Deadrise

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Deadrise Page 18

by Steven R. Gardner


  The Kimball junction exit to Park City was a heavily armored military checkpoint. 4 M1A1 Abrams tanks, 4 Humvees and two-dozen troops were permanently based here as well as constant fly-bys by a pair of UH-1 Huey gun ships. Like every other checkpoint they had come to before now an armed guard signaled for them to halt and approached the bus. Matt opened the door and the soldier, a fresh faced young kid, came aboard. One more stood outside the bus near the door and another pair moved back to the rig.

  “Are any of you bit?” he asked.

  “No.” Matt stated. “One of our friends has been shot.” “We were at the University hospital last night. We barely escaped with our lives.”

  The soldier moved over and inspected Zack. “Then it’s true what they say? Fort Douglas has fallen?” there was an expectant look in the kid’s eyes.

  “It was coming down around us as we cut out the back gate.” Mac said. “And it wasn’t just regular deadfucks. There were plenty of superzombies as well.”

  “Superzombies?” the kid looked puzzled.

  “It’s a new kind of zombie. It can run, and drive a vehicle and shoot a gun. And the only way to stop it is blow it apart.”

  “Jesus Christ. Command never told us about no zombie like that. We heard rumors about them, but never nothing confirmed.”

  “Like I said, they are new. We only saw them for the first time a couple days ago.”

  Matt was growing impatient. Zack needed a doctor. “Look can we pass? Our friend needs medical attention. We have plenty to trade.”

  “I can see that.” The young soldier said looking at the cargo packed into the back of the van. “What’s in the rig’s trailer?”

  “Food, mostly…” Matt said.

  “The whole trailer?” the soldier looked surprised.

  “We got some other stuff as well.”

  “What kinds of stuff?”

  “All kinds…” Mac said. The soldier looked at each of them suspiciously and reached for his radio.

  “Binx what’s in the trailer?”

  “There’s a forklift and cases and pallets of food. I mean hundreds of cases! Hell there’s all kinds of shit back here! Look’s like these people came to set up shop.”

  “10-4.” The young soldier put his radio back on his belt and looked at each of them again. “Is that why you’re here?”

  “Our friend really needs a doctor.” Matt was insistent.

  “Here.” Rick said, holding forth a carton of cigarettes. “Just to show you we’re friends.” The young private took it with a smile. He nodded his head at each of them.

  “You’re Ok to proceed. But before you enter the city you must stop at the customs station where your cargo will be assessed and taxed.”

  “How much?” Rick asked.

  “Any cargo deemed more than personal supplies is levied a 50% tariff. If you don’t wish to pay the tariff then you are free to turn around and go back down the canyon.”

  Fucking punk. Matt thought and reached for the CB. “Jenkins, you got a copy?”

  “Talk to me.”

  “The guard here is telling me there’s a 50% tax on all cargo that comes into the city. If we don’t pay we don’t pass.”

  “We’ll pay the tax.” Jenkins replied. “It’s better than going back down into Salt Lake City.”

  “10-4.” Matt said sourly and put the mic back. He looked at the soldier and nodded. “We’ll pay the taxes.”

  “Good. The tariff station is about a mile up the highway, you can’t miss it. It used to be a chain of retail clothing outlets. The loading docks and the warehouse space make it a perfect location.” He turned to leave the bus and stopped before exiting. “Thanks for the cigarettes.”

  “My pleasure…” Rick said.

  “All clean!” he called to the soldier at the roadblock.

  Matt put the bus in gear and drove through the checkpoint slowly and continued up the highway towards the tariff station…

  Of the half dozen sprawling buildings that were set against the base of a small mountain the tariff station used one. A regular army jeep was parked near the entrance to the parking lot and the two soldiers who manned it waved them through. A pair of UH-1 Huey gun ships soared overhead angling for Park City. Another regular jeep with a pair of soldiers came out to escort them and the passenger signaled Matt to follow. The jeep led them around the back of one of the large warehouses, what had used to be a clothing store. There, a trio of diesel-height docking bays and a ground level overhead door were located. The soldier pointed the rig to one of the bays and the bus to the overhead door. As Matt brought the bus to a halt in front of the door it slowly opened up and another soldier motioned him to drive inside the warehouse. Once Matt killed the engine he opened the door and they all exited the bus. A pair of workers stood near the open docking bay patiently waiting for Ron to park the rig.

  A burly, sour faced, middle-aged man with greasy hair and dressed in black overalls and holding a clipboard in his hand stepped up to Matt. He looked to his clipboard a moment before staring at Matt. “Both your vehicles have a full load. This is going to take awhile.” The man was no nonsense and straight to the point.

  “We have an injured man.” Matt said. “He needs immediate medical attention.”

  “I know.” Again the man looked at his clipboard. “An ambulance is on the way. Go ahead and unload him.”

  Matt and Rick went back aboard the bus and carried Zack out on his stretcher. Matt was glad to see that plenty of color had returned to Zack’s face and he was breathing easy as he slept.

  “What kind of injury does he have?”

  “He was shot.” Matt said.

  “We heard that Fort Douglas had fallen so we’ve been expecting some refugees. But you’re the first we’ve seen.”

  “Don’t expect too many.” Rick said. “The place didn’t just fall it was overrun. I don’t think there were many survivors.”

  “You people made it out.” He said almost accusatorily.

  “Barely…” Matt said.

  Ron and Jenkins approached from the docking bay.

  “He says this is going to take awhile.” Matt told them. “But an ambulance is coming for Zack.”

  “What’s awhile?” Jenkins asked the customs worker.

  “It depends how much you people have, but we’re talking at least a few hours.”

  “Do all of us have to wait here the whole time?”

  “Only if you want to. I can call a shuttle to take you into town where you can get rooms.”

  “I’m staying to inventory the load.” Ron said.

  “Me too.” Jenkins said. “But the rest of you might want to take that ride.” When nobody said any different they nodded to the customs agent and he grabbed his radio and called for the shuttle.

  The ambulance arrived and two medics came rushing in with an adjustable stretcher on wheels. They quickly loaded Zack aboard and wheeled him away.

  The burly customs worker walked back over to them. “You people are in luck. Seems there was a shuttle bus already up here, parked out front, transporting the workers for the morning shift. It’s coming around back to pick you up.”

  “Once we get settled I’ll contact you.” Rick said to his brother.

  “We’ll probably still be here counting our load.” Ron said with a smile…

  Chapter 22

  Sunday, June 24, 2001

  Park City, UT

  8:21 AM

  The shuttle was a half sized bus suited for the narrow, winding streets of downtown Park City. As it began to move Matt wearily looked at each of his fellow survivors, trying to gauge how they were holding up.

  Susan was a fighter. He had known that from the first day her family had set out with him and Zack last week. She had proven how tough she could be during their supply raid into the city. And he also remembered just how soft she had been last night. He knew that his intense emotional attachment too her was amplified by the extreme circumstances and the intimate contact they had sh
ared, but he didn’t care. These were trying times and a man couldn’t always stand on his own two feet. Matt was glad that Susan was there to support him, even catch him should he fall.

  He thought the same of her family as well. David was now Matt’s little brother, and Sharon, poor widowed Sharon, was like a beloved aunt, drowned in tragedy and needing his protection. He had sworn it to Frank as he gasped his dying breath in Matt’s arms.

  His gaze fell on Rick Black. Like his brother Ron, he had proven his loyalty time and again. He was as dedicated to reaching Rainbow Lake as Matt was, with the hopes of finding a safe haven for his family. Matt had only briefly met Rick’s wife Jennifer or her sister Samantha, each of them cuddling small children.

  Mac had jumped on the bus as they were making their escape from Ft. Douglas. He had been a guard at there who had helped David rescue Zack from an assassin superzombie at the base hospital. The medium sized, dark haired soldier had known Ron, Rick and Jenkins so he had Matt’s trust.

  Scotty Bowen and his black Labrador Zeke had kept mostly to themselves since being rescued from lions yesterday. When he did talk Scotty seemed friendly enough and spoke of home back in Missouri. Zeke was a well-trained dog that seemed almost humanly intelligent.

  They were a rag-tag group of fifteen tired, desperate refugees. Matt was amazed when he realized it had been less than two weeks since he and Zack had first joined up with the Young family and fled their house. Less than two weeks? It seemed much longer.

  Susan snuggled against him and he wrapped an arm around her.

  “Safe at last…” He said.

  “But for how long?” She asked. He didn’t answer her but instead closed his eyes and dozed…

  He startled awake when the shuttle bus came to a halt outside a large hotel. The Park City Resort. They exited the bus and filed into the lobby of the grand hotel. Booking rooms was eerily similar to its pre-plague equivalent. They simply spoke to the attendant behind the desk and instead of paying money gave them a voucher from the customs station. It took three trips in groups of five aboard the elevator to the third floor but soon they all had their own room. Matt and Susan shared a room as did Rick, his wife and daughters.

  Matt took a hot shower and was joined shortly by Susan. They made intensely passionate love under the hot spray of water before retiring to the bed where they lay wrapped in each other’s arms.

  “Here we are again.” Susan said.

  “I think we’re safe this time.” Matt said.

  “What about Zack? Is he safe?”

  “Safer than the last two hospitals we’ve taken him too.” They lay there in silence for a while.

  “I made a promise to your dad, as he lay there dying in my arms. He looked me in the eye and I promised him I would take care of his family. You, Davey, your mom, you’re my family now. I said it last night and I’ll say it again. I need you. I need your strength. You are so strong Susan. I can see it in your eyes. I could see that the first time I ever lay eyes on you. Without you by my side these past few days I don’t think I would have managed.”

  Susan raised her head up to look at him with glistening eyes.

  “I need you too.” She said. “I know this all seems so crazy. It’s the end of the world and here we are laying in bed talking about love but that’s what separates us from those deadfucks out there.” They had been thinking the same thing. Matt pulled her tighter to him but he couldn’t pull her tight enough.

  “What’s our next move?” she asked after some time.

  “Once Zack is healed up we head out. Rainbow Lake is only another 30 or 40 miles. The road north should be free of abandoned traffic and we can make good time. With any luck we could be at the cabin in only a couple of hours.”

  “What is it like up there?” she asked.

  “There’s a small town, Kittewa.”

  “That’s a strange name.” Susan said.

  “Some kind of Indian name or something… It’s a small hick farm town but there’s a bunch of millionaires that have homes up on the lake. Most are only used during the summer for water skiing and horseback riding and during the winter for skiing. But a couple of my friends inherited a good-sized cabin up there. There is only one road that leads to the lake and circles all the way around. Thick, forested mountains surround it. We can fish and hunt as well as go on supply raids. Evanston is less than twenty miles away. We can stock up over the next few months and hole up for winter. No zombie is going to make it up there after a good snowfall. While we wait for spring we can figure out our next move.”

  “You make it sound so easy.” She said with a chuckle.

  “It won’t be easy. But what other choice do we have?”

  “We could always stay here.” She said.

  “We could. But our treasure would only last for so long. We still don’t know what we have or how much Zack’s medical bill is going to cost us. Besides, I don’t trust the military…”

  They were just dozing off to sleep when the phone on the table began to ring, startling them both.

  “I can’t believe the phones are still working.” Susan said sleepily. For a moment Matt was afraid to answer it. He hadn’t heard a phone ring for months and the sound seemed almost alien to him.

  “Hello?” Matt said into the receiver.

  “This is Jenkins.”

  “How did everything go?” Matt asked suddenly awake.

  “We scored big. Even after the tariff we still have several tons of food and other goods.” Jenkins sounded ecstatic.

  “I can’t believe that the city militia is just going to let us keep it.”

  “That’s how they do business here. It keeps people going out on salvage runs and coming back with a fresh influx of goods.”

  “What are we going to do with all of it until we are ready to leave?”

  “We can rent storage here at the warehouse. I’m having them load the vehicles back up right now. Ron and I should be there in awhile. We can talk then.” Matt hung up the phone as the line clicked dead…

  Chapter 23

  Sunday, June 24, 2001

  Park City, UT

  11:53 AM

  Zack awoke from his dream with a sense of dread coursing through his veins. The foggy tendrils of the nightmare were already evaporating from his mind and before he could take hold of them they were gone.

  He was in another hospital room. When had they moved him? The last thing he remembered were those burning red eyes gazing into his followed by a rushing wave of darkness. The curtains were open and sunlight streamed in, warming his face. He wore a clean gown and there was an IV, burning his hand. The next thing he noticed was there was no pain in his arm or side and his breathing was quiet and easy.

  Either I’m better or I’m dead.

  He reached his hand under and touched his wound. A clean, small bandage had been applied. It ached sharply when he applied pressure. Not the fiery agony of last night but the ache of mending flesh. The wound in his arm was also bandaged, but he felt no pain from there.

  He held his burning IV up to his face for closer inspection. His hand was bruised black all around the IV and the flesh was swollen. He grabbed the IV with his other hand and tore it out, his hand flooding with a pleasurable release of pressure as the needle came free of his vein. He tossed it aside and massaged his swollen hand.

  Taking a deep breath, he slowly sat up. Hot pain seared into his left side but it was manageable, and he came to an upright position. His head spun momentarily and with a flash of light and an electric pop that only he could hear, all of his senses seemed to come to supersensitive life. His vision sharpened until he could see the slightest color variation in the wallpaper. His hearing magnified with a loud ringing and he could head the nurse outside his room, several paces down the hall approaching. His skin became so sensitive that he could feel the smallest thread of the gown in contact with his skin. Where a moment ago the smell of antiseptic had been overwhelming now there was a miasma of different scents; he could
smell the fresh air outside his window, the pot of coffee brewing at the nurses station further down the hall, the stench of death wafting from another wing of the infirmary and half a dozen other that he couldn’t place. Like wise he could taste the antiseptic in the air, the sour residue of several scouring detergents. And in his mind, tugging like an ox was a presence of… Something! He wasn’t sure what it was, but it was pulling his towards the window.

  He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. He stayed sitting, resisting the urge to go to the window for fear of what he might see. Another mental tug, and this time behind his closed eyes a white flash, and a momentary glimpse of something reptilian… Slime… Two burning red eyes… Another mental tug, only this time less severe. More like a soft pull. Zack resisted easily.

  What’s happening to me?

  His swollen hand began to itch with a burning tingle. He grimaced in pain and looked at his hand. Bloody saline was pouring from the IV wound, running down his arm before dripping onto the clean bead linen. The hot, prickly pain was almost too much to bear, but Zack took several deep breaths and the pain slowly subsided. He contemplated calling a nurse for help, but only for a microsecond. The last thing he wanted was for a nurse or doctor to see what happened next.

  The wound sputtered as the last of the saline water exited his hand. Then, before his eyes, the flesh there bubbled just slightly and the burning itch grew to a white-hot intensity and the small puncture wound healed closed and scabbed over within three seconds. The pain faded as quickly as it had come, replaced by a tingling flood of euphoria.

  What is happening to me?

  Zack had a hard time distinguishing between his fear and his shock.

  What happened to me at that motel in Summittown?

  Another mental blast hit him like a wave of icy cold water. His body stiffened and his mind cringed. He remembered this from Summittown. Another icy mental wave crashed over his psyche. In his mind he could see the reptilian thing again, its head like a snake with burning red coals for eyes. It was leering over him. Looking into his eyes… His soul… Its scaled, leathery skin covered in slime. It leaned closer, its foul breath taking away what little he had left in his lungs…

 

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