Infected (Book 2): The Flight

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Infected (Book 2): The Flight Page 7

by Cleek, Caleb


  On the screen was a studio shot with a male anchor talking. “A source has identified the woman and boys from the incident at the Reno Airport as Claire Mantell. The two boys were her sons. Our source has reported that she was from the small town of Lost Hills, California, where we are told the outbreak began yesterday afternoon.”

  “Did he just say Lost Hills?” Zeke asked in alarm.

  “Yeah,” John said, still focused on the screen. “Why?”

  “My brother Connor lives there,” Zeke stated flatly as he dug his cell phone out of his pocket and tapped out a phone number on the touch screen. He was greeted by a recorded message telling him all cell circuits were busy. Zeke moved to the phone hanging on the wall and punched the same numbers on the dial pad.

  After three rings, an apprehensive voice answered, “Hello.”

  “Connor, I didn’t figure you were still alive,” Zeke responded. “I just heard that all this started under your watch.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” answered the voice on the other end of a bad connection. “I’m still alive and you’re still going to have to split Mom and Dad’s stuff with me when they croak,” the voice said with a laugh. “I do have some good news for you though. You’re immune to the infection. I don’t have time to explain it right now, but you’re going to be okay in that regard.”

  Zeke paused for several seconds before he responded. “How could you know that I’m immune?” he questioned.

  “Like I said, I don’t have time to explain it, but trust me, you are. I have three guys waiting for me to get off the phone so I can’t talk long. How are things in Atlanta?” Connor asked.

  “They’re bad, really bad. There are quite a few infected running around. The real problem is with the uninfected, though. The gangs are robbing, looting, and killing with impunity. This morning the police were keeping them at bay. By late afternoon, I think most of the cops had bugged out. I haven’t seen any law enforcement outside the office for a couple hours.”

  “You’re still at work? Why?” Connor prodded. “The financial system is ruined. Nobody’s going to be worried about their 401Ks today. You haven’t had a buy or sell order all day, have you?”

  “I didn’t watch the news this morning. I got to work and only a few people showed up. By the time I realized I needed to get out of the city, it was too late. I figured I would be safer waiting it out in the office than trying to navigate the streets.”

  Connor interrupted. “I don’t care what’s going on in the streets. You have to get out of the city. Now! The infection will spread faster there than it has here. I’ve seen over ten percent of our population infected in about twenty four hours. That only includes what I have seen with my own eyes, not the ones locked in their houses. Once they fill the streets in Atlanta, you won’t stand a chance of getting out.”

  “We’re pretty safe here,” Zeke said. “We have a week and a half or two weeks of food in the building. We’re going to stay here until we have to leave for more. Hopefully the roads will have opened up by then. Right now they’re too congested to drive.”

  “Zeke, you aren’t listening to me.” Connor said, with irritation thick in his voice. “Once the population turns, you won’t be able to get out of the city. I thought the infection could be contained. It can’t. So far all it’s done in Lost Hills is spread exponentially. You have to leave before the population’s infected.”

  “I don’t know,” Zeke countered. “Everyone on TV is saying to stay where you are.”

  “That might be the best way to avoid exposure, but when your food runs out, you’re going to have to leave your building to get more. You guys are going to be ripped apart by the infected once you have to leave your building.

  “The local doctor here is friends with a big wig at the CDC who told my him that when the Chinese were doing experiments with city sized populations, the infected killed everybody who wasn’t infected. Your only chance is to get out of Atlanta and find a place with no people around.”

  “Okay,” Zeke conceded. “I’ll talk it over with the people here and see what we’re going to do.”

  “Talk it over with them, but you have to leave regardless of what the rest decide to do. Once the infection has run its course through the city, you won’t make it out. You have to leave now.”

  “Alright,” Zeke said in frustration. “I’ll leave.” Although a vestige of adolescent sibling rivalry left him slightly irritated at having to admit his older brother was right, he could see the logic in what Connor was telling him.

  “What’s the situation out there? Do you have a safe place away from people?”

  “For the time being,” Connor said. “But that could change in a hurry. You’re not thinking of coming out here, are you?”

  “If you’re right and this is the end, I have to get to a safe place somewhere. Other than a job that apparently isn’t going to be around tomorrow, I don’t have anything holding me here. Based on what you just told me, I’m going to try to get home. I haven’t been able to reach Mom and Dad, but that’s where I’m going to head. If things end up as bad as you’re making them out, we’re going to need to stick together. Are you going home?”

  “I would like to, but I can’t. These people have entrusted me with protecting them. I can’t leave them when they need me the most.”

  “Are you seriously going try to make it from Georgia to California?” Connor questioned, pondering the enormity of the task Zeke was suggesting. It was a solid three day drive under the best of conditions. These weren’t even going to be marginal conditions.

  Zeke paused for several seconds as he considered the proposition to which he had just committed himself. “I don’t know how it’s going to work out, but I can’t stay here after what I just learned. Is there anything else I should know before I start?”

  “Not much that I can think of. Make sure your friends wear some sort of masks. I don’t know how effective they are, but it’s better than nothing. Do you have any weapons?”

  “I have a pistol in my truck with two extra clips.”

  “Okay, that’s good.” Connor paused, encouraged by the unexpected news that his younger brother was armed. “If you have to shoot, aim for the head. Body shots are completely ineffective. Three magazines won’t last long as things start to get worse. Try to find a rifle. Move quietly and get out of the city as fast as you can. I wish I could tell you something more helpful.”

  “Look,” Zeke said, and paused. His changed tone told Connor what was coming. “I know my chances of making it across the country are slim at best.” Zeke’s voice filled with emotion as he continued. “If I don’t make it, take care of your family and Mom and Dad, too.”

  “You’ll make it,” Connor said, trying to reassure himself as much as Zeke. “Be careful and stay in touch. Call me tomorrow. Text if I don’t answer. I wish I had more time, but I have to go.” Zeke pulled the receiver from his ear and eyed it for several seconds before placing it back in the cradle.

  “Who was that?” Meagan questioned. She had been eyeing him during the entire phone conversation.

  “It was my brother,” Zeke answered slowly, thinking of the cross country trip he had committed himself to undertaking.

  “Oh,” she said softly. “Are you leaving us to go to him?” she asked as tears began welling up along the edges of her lower eyelids.

  “Yes, I’m going to try to get home to my family. My brother lives in Lost Hills where the infection started. My parents live a couple hours away from there.” Zeke relayed what his brother, Connor, had told him about the infection rates in Lost Hills. “He lives in a very isolated, rural area. If the infection is spreading that fast where he lives, it’s going to be a hundred times as bad here. If we don’t get out of the city before the infection starts spreading here, we won’t be able to get out. If we had to, we could probably make our food here stretch for three weeks, but after that, we’re going to have to leave the building. Either way, we’re going to have to leave at so
me point.”

  “He’s right,” L.C. agreed with a sigh. “We have a better chance of getting out now rather than later.”

  “Where can we go?” Meagan asked as tears began streaming from her eyes. “They told us to stay where we are. I can’t get home. There’s more food here than at my house anyway. We can’t leave.” Her breaths came in gulps and her body shook as her weeping turned to sobbing.

  Zeke walked across the room and wrapped his arms around her as she buried her head in his shoulder. It was an unnatural gesture for him as he was uncomfortable around emotional women. His instinct was to shun her, but he forced himself to push through his comfort zone. He could tell she was on the verge of a breakdown and, in this instance, he could understand why. He was coping with the stress better than she was, but he could still feel its crushing weight pushing in on him. The debilitating panic was rising up within himself as well. If they were going to leave, they couldn’t afford her panicking or losing control. Survival depended on everybody pulling his own weight.

  “Everyone is going to have to decide the best course of action for himself,” Zeke said. As a partner in the company, he was the de facto leader of the group. “Everybody here has family and friends they are concerned about and want to be with. I’m going to Northern California where my family is. They have a farm and a climate with a long growing season. They live a few miles out of a small town. It’s a good place to survive if things get worse. If any of you want to, you’re welcome to come with me. It’s going to be a long trip and I honestly don’t know if I’ll be able to get there, but I’m leaving as soon as I can get my truck loaded up.”

  Meagan pulled away, looking into Zeke’s face as she did. “I didn’t say anything earlier, but my sister sent me a text a couple hours ago. My mom has the sickness. I can’t go to them. My sister and dad are going to get it, too.” Her voice broke back into sobs until she regained enough composure to continue. “I want to come with you. I don’t have anywhere else to go,” she finally succeeded in getting out.

  “Of course you can come with me,” Zeke said reassuringly, though he silently dreaded the prospect of taking Meagan with him. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her, because he did. She was normally a cheerful and bubbly person. Everybody liked her. His problem was that she was going to be an anchor. She had little, if anything, to contribute and was going to slow him down, but like she said, she didn’t have anywhere else to go, and he knew she wouldn’t survive on her own.

  “Anybody else want to come with me?” he asked, looking around the room.

  “Not me,” John said as he met Zeke’s gaze. “I have my wife and kids at home. I was going to have them meet me here, but you’re right. We can’t stay in the city. I’m going to try to get us to my parents’ place in Tennessee.”

  “Mike, what about you?” Zeke questioned.

  “I don’t have anybody here. All of my family is scattered around Oregon. I didn’t think it was possible to get there, but if you are going to California, that’s pretty close to Oregon. I’ll come with you and maybe try to get to my family once we get to California,” Mike answered.

  “L.C., what are you going to do?”

  “Well, I guess I’m in the same boat as everybody here except for John,” L.C. started. “Since Carol died, I don’t have anything holding me anywhere. I have some friends who live nearby, but like we already discussed, staying in the area isn’t an option. If your offer is genuine and not just out of pity, I’ll come with you. I’ll have a better chance in a group than by myself.”

  “The offer is not out of pity. Your company increases our chance of getting there,” Zeke acknowledged. Of all the people present, L.C. was the one Zeke had hoped would join him. He respected L.C. as a person, and Zeke knew he had the ability to take care of himself. The gun he carried in his holster was an added bonus for the group. He had retired from Atlanta PD with over thirty years on the job. His experience would definitely contribute to the group’s chances of successfully arriving in California.

  “What’s your plan?” L.C. asked as they began gathering the food from the break room.

  “I have three-quarters of a tank of gas. I don’t know if we’ll be able to drive all the way out of the city or not. If we can’t, we’ll have to walk and find another vehicle somewhere along the way.”

  “You’re a pilot,” Meagan said hopefully. “Maybe we can rent an airplane and fly.”

  “It would be a pretty short trip,” Mike objected. “They said the President’s no fly order is being enforced by the Air Force. Any plane in the air will be shot down without warning.”

  “If the sickness is as bad as they’re saying, I doubt that order will be enforced for long. There won’t be anybody left to fly the military planes and those who are left aren’t going to care about a private plane. Right now it isn’t an option, though,” Zeke agreed as he pressed on a piece of tape sealing a cardboard box he had filled with an assortment of food from the break room. He handed the tape to John, who was carrying his own box to the vending machine in the corner of the room.

  With a fire ax from the hall, John quickly knocked out the Plexiglas front and they began dividing the food between the two groups.

  “Do you mind if I grab one of those?” Mike asked as John pulled the row of Snickers out of the metal coil that dispensed them.

  “You can do what you want with your share, but if I were you, I would hold off and grab something from the café. The stuff up there will spoil pretty quickly when it’s no longer refrigerated. The candy will last forever,” John suggested as he pulled the last of the snacks from the machine.

  “Good point,” Mike ceded. “While you guys are working on this, I’m going to run up to the café and make a bunch of sandwiches for the road. You want to give me a hand, Meagan?”

  Thirty minutes later, everything of foreseeable value for the trip had been gleaned from the building and was being loaded into Zeke’s truck and John’s car.

  As Meagan stretched to lift a box over the side of the truck bed, Zeke noticed her attire for the first time. She was wearing a tight skirt that reached to her knees with slits running up a foot on either side. His eyes followed her legs down to two inch heels that supported what he guessed was a hundred and thirty five pounds.

  “Meagan?” he asked. “You go to the gym after work, don’t you?”

  “Yeah. Why?” she asked, her voice full of uncertainty.

  “Do you have a change of clothes with you for after your workout?”

  “Yes,” she answered suspiciously. “I have a pair of jeans. Why?”

  “Because you aren’t going to be able to run in heels and a tight skirt and there’s a good chance running is going to be a big part of your immediate future. You might want to change into your jeans and workout shoes before we leave,” Zeke suggested as he grabbed a pair of jeans and running shoes from the tool box in the bed of his truck and walked into the stairwell to change out of his slacks and patent leather loafers.

  When Zeke returned to the garage, his truck had been moved. Mike had parked it beside Meagan’s Accord. One end of a red hose was buried in the Honda’s gas tank. The other end disappeared into Mike’s mouth. He suddenly spewed a geyser of clear liquid from his mouth as he lowered the hose into a bucket. He coughed violently as he wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his coveralls. “Every time I do that, I swear I’ll never siphon another ounce of gas,” he added to the end of a string of colorful vulgarities. He suddenly stopped when he saw Meagan staring at him. “I apologize for my language,” he said as he looked at her with embarrassment. At sixty-one years old, he had been raised in a society where women were still esteemed and were to be protected and respected. Although he felt no remorse for his use of vulgar language, he had been raised not to swear in the presence of a lady. For that, he felt guilt.

  Meagan smiled as she climbed into the back seat of the truck. “Don’t worry about it, Mike.”

  Chapter 14

  After they topped off bot
h vehicles’ gas tanks, Zeke followed John’s car as it made a right turn out of the parking garage. John took a quick left at the T intersection and Zeke turned right. As he passed, he looked at the building where he had worked for the last five years. L.C., who was sitting in the front seat, voiced the sentiment Zeke was feeling. “I’ll probably never set foot in there again. It was a pretty good place to work.” As he spoke, his voice was devoid of emotion, but if the three in the car could have seen his eyes, they would have seen the sadness his voice failed to convey.

  The four rode in silence for block after block. Each seemed lost in silent thoughts too private to share. As they continued through the business district, buildings shrank to single story edifices fronted with brick and rock rather than mirrored glass.

  The well-lit streets were devoid of traffic, either pedestrian or vehicular. As Zeke slowly rolled through a red light, a police car shot out of a driveway at the far end of the intersection. The blue lights illuminated as it turned left into the lane, coming nose to nose with Zeke’s truck.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” Zeke stammered. “With everything going on, he’s going to stop me for rolling through a light?”

  As Zeke leaned to the left to pull his wallet out of his back pocket, L.C. exclaimed, “Those aren’t cops, Zeke! Get us out of here!” The cruiser’s front doors flew open and Civic pulled out of a lot behind them and slammed up against the truck’s rear bumper. As two men with baggy pants and wife beaters boiled out of the police cruiser, Zeke realized L.C. was right -- but it was too late. They were trapped between the two cars with no room to maneuver.

  The driver walked toward the passenger side of the truck with a handgun in his right hand, hanging limply at his side. “What da ya’ll got in there that I need?” he yelled angrily while raising his gun toward the truck. “Everybody out. Now!” His partner stayed in the V between the body of the cruiser and the open door. He leaned against the car with casual disinterest, his arm resting on the roof.

 

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