by D. Henbane
***
Haus sits down at the bench, his food tray resting in front of him, John seated directly across. John wastes no time, spooning heaps of food into his mouth, pausing between gulps to sip a little water from his glass. “Where ya from?” He asks politely.
“Never really had a place that I call home.” Haus says his demeanor aloof.
“That's too bad. Ya know, I don't wanna push ya too much. If you don't wanna talk about it fine.” John says devouring more food. He breaks his bread roll, using it to mop up the gravy remaining in the tray. “You know what I miss most?” John says.
“You mind not talking right now?” Haus says interrupting John shortly after he finished his sentence. Haus grabs his glass, raising it to his mouth, not for the water, but a reason not to speak. He holds it there, avoiding eye contact with John.
“Right. Understandable.. Sorry.” John says.
Haus grabs his spoon, poking at what he guessed was meat loaf, but he had no desire to eat. His mind wandering, wondering what had become of Amy. Why was she not here? Had she become infected somehow? Not knowing was driving him mad. He needed answers, and sitting here with John wasn't getting them.
Haus abruptly left the table, his tray virtually untouched, and walked towards the exit. John sat there, dodging stares from onlookers, then sliding Haus's tray in front of him. He carved a slice of meat loaf, placed it inside his mouth, chewing it slowly, savoring every bit of it. “Seconds. I miss seconds the most.”
***
The camp was a desperate place, people walked around empty, the expressions on their faces void and chilly. Even small children dared not venture too far from their parents, not because they didn't want to, but recurrent scolding had taught them to stay close.
Haus could sense the desperation surrounding him. A feeling alien to most Americans. They knew freedom, the ability to come and go as they saw fit, and a seemingly inexhaustible reserve of everything, a stark contrast to the reality now surrounding them.
Rations, curfew, and confinement was the new norm. Even the ability to speak freely, a once long neglected right, was reserved to late night talks, lying in their cots. Speaking very quietly, choosing each word carefully, as not to draw the ire of someone close by; someone that may betray your thoughts to the guards, for an extra serving of potatoes.
A toddler ran past him, his pursuit stopped cold by his mothers words. “David! Come back here now.” The child froze, turning towards Haus, his face dirty, and wearing over sized clothing. “You.. not...nice.” He struggled to form each word, his head shaking in disapproval, before he ran back to his mother.
Haus continued to walk among the refugees, avoiding eye contact, as he knew he was a stranger, and not welcome with them. It was fine with him, the less he knew the better, they were already dead anyway. Even if they managed to escape the infection, they were dead inside, and in the end none of it mattered. The days of white picket fences were gone, the only thought was of sheer survival, and be damned anyone that stood in the way.
Amy. His mind drifted once again, reminding him of what he was searching for. He didn't care about the others, something inside himself tried to reason with him, to reassure him that he was still human. Fuck it! Let them all die. My only responsibility is to get Amy the hell out of here. Where the hell are you?
Haus spotted a guard in the distance, and set about to approach him. Walking calmly, as to avoid any resistance, until he was about to speak. Something caught the corner of his eye, a brief flash of white, and he recognized it in an instant. Amy.
He saw her exit an Olive colored tent, she seemed agitated, her gait deliberate, and marching forward away from him. He called out to her. “AMY!” His voice echoed alone in the stagnant air. She heard his words, spinning around searching for him; he was just another body in the mass of refugees.
He waved his hands above the crowd, and called out again. “AMY!” She saw him, and pressed forward to be by his side. Haus continued towards her, and meeting amongst the refugees they exchanged a hug. “Finally! I was worried that something had happened to you.” He says, a sigh of relief exiting his lips.
“Something did happen all right.” Amy says as she stamps her feet into the grass. “I thought you said everything was going to be fine. I do not call THAT fine!”
“What happened?” Haus asks.
“That fat bastard tried to get me to sleep with him. Where the hell were you? You told me to go along with it, and they wouldn't hurt me. I am not going along with it; my daddy didn't raise me to be a cheap whore.” Amy says, her voice filled with disgust, when she feels something dribble down the corner of her mouth.
Haus can see the small trail of blood, seeping out from the crease of her mouth. He grabs Amy by the shoulders with both hands, and looks her in the eyes. “Did he hit you?” Haus asks sternly.
“No. I ran into a pole trying to escape.” Amy says, wiping the blood away with her thumb. Amy looks around nervously, her gaze focused on the tent behind her. She notices the general exit the tent, stopping next to a guard near the entrance, and he mouths a command. The guard scans the crowd and advances forward.
“We gotta go.” Amy says, grabbing Haus's hand and pushes forward through the crowd. The refugees all standing in lines waiting for their turn at the food tent, had formed a nearly impenetrable mass of flesh. Haus and Amy pressed in and out of the lines, some of the refugees gave them dirty looks, while others shouted out profanities and accused them of cutting in line.
They made the final push through the mob, finally exiting out into open space, and rushed behind a tent for cover. Haus leaned out around the corner, glancing back looking for the guard, but couldn't see anything other than refugees. “I think we lost him for now.” Haus says.
“Do you hear that?” Amy asks. The faint sound of a helicopter in the distance had alerted her. “It's getting closer.” Haus looks towards the sky, a feeling of uneasiness building in the back of his mind. It had been quite a while since he had heard anything flying, a flash back from the incident at the mine plays out inside his brain.
Although he could hear the helicopter coming closer, it was still not within his view, another sound had grabbed his attention. A rumble coming from behind him, growing louder, as he looked directly above him as a fighter jet soared over head. The sound of the engines vibrated his entire body; the jet was flying very low to the ground, and suddenly pitched upwards. Its black body glistening in the evening sun, the gold stripes on the wings distorted by the heat of the engines as it roared higher into the sky.
Haus caught a glimpse of the underbelly, as it rolled in the sky. Omega Phi? The symbol was unmistakable, even though it had only flashed before him for a brief second. What is an Omega Phi jet doing out here? Haus focused on the Jet as it leveled out and raced towards the helicopter in the western sky.
In the distance Haus could make out the trail of a missile launching from the black fighter, and an explosion erupted in the sky. It took a few moments for the sound to reach his ears, while the black fighter lunged upwards in the sky. It doubled back, once again flying close to the ground, making several loops as it passed over his head.
Immediately behind the black fighter was another jet, attempting to close in behind it in hot pursuit. This jet was silver in color, and bearing few markings that Haus could make out clearly. The two jets weaved in and out; the black jet seemed to almost taunt the silver one, as if his plane had the technological advantage.
On another fly by pass, machine gun fire reputed from the silver jet, with tracer rounds streaking across the horizon. The refugees who had gathered to watch the spectacle scrambled for cover, some grabbed their children and disappeared into nearby tents. While others just laid on the ground, trying not to move, or draw attention to themselves.
A loud boisterous voice echoed over the PA system. “GET TO YOUR POSITIONS NOW!” The soldiers scrambled about, pushing anyone that got in their way, and shouting orders at people to take cover. A loud
hiss, like that of a monstrous snake screamed through the air, following a stream of white smoke as an unguided missile landed near the edge of the camp. The explosion sent flames and smoke in every direction, several people began screaming in terror as the attempted to run.
The silver jet made an abrupt turn, pointing its nose to the heavens, its engines burning at full throttle. It was clear the pilot was attempting to evade something, but it was too late. Its tail section exploded, its body still accelerating into the sky, as the black flew over Haus's head.
The report from the sonic boom, knocked Haus to the ground, and the black jet flew off towards the west. Haus struggled to regain his footing, his head aching, and his ears ringing. Amy reached out and grabbed his hand, and the two began running for the fence. Faster and faster they ran, as the faces of the refugees started to blur together, they didn't stop until they reached the chain link fence.
They clawed at it, like frightened animals, until another explosion forced them to turn around. Black smoke filled the air, as burning jet fuel spewed out from the wreckage of the silver jet. It had landed in the middle of the camp, its burning fuselage skipping across the ground, leveling tents and people in its wake.
It finally came to a rest several hundred feet from the edge of the camp. The fence showed little resistance to its advancing force. A trail of flame, broken ground, and debris stretched out of the camp and into the grass of the open prairie.
Haus and Amy wasted no time, following a stream of refugees, past the opening in the fence and towards a row of trees ahead. Once they reached the trees, people began to run in all different directions, as gun fire erupted behind them. Haus could see several Humvee exiting the camp, as soldiers took shots out of the windows.
Only one thought was on their minds, and that was to run until they couldn't go any farther. Haus's legs burned as he sprinted through the waist high grass. Amy was several yards ahead of him and quickly outpacing him. Amy cut a hard right in front of him, partially turning around to motion for him to follow.
A group of refugees continued on, with the soldiers not far behind. Amy's tactic had worked; the soldiers had remained focus on the main group as they separated themselves from the crowd. With every stride the sounds of screaming and gunfire began to quiet down. Haus spotted a grain truck in the distance, and the two of them climbed up inside its empty box. They crouched down, and tried not to make any movement, hoping that the soldiers wouldn't notice their hiding spot. Their peace was short lived as another sound alerted them. The helicopter! Haus meant to say it out loud, but the words never exited his mouth. Haus nervously looked towards the sky, a feeling of helplessness gripping his chest. His hand extended, pressing Amy against the wall of the trucks box, hoping to shield her in some way.
The helicopter flew over them; Haus forced himself to look up at it, and immediately had to do a double take. The black helicopter, identical to the one that had flown him to the mine hovered above them. It was high enough in the sky that he could not see the faces of the passengers, but he could see the familiar gold symbol. “AMY! OMEGA PHI!”
Haus waved his hands frantically, hoping to get the attention of the pilot, but the helicopter only hovered and then moved on. Haus scurried up the side of the box, started to fling his body over the edge, until something caught his eye. He froze, his body began to shake, and he slowly lowered himself back into the box alongside Amy.
“What? You're white as a ghost.” Amy says, as Haus places his hand over her mouth, gesturing with his finger to be very quiet. He motions her to lay down, and positions himself right next to her, placing his head next to her. He begins to whisper into her ear, so soft she struggles to hear his words.
“There are hundreds of them coming right this way. Do not make a sound.” Haus whispers. Amy slowly crawls towards a crack in the wooden box, the sun was starting to settle into evening, and looked out. There may have been thousands; an accurate count would be next to impossible, as the swarm advanced towards the camp.
The sheer number of them shook Amy to the core, the entire city of Wichita must be infected, and they were coming out in waves; an animated mass, moving in unison, but without any real purpose. They were marching forward, weaving in and out of the ranks of people, the infected had come to feed and they were about to be in the thick of it all.
Chapter Eighteen
Roca Segura
The rotors of the aircraft were starting to wind down, when Alex let out a sigh of relief; he had thought many times during the last few hours that they would surely be his last. Luckily for him his father had one last trick up his sleeve to ensure he made it back safe. Alex opens the door, grabs his gear, and walks towards the door.
He stops for a moment looking back at Eve, who is still refusing to talk to him, but at least they were safe for now. Roca Segura, or the ranch as his father called it. There was nothing ranch about this place, it was a safe house, built over the course of Reese's lifetime, spending many thousands of dollars for a place that they may never even need.
It always seemed like a waste of time to Alex, but for once he was glad Reese was paranoid enough to see it through. Unlike millions of others, they had a chance to survive this, and possibly even thrive. The door to the house opened just a crack, and then Theresa ran out to greet her son. “ALEX! Thank god you're safe! You had me so worried...” Theresa says.
“Hey momma.” Alex says with a half smile. Theresa embraces him, but stops short when she notices another person in the helicopter.
“Who is that?” Theresa asks.
“Eve.” Theresa shoots Alex a confused stare as she glances back at the cockpit.
“How on Earth did you find her? Between you and your father, I don't think I will ever understand what is going on around here.” Theresa stretches out her arms, while watching Eve exit the cockpit, offering her a gentle hug. “It's been ages dear. I am so glad to see you again honey. Come inside I will get something ready for you to eat. You must be famished.” Theresa says.
Theresa guides Eve over to a recliner and gesture for her to take a seat. “Make yourself comfortable dear, and please don't take offense to this but you look awful.” Theresa says.
Eve doesn't even reply, she just sits with a blank stare on her face, and begins to weep again. “You don't say anything sweet heart. It's not time yet. You need some food, a shower, and some clean clothes.”
“What about Dad? Have you heard from him?” Alex asks.
“The last thing he said to me was he was going to find you.” Theresa says.
“He will be here soon then. I should have known he was behind the escort we got here.”
“What escort? Are more people coming?” Theresa asks.
“Mom, don't worry about it... No one else is coming. Some things are better off that you don't think about. Why don't you just get some food ready?” Alex says.
Alex walks out into the evening air, the sun casting off its final rays of light turns the sky a dim orange, he reaches into his pocket and retrieves a cigarette. He puffs on it slowly, and lets his nerves settle a bit before he heads towards the garage. He needs to get the chopper camouflaged before anyone spots it from above.
After covering the chopper with mesh, he heads to the guard tower; if Eve won't speak to him at least he can keep an eye out. A little alone time would be great to clear his mind, and think of what to do next. He opens the door to the tower and steps inside, opening a safe built into the wall and retrieves a rifle. He leans back in his chair, feet up on the ledge, and loads the ammunition in one round at a time.
The cold brass between his fingers was almost therapeutic to him. There has always been something comforting to him about the feeling of cold steel in his grip. It had never occurred to him, just how dark the world had become recently, not only the loss of most electricity, but also the things people are willing to do now.
I could have saved those two people in the truck. Eve asked me too, but I lied and left them to die. Eve bought into t
he story of the infected being to difficult to deal with, but the truth is... They can't fly! I suppose the real reason why I did it... Was Eve... If it is just the two of us... Eventually she will have to forgive me. It will take some time, but someday she will be with me until our time on this planet ends.
***
It was long into the night, when the sounds of gunfire finally stopped. Haus could only guess that the last survivor in the camp had either fled or been killed. Not that it mattered much, the noises from the infected marching past the grain truck, just kept coming. Until eventually there was silence, and at some point Haus drifted off to sleep.
The sun had risen once again, and its warmth shown upon Haus's face. He sleepily opened his eyes, was tempted to move at first, but remembered why he was in the position he was. He rose slowly, and looked out from the crack in the wood. To his amazement he saw no one, not even a single straggler fumbling through the grass.
He felt confident enough to take a better look and peaked over the edge of the truck. He looked down and noticed Amy was still sleeping below. The flames from the camp had extinguished, but smoke still rose from the wreckage of the fighter plane. In the distance he could not make out any movement, and the air had a very unpleasant stench.
He made up his mind that it was time to wake Amy and get very far away from this place. There was no guarantee that more infected may be coming soon, and it was better to get while the getting was good. Amy cringed when he placed his hand on her shoulder, but calmed down when she saw it was just him.
“Coast is clear. Let's get the hell out of here.” Haus says softly.
“Really? I thought for sure we were done for.” Amy says. The two of them climb down from the truck and Amy is overwhelmed. “What is that smell?”
“Death.” Haus says.
“Let's just get out of here. Which way?” Amy says.
“The helicopter went that way. My friends can't be too far away.” Haus says pointing in a north eastern direction. “The base must be nearby. When I left the hangar the ground was relatively flat. It has to be here somewhere in the Midwest.” Haus says.