by TW Gallier
At the same time, Sean leaned out his window and started firing at the men behind the cars. Then others in back cut holes above them, stood up, and opened fire with SAWs, M-4, and… 40mm grenades.
Ka-boom! Ka-boom! Ka-boom!
Our grenadiers popped off round after round at both the men above and the men behind the roadblock. I gave it a little gas and aimed for the pickup blocking our path. There was a man in the pickup's driver's seat, shooting what looked like a bolt action rifle. Sean turned him into a bloody mess posthaste. Bodies rained down from above as we passed under that overhead ramp.
"Prepare for impact!" Jenny cried into the back.
I was only going 10 MPH, but the collision rattled that 5-ton. But I didn't hesitate. I floored it and started pushing that pickup down the road. Turning the wheel, I was able to make it roll away to the right. And then we slowly picked up speed, while the men and women in back continued to fire at the roadblock.
"Cease fire," Sean called. "Well done, everyone. Was anyone hurt?"
"Nothing serious," Leslie said. "Two of us were grazed by bullets, Timmy was burned by a hot brass, and there are a lot of small holes in the bed and canvas, but we're good."
Jenny immediately crawled back to check on our son. I held the steering wheel tightly, while my body shook with the excess adrenaline still surging through my body. Downtown Dayton appeared to our right as we crossed a river, but I was too busy looking ahead for more roadblocks to check it out. What I noticed was all brown and beige.
We crossed that river several times in quick succession. Or maybe it was more than one river. I couldn't tell, and didn't really care. Just finding the path of least resistance through the carnage on the highway was taxing my mental capabilities.
"This road is too cluttered," I said, slowly forcing two cars apart to make room to pass. Thank God we had such a big, powerful truck. "I don't think those dicks ever let anyone pass through before us."
"Yeah. They didn't exactly let us pass through," Sean said.
"Bet they shit their britches," Mike said from the back.
That happy thought allowed me to finally relax a little. Jenny returned a few moments later, and her presence helped to calm me further. She'd always had a good effect on me; at least that's what my mother always said.
"Timmy has a minor first degree burn from a piece of brass going down his shirt," she said. "The poor thing's in pain, but he's taking it like a man. You'd be proud."
"Yeah, he's a good kid."
We passed through another cloverleaf without incident north of Dayton. And then spotted Dayton's airport off to our right.
"Do you think the Rough Riders can use that as a fueling station if they get any helicopters flying?" Jenny asked.
"Probably," Sean said. "But this is pretty close to Cincinnati, so I doubt they'd need to land there. More likely they've already come up here and taken all of the aircraft fuel. But you never know."
"Call me paranoid, but I'd feel better if we had someone in back stick their head up through a hole and keep an eye out of helicopters," I said. "Maybe have them pull watch in short shifts since the wind will burn them at this speed."
Past the airport the road cleared considerably again. I was able to crank it up to above 50 MPH for short stretches. My new goal was to make it to Toledo by noon.
Charlie took first watch. He stood right behind us, in the hole Vince cut to shoot at the road blockers. They swapped out every fifteen minutes, with Jake replacing Charlie. Vince, Mike, and Kate took shifts, as well as the four new women.
We passed through Sidney, Lima, Findley, and Bowling Green without being challenged. It was flat, flat, flat, farmland and some small patches of woods. That landscape made me wonder if Ohio was part of the Great Plains.
I only saw a few zombies, mostly in small groups poking through wreckage. No other survivors were spotted, but I did notice smoke from small fires or chimneys in the country. It was almost 1 PM by the time we reached the outskirts of Toledo.
"Airplane!" Ally was on watch. She dropped to a crouch behind us and pointed forward. "See it? Just above the horizon."
I spotted it. It was just a speck, but slowly growing larger. We'd never seen the soldiers back at the airfield use fixed wing aircraft before. Keeping my foot on the gas, and my eyes on that plane, we continued northward up I-75. It didn't take long before it passed above us.
Ally was standing and watching it at that time, as were Mike, Charlie, and Terrel. The plane made no hostile move towards us. It neither dropped closer nor turned around to check us out further. It just continued on southward.
"It's Canadian Air Force," Terrel said.
"In such a small plane?" I asked.
"It's probably a surveillance plane," he said. "But I saw the red maple leaf in white, surrounded by a circle of blue. Canadian Air Force."
"So they know we're coming," Sean said. "I don't know if that is good or not, but probably not."
"Do we want to stop here and look for a marina?" Jenny asked. "We'll need to get a city map if we do."
I was about to voice my opposition to continuing across the water when Ally cried out.
"Helicopter!" She dropped back down and leaned into the cab. "It looks bigger than the ones back in Cincinnati, and it's painted gray."
"It's Canadian," Mike shouted. "I see their maple leaf emblem."
"If it's a Canadian helicopter this far south, then it has to be navy," Sean said. "There are probably Canadian ships off shore watching for anyone trying to cross over by water."
"That sucks greasy donkey balls," Jenny said, surprising me. She grinned at me. "I can talk dirty, too."
"I vote Toledo is a bust, and we continue on to Detroit," I said. I squeezed her thigh. "It's only another hour or two away."
"Detroit it is," Sean said. "Let's get the hell out of here."
Chapter 24
Roger
I continued up I-75, despite spotting several helicopters and fixed-wing aircraft flying over us. The Canadians weren't firing at us, so that had to be a good sign.
The terrain was flat farmland again. We passed by several small towns without issue. We were coming up to a small river flowing under the highway. I saw the first signs of residential subdivisions and retail, though mostly just signs saying they were up ahead.
"This is Rockwood," Jenny said.
"Not Detroit?" I asked.
"Map says Rockwood," she said. "But it's a suburb of Detroit, so we're there. Now what?"
"How much fuel do we have?" Sean asked.
"Quarter tank."
He pointed at a pair of tractor-trailer rigs pulled over to the side and abandoned on the southbound side. They were on the other side of the river, atop an overpass. I could see gas stations and a 7-Eleven on the road passing under the highway. Housing subdivisions spread out on either side of the highway.
"Let's top off," Sean said. "I don't see zombies, or any other threat to stop us."
"I haven't seen a zombie since Toledo," Jenny said. "If they're all heading south, then what's to keep us from just homesteading up here in Michigan?"
"Lack of civilization and shit like electricity," I said.
"Ah, electricity. You know that's just an urban myth, don't you?"
"Feels that way after all this time," I replied, though she had me smiling. "You're in a good mood."
"Hey, Canada, Oh Canada is just a couple miles away, baby," she said. "By the way, you do realize what you so casually referred to as 'all this time' has only been thirty days."
"What?" Sean asked. "Thirty days from what?"
"Since the end of the world," she said. "Fred's watch gives the date, and I noticed it during our last bathroom stop. This is day thirty of the apocalypse."
That stunned me. It felt like a lifetime. Yet, I can remember that terrible morning in Washington, DC like it was yesterday.
"Wow," was all I could say.
"Yet Roger smells like it's been six months," Sean said.
"What? Are you in a good mood, too?" I asked. I lifted my foot off the accelerator and the truck began to slow. I applied the brakes lightly to stop us next to our refueling station on wheels. "What the hell, I can do good mood." I pointed at the gas station signs. "I'll send Mike and Charlie over to pick up a city map."
"Helicopter!" Vince shouted. "Coming up from the southeast fast and low."
All of a sudden bullets hit the road to our right.
"Get out of the truck!" I cried, slamming on the brakes. "Take cover under the bridge."
We bailed out of the cab. I heard them scrambling out the back of the truck while I rushed to help. The children were handed down to me and Jenny, while Sean and Vince returned fire.
"Don't shoot at the Canadians," Jenny said. "They'll never let us in."
"They're shooting at us," Vince said.
The helicopter banked hard left and flew away. I knew they'd be on the radio calling for backup. Hell, they were probably all outraged that we had the audacity to shoot back.
Once all of the children were out, Jenny and the women helped them over the concrete median barriers. The men and childless women covered them as we all quickly moved across the southbound lanes, and then down under the bridge.
No sooner than we were safely tucked under the bridge than I heard the thump, thump, thump of the helicopter. It sounded like it was directly above us and hovering. Then they spoke to us though a loudspeaker.
"AMERICA IS UNDER QUARANTINE. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO ENTER CANADA. THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING."
Then they opened fire all around the bridge. We were safe under the thick concrete of the bridge, but it scared the hell out of everyone. A moment later the helicopter flew away.
"Does everyone have their personal weapon?" Sean asked.
"No," Brett said.
A few of the others left theirs behind, too. Sean shook his head woefully, but I half-expected it. They weren't soldiers. Besides, we needed that truck to get the hell out of there.
"Mike. Charlie. You're with me," I said. "You're going to cover me while I check out the truck. Let's go."
I didn't give anyone time to think about it. Jenny would object to me putting myself in danger again. But I was the driver, so the truck was my responsibility. Mike and Charlie just didn't like being left out of the party. We moved before anyone could say anything, and were crouching behind the concrete barriers in nothing flat.
There was a pair of older homes just to the west of us. Beyond them were two businesses, which I assumed were both gas stations. The Speedway was definitely a gas station. Across from the gas station were some older wood-frame homes. Behind them was a newer residential subdivision.
We crept up to the barrier at the edge of the highway and peeked over. It looked like a battle site.
"That doesn't look good," Charlie said.
Thick steam was billowing out of our truck's engine compartment. I took the time to cuss like a sailor under my breath. We checked out the road and sky. Clear.
"Cover me," I whispered, and vaulted over the barrier.
The truck was on the northbound side, and we were on the other side of the southbound side. I checked the first of two tractor-trailer rigs since we needed to top off our truck before leaving. It was shot to hell, and the fuel tanks were hit and empty. So I rushed over to the other. Its tanks were intact, even though it was shot up pretty badly, too. My best estimate was half-full. Then I turned my attention to our 5-ton. All of the cab's windows were shattered and the driver's door hung on a single hinge. The canvas covering the cargo bed was tattered by the gunfire. I spotted two flat tires just on my side of the truck. Oh, the steam wasn't billowing out as badly now, but it looked bad.
Over the center barrier I went, keeping low as I moved up to the engine. I opened it up to find the radiator and other parts severely damaged. That truck wasn't going anywhere.
"Dammit, that was unnecessary," I grumbled, scowling up at the empty sky.
Going around back, I slipped up inside. A lot of our stuff was damaged. I quickly removed our packs, each with food and ammo inside. Then I went over the north side barrier.
"Sean, let's get a line going to move our shit down under the bridge."
"Ah, fuck," he said. "Okay. It's bucket brigade time, boys and girls."
Sean setup at the edge of the road, while I anchored the line behind the truck. I started tossing the packs one by one to Brett, who tossed them to Fred, and so on until they reached Kate under the bridge. She and Haley then stacked everything neatly. It didn't take long to empty that truck.
While Mike and Charlie remained above on guard, the rest of use went through the weapons, ammo, and other supplies as quickly as possible. Anything damaged was tossed in a rubbish pile. We ensured everyone twelve and above had a weapon, and put as much ammo in our packs as we could endure carrying. The children had small packs, too, but we only put the lightest foodstuffs in their packs. We discarded all extra clothing, bedding, and camping equipment. Bottles of water were distributed to all packs. The plastic bottles could be reused over and over as we found sources of clean water.
"We hear ground vehicles heading this way," Charlie called down. "Time to get out of here."
There was no way of knowing if the vehicles carried soldiers or survivors. We couldn't take a chance with either in that dog-eat-dog world. So I put Mike on point and told him to head for the Speedway gas station west of the highway. There were trees to cover us. Mothers gathered their children around them, and the rest of us protected them.
We found the Rockwood business was a restaurant, and the Speedway was burned to the ground. I took Mike and Charlie to scavenge through the ruins, and we lucked upon two city maps in reasonable condition. So we crossed Huron River Drive and melted into the homes to the north.
A pair of fighter jets flying nape of the earth flew overhead. We didn't hear them until they were already past us, and it was a shocking booming sound. Scared the crap out of me.
"Stay close to the houses. Be prepared to smash your way into them if need be," I called.
Jenny and the kids were right behind me. The other children were separated by men and women to protect them. Sean wisely didn't want all the mothers and children bunched together. Sean and Charlie brought up the rear.
The sound of multiple vehicles grew closer.
I was torn between finding a house to hide inside and continuing northward. The sound of jets off in the distance distracted me. Were the Canadians hunting us? That seemed awful proactive on their part.
"I think they just turned into this subdivision," Sean called. "Find us a house to hide inside."
Hand tight on my rifle, signaled for Mike to come back to us. Then we led the group to a two-story home halfway down a street. Nothing to make it standout. The house looked completely intact. None of its windows or doors were smashed in. I led the way to the backyard, and then kicked in the back door. Mike checked to ensure the doors were locked while I helped the others to settle in quietly.
"Are we going to be all right?" Spooky asked, her eyes huge.
Seeing a child, now my child, that frightened is heartbreaking. I hugged her and did my best to reassure her we were safe.
"Don't worry, baby. I'll always have your back," I said.
"Roger," Sean called, waving for me to join him by the front door. Mike was in the dining room to his left, covertly watching through the window. Charlie was on the other side of the house doing the same. When I joined him, Sean pointed at Mike. "Can you take Mike and go check out who those guys are? We need to know who we're facing."
"No problem," I said. "Come on, Mike. You get to show off all those scouting skills you are so proud of."
"Oh man, you are going to be so impressed."
We hurried out the back door, right past Jenny. She looked astonished when I went out the door, Mike behind me. I heard her call to Sean. She was his problem for the moment, and I had no doubt she was going to give him a piece of her mind, but I was going to be in t
rouble upon my return, too.
Chapter 25
Roger
We paused to listen in the backyard. Once we knew what direction to go, I let Mike lead. He led me over fences, through backyards, and between houses at a remarkable speed. I kept up just fine, and realized all of the wives and children were in great shape, too, after all we've been through.
We didn't have to go too far before reaching Olmstead Road.
"And we have Canadians," Mike said. "Paranoid mothers, aren't they?"
The Canadian soldiers were in full CBRN warfare mode. Their faces were covered with gas masks, and they wore their protective suits and gloves, too. Those bastards were really worried about transmitting the "infection" to their country.
"That sucks," I said. "You know what this means?"
"They're pussies?"
"No, though funny," I said. "If they are that paranoid, then we cannot go to Canada. Even if we can sneak across the border, they will be on the lookout for any stray Americans. We'll be rounded up and deported back here, if we're lucky. They might just imprison us all."
"That's not going to go over well with the others," Mike said. "Hell, I was kind of liking the idea of living up north, too."
"We might have to find us a place in the ole US of A."
Just saying it gave me a cold, sinking feeling inside. I honestly didn't think we could sneak everyone across the Rockies into the western US. Mike, Charlie, and I barely got out and they were still setting up their defenses. The Army had enough time to create a new "Iron Curtain" across the country.
"I was thinking the same thing," he said. "Outlaw soldiers to the south want us dead, while the Canadians in front of us and the Americans to the west will shoot us on sight." He shrugged. "Life sucks and then you die."
"You are such an optimist," I said. I watched the Canadian soldiers turn around and behind heading back south toward their vehicles. "I think they're giving up."