“Beaker?” Sonya asked.
“That’s what the soldiers call him,” Theresa answered. “Makes more sense after you see the main guy. His name is Dr. Green, but he’s a little bald man with glasses and a soft voice. The soldiers call him Dr. Bunsen Honeydew after the scientist guy on the The Muppet Show. Rogers has red hair, so he gets called Beaker.” She stopped at their looks of confusion. “You guys didn’t see The Muppet Show? Well, probably too late now. Trust me, it fits.”
Theresa then showed them to an empty room. “There’s more rooms available. If you want to bunk up together, nobody will say anything. We’re not real big on rules, and if anybody’s judging, they generally keep their mouth closed. I think we’re all a little shell-shocked, got the PTSD. Post-traumatic stress disorder.” She smiled quickly. “Undergraduate class in psychology. But we’re living in a different world, that’s for sure. So some of the rules go out the window.”
“We’ve been basically sharing a room, or a barn, or a campsite, for a couple of months now. What do you say, Sonya?” Sonya shrugged. “Okay. We’ll take this one together,” Chase told Theresa. “Listen…I don’t want to be rude, but we’d like a little time to rest. And to process everything, you know?”
“I understand completely. If you figure out a way to process everything, let me know, because a lot of us are still working on that one. You missed lunch, but they’ll be bringing dinner in a couple of hours. Go ahead and rest. Plenty of time for talking later. Not much else we can do here, anyway.” Theresa walked back down the corridor toward the waiting group. Chase was sure she’d catch everybody up on what she had found out about them. He reviewed what had been said, and realized he hadn’t really told her much.
“After you,” Chase told Sonya, bowing slightly and holding his hand toward the door. She brushed past him, leaning into him slightly as she walked past, knocking him a little off balance. He followed her into the room they would share for the duration of their stay. He planned to make that stay as short as possible.
The room looked to have been put together for a family. This was going to have been the VIP area, after all. Still, it was pretty austere. A headboard remained attached to the wall, although what looked to have been a queen-size bed was gone. A little investigation revealed bunks that folded down from the wall, thin mattresses on a metal shelf. In the room there were no physical divisions, but the idea of a living room was sketched out by a pair of chairs under a reading light affixed to the wall. There was no actual kitchen, but there was a small nook next to a sink set into a small counter. Much of the layout reminded him of a dorm room he had stayed in during a football camp one summer at the state university. Chase threw his sheets and blankets on the bottom bunk.
“Smallest gets top bunk,” he told Sonya.
“Fine by me,” she replied, setting her own sheets and blankets on a chair, but she held on to the sweat suit. She began to look around. “I have to pee again.” Chase watched as she tried the only door in the room other than the one through which they had entered. Behind it was a tiny cubicle containing a very simple toilet, a small sink and mirror, and a shower head set into the wall above a one-handle control. She stepped inside and closed the door. Chase took the opportunity to shrug out of the hospital gown and quickly slide into his sweat suit. The legs reached only to his mid-calves and the sleeves to slightly above his wrists. When Sonya emerged from the bathroom in her sweat-suit, he was making fumbling attempts to put together his bunk. She watched him critically for a moment then scoffed, “You’ve never made a bed, have you?”
“No,” Chase said sheepishly. “Housekeepers my whole life.” Sonya straightened his attempts and tucked in the sheets with hospital corners just like her father had shown her. She repeated the steps for her own bed, allowing Chase to help. When they finished, Chase collapsed onto his bunk and laced his hands behind his head. Sonya lay down on the bunk next to him, pillowing her head on his bicep. He was a little surprised at this show of affection. He didn’t mind, and he knew something was building between them, but this was a little forward for her.
“Do you think it’s okay to talk about Dad now?” she whispered. Chase understood the sudden affection and smiled a little at his assumption. He was sure she didn’t see. They were both staring at the bottom of the bunk above them. He considered the question. How closely were they being watched? Listened to?
“I don’t know,” he whispered back. “Probably best to wait. Theresa seems sharp. I want to talk to her first.” He felt her nod.
“So now what?” she said aloud.
“Now, I am serious about resting,” Chase answered. “I still feel a little funny. Weak. Tired.” He waited for her to stand, to move away, but she stayed where she was. They lay like that for a bit and he felt himself begin to drift off.
“Are you afraid?” she asked suddenly.
“Yes,” he answered honestly. “Terrified. But right now I’m mostly tired. I’d tell you it’s all going to be okay, but you know that I don’t know that. Just know I’m going to make it as okay as I can. I have something. I can’t tell you what yet, but I have something and I have a plan. Sort of.”
“Okay,” she said. He felt her tense next to him as if she was going to get up, but she didn’t. He knew she wasn’t likely to sleep. He thought she might just lie there with him, awake and worrying. But that was okay. She was going to do that wherever she chose to wait for dinner, and she chose to do it next to him. He smiled again and closed his eyes.
A knocking at the door woke him. It must have been the second knock, because Sonya was already sitting up on the edge of the bed. Sonya stood, and he pushed himself up off the bunk and stood next to her. He flexed his muscles, stretched. He felt normal again. Strong. They stepped into the hallway and saw that a small crowd had gathered down at the end of the hall by the makeshift door. A cart was just inside the door, and the group’s attention was focused on it. As they watched, several people carried plastic trays from the cart and disappeared into the other doors along the corridor. Theresa stood to one side. Chase and Sonya approached her.
“Don’t wait for us,” Chase said.
“I wasn’t. You’re pretty much on your own. I was waiting to make sure the ones who don’t get up at least get a shot at their share.” The last of the others grabbed a tray and disappeared into a room, leaving only Theresa, Chase, and Sonya in the corridor. “I take the trays to the ones that don’t get up. I can’t make them eat, but sometimes if they see food they’ll take a few bites. They send enough trays for everyone. One each. We’ve got a few people that might be prone to taking more than their share, but I put a stop to that. Once everybody has been given a chance, it’s fair game. I just make sure everyone gets a chance.” She grabbed two trays. “Grab a couple of trays. You can help me.”
Chase and Sonya grabbed trays and followed her. In the first room she entered she placed the tray on the table and spoke to a shapeless lump curled up under the blankets on the lower bunk. “Shawna, you’ll feel a lot better if you get up and eat something.” There was no response. She looked at Sonya and Chase and shrugged. “New folks in today. Sit up and say hello.” Movement from the lump, and a mass of blond hair was exposed. Underneath it a pale, thin face peered out at them for a moment, and then the blanket was pulled up again. Theresa shrugged again, and they followed her out of the room. Similar scenarios played in other rooms, some of the recluses speaking to Chase and Sonya briefly, others ignoring them entirely. After the last tray save three were gone, Theresa invited them to eat with her in her room.
They sat, and Chase looked at the questionable food on his tray. Instant mashed potatoes. Some yellowish stuff that might be gravy. A chicken patty and canned green beans. A pear slice. When Sonya spoke, he looked up.
“How long?” she asked.
Theresa sighed, ran her plastic fork through the mashed potatoes. “Good question. The ones you just saw have been here longest. Even if they respond when I ask, they usually don’t know. I don�
�t even know for sure. I can tell you I’ve been here for about eighty-six meals. I can’t say for sure how long that is. I don’t know if they bring them on a regular basis. No clocks. There’s no breakfast, lunch, and dinner. They just bring food. Four weeks, maybe?”
“Four weeks? Have you thought about leaving?” Chase asked.
“Leaving? To what? There isn’t anything out there for me to go to. My husband died. My family died. And even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. They keep us locked down here. They say we’re not prisoners, but we don’t get to go anywhere except to the lab and back sometimes.” She shook her head, took a bite of chicken and chewed it thoughtfully. “We stay down here. We wait. Sometimes one of us goes to the lab and doesn’t come back. We get told that there’s other quarters, or there’s an extended test, but that’s it. Maybe I would go if I could.”
Chase lowered his voice. “Do they listen to us in here? Do they watch us somehow?” he asked.
“I don’t think so,” Theresa answered. “I’ve looked for cameras. Nothing. I really don’t think they worry about us much. They don’t tell us much, but they do tell us we’re in the safest place we can be. They tell us how lucky we are. They tell us horror stories about outside. Naw, I don’t think they worry about us enough to watch or listen to us anymore than you’d listen in on lab rats.”
Chase leaned in closer to Theresa. “If I could get us out, would you go?” He looked into her eyes.
“You?” Theresa asked a little derisively. “What are you, Superman? There’s that door, a whole bunch of soldiers, some more doors, and then you’d have to get away across country and they have all the neat toys to stop you.” She smiled at him kindly, like she was accustomed to dealing with crazies. “Honey, I probably would if you could. But I’m afraid you’d just get me killed, and despite everything I’m not ready for that just yet.”
“Let’s just pretend I had a way to get us out. You said you would go. Would anyone else?” She looked away, but when she looked back he held her eyes with his. “We have a place to go. It wouldn’t be easy, but we could do it, I think. Even if you don’t believe me, pretend for just a second that we could. Would you go? Would anyone else?”
Theresa looked into his eyes. “You really believe, don’t you? Yeah. I would go. There’s five or six others. Artie. Tonya and Tammy, a couple of sisters. Shane. And Ajay. Those for sure. Maybe others, but I’m afraid they’d be more burden than help if it got rough. But listen.” She leaned across the small table and grabbed his hands, which were resting on either side of his tray. “We can’t do false hope. We’ve been through too much. Don’t say anything to them. Let me do it, and I won’t do it until I know for sure you’ve got the goods. Everybody that came in here was messed up, me included, but I found my way by pretending to be in charge and taking care of everybody. They look to me for structure. I keep it all civilized back here behind that door. We might go all Lord of the Flies if it wasn’t for me, or someone like me, keeping all that basic human bad stuff in check. So if you got something, tell me. I decide if it has a shot, and I tell the others.”
Chase nodded, looked at Sonya. She didn’t know the full extent of the chance he had taken, how he was going to get them out. He started talking to Theresa. He told her everything. When he reached the point of telling how he would get them out, Sonya paled. Theresa looked alarmed, but she slowly nodded, a light dawning in her eyes. Hope.
“And that’s it. That’s how we do it,” Chase said. “But not without finding out about Sonya’s dad. So tell me what you know. Everything. Other labs, other tests, the layout of this place.”
Theresa told what she knew.
Chapter 26 – Marilyn
She started early in the morning looking for a bike. In the garage of a house near the trail she found one, much nicer than anything she had ever ridden before. The Huffy from Wal-Mart she used to have couldn’t compare to the Cannondale she found. She didn’t know anything about bikes, but she could tell quality. It was even all set up for long distance riding with a rack on the back and a couple of saddlebags. She worried about Honey keeping up, and then she saw what she needed. A trailer. It was meant for two kids, but one large dog fit fairly easily. Honey was a little reluctant at first, but once she settled down, she seemed to enjoy it.
Marilyn stowed most of her gear in the saddlebags, but managed to rig a fairly comfortable sling for her rifle. She could have put it in the trailer, but she wanted it close to hand. She would have liked to carry the staff with her, too, but it just wasn’t practical. There was extra effort in pulling the trailer, but between the trail itself and the time she made on the bicycle as opposed to walking, she didn’t mind. Honey was worth it.
She loved her Ozark Mountains: the limestone bluffs, the oak, hickory, and short-needle pines, but there was something to be said for Florida, too. The trail was level, which was good, but the trees were incredible. She guessed they were live oaks, covered in Spanish moss. In places they arched over the trail, creating a green tunnel. And the lakes and waterways were everywhere. The signs warning not to swim due to alligators interested her. She wished she had more time to stop and look around, but she had somewhere to be.
The odometer on the bicycle told her she covered twenty miles before stopping at mid-afternoon to eat, and that had been at a cautious pace. She fed Honey from a bad of dog food she had liberated from the house with the trailer. Throughout the day the trail was straight and level, so the few creepers she encountered she saw from a distance. She could see them even before Honey’s whine came forward from the trailer. Marilyn spotted them before they became aware of her. After lunch, though, she did have an encounter she couldn’t avoid. A creeper stumbled out of some dense brush onto the trail right in front of her, causing her to swerve, wobble, and finally to fall. The trailer tipped and Honey jumped clear. The rotting corpse of a middle aged housewife approached Marilyn, and before she was able to bring her rifle around it was almost on her. Honey leaped on the creeper then, knocking it to the ground. Marilyn stood then and scrambled to the trailer, picked up the staff and put the creeper down with a jab of the knife. “Thanks, Honey,” Marilyn told the dog. Honey wagged her tail. Marilyn righted the trailer, looked the bike over. Everything was fine.
She stopped early in the evening. Her rear had grown a little sore from the seat and she was tired but other than that she felt good. The upcoming interstate was looming in her mind. She wanted to tackle that early in the morning, not after a long day. A good place to hole up for the night presented itself in the form of an isolated house not far off the trail. She fell asleep as the sun went down and slept through the night. As the sky just began to gray in the east she woke feeling better than she had since leaving the camp in Alabama. The full day of exercise the day before had been just what she needed.
Soon she was pedaling the trail again after a quick granola bar breakfast for her and more dog food for Honey. She started even before the sun was fully up, navigating the path in the dim pre-dawn light. She let Honey run along with her for a bit, but when the dog started lagging, Marilyn insisted she ride in the trailer. The morning passed quickly.
She smelled the interstate long before she reached it. After weeks of becoming accustomed to the smell of decay, she thought she could handle anything, but this was worse than anything she had encountered. The heat, the humidity, and the fact that there was nothing between her and the smell all combined to make her stomach roll. She tore an extra t-shirt into a single continuous strip and tied it around her head, covering her nose and mouth in layers of cloth. It didn’t really help, but she told herself it did. Honey appeared to be in bad shape, too. The dog shifted in the trailer constantly.
The trail went under the interstate. She sat back and watched for a bit. The interstate was full, as was to be expected. She watched the creepers passing, an endless stream becoming a solid mass of putrescent flesh when confined to the two bridges over the path. A few didn’t make the bridges, were forced into the median and over
the guardrail and down into the gap between. These tumbled down the southern slope, righted themselves, and made their way back up the opposite slope, fumbling their way over the guardrail on that side. There weren’t many, but definitely enough to warrant concern. She thought she could avoid them if she paid attention. She pushed off, standing on the pedals to build maximum speed, and weaved through the creepers on the path, past their outstretched hands. On the other side she stopped to look back. As she expected, the creepers on the path were staggering toward her, but what she hadn’t expected was the dead on the bridge overhead becoming aware of her. The ones nearest the edge were being pushed over by the ones behind them trying to find her. The creepers fell without a sound, eerily silent until they hit the trail or adjacent ground with a wet thud. Most didn’t stir after impact, but some still attempted to move, their feeble attempts made impossible by any number of shattered bones. She turned and rode away. Her nausea passed when she was beyond the smell, but a feeling of sickness recurred each time she remembered the falling corpses.
When she had ridden far enough away from the interstate to feel safe, she stopped and checked the map and made a decision. She chose to leave the trail. She weighed her options: winding south on small, suburban streets interspersed with country roads, trying larger roads, or there was an area labelled Green Swamp she could ride through. She chose Green Swamp with a little trepidation. Swamps worried her, but so did creepers and soldiers. In all likelihood she would be much, much safer.
The roads through the swamp proved to be fine. Her mental picture of a swamp had been based on bad movies. There were wet areas, but nothing as creepy as the landscape her imagination had built. She cut across and found a straight north-south two-lane road. One creeper greeted her at the junction of the loop road she was on and the north-south road. She wondered why there were so few creepers on this straight north-south road, but she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She guessed it to be about twenty miles through the swamp to the next major road, and that would leave her only about another fifteen miles to Lakeland. From there, she thought finding the soldiers’ base would be easy. Staying away from the soldiers might be a little harder. As she pedaled through the day, thoughts kept coming. What exactly could she do? She would be outside. Sonya and Chase would be inside. She knew this wasn’t going to be like the Chief’s compound, or like the reverend’s church. These were organized, trained people, and a lot of them. And what had Chase’s plan been? What if they couldn’t get out? He had told her to just head back to the camp, and that sounded good, but leaving her friends down here and never knowing what happened didn’t sound good at all. She had made up her mind to do something, but there was no way to know what.
After Everything Else (Book 3): Creeper Revelation Page 18