

  Leah, the middle sister, made a sound of frustration with her lips. “Mom, you are so extra. We've just survived a gunfight and you're being a substitute teacher again.”

  Liam turned to Victoria and rolled his eyes. He did it to be funny, but he also wanted to think how to reply to Dave. The truth is that if Dave's video was broadcast to the Internet as he said, then everyone in the bootheel of Missouri could be in danger. If Liam went around telling everyone he met about the shadowy National Internal Security group and their plans to wipe out the bad part of humanity with their plague, the odds were good they'd swoop in and kill each and every living person just for being near Liam and his friends. Yet, saying that all to Dave while in the presence of the girls wasn't a great idea, either.

  “Mainly me and Victoria,” he said after suffering the withering stare of the driver. “Mostly,” he added after a slight pause.

  “That boy told us about dreamer zombies and runners,” Susan squeaked.

  Everyone waited for his reply. Victoria's hand on his knee was the only friendly vibe he had at that moment.

  “Look, guys. It's no big deal, really. The government is after my grandma because she is 104-years-old. It turns out the cure to the plague is found in the blood of people over the age of 100.”

  Sabella replied in a stern voice. “Then your grandma needs to get her buns to help them.”

  “Yeah, she tried that.” Liam ran his fingers through his sweaty hair. “How do I explain this without sounding like a conspiracy theorist?”

  He put his hands in his lap and took a calming breath.

  “All right. Here it is.”

  Liam explained the high points of his three-week adventure since the zombies came, and he touched on how grandma fit into the government plans for finding a cure, but he left out the parts that required him to name names or reveal the people of the NIS. He described them as members of this or that government agency rather than give them names or titles. There was a part of him that wanted these people to know the truth, but little girls like Susan didn't deserve to become fugitives just because he couldn't keep his mouth shut. If Elsa Cantwell's agency caught up to them and somehow made them talk, they would be unable to say anything that would get them in trouble, so maybe they would be let go.

  “We escaped that great horde of zombies and made it to the farmhouse where we met Sabella and her daughters. You pretty much know the rest.” Liam looked at Dave and hoped it all made sense. He once again reminded himself to find some notebooks and pens, so he could start keeping notes for his eventual book about the whole thing.

  They approached an interchange where two interstates came together. A handful of other rigs cruised along with them, but most turned to go north toward St. Louis. Liam's ride was heading south, toward Memphis. Dave slowed and took the cloverleaf turn in a low gear, which seemingly gave him time to consider Liam's story.

  “So, you are really running from one agency and trying to find another wing of the government, correct?”

  “Yes. But first I have to find my Grandma. She was supposed to be safe in Cairo, but as I've said that town is now some kind of zombie magnet. You saw them lined up when you made your pickup.”

  “No lying, we saw it, didn't we? That was 100% legit crazy.” Dave looked to his camera but stopped talking to it when he remembered it was off.

  “Highway 55 southbound, guys,” Dave said with disappointment, as if no one was out there listening to him.

  Victoria spoke up. “You talk to those guys a lot, don't you?”

  “The road can get pretty lonely. I mean I do alright with the ladies, but most of them are in a hurry, if you catch my drift. They jump in my truck, then jump back out. There isn't much chance of finding a stable girlfriend when you spend your whole life at seventy miles an hour.”

  An uncomfortable silence filled the cab as Elise shifted in the passenger seat. Dave made a point of not looking over to her, which only made it more obvious he was doing it.

  Eventually, Dave seemed to realize his words. He shot a look to Sabella, then to Liam. “Hey, you want to help me check my load? There's a pull-off up ahead and I want to see if those bullets damaged any of my hoses.”

  “We could all use some fresh air,” Sabella added.

  “Agreed,” Elise said.

  As promised, there was an extra lane of highway where it was easy to pull over to the side and check things out. Liam grabbed one of his guns and followed Dave out his door. A passing truck blew by and nearly blew him over.

  “Bastards are supposed to clear a lane for stopped drivers,” Dave said in a pissed off voice. “Courtesy is a thing of the past I guess.”

  Almost as he said it, a second truck came by at a similar speed, but it moved over to the center lane to be as far away from Dave's truck as possible. The driver even waved as he flew by. The wash of wind wasn't nearly as bad.

  “Ha,” Dave said with a chuckle once it was quiet enough to talk. “That driver moved over to make a liar out of me. Crazy how that happens.”

  “Yeah, I've seen some odd coincidences out here,” Liam replied.

  Dave went to work looking at the hoses and wires linking the front part of his truck with the cargo hauler in the back. There weren't as many hoses as he expected.

  “Everything was good back at the Love's, but all I need is one nick in my lines and the brakes won't work. Then we either blow some tires from dragging them along or we fly off a cliff because we can't stop. Don't want that.”

  “Uh, no. No, we don't.”

  “That whole deal was weird. They wouldn't let us leave our cabs to check any of this shit when we picked up. Normally, after taking on cargo, I'd secure all my lines, put my own lock on the back, and set my tandems depending how the load sits inside the trailer. After driving through their operation and taking on whatever they put back there, they just sent me on my merry way.”

  “And that's unusual?”

  Dave laughed. “You have no idea. The Department of Transportation has me fill out a damned book explaining my whole day. If I reach a certain number of hours behind the wheel I have to pull over and shut down.”

  “That's good, right? You don't fall asleep behind the wheel?”

  Dave looked at him like he'd just said something stupid.

  “You like people watching you?”

  Liam saw the humor because Dave put a camera on himself and talked to total strangers as part of his day, but he understood the man's point. Liam had spent the last few weeks under the watchful eye of drones, surveillance cameras, and spies.

  “No, I definitely don't,” he replied.

  “Well, good news,” Dave said as he got back to the task in front of him. “It looks like the gunshots didn't screw with my lines, if nothing else.” He touched the blue and red wires as if to confirm they were tight but didn't adjust them. “Let's check the back.”

  He and Dave slowly made their way along the side of the trailer. The pony-tailed driver looked over the area where the cab mated with the cargo puller.

  “Fifth wheel looks good. Not easy to mess that up.” He banged on the metal side of the trailer. “But I still check it whenever I walk by.”

  “How many trucks do you think made pickups like you did?” Liam asked breezily.

  “You saw the line.
Hundreds, probably. Maybe thousands.” He pulled out his phone and looked at it while he walked alongside his trailer. A couple of 18-wheelers scooted over to the middle lane just before they roared by.

  “A few trucks are going by us every couple of minutes. I bet they are all from Wilson City because when I arrived last night, there wasn't a single truck on the road going the opposite direction.”

  “Wow.” Liam walked behind the other man but stopped when he heard something odd.

  The noise of the two trucks faded as they sped away on the highway and no more were close from the other direction, so there would soon be relative quiet.

  He stood glued to his spot while trying to confirm what he imagined he heard.

  “Dave, I--”

  A sound like fingernails on a chalkboard came from inside the truck.

  Liam looked underneath to see if Victoria or the girls were on the other side. He wouldn't put it past Victoria to pull some kind of prank, even if it wasn't a very good one. She'd been trying to keep his spirits up since they came out of the river.

  There was no one there, so whatever it was had to be inside.

  “Zombies!” Liam blurted.

  Dave spun around, still holding his phone.

  “Where?”

  Liam pointed to the trailer.

  “What? Why would there be zombies inside? That's insane.” Dave stopped mid-sentence when the scratching noise became a bit louder.

  “Nah, that sounds like hogs. Kind of dumb to put them in enclosed trailers because they'll be dead by the time we reach the drop off, but they'll still be edible. Food is king these days.”

  Liam couldn't argue with his logic, but it didn't feel right. Dave picked up his load while inside a giant horde of zombies. Those same zombies walked in unison toward where the trailers were making their pickups. He'd originally thought that was because the army was escaping over there, but now the reason seemed clear.

  “I can tell you for sure by doing this,” Liam said in a determined voice.

  He slammed his palms on the outside of the trailer and then shouted at the top of his lungs, “Dinner time!”

  They both froze so they could listen to the response.