Rabid

by J. W. Bouchard

  “Too big to lug around. I’d settle for a shotgun.”

  “Or a Super Soaker.”

  “That’s fucked up.”

  “Hey, it would work.”

  Tina said, “It’s so obvious the two of you are brothers. You look nothing alike, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.” She tried to grab the box of food supplies, but it was too heavy.

  “Here. Let me take it,” Carl said.

  “Grab the flashlight.”

  Tina disappeared into the kitchen and returned a moment later with the flashlight, aiming the beam at the ground. She handed it to Taylor. He switched it off and peeked through the Venetian blinds again.

  “Let’s get going.”

  Taylor opened the door. He held it open for the others and followed them down to the car. He opened the back door, took the box of supplies from Carl, and motioned for Tina to get in. He slid the box in beside her. “You’re not a backseat driver are you?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Bad joke.”

  “It’s a tough audience tonight.”

  “No shit,” he said. He liked this girl. She was different than a lot of the girls he knew. She didn’t act like she needed to be saved. At least not in the figurative sense, since given their situation, they could have all used a little saving.

  He smiled at her and closed the door.

  “I take it you’re driving?” Carl asked.

  In answer, Taylor slid in behind the wheel. “Tina?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do me a favor. Hand the machete to Carl.”

  Bet you never thought you’d hear yourself say that, Taylor thought.

  He wheeled the car around and they set off into the night. He expected some unseen force to prevent them from leaving town, but they reached the highway without incident.

  Minutes of silence passed. Finally, Tina’s home several miles behind them, Carl said, “It’s over a hundred and fifty miles.”

  “About two hours.”

  “Do we have enough gas?”

  Taylor pushed his foot down on the accelerator until the speedometer hovered at seventy. “I hope so,” he said.

  Chapter 5

  Heading Back

  He paid close attention to the gas gauge as though the needle wouldn’t drop if he stared at it long enough. It was at the quarter tank mark. Taylor had the distance figured at another hundred miles or so. They would be cutting it close.

  Tina had pushed the box of food supplies onto the floor and slept on the backseat like a cat curled up on a couch.

  Carl had his seat reclined back, his eyes closed, but he would wake fitfully every few minutes.

  “Bad dreams?”

  “With you behind the wheel? How can I not?”

  Interstate 80 ran parallel to the highway. It would slip into sight for a stretch and then disappear behind low hills or because of a gradual distancing, but they would always reunite later like old lovers. Taylor had seen a fair share of abandoned cars sprinkled here and there; the same problem plagued the highway, but to a lesser degree. Most of the vehicles they passed were parked along the shoulder or had veered off into the ditch. He had come across an aging Chevy truck that was parked in the middle of the road, straddling the yellow center line, but had managed to slip around it by driving with two wheels on the gravel shoulder.

  The storm had moved in the opposite direction. Taylor had watched the clouds break away, thin out, and then dissolve altogether. He cracked the window to allow in the cool night air.

  Billions of stars filled the sky. Under different circumstances, he would have enjoyed setting up a lawn chair and stargazing for a while. He wondered if Tina could appreciate something like that. The two of them outside on a chilly night, bundled up in a heavy blanket, heads tilted toward the sky.

  Get your head in the game, he thought.

  His eyelids grew heavy. Lack of sleep took its toll most fiercely when he was driving. He switched on the radio, dialing through both the FM and AM bands. He had tried the same thing fifty miles back, knowing full well it was a lost cause.

  One night. Is that as long as it takes for civilization to be torn down? I would have given us more credit than that.

  They were driving through what was considered a remote area. On a good day - a normal day - he could find a dozen or so stations on this same stretch of highway, five of which were at a listenable clarity. Was it so hard to believe that those were defunct at the moment? What they needed was to be near a big city; try dialing through again.

  Taylor remembered Tina’s cell phone. He hadn’t been able get a signal in town, but Tina had said that wasn’t out of the ordinary, and that once you got going on the highway for a time - he thought she had said ten minutes - you were good to go.

  “You all right?”

  Carl’s voice startled him out of his bubble of silence.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Just checking. Let me know if you need me to drive.” Carl’s eyes remained closed as he spoke.

  “I’m good for a little while. About a hundred miles to go. Give or take.”

  “This is it, huh?” He scooted himself up in his seat, opening his eyes momentarily and starting at the road. After a quick visual inventory, he closed them again. “The shit they talk about on TV. You see so many different doomsday shows anymore. Volcanoes, comets and asteroids, nuclear explosions, global warming. Probably a dozen a day. None of them covered anything like this.”

  “When they talked about the end of the world, I don’t think they had something like this in mind,” Taylor said.

  “Is it just me or has tonight seemed to last forever? It seems like I haven’t seen daylight in forever, but it’s only been a few hours.”

  Taylor cracked the window another inch. The surge of cold air helped his sudden drowsiness.

  “I can take over, dude.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Just need a slap in the face. If you want to do me a favor, though, see if you can find her cell phone. We’ll see if we can get service.”

  Carl sat up and twisted around until he could reach the back seat. Tina was holding the phone in her hand. Her grip had loosened now that she was asleep, and Carl was able to pluck it from her hand without waking her.

  “She fell asleep with it.”

  “Probably waiting for her dad to call. How many bars?”

  Carl flipped open the phone, the display bathing his face in blue light. “Three and a half it looks like.”

  “Not bad. Try calling Angie.”

  Carl dialed and listened. “Nothin’. Goes straight to her voicemail. That’s bad. She never goes anywhere without that thing.”

  “It doesn’t mean anything. Could mean she was in a hurry. If it rang through to her voicemail at least we know the towers are still working. Try Mom and Dad’s. Maybe their landline first.”

  “Says the number is no longer in service.”

  “Landlines are down. Try their cell.”

  Carl dialed the number. Waited. “Voicemail.”

  “Try somebody else.”

  Carl studied the keypad on the phone. After a moment he said, “I don’t know anybody else’s numbers. They’re all in my phone. I didn’t memorize any of them.”

  “Nine-one-one.”

  “Nothing again,” Carl said. “Makes a guy feel pretty fucking cut off from the world.”

  Taylor gripped the steering wheel more tightly. “I’m telling you, it doesn’t make any sense.”

  “You’ve got that right.”

  “It’s not just about what’s happened to people.”

  “Rabies,” Carl said.

  “Call it what you want. None of this started until yesterday. It’s barely been twelve hours. Society can’t break down that fast.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “All right. Maybe a natural disaster would knock out the power, the phones, all that stuff. But I don’t get why that’s happening now. The people that have that disease or whatever it is…they�
�re crazy. Lunatics. They obviously don’t retain much of the intelligence they had before they changed. Look how long it took them to get into the store.”

  “But they found us there.”

  “What I’m saying is there has to be an explanation why everything’s down that fast. We know Mom and Dad’s landline is down, too. That leads me to believe that that’s the case everywhere.” Taylor pumped the break as they came up on a vehicle parked along the side of the road. The driver’s side door hung open. Clothes were strewn on the ground around the vehicle. There were no bodies.

  “Where do you think they went? There’s nowhere within walking distance. And all those clothes on the ground. That can’t be good. Creeps me the fuck out.” Carl rolled down his window as they passed the abandoned vehicle. “Don’t see anybody in there,” he said, spit out the window, and then rolled it back up.

  “Are you listening?” Taylor asked.

  “I’m listening.”

  “If those things aren’t much better than cannibalistic village idiots, what’s with the other stuff? They didn’t take down the power. So who did? It can’t just be coincidence. If it was only that one town maybe I could swallow it.”

  “Yeah, I get it, it’s fucking strange. But, honestly, bro, I could give a shit less about all that. Does it really matter? Solving riddles like that. I want to get home. I want to know that Angie and Mom and Dad are okay.”

  “And I don’t?”

  “I’m not saying anything like that. I’m telling you what I want. At this point, I just don’t care about the reason why stuff is happening. Listen, you’re the only one out of the three of us that hasn’t rested yet. Let me drive for a while. Quit playing hero for a little bit and pretend you’re human like the rest of us. I’ll swap out with you and drive the rest of the way. Rest your brain, dude.”

  Taylor sighed and then stopped the car. He opened the door and the overhead light came on.

  Tina woke from her fitful sleep and said, “What’s going on? Are we there?”

  “No. We’re switching places. Go back to sleep.”

  She’s been through a lot, Taylor thought. I hope it hasn’t taken all the fight out of her.

  Carl adjusted the driver’s seat back a few inches. “Damn you’re short.”

  “It comes with old age.”

  “Sure. Whatever you say, old lady driver.”

  “Just stay on the highway.”

  “I know the way.”

  Taylor leaned his seat back. He closed his eyes and listened to the wind and the strange grumbling complaint of the Ford’s engine. The rhythm of the ride, of every bump and dip and inconsistency in the road, soothed him.

  You should have done this earlier, he thought, feeling himself slip off into another world. One that wasn’t ending.

  Chapter 6

  Homecoming

  The high-pitched squeal of the brakes woke him. When he opened his eyes, the headlights of the Escort were lighting up a large wooden sign that read Coldwater. Warm people. Population 1579.

  “Why are you stopping here?” Taylor asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He couldn’t have slept for more than forty-five minutes to an hour, but he still felt a hell of a lot better.

  “Just nervous I guess. Being here means it’s time to face reality. My stomach’s tied in knots, dude.”

  Taylor leaned over and glanced at the instrument panel. “By the skin of our teeth, huh?” He was looking at the gas gauge; the needle hovered just below the “E.”

  “Oh, yeah, that. And I guess it’s accurate ‘cuz there were times at the end where it seemed like this baby was gonna crap out. Probably nothing left but fumes.”

  “Then don’t waste gas just sitting here.”

  “Aren’t you worried at all?”

  Taylor stared at him, his eyes narrowing the slightest bit. “What kind of a question is that, little brother? I’m as scared shitless as you, but we didn’t come all this way to chicken out. Now put this piece of junk in drive and let’s face whatever reality there is to face.”

  Carl shifted into drive. The engine sputtered as though responding to an insult. “Maybe you should say a little prayer that we make it into town.”

  “No good worrying about it now.”

  Traveling north of the highway, it was three miles into Coldwater. Carl pointed, whistling through his teeth. “Would you look at that.”

  There were two gas stations in town. One could hardly be classified as a gas station. It was an auto body shop that happened to have two gas pumps sitting outside, about fifteen feet from the entrance. Carl had pointed to the only Honest-to-God gas station in town. What was left of it anyway. It was a charred ruin. Four of the pumps lay on their sides, the metal contorted into strange pieces of alien art. Thousands of pieces of glass littered the cracked cement, twinkling like tiny stars in the car’s headlights.

  “Jesus,” Carl said.

  Taylor patted Carl’s shoulder. “Let’s hope the other one is in better shape. Keep going.”

  It was the longest drive of his life. Carl wouldn’t let the speedometer’s needle creep above twenty miles per hour. You’re only delaying the inevitable. That’s what Taylor would say. He won’t let you get away with this pussy shit for much longer.

  Tina stirred in the back seat. Carl watched her in the rearview mirror. “Wakey-wakey,” he said. “Welcome to the other speck of fly shit gracing the Rand McNally Road Atlas.”

  She sat up and rubbed her eyes; the gesture making her seem more childlike somehow.

  Carl pulled up in front of the house he shared with Angie. It was painted a light green, like sunwashed limes. He put the car into park and killed the lights.

  “Her car isn’t in the driveway,” Carl said.

  Taylor knew when his brother was trying to act tough. He was acting tough now, trying to pretend he wasn’t about to panic. Taylor didn’t call him on it. They had a mutual need to be strong, feigned or otherwise. He opened the door and stepped out, stretching his legs. His head swam momentarily, big black butterflies crowding his vision. He closed his eyes and waited for it to pass.

  Tina trailed behind them as they walked toward the house. Taylor had the machete in his hand.

  Carl hesitated at the front door.

  “You want me to go in first?” Taylor asked.

  “No. I’m a big boy.” He took a deep gulp of air and opened the door.

  The beams of their flashlights cut through the darkness. Carl flipped the light switch next to the door and nothing happened.

  “Angie? Hey, Angie, it’s me. You home?” He repeated her name several more times. They searched all the rooms in the house. When they had finished, he felt compelled to state the obvious. “She’s not here.”

  Tina said, “I found something.”

  Carl rushed over to her. She was holding a piece of paper that had been laying on the coffee table in the living room. She handed it over to him. “It’s a letter.”

  “What’s it say?”

  “Give me a minute.” His eyes darted over the letter. He read it again, this time more slowly, before saying anything. “Says she’s going over to Mom and Dad’s.”

  “So let’s get going over there,” Taylor said. “You need to grab anything before we go?”

  Carl disappeared and then reappeared a minute later carrying his hunting rifle. “It’s a two-seventy. Packs enough of a punch.” He held a box of ammunition in his other hand. “I’m ready.”

  Taylor stared at the couch. It looked like one of the most inviting pieces of furniture he had ever laid eyes on. If not for a small surge of adrenaline, he might had plopped down on it, sunk deep into the soft cushions, and drowned himself in sleep.

  Taylor opened the door and immediately cursed himself for not being more cautious. A group of the rabid things had gathered around the car.

  The engine’s still warm I bet, he thought. Can they sense that?

  Seven or eight of them stood huddled closely together. He squinted into the semi-da
rkness. It’s entirely different when they could be people you know. One of them was Jeff Cairns, proprietor of the local grocery store. He recognized another as one of the mechanics who worked for Mike Earnest, owner of Earnest Motors a few blocks east of Main Street. Taylor couldn’t recall the mechanic’s name.

  Carl raised the rifle.

  Tina said, “What are you doing?”

  Carl hesitated for moment and then squeezed the trigger. Taylor thought the sound of the shot was perhaps the loudest thing he had ever heard. It cracked like a whip; a brief thunderclap of authoritative noise. Tina gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. Taylor had to suppress the sudden urge to laugh out loud. Maybe I’m going a little crazy if I can think about laughing at a time like this, he thought.

  The right side of the rabid thing’s face disintegrated a moment before it sank to the ground.

  “Gotcha!”

  Carl chambered another round.

  “They’re coming,” Tina said.

  “Get in the house!” Taylor said.

  Tina reached the door first, holding it open for Taylor and Carl. Carl walked backwards slowly, taking aim with the rifle again. He squeezed the trigger, catching the mechanic high on the shoulder, and sent him spiraling around to bounce off the side of the Escort.

  Taylor enjoyed a certain amount of satisfaction watching Carl take the rabid things down, but as he scanned the empty streets, he knew it was one of the dumbest things they could have done. The roar of gunfire was loud enough to wake the dead – no pun intended, Taylor thought – and it would only draw attention to their location.

  Carl said, “One more,” as he ejected an empty round.

  Taylor batted the rifle down. “Get in the house.” He had meant to yell, but instead the words tumbled from his mouth in a calm and detached manner, as if he was reacting to something far away.

  By the time all three of them were in, the first of the rabid things had reached the porch and was at the door before Taylor could get it all the way closed. He put his back to the door, squatted, and used his feet to push off the floor. It worked. He heard the latch click and he locked it quickly.

  “That won’t hold them off for long. Help me find something to block it closed with.”