It would all be worth it though if he could....
Now that he was in the road, he wasn’t certain what his next move should be. He doubted his ability to get himself there, so he hadn’t entirely fleshed out his next steps. He figured that he would likely collapse before ever arriving.
With the black car barreling down on him, he thought it only fitting to fight fire with fire. He got himself into the middle of the road, steadied himself on his numb haunches, folded his hands in front of his face, and continued the prayers that he had already started. His prayers were for peace for his wife and safety for his children. In those last seconds, he asked God to grant sanctuary and life for his friends, who were even then fleeing south on the highway. He raised his head and opened his eyes in time to see the black car only a handful of car lengths away from him and he asked God for one more small favor: justice.
6.
Maggie didn’t see the praying figure until it was almost too late. Her screams in tune with those of her protesting tires, she jerked her steering wheel hard as she pressed her brake pedal to the floor.
The little black car tried to maintain its composure, but it was not to be. The car lurched right and then left before pitching itself into a glass-shattering roll. Bits of plastic, chunks of metal, and shards of glass all took to flight in a swirling storm of destruction.
The Passat came to a gradual rest beneath a settling cloud of smoke and dust, its final living gasp escaping in the form of a series of metallic clanks as its motor died. And much like the car, Dr. Caldwell too was no longer breathing. He was lying face down in the road, his hands still clutched in prayer in front of him. With his forehead pressed into the pavement, the doctor’s corpse remained motionless for several moments.
Though his breathing had ceased, there was still activity in his brain. Confused neural synapses and cerebral tissue, continued to send rudimentary signals, slightly altering functions and delivering new instructions. With a couple of twitches, his body accepted its new chemistry and began to reawaken some of his dead flesh and nerves.
When his eyes reopened, any kindness or understanding of the former man were replaced with confusion and anger... and hunger. The doctor remained there on his knees for a handful of seconds, not certain what this new life held in store for him. He flexed his fingers and clawed at the pavement, shredding most of his fingernails.
A faint voice roused him from somewhere behind him. The words no longer held any meaning for him, but the sounds themselves communicated one thing to him which led to the single thought, the single impulse that his preternatural mind could formulate: prey.
With the agility and urgency of a predatory cat, he leapt to his feet. He listened again and heard the voice once more. A short distance away sat a black object, ticking and popping and wreathed in a swirl of slowly rising smoke. He looked at the object and waited until he heard the voice again. It was faint and a little desperate, but was definitely coming from the black, smoky object.
Excitement, like electricity through a wire, filled his veins and charged his actions. He ran to the black object and looked in through a large opening which once held a windshield.
Maggie, still dazed from the accident, looked up and saw the doctor standing there. His wound, largely superficial and out of sight, did not immediately betray the transformation. She recognized him and forced an awkward smile, not sure if he still harbored any ill will toward her. As he approached and she could see more clearly his eyes, she realized her mistake. There was, however, neither time nor hope for her to react.
He dived across her hood and slid in through the opening where the windshield had once been. With his jaw snapping shut as hard and as fast as a machine, he lunged at her again and again trying to find purchase. She tried unsuccessfully to fend him off with her hands, but he brushed aside her flailing arms and brought his gaping maw to her neck and ear. As he sunk his teeth into her hanging lobe, Maggie stopped struggling for the briefest of moments, her terror trading places with her utter disbelief and shock. The creature ground his teeth together over her flesh like a pair of jagged saws until he withdrew, her outer ear in his mouth. He chewed the tough cartilage and skin like the appetizer that it was. There was much more to be eaten. And eat he would.
Shaken from her momentary disbelief-laden stupor, Maggie tried to fight back. She pushed him away with one hand and pulled at the stuck seatbelt latch with the other. The belt refused to release her from her restraints. Unable to extricate herself from her seat and her ability to fight back ebbing with her blood as it flowed down her neck, she was forced to sit and watch him swallow chunks of her flesh from her face and neck as he set about satiating his hunger. When she brought her hands back up to push him away, he merely bit off fingers and devoured them instead. Her death came slowly and painfully, and her screams were heard by no one.
7.
Shortly after parting ways with Dr. Caldwell, the sun decided to call it a day, making room for the burnt hues of evening. Neil Jordan, through his exhaustion and internal anguish, still forced enough emotion to be amazed by the brevity and beauty of Alaska’s autumn. The golds and reds of the season, like spilled paint, splashed onto the trees in mellow autumnal smiles.
There was no smile for Neil though. He wasn’t certain that he would ever find it in himself to ever smile again. He tried to remind himself that the melodrama would not please Dr. Caldwell but he couldn’t help his pain. When Dr. Caldwell, who had been bitten, demanded that Neil lead away their small clan of survivors, he obeyed. He did so without thinking or, more importantly and perhaps more tragically, without feeling. The acute ache starting in his chest and then spreading like a miserable disease to his extremities and back again was a powerful force of self-doubt and loathing, but it didn’t rear its poisonous head until it was too late.
He didn’t doubt the logic of leaving the doctor to his unavoidable fate, but turning their backs on him and leaving him to face it alone seemed a cruel measure. It didn’t matter that he’d asked them to do exactly that. Dr. Caldwell was as much a brother to Neil as anyone in the world, including his actual brother living in Middle America somewhere. Neil felt nothing but guilt and a profound sense of loss, though his faculties were not functioning well enough for him to be able to frame such a rational thought. The cold burn in his chest would not allow it, and he was forced to remember what he wanted to forget
He regretted their stoic departure. He regretted not having said so many things to his friend. Maybe that was just how it was with loss. He’d never really lost anyone that close to him and was not prepared for the emotional ice pick lodged to the handle in his chest.
It had only been a few months, not even a season, since they had all come together as desperate survivors. Their experiences bonded them each to the other as tight or tighter than the prototypical nuclear family. Neil had come to depend upon the good doctor’s steadfast rationality and strength, maybe more than anyone else in the group. There wasn’t a single decision or action taken that the doctor had not in some way helped to shape. Whenever Neil faltered, Dr. Caldwell was always willing to hold the reins until Neil regained his direction.
Neil thought back on his last conversation with Dr. Caldwell and the days leading up to their parting. They’d been fighting for their lives for so long and seeing all hope slowly slip further and further from view. If it wasn’t for the doctor, Neil doubted if they would ever have made it as far as they had. He, as much as anyone, was responsible for keeping them all going. He didn’t deserve the end that he surely faced. No one did, but especially Dr. Caldwell. He was a good man; something of a dying breed. Neil hoped that the doctor’s final moments were at least peaceful.
Neil wasn’t the only one suffering. They all were. But Emma, she was in a completely different dimension of pain from everyone else. When she finally allowed herself to be pulled away from Dr. Caldwell, she felt a spark of light, tiny and struggling in the deepest recesses of her being, snuffed out and sent away. That
beacon’s demise didn’t prevent the sobbing or the explosion of pain and loss from grabbing hold of her chest and squeezing with its chill, heartless grip. But she quickly realized that she would likely not allow herself to love again. She doubted she would be able to survive a loss like that again. She couldn’t and wouldn’t allow the possibility of that kind of pain ever again.
When she looked at Meghan and Neil, she felt a slight resentment for their happiness, but she also felt a rising foreboding for them as well. Both emotions were newly emerging and somewhat surprising to her, although when she thought about it, neither was that much of a surprise. She didn’t wish her suffering on anyone else. It was unrequited love at its worst. She also suspected that, had her relationship with the doctor become as deep or as manifest as theirs, she would likely be more than just upset.
She’d refused to get close to anyone since her last break-up, which was more than a few years ago. Her present sorrow was proof enough for her that her decision so long ago was well founded. Romance just wasn’t worth the potential devastation of heartache.
Normally chatty and eager during camp preparations for the night, Emma was, instead, the proverbial bump on the log. Most of the necessary tasks fell to Claire, Jerry, and Meghan. Even Jules and Danny helped dig the fire pit and gather kindling. She, like Neil, was too deep in mourning to be of much use doing anything. If the thought had surfaced, they both would have expressed their gratitude to the others for their care and their efforts. As it was though, grief temporarily consumed their thoughts and limited their actions. It seemed that every action, every thought, every breath was brimming with sorrow.
The fire brought them neither warmth nor comfort. Had it been allowed to be anything more than embers, Neil doubted it would have made any difference.
8.
As slow and reluctant as dawn was in rising, Neil still barely registered it. The transition from dark to light was barely noticed. His soul wallowing in a toxic mix of self-pity and self-loathing, Neil felt.... Well, that was the problem really. Neil wasn’t certain what he felt, if anything. He was, however, sure that he’d never felt its equal.
Meghan’s sudden presence at his side raised his spirits slightly. He tilted his head and rested it on her shoulder. “You ever lose anyone close to you?”
The question caught her more than a little off guard as it was the first thing he said to her. She knew what he wanted, but also knew that she couldn’t give it to him.
She said, “Neil, honey, of course I have. Most recently I lost my fiancé. Remember?” She lifted his head and turned to face him. Quiet tears escaped from the corners of her eyes, so she hugged him and said in a whisper, “Neil, I can tell you a dozen times that it wasn’t your fault. I can tell you a hundred times that doing what we did was the right thing. But not a bit of any of that would matter if you’re not telling yourself the same thing.
“I’m not a priest; not that I could have been one anyway. I can’t offer you absolution. And even if I was, I’d tell you the same thing. You’ve got to work through this. All of what you’re feeling is natural. What is important is that you understand that what’s done is done. You can’t go back and change what’s happened. And for the record, what you did was right. Once again, you made the right call and, as a result, we’re still moving. Dr. Caldwell knew that too and that’s why he sent us away. There was really nothing more that we could have done. The quicker you accept that, the quicker you’ll be able to do what you’ve been doing: keeping us alive.”
She pulled back from the embrace, looked him in the eyes. “It’s up to you. You’re the only one who can forgive yourself. You’re the only one who can realize for yourself that some things, especially now, are just beyond your control. You don’t get to choose who lives and who dies. You’re not Sophie, this isn’t your choice. When all is said and done, it’s just not up to you. But, again, it’s all a matter of accepting that and not beating yourself up over it. I’m amazed that we’ve made it as far as we have, as intact as we have. Jesus, Neil, the cards are really stacked against us but somehow we keep coming out on top, and you’re the largest part of that. Honey, no one holds you responsible for anyone’s death, but we all do owe you our lives. It’s time you understand and accept that.”
She kissed him on both cheeks and then softly on his chapped lips. Without another word, she stood up and walked away from him. All he could think to himself was easier said than done.
The air was already moist, so when the drizzle started, Neil wasn’t surprised. He did, however, think to himself that the rain was an apt reflection of his mood. The temperatures once again plummeted with the wet air, transforming his exhalations into small, white clouds that dissipated as quickly as they formed.
He thought to himself, in a somewhat mocking fashion, that maybe he should stop getting up so early and alone. Then perhaps he wouldn’t have the same opportunities for self-persecution. He knew that Dr. Caldwell, had he still been with them, would have told him that Neil could ill afford such doubt. Of course, Neil knew that, but knowing and accepting are two completely different states of mind. He still needed to make that journey between the two. For the time being, he felt like he could occupy himself with all the day-to-day and could possibly put his worries on the back burner to simmer and await his return later.
Shortly thereafter, the camp came to life. Each of them piled around the slight campfire, seeking whatever limited warmth it had to offer. When they ate, everyone’s mood, including Neil’s, picked up slightly. They chewed their granola bars and washed them down with the last of their sports drinks.
Jerry and Meghan were conducting an animated if quiet discussion about something. He had his backpack and she had hers. They pointed at the bags and spoke and pointed again. Neil spied the conversation and tried to ignore it, but in the end he was forced to inquire.
“What’s the matter?” he asked them both.
Jerry looked at Meghan for direction. They’d been trying to avoid laying any more worries on Neil, but there was no avoiding it now. Jerry could see that in Meghan’s eyes.
Meghan said, “We’re almost out of food. We might have another couple of meals...sparse meals at best, and then we’re out of supplies. We’re already out of water.”
Neil smiled and said to himself as much as to the others, “Neil, I think we got a problem.”
Jerry and Meghan looked puzzled. To which Neil continued, “I kind of got accustomed to hearing that whenever I got news like this. So, we gotta find food.”
Meghan, her voice heavy with apology, said, “I don’t think it’s as simple as that.”
“What is it then?”
Jerry stepped into the discussion. “We’ve been on the go without a moment’s rest for days. We stop at nights, but there’s no real rest. If any of us sleep, it’s in fits and starts, we get up feeling more tired than when we laid down to begin with. We’re on the ragged edge, Neil and there’s no denying it. We gotta find some hope again. We gotta find a reason to keep going. We need that more than food.”
Neil knew that Jerry was right, but he doubted that he would ever have been able to detect it. Hope was an intangible that oftentimes didn’t register on Neil’s radar. He was impressed with the younger man’s observations and the way in which he communicated them.
“We’ve still got Whittier,” he said. “It’s just down the road a bit. Maybe once we get there—”
“It’s not enough,” Meghan cut in. “Not this time. We all need something more. We need something we can hold; something that can keep us going. We need something that will get us down the road in the first place.”
Neil’s face was as empty and bare as his thoughts. He kept waiting for some kind of revelation or an epiphany like he was a character in a book or movie, but none were forthcoming. Apparently, those pages still needed to be typed. He was doomed to wait. Realizing and readily accepting that he wasn’t wired to be a fugitive mastermind with all the answers, he asked them , “So, any ideas?”
9.
With the discussion about food behind them, it was apparent to Neil that Jerry wasn’t done.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked.
Jerry looked back over his shoulder at the road behind them and then at the highway still in front of them. “It might be better if we get off the highway. If there are any of those things around, I think this is where they’ll be. Maybe it would be better if we didn’t run into them...at least head on I mean. If we could just, well, slip by as many of those things as we can, well, I guess, I just....”
Neil nodded. There was no denying the logic, but there were limited options. “I agree. What do you suggest?” .
Meghan, who was still standing there said as she pointed, “What about over there? On the railroad tracks? They pretty much follow the road but are a bit off the main path. We could walk along the tracks and stay out of sight. Maybe if we do come upon any of them, they won’t even know that we’re here. Maybe.”
Neil and Jerry looked at the tracks and agreed with her. The railroad tracks ran parallel to the Seward Highway but were, for as far as they could see, some distance further in from the coastline and in many places separated by water and increased elevation. It wasn’t a bad idea, and to make it even more appealing, much of the track hugged tightly to the mountain’s rock wall, which might serve as a barrier to some of the increasingly bad weather they could expect.
Neil said, “Yeah. I think we should get everyone over to the tracks before we start getting too comfortable over here. Look. Just a way up a bit there’s that pool of water between the road and the tracks. That looks like a good place for us to rest a bit.”
Alaskan Undead Apocalypse (Book 3): Mitigation Book 3) Page 3