by Hoaks, C. A.
“How are we getting in?” Liz asked.
Harry grinned as he reached up and pulled at one of the glass slats. It wiggled but remained in place. He reached for his handgun, turned it around and tapped gently at the edge with the butt of the gun. The glass moved. He slid his hand to the opposite side of the slat and did the same thing. When it moved, he pulled the glass from the guides. He repeated the process until a stack of glass rested at his feet.
John nudged Harry. “Give me a hand.” He held up a foot.
“That’s not going to work,” Liz chided. “Even if you could get up to the window, you’ll never get through the opening. Give me a boost.”
John looked at Harry who looked back at the narrow opening and shrugged. “You be careful.” He passed Liz a LED light. “Make damned sure the bathroom is empty before you climb down there. No looking around on your own, just get to this door and open it.”
“Yes, worry-wart,” She quipped. “I’ll be careful.”
Liz nodded, and John laced his fingers together, and she stepped into his hands. She grabbed the sides of the window and flicked the light and shined the beam around the inside of the bathroom. It was a men’s bathroom and smelled faintly of urine and toilet cleaner.
Liz ducked her head inside, fanned the light around and then whispered over her shoulder, “It’s good.” She pulled herself onto the window sill, then bent her knee to pull her left leg through the opening and lowered herself into the bathroom. Finding footing on the cabinet at the side of the sink, Liz eased her right foot down from the window and stood on the sink listening. Finally, she stuck her head out the window. “Going in. Be ready.”
“Be careful,” Harry called over the wall.
Liz slid to the floor, crossed the room and reached for the door knob. Her heart raced. She pressed her ear to the door. She had to wait until her heart rate slowed before she recognized the only sound she heard was the dripping of the faucet behind her. She took a deep breath and turned the doorknob. She looked through the narrow opening and saw a row of empty cubicles to the right. Enough light came through the front windows to see the short soft walls of each and all the personal items inside. She opened the bathroom door to a step through and out into the hall.
It was eerily quiet away from the dripping faucet when all she heard was her own breathing. She fanned the beam of light from left to right, then crossed the ten feet to the side door. She hurried to the door, and she pushed on the bar, and the door eased open.
Harry slid the last glass panel back into the window, then followed John into the building. He pulled the door closed. “Don’t shine the light toward the front windows. We don’t want anyone catching a flash of light and coming to investigate.”
“Got it,” Liz answered.
Harry moved toward the front of the building. “We clear it, get what we can, find some keys, then hunker down for the night.”
They rounded a corner and saw an infected man standing inside a glass enclosure. The man slammed bloodied hands against the glass of a teller window. John started for the door, but Harry grabbed his arm.
“No. Leave him. He can’t get out, and we don’t want evidence we were here.”
“There’s half a case of water on the counter and a handful of candy bars in there.”
“Not enough to take a chance on getting hurt,” Harry answered. “Let’s check out the rest of the building, first.”
They cleared the offices, then the repair shop. They were alone except for the infected man in the small windowed, room. He slapped his bloodied hands against the window each time they passed. On a shelf in the garage, they found a hand siphon pump and hoses. They found keys to all three company vehicles in an office near the garage.
While heading back to the office where a massive lot map with keys hung on the wall, Harry turned to John and winked. “While we decide which vehicle to take, Liz can gather supplies from the break room.”
“Fine, give the woman the stinky job,” Liz complained. “You know opening that frig is going to be disgusting.”
Harry raised an eyebrow and chuckled, “Who, us? You think we're sexist?”
Liz smirked. “Of course, you are two of the most politically incorrect people I’ve ever met. But since the world has gone to shit, and I know nothing about what you might need, I guess I’ll see what I can get out of the break room that’s salvageable.”
John clutched at his side and gave Harry a lopsided smile. “Did she insult us?” He whispered.
“Probably.” Harry laughed and turned back to Liz. “Stack it by the side door. We’ll pull one of the vehicles around to load up.”
“Got it,” she answered.
Liz walked into the break room to examine the half dozen snack machines. The smell was disgusting from the spoiled food in two. She found four cases of water beside a vending machine. When she opened a supply closet, she found boxes of snacks including meat jerky, pasta and soup cups, dried fruits, crackers and cheese, and boxes of candies and chips. She found a box of trash bag under the coffee station and began loading up supplies.
Harry and John returned to the office with the site map of campers and parking assignments. A second board turned out to be a short list of campers scheduled for pick-up within days of the attack. Three units were marked ready for pickup. Each had a keyring with the company logo with several labeled keys. After an extended debate, they chose a camper scheduled for pick-up the day of the attack hoping they would find full tanks of water and gas.
John helped Liz drags the two bags of food to the side door while Harry took a set of truck keys to the front of the office. After a quick look around, he clicked the door lock and headed for the truck with a blink of parking lights. Before he climbed behind the wheel and cranked the engine, he walked behind the truck and used a knife to break the tail lights.
Ten minutes later the truck was loaded, and the trio drove toward the back of the parking lot after placing a strip of duct tape over the door lock. Harry watched the numbers on the parking sites. He counted the numbers off under his breath as the truck drew near the back of the lot. By the time they got to the camper they had picked out, John’s breathing had been reduced to shallow puffs with every jolt of the vehicle.
“There. That one,” Liz announced.
“Good,” Harry commented. “We check it out. If it works, you take John inside, and I’ll offload the supplies then take the truck back up front.”
The unit was a class C motor home. The cab-over vehicle on a truck chassis was only eighteen feet in length. The white over tan unit was covered with a thin layer of dust. Harry pulled the pickup next to the camper door.
“Do you think we should be left with only the camper for transportation?” Liz asked.
Harry nodded. “I think it’s worth it to put the truck back where it was, to keep anyone from noticing activity here.”
Liz led John to the camper. She pulled the keys from her pocket and opened the camper door. She guided John to a bench seat, then walked to the driver’s seat and turned the ignition on. Liz turned the key, and the motor roared to life. All the gauges came to life. Harry sat a case of water on the dinette table and turned to look over Liz’s shoulder to read the gages. He glanced at a second panel and tapped the panel.
“Well?” Liz turned and asked.
“We’re even better than good. It’s great,” Harry announced. “Turn it off now.”
“I’ll help you get the supplies in. Then we need to look at John’s ribs. He’s looking bad.” Liz answered as she turned the key in the ignition.
Chapter 25
Hide Away
Della, Millie, and Darlene, with Penny in her lap, settled in the back seat while Steve watched the gate close behind the truck. Zack accelerated, and the truck pulled away.
“We need to get away from here as quickly as we can. I don’t want to be in the area if the military decides they don’t want deserters,” Steve advised.
“Since when does martial law inclu
de taking over a town and killing civilians?” Darlene asked.
“Not supposed to,” Steve answered.
Steve pulled out a map and folded it in fourths. He found Utopia on the map and traced his finger across the paper. “Thirty miles back we can catch a farm to market road, to head north toward Leakey.”
The truck passed several small side roads before Zack eased off on the accelerator and began to brake the big truck. “Don’t think we’re goin’ that way.”
Ahead on the road, an eighteen-wheeler had tried to pass a pickup and gone off a narrow bridge. The truck driver had misjudged the clearance, and the rig had ended up on its side blocking the entire bridge.
“Backup,” Steve ordered. “Careful, man.”
Zack slipped the gear shift into reverse and swung his arm over the seat to look through the back window. He eased off the brake and accelerated. The truck strayed from side to side as Zack backed down the road. “I’m not good at this.”
“Doing fine. Ease up on the accelerator just a little, and you’ll stop having to overcorrect,” Steve advised.
“Got it.” Zack slowed.
“Look!” Della shouted. “In the distance at the top of that hill.”
A string of motorcycles crested the distant rise and raced down the blacktop toward them. Steve pulled a pair of binoculars to his face and studied the riders.
“Quick. Back up to the side road, get the truck off the road, Zack.”
“We don’ have time.”
“They’ll have to get past that accident. Hopefully, they didn’t see us.”
“What did you see?” asked Della.
“Looks like a rough bunch of bikers with a military vehicle leading the way. After what we saw in Utopia, we can’t take a chance.”
Darlene clutched at her daughter. “Please hurry.”
Zack waved his hand. “Working on it, Ms. Darlene.” He accelerated and again the vehicle swerved from time to time.
“There. On the right.” Steve pointed to a gravel road.
The truck sped past the intersection, then Zack slammed on the brakes. The truck skidded on loose gravel at the edge of the blacktop. Amid startled yelps, the vehicle swayed to a stop. Zack slammed the gearshift into drive, whipped the truck around and accelerated down the gravel road. He followed the curve of the road out of sight of the intersection.
“Stop!” Steve ordered. “Turn off the engine.”
Zack slammed on the brakes and turned off the truck. The only sound was the ticking of the cooling engine. Zac opened all four windows after a signal from Steve. Everyone turned to watch the dust settle. A few minutes later they heard the sound of the approaching motorcycles from behind the stand of trees at the edge of the road.
“Did they see us?” Della asked.
“We’ll know soon enough,” Steve answered as he looked back, hesitated, then ordered, “Real slow, pull off to the left under that oak tree and behind the brush.”
Zack did as he was told, but Della interrupted. “Why are we stopping?”
“We need to know which way they go,” Steve announced. He started to exit the truck, but Della caught his arm.
“You can’t do that. Your legs are not healed. You’ll be crawling before you get a hundred feet.” Steve opened his mouth to protest, but Della rested her hand on his shoulder. “If we have to know, I can go back, but you can’t. You have to let us help.” She took a breath, then continued, “Besides, what difference does it make? If they head into Utopia, we can do nothing about it. If they saw us, we need to be gone.”
Steve hesitated, then answered, “You’re right.” He eased the door closed and slid back in the passenger seat of the truck. “Let’s move, Zack. Slow and easy. Try to keep the wheels on the center and side of the road where there’s more grass and gravel. It’ll kick up less dust.”
Zack guided the truck down a narrow dirt road. When the road veered to the south, Steve directed them to a fire road heading north.
“Are you sure?” Della protested. “This doesn’t look like much of a road.”
“It’s a fire road. They go through the canyons and should take us past some really sparsely populated areas.”
Darlene leaned toward the front seat. “Do we have enough gas?”
“We picked up two five gallon cans in Utopia, and they’re stowed in back,” Steve answered. “Zack and I picked up a few extra supplies. Since we’re going to head northwest, I think we can avoid populated areas, at least for a while.”
Della nodded. “As long as we’re away from here.”
Darlene reached out to cover Millie’s wrinkled hand. “I think it’s a good idea. It seems the best of humanity is not the only survivors. “
Zack chimed in, “You got that right, between the military and now those bikers.”
Steve agreed as he wiped moisture from his flushed face. “Legitimate military wouldn’t have taken control by killing people. I think the residents of Utopia are in for a rough time.”
Time passed slowly as they followed the private fire roads through the rock-strewn canyons and wooded valleys. Penny pointed at deer grazing along the road. She laughed at Zack when he started singing nursery rhymes for Penny and soon they were all singing together. When she grew tired, she settled in Darlene’s arms and napped while the adults each worried about their future.
It was during those quiet times that Millie started talking about life without modern conveniences. “You know, I come from sharecroppers, my people were poor, dirt poor. You folks too young to know how poor that is,” She cackled at her comment, then continued. “When I was a child, my folks trappped and cleaned squirrels, rabbits, possum, and raccoon. You name it, and my mamma could make it for dinner.” She chuckled. “We was so poor, I didn’t use commode until I was near thirty years old.”
“What’s a commode, Granny Millie?” Penny asked.
Zack jumped into the conversation. “The porcelain king, the loo, the can, the toilet.”
Penny giggled. “The potty.” She turned to Millie and whispered. “What did you do?”
Millie made a guffawing sound that filled the cab. “Why, an outhouse, child.”
Penny was quiet for a moment then asked. “What’s an outhouse?”
Amid the chuckled that followed, Della suggested. “Maybe it’s time to stop for a few minutes.”
They stopped to rest and eat. After a quick trip to the bushes, they piled back in the truck. While stopped they all listened for the sound of motorcycles in the distance and looked over their shoulders.
Late that afternoon and several hours after passing Garner State Park, Zack tried to flex his wide shoulders and asked, “Are we going to stop tonight? It’s getting late.”
Steve answered, “I know we’re all tired. If I read this map right, we should be coming to a farm to market road in the next couple miles. Turn left, and we’ll be going west again. In that area, we should see a few small campgrounds and maybe a hunting cabin or two. The first place we come to, we’ll check it out.”
They drove by deserted vehicles, and a couple abandoned building with infected still roaming around the property. They saw half a dozen buildings in the distance, but no one seemed to want to explore it. When Zack pointed toward a ranch, Steve frowned. “Too close to the road. Too many abandoned vehicles. There could be infected around.”
The pickup weaved around yet another abandoned vehicle while the light quickly began to fade and the sun dipped below the rim of a distant tree-covered ridge. A glimmer of light flashed in the distance. Steve raised his binoculars and saw a small cabin on a high hill nestled in a stand of trees. They neared a gravel road that turned to the right and disappeared into the trees line.
Zack stopped the truck. “Well, what do you think?”
“It would be off the beaten path, for sure,” Steve answered. “Let’s try it.”
They turned onto the dirt road heading into a corpse of trees. The path climbed the side of a hill. The further they drove, the steeper the
slope was at the edge of the road and the narrower the path grew.
Della sat up in the seat and whispered to Steve, “Are you sure about this?”
“No, but there’s no place to turn around right now,” Steve answered. “Keep going, Zack.”
They crept over deep ruts and washes, then the path widened at a cattle pen and shed.
Zack eased the truck to a stop. “What now? It looks like the wrong road.”
“No. I see the cabin through those trees. I think the road loops around the shed. Wait here.” Ignoring Della’s silent protest, Steve stepped out of the truck and followed the path to the back of the shed. He disappeared for a few moments, then came back, “We’re still going in the right direction. I can see the cabin. It looks pretty narrow ahead, but if we get beyond there, the cabin is right ahead. Let me check it out.” He retraced the narrow path to the back of the shed and around a stand of trees. Ahead he could see the hunting cabin. It was a narrow trail that looked to be used by four-wheeled ATVs in the past, but nothing recently. He limped farther down the track and saw an open yard in front of the cabin. On the way back he rolled half a dozen large rocks to the side of the trail. Covered in a film of moisture, he wobbled back to the truck and climbed inside.
He announced, “It’s narrow but doable. Around the back of the shed, head up the trail.”
Zack did as directed. When he pulled around the shed, he slammed on the breaks. “That’s not wide enough!” He stared at the trail with the sharp drop off to the left and the steep rise of dirt and brush to the right. “I can’t do this. We’ll go over.”
Steve placed his hand on Zack’s shoulder. “You can do this. Just keep your left tire on the trail. The slope on the inside is gentle enough that you can drive on it. It’ll tilt the truck, but the tires are big enough to climb over a few rocks at the side of the road. The trail widens just beyond there.”
“You can do this Zack,” Della echoed.