Freed of the burden of Christine, Tim and Jen slid quickly to the ground inside the dark lumberyard and did their best to meld into the shadows. They watched in terrified silence as the forms of the undead, in full flight, barreled towards them from the rear of the supermarket. No one dared to move while the wretched procession moved past the rear of the fence. After a few moments, the footfalls of the twenty or thirty fast undead faded into the distance, leaving only the sounds of many moans drifting to them in the chill night air. They started to gravitate towards one another until they were all reunited in the deep dark of the lumberyard, hiding between the shadows of stacks of two-by-fours. They held each other and worked to regulate their breathing and slow their pounding hearts.
Nearly a full minute later, the moaning of a mass of slow undead came into sight. As they watched, hidden among the bundled stacks of lumber, two large crowds of undead ambled around from both the front and the rear of the plaza. The two groups drew together in the access road beside the lumberyard, halting each others’ forward momentum. Hundreds of undead stalled a mere thirty feet from where they cowered in the shadows. Laura pressed Luna's face firmly into her bosom, hiding the toddler's eyes from the grim visage. Jen held her hand hovering just above Christine's mouth, ready to stifle any noise should it come forth from the unconscious girl. They sat like that, regulating their breathing in the cold, long into the night. Tim fell asleep rather quickly, despite the pain in his back. He slept the dreamless sleep of the exhausted. The others were too anxious to even consider laying their heads down. They hunkered down for a long and cold night, terrified that the labor pains would bring doom onto them.
As the sky in the east began to lighten, Will was nervous about what the light of day would bring. The undead are going to see us when the sun comes up, he thought. At first light he made a quick circuit around the yard, doing his best to remain out of sight. He spotted the shed and knew it might be their only chance to remain hidden. Slowly, he crept back and moved through the loose circle of sleeping forms, waking or gathering the attention of everyone. He goaded them to move cautiously towards the center of the yard, away from the fencing where the undead were gathered in a throng. They moved their way to a small sheltered booth where the yard crew met to pick orders and take their breaks. It wasn't much but the seven of them fit snugly inside, out of the elements, and more importantly, out of the sight of the undead. The size of the booth also allowed their body heat to warm it up nicely, within a half-hour people were stripping off their layers and the windows were completely fogged over.
“What are we going to do? Do you think the baby is okay?” Laura asked. “That was a serious tumble she took in the cart.”
Tim shrugged, acting disinterested. He didn't want to talk, he knew that the pain he was in would come through in his voice and the group had enough to worry about. He had slept fitfully through the night, waking every time he rolled due to the pain in his back. At first he had hoped that he had just tweaked it a bit, but when he finally woke for the day, the dull ache indicated that the problem was much bigger. He had to fight to keep the panic at bay with the prospect of fleeing from a horde of undead.
“At least she quieted down,” Jen said softly.
All of the adults, and even Sophie nodded agreement at the statement. The unconsciousness seemed to either ease the labor pains a bit, or at least quelled the girl's vocalizations of pain.
“We need to get the hell out of here as soon as we can. Head towards that town, Donner,” Will stated as he wiped the condensation from the inside of the Plexiglas window and peered intently out.
“How does it look out there?” Laura asked.
“Hard to tell, the stacks of lumber are blocking most of the view. I see movement, that's about all I can tell you,” he replied absently as he concentrated his attention at deciphering the shadows and movement in the gloomy morning mist.
It was nearly an hour later before Christine started moaning again. The sound came low and softly at first, but when her eyes started fluttering open, the volume increased. Tensions and tempers started to rise rapidly towards a boil with the seven of them cramped in the tiny booth. Every one of them wanted to scream at the girl to shut up. Laura gently stroked her forehead and as the moaning intensified, she leaned her head down to whisper to the girl, trying to shush her like a baby. After a few more minutes of moaning, Will was starting to worry he was going to snap. He had vivid flashes of smashing the girl’s head in with the folding chair sitting in the corner. Instead of festering any longer, he rose and slid out of the door without so much as a word to the others.
Once he stepped out into the chill morning mist, Will pulled his hood up low over his face both to protect himself from the rain that fell as well as in a desperate hope that it might help keep him unnoticed by the undead. The moans of hundreds of undead sounded through the air, muted slightly by the hanging moisture in the air. He nimbly climbed atop the stacks of lumber, moving in a crouch. He stepped from pile to pile, until he was nearly thirty feet in the air, high above the scene around them. He sat low atop the stack of bound wood, trying to keep out of sight, and took in the panorama that his perch afforded him. His knee ached a bit from all the activity he had been doing since they left Benoit and he rubbed it absently as he looked around the lumberyard. The mob of undead wasn't as large as it had seemed under cover of night. What had seemed like thousands of undead under cover of night was surely no more than two hundred. It was still too many to take any risks with, but he was somewhat relieved that it was not an 'end-game' number of undead. They just had to figure out exactly how they were going to get out.
Despite the dull ache in his knee, Will felt confident that if he were alone he would have little problems navigating his way around the crowd. He was grateful that the fast undead were nowhere to be seen, and hoped that they were long gone. Though he could hear Chris' moans from his vantage faintly, the undead below seemed not to notice. Not yet, he thought wryly, What happens when labor gets more intense? It's certainly not going to get easier on her.
He forced the fatalistic thoughts from his head and focused entirely on watching the undead. In all, he spent nearly a half-hour up there, watching and thinking. Mainly, though, he was enjoying the peace and quiet. Quiet was something that was in short supply, packed in a tight vehicle with six others, including two children. An idea struck him and he whipped his head around to the retail building of the lumberyard. It was a steel shed building about sixteen feet tall, sitting just off to the side of the yard. The nearest edge looked to be only ten feet or so from the nearest stacks of lumber within the yard.
*
Mark's heart sank like a stone at the sight of the girl's arm. Maybe the family was infected, his mind posited hopefully as he fought to bite back the tears of rage. She couldn't have been more than seven fucking years old! Another part of his mind screamed. You need to get Amber and get the fuck out of here. Now!
That last thought prodded him into action. He hurriedly zipped up and jogged back to the tent, crouching low. He did his best to emulate the soldiers he saw in movies dodging enemy fire, he willed himself to remain invisible as he moved through the open space between the latrine and the tent camp. He crawled into the tent and zipped the tent up behind, though the feelings of being trapped on the base translated quickly into claustrophobia inside the four-man tent. He immediately started shaking Amber, furiously.
“Huh?” she asked groggily, rolling her shoulder over to shake his hand off.
“Shhhh!” he hissed back at her.
Immediately, she sat upright, her hair flopped over the other side of her head. Her eyes fiercely locked on to his.
“What is it?” she demanded, all semblance of sleep gone from her demeanor.
“We gotta go, Am, Now!”
“What is it, Mark?”
“The fire is burning,” Mark responded, pausing for a moment in an attempt to figure out how to relay what he'd seen in the flames.
Amb
er stared holes through him as she waited for him to collect his thoughts.
“They burned the body of the little girl that came in yesterday,” he said, a frog caught in his throat as the words evoked the image.
“What the fuck?” Amber replied, her face twisting in fear and confusion.
It took a moment for the implications of the statement to settle in. Once the danger was evident she turned into a flurry of activity. She pulled on her clothes as quickly as she could while still getting her bearings.
“Was it just the girl or was it all of them?”
“Could be more, all I could see from the latrine was her little arm and the teddy bear she had.”
“What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?” Amber was chanting as she pulled her boots on over her bare feet. “How the fuck do we get out of here, Mark?”
Her voice was rising in panic and Mark remained silent. He was lost in thought. He sat, motionless, crouched down in the tent shaking his head. The reality that he was about to run out into the countryside filled with infected had him gripped with paralysis.
“Mark!” Amber hissed after waiting impatiently for a response. “I need you here, now! How long until dawn?”
“Two or three hours I'd guess,” he replied, trying to pull himself out of the spiral of fear and despair.
“Over the fence or under? Which is easier?” Amber asked, gripping him by the upper arms.
“Has to be over, the bottom of the fencing is buried, who knows how deep, or if it's anchored somehow.”
“Okay, how do we get over the razor wire quietly?”
“We don't have anything to cut it with,” Mark replied before zoning out again, lost in thought.
Amber waited as long as her minuscule amount of patience allowed her to at that moment, about four seconds, before barking at him.
“Mark!”
“Ladder,” he said at last. “Behind the Ops building, there is a ladder. It's not going to be the quietest, or the safest. The wire might still fuck us up at the top. We'll have to jump the eight or ten feet to the dark ground below once we are up there, but I can’t think of any other way.”
“Grab your pack and watch for the guards, we'll have to time it,” Amber said as she rolled her sleeping bag tightly and started affixing it to her pack.
The next few moments were a blur of terror and confusion for Mark. There was a whole lot of wasted movement as he scrambled to and fro in the tent, trying to gather his last minute needs. Finally, he realized he was accomplishing nothing, he just stood in front of his pack, staring at it with his pillow in one hand and a bag of crackers in the other. He had to force his mind to calm to prevent himself from passing out. He focused on his breathing, in-out, in-out, in-out, until finally the world came back into focus. He dropped the pillow and crackers and slung his pack on, moving next to Amber. She was peering through the mosquito netting of the side wall. As he jostled her to make room at the window, the guards came into view moving towards them from the direction of the gate. Their duty was to keep the fence clear of undead, so they didn't even as much as cast a glance towards tent-city as they moved past, within yards of it.
As soon as the soldiers moved off out of earshot, Amber unzipped the door flaps and slipped out into the cold air. Mark followed her closely, his heart hammering in his chest. She paused and looked back at him, expectantly. Reluctantly he moved in front of her and took the lead, moving towards the Ops building in a crouch. Once they moved around the back of the building they were completely blind. The structure blocked what little light the low-hanging moon cast. Mark shimmied along, sliding his feet delicately in front of him so as not to trip and fall as he moved towards where he remembered the ladder being. A loud clang of metal sounded as his foot struck the aluminum expandable ladder. His whole body clenched in terror. He waited tensely for the soldiers to emerge from the buildings around and surround them with weapons drawn. The eternity of that moment faded, leaving nothing but the silence of the base at three o'clock in the morning. He got on his hands and knees and felt around the ground, quickly finding the ladder. He crawled down along its length for a moment until he was able to gauge the approximate middle-point to lift it easily. He tugged Amber's sleeve, pulling her down to him, crouching at the side of the ladder.
“It's gonna be really loud, moving this thing,” he breathed into her ear, almost unable to hear his own voice over the sound of his heart drumming in his chest.
Amber, looking frightened, simply nodded in response.
“When I lean it against the fence, you go up immediately, don't stop, don't think about it, get to the top and jump. I'll be right behind you,” he hissed into her ear.
Again, Amber responded with a subtle nod.
“Wait until they pass again,” he said, turning his gaze to the front gate, where the guards would first emerge from the darkness into the glow of the fire while making their rounds.
The fear and anxiety were exerting a great deal of pressure on his bladder, even though he had so recently drained it. He rose to his feet and danced a little jig in an attempt to ward it off. A few minutes later, Amber tapped him on the arm. He followed her gesture as she pointed at the faint bobbing of two heads. They watched intently as the men moved off to the south and waited until they moved well past the tent-city. Mark took a few deep breaths to steady his nerves and prepare himself for the exertion of the mad dash to the fence. He looked at Amber and counted to five silently. He heaved the ladder to shoulder level. He tried to do it as quietly as possible, not an easy task with a collapsed 24' ladder. The din of the ladder settling into position jarred their nerves and it was all Mark could do to start moving forwards.
He hooked his arm through the rungs, and took off running. Three strides in and he tripped over a rock and fell face first onto the ground. He landed heavily and awkwardly on his side. The noise from the ladder was deafening and the wind blew from his lungs. Somewhere behind him he heard Amber let out a short screech followed by a disappointed sound. Without further thought, he was back on his feet hoisting the ladder into position. Then they were running again with the racket from the fall still echoing in their ears. With every footfall the ladder shuddered sending fresh clattering of noise through the deathly quiet camp.
The fence neared and Mark slowed, letting the ladder slide off his shoulder into the crook of his elbow. With all his might, he planted the front end down into the dirt and hoisted the back end up-and-over to land against the fence. For a moment the ladder snagged on the razor wire and twisted sideways. Mark started to panic. He heaved on the ladder with all his might once, again, and then a third time before it ripped free of the barb that caught it up and settled into place atop the fencing. Before he even had a chance to check its stability, Amber's weight on it yanked it from his grip. She ran up the ladder quickly and nimbly. She carefully picked her hand and footholds at the top before jumping off into the darkness on the other side of the fence. She landed with a thud and gasp, dropping into a roll and disappeared out of sight.
Mark climbed the ladder much more deliberately. His hip and shoulder were still stinging from the fall. When he got to the top of the fence, he had to shuffle his feet around to avoid a loop of razor-wire that had snaked its way through the rungs. He paused for a moment, trying desperately to see Amber in the gloom below, to no avail. A great deal of activity behind him did catch his attention though. He heard the sound of numerous sets of running footsteps converging on him from what sounded like multiple directions.
“Mark!” Amber called from below, “They are coming, you have to jump! Now!”
No sooner than the statement had left her mouth than the sound of the air raid siren cut through the night air. Mark closed his eyes and leapt out into the darkness, praying that he didn't break a leg on impact.
*
“That's your plan, Will? Really?” Jen scoffed. “You climb on the roof and lure the undead over to the far side and we run out to the car?”
Jen was
actually really excited about the plan. She thought that it would work, she just didn't want him to be the bait. He had spent the whole winter recuperating from his blown-out knee and she hadn't seen him handle anything more than a short jog since they set out. She looked repeatedly at Tim, hoping he would volunteer for the job. It only took a glance for her to see that he was hurting from something, even though he tried to hide it. She would have volunteered to do it herself but not only would she risk wounding Will's ego, but with Tim injured, she knew that someone capable needed to escort the rest to the Yukon. She argued with Will half-heartedly for a few more moments until she finally resigned to let him see his plan out.
“Okay, Will, I can't think of anything better. It seems like it could work out,” she said at length. “Just make sure that whatever wood you use to bridge that gap with is strong enough to hold you.”
Will nodded back at her as he continued detailing the plan.
“Okay, like I said, the building has an aluminum roof. I'll bang on it with a chunk of wood or something to draw them over to me. Once you hear that, start getting ready to bolt. Get to the Yukon and get back to pick me up as soon as possible. I'll come back across the bridge and try to exit the lumberyard from the same place you will exit. I may need to run from them, and with my knee. . .well, I'll be counting on you getting to me quickly,” Will finished.
Will was proud of his plan. More so, that he was proud that he was getting recognized for it and that it could help them out of a jam. He had spent the long Wisconsin winter as an invalid, watching as the others did all the work and took all the risks. This, to him, was his validation. He did his best to hide his excitement behind a stoic face, but Jen could see the fire in his eyes. The adrenaline borne of excitement was already coursing through him as he pulled his coat back on, zipping it and pulling the hood up. He turned and gave a wink to Jen.
Harvest of Ruin (Book 3): A Spring of Sorrow Page 20