Richard hit the bed of the truck hard and rolled into the ice chest. He wasn’t positive, but he was nearly certain he had cracked a couple of ribs when he impacted with the bed of the truck. Being old really sucked. He rolled onto his back and watched as the blue sky rolled by, white whispers of clouds painting it as though it were any other day. The truck rocked and bumped as Bill continued down the road.
Richard felt it best to just lay there and not try to move for the moment. He really didn’t want to try to stand, only to have Bill jerk the wheel to avoid another zombie and him be pitched over the edge of the bed. After far too short a drive, the truck slowed and Bill opened the door. He bent down and ensured that nothing was under the truck, then leaned over the edge of the bed. “Hey, daredevil, want to ride in the front with the civilized folk?”
Richard groaned and nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess,” he croaked. “I was starting to feel like a sack of potatoes back here.”
Bill helped Richard out of the bed and into the cab. They drove about another half-mile to the sign indicating the highway ahead and the entrance to the park. Bill continued to watch the gauges and shook his head. “We have a problem.”
Richard sighed. “You mean besides everything else that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours. What else could go wrong?”
“I think we’re leaking fuel,” Bill said. “Probably when Mister Ugly went for the dive under the truck.”
“Great.” Richard rubbed a hand through his thinning hair.
“How far up the highway to a garage that could maybe fix it?”
“How much do we have left?”
“Between a quarter and half.”
“What did we start with?”
“Nearly full,” Bill replied.
“We’d never make it.”
Bill slowed the truck and turned to him. “What do we do? I grabbed the lawnmower gas, but that won’t get us very far.”
Richard thought for a moment and shook his head. “The only other idea I have will sound crazier than bat shit.” He stopped and looked at Jason who only smiled.
Bill shrugged. “Hit me with it.”
“We go back to the park.”
“I don’t think I heard you right, because it sounded a lot like you said go back to the place we fought like hell to get out of last night.”
Richard nodded. “Yeah, I know. But do you remember all them cars down there? Well, there are a few boats on that lake, too. And on the other side of that lake is another ranger station and they have trucks, and there’s another road. A road that also leads to a highway.”
Bill chuckled to himself. “That’s nuts, but hell, it’s so crazy, it just might work.” He pulled the truck to the intersection and turned left. “To the park we go. Hell, this is where I was headed in the first damned place. I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let a zombie apocalypse destroy MY vacation!” He laughed.
“That’s the spirit!” Jason said.
Bill looked at the boy and smiled. “So, did you get a vision of us making it safe to the other side?”
“Nope,” Jason answered as he played with the radio.
Bill frowned at the boy and finally said, “You know, kid, you really need to work on this whole ‘telling people what they want to hear thing.’”
Buck ran through the woods, tears streaming down his face, until he couldn’t run any farther. He collapsed to the ground, the knife that killed his mother clutched in his hands. He didn’t know why he decided to run, but he knew he couldn’t be there any longer. He couldn’t even hug her goodbye from fear he might catch the same disease that stole her from him in the first place. All he could do was sit next to her naked body and cry like a baby. He couldn’t even cover her nakedness up.
It hadn’t bothered him so much until Skeeter touched him. She had only meant to console him, but for some reason he couldn’t explain, it embarrassed him. She had seen him cry. She’d watched him lose it, right there in front of everybody, and he couldn’t stand to be around them any longer. As soon as their attention was somewhere else, he grabbed the knife from the floor and slipped out the back door.
Buck sat there now, under the canopy of the great evergreens, his breath coming in big gulps as he turned his eyes to the sky. Why did this have to happen? Why did it have to be his family? Why did it have to be his sister? His mom? Why couldn’t this have just been a movie like he used to watch on late night TV with bad actors and even worse special effects? He fell forward and sobbed again, the image of his mom’s filthy naked body laid out on the cold floor of the Visitor’s Center, blood and puss around her head.
He dug his hands into the soft, dark earth and screamed as loud as he could, forcing all of his anger, his angst, his pain into one full outburst. He lay back on the ground, inhaling for yet another, when a scream came echoing back to him in reply from deep in the woods. Suddenly, Buck went stiff. He could feel his body begin to tremble at the realization of what had answered his call, and his breathing came in short and shallow pants. His head frozen, his eyes darted back and forth, trying to spot movement in the shadows of the woods.
Buck slowly rolled to his side and stared off into the woods. He could hear the crashing sound of something moving fast in the trees, branches breaking and feet moving fast. His ears couldn’t quite pinpoint the direction it was coming from or the direction it was going, but it was getting louder. He slowly got to his knees and tilted his head. Closing his eyes, he focused all of his attention on the sound of the creature that crashed in the forest.
He could hear the footfalls growing louder, then…suddenly, they stopped. Buck strained his ears to listen, but he heard nothing. Not even the birds were chirping, and it seemed as if the insects had enough sense to vacate the area. As he concentrated with all of his might to listen, another scream pierced the air and Buck nearly wet himself. The zombie was so close, he feared that any movement on his part would bring the mad creature right to him. He heard movement again, and he was able to get a general direction. Buck glanced around and saw a large tree he might be able to use as a block. Slowly, he got to his feet, and, ever so carefully, he placed one foot in front of the other, slowly lowering each foot until he could lean behind the tree.
Buck concentrated on controlling his breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth…slowly. However, his heart was beating so loudly, he knew that it would give him away. It sounded like a bass drum in his ears. Surely it must be echoing all through the woods.
Another scream cut through the woods and Buck clutched the knife with both hands. Maybe if it found him, he could get a good cut in before it ate him. Maybe he should just go ahead and do himself in before it got a chance to turn him into a zombie like his mother…
The rustling and crashing of feet dashing through the woods startled him, and Buck nearly jumped as the creature came closer. He could feel his body shake as the rustling came closer, then stopped close enough that he could hear whatever it was breathing. He could hear it snuffling the air, snorting, and sniffing as if trying to get a scent of its prey. The creature screamed again, then took off in the direction Buck had come from, using hands and feet to claw its way up the hill as fast as it could.
Buck chanced a glance from behind the tree and saw a man with long hair and tattered clothes scrambling up the hill, his hands throwing debris behind him as he clawed his way up. He slipped from behind the tree and took off in the other direction. He had no idea where he was going, but he wasn’t going to waste any time getting there.
Captain Andrews sat in the back of the transport as the truck bumped and jostled up the dirt road. At one point, they stopped, and a group of the soldiers got out to clear a pickup out of the road that had somehow gotten wedged between two SUVs.
Captain Andrews stood up in the back of the transport and looked over the edge as the men hooked a chain to the heavy front bumper of the truck and pulled it out of the way, then used the same bumper to simply push cars out of the way. The next order of duty was to s
imply push the pickup off the road as well.
He grunted and sat back down, thinking to never call on these brutes if he ever got his own vehicle stuck. They had all the finesse of a bull in a china shop.
As the truck jerked forward again, Andrews was tossed to the side and found the wooden bench he rode on to be even less comfortable than he remembered before they had stopped. The truck continued its slow, lumbering pace up the mountain road until they eventually passed all of the parked vehicles and had turned off onto another road, continuing the relentless climb upward.
Andrews had a sneaky feeling what Vickers was up to. He was going to use the ultrasonic frequency device and the makeshift amplifier to call all of the infected to one area so that a single gunship could make quick and easy work of them. No more risking soldiers on the ground. Who knew? The gangly bastard might even be on the gunship himself and fire the first rocket propelled grenade into the crowd. Andrews was sure it would give Vickers a thrill to watch the bodies explode into a pink mist as the RPG hit its intended target.
The truck slowed and one of the soldiers in the back hopped over the rear tailgate, unlatching it before the truck came to a complete stop. “Time to unload, Doc,” he said as he dropped the rear gate.
“Here?” Andrews asked, looking about at the deserted area. “We’re at the top of a hill.”
“Yup,” The soldier said dryly. “Keen sense of observation you got. Must be why they pay you the big bucks.”
Andrews bristled and stood erect. “I’m still a captain, corporal,” he seethed. “I would think you could show a little respect.”
The soldier paused and cocked his head in thought. “You’d think, wouldn’t ya?” he grinned just before he began pulling the crates from the back of the truck. Three more soldiers appeared from the front and began unloading the rest of the crates.
“We’re on a clock here, Doctor Andrews.” A very large sergeant major directed the men where to stack the crates. “Care to begin?”
Andrews huffed and began wiring up the amplifier. As he plugged the amplifier into the ultrasonic frequency device, he would occasionally glance at the soldiers who were setting up a containment fence around him. “What are you doing?”
“Setting up an electric fence around the device. The colonel doesn’t want them creatures getting to it and messing with it. Maybe accidentally turning it off before they’re all called up here,” the sergeant major replied.
Andrews nodded, but it still made him uneasy. He worked as quickly as he could, totally aware they were in the open. He connected the lithium ion battery pack to the amplifier and flipped on the controller.
As the LED indicators came up, he mumbled to himself and nodded, “Good. The batteries at full charge. We should have at least twelve hours’ worth here.”
He tested the cable connections once more and flipped on the device. Almost immediately, a scream was heard nearby. One of the soldiers dropped to his knee and brought his rifle to the ready. He scanned the nearby trees as Andrews adjusted the controls. Andrews glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t shoot it. I can use its response to fine tune this.”
“What if it comes at us?”
“Don’t shoot!” Andrews yelled back. He adjusted the knob and the screaming intensified. Something large could be heard crashing through the woods toward them, and the soldiers became antsy. Andrews continued to adjust the frequency generator. “Almost got it.”
The creature was increasing its speed as it approached, and the soldier tightened his rifle to his shoulder, ready to fire on whatever broke through the woods and came into the clearing. Andrews fine-tuned the dials then stood. “There, I think that’s it.”
Everyone near the device stood silently, listening for the creature and its approaching footsteps. The screaming had stopped and the rapid advance had ceased. No more sounds of breaking limbs or feet crashing through the woods came at them. Andrews turned to the sergeant major and indicated the barrier. “You might want to finish that. There will be more coming.”
The man simply nodded and prodded his men to step up the pace. They finished connecting the panels together, slipped the rubberized blocks under each side of the panels, and then connected the wires to the battery pack via its own transformer. When Andrews flipped the switch for it, one of the men tossed a stick against the barrier and sparks flew.
Satisfied their task was complete, the sergeant major ordered all gear packed up. Andrews watched the men load the crates back into the truck as a lone infected man stepped from the edge of the woods and lumbered slowly toward them. He made no aggressive moves and seemed almost happy to be finding his way to the sound generator.
Andrews watched as one of the soldiers, excited at the sight of the bloody man, pulled his rifle and was about to fire. “Hold your fire! I need to observe his reactions,” he said as he placed his hand atop the man’s rifle and gently pulled it down.
The infected man walked right past the soldier and around the heavy transport truck. He walked toward the generator as if in a daze, his red eyes almost glowing in the daylight. He moaned low in his throat as he approached the barrier and when his hand hit the electrified barrier, the shock knocked him back and to the ground. He sat there a moment, unsure of exactly what had happened, but sure he didn’t want it to happen again. He looked at his hand and the black burn mark on it. The infected man pulled himself to his feet and walked back to the barrier. This time he simply stood there, swaying gently as if listening to a slow song.
The sergeant major in charge of the outing came up beside Andrews. “I’ll be a son-of-a-bitch. He isn’t the slightest bit interested in us.”
Andrews smiled as he stared at the subject. “No, he’s not,” he replied. “And did you see what he did after he got bit by the fence? He didn’t try a second time.”
The sergeant major checked his watch and patted the doc on the shoulder. “We need to go. Time’s wasting.”
“Are you sure?” Andrews asked. “I’d really like to get some samples while we’re here.” The sergeant major was already pulling him back toward the truck. “I promise, they’re as docile as a kitten.”
“Kittens have claws, Doc. Time to go,” the man said as he pushed him toward the back of the truck. “Load up.”
Andrews lowered his head and sighed. Nobody understood the sacrifices that science demanded these days.
Chapter 10
Bob had watched as a truck full of soldiers drove by while he hid in a bush. He could hear them over the next rise, probably screwing with that damned pickup that blocked the road. He debated on turning back and following them, but, good grief! As big as this stupid park was, there was no telling where they’d end up going. With all of the side roads and possible outlets, he could walk for days and still never find them. He knew better. His strength was just beginning to return, but there was no way he could catch a truck while he was on foot, and if he did, what would he do? He was armed with a tire tool and a Dora backpack filled with warm sodas. He decided to keep working his way back down toward the ranger station and hope to either find help or take a couple of the bastards out with him. Maybe if he was lucky, he could run into some real weapons along the way.
Bob tried to stay to the brush along the side of the road and out of eyesight. If one truck was moving along the roadways, there could easily be more. He may not have much advance notice if another came along and was moving faster. Or if one of those damned helicopters buzzed him. He glanced skyward and stared up through the canopy. He hadn’t seen or heard any this morning and wondered if they had quit, or were simply working another part of the park. It didn’t matter. They could be back at any time.
As Bob trudged along, he did his best to keep his wits about him. He tried to stop every once in a while and check out the area he was in. Scan the woods with his eyes and ears to make sure nothing was sneaking up on him.
The going was slow and the progress even slower. Bob tired easily, and he knew it was from his shoulder wound. He wa
sn’t entirely stupid. He knew that his blood loss, lack of sleep, and the high altitude were all playing a part in him being one step up from a slug. But he was a slug with self-righteous rage. Rage fueled by the senseless killing of his teenage daughter, and he was determined to have his pound of flesh.
Bob paused and pulled the backpack off for a drink. He pulled a soda from the back and popped the tab, listening to the satisfying hiss and fizz of the soda as he leaned against a tree. The fizz continued far longer than expected and slowly increased in volume to a growl. It took Bob a moment to realize he was hearing the truck return. He took a long pull from the soda and drank as much of the liquid as he could, letting the carbonation burn his throat before he tossed the can aside and stole a glance around the tree he was using as cover. The large truck came lumbering down the road again, this time slowing as it neared him.
Bob feared he hadn’t found a good enough hiding place until he watched the truck pass him and finally stop a mere hundred yards away. Bob lowered himself to the ground and peered underneath the brush along the road. He was so close to the ranger station, but…it wasn’t a ranger station anymore. Now it was some kind of military complex with tents and military vehicles scattered about. There weren’t very many people milling about. Perhaps they were all out in the woods hunting the zombies?
Bob slipped back into the woods and continued toward the compound. As he drew closer, he went from tree to tree, doing his best to remain concealed. He watched from cover as the men in the truck unloaded the last of a few crates and stacked them near a large white tent. Then the soldiers scattered, with most going to a large green tent and disappearing from view. Bob stayed low and watched for any kind of roving security. He didn’t see any perimeter guards, and he didn’t notice any kind of security systems. Something seemed hokey about the whole thing.
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