Fight to Survive

by Dave Bowman

  "This is our turf!" the guy yelled as he swung his rifle around and aimed.

  28

  The afternoon had passed quickly at the lodge. After lunch, they took an hour off to rest during the hottest part of the day. Liz had wanted to go out and leave the food by the truck for James during that time, but Mia suddenly became very talkative and wanted to show her some books she had brought with her. It was rare that Mia initiated conversation, so Liz didn’t want to ruin the chance to talk to her. She decided she could walk out to the vehicles before sunset.

  Mia had not brought children’s books that day Liz found her and she packed hurriedly. Instead, they were enormous tomes on various subjects: math, literature, history, physiology and biology.

  “Are these books from your school?” Liz asked, a little puzzled why a nine-year-old would be reading such advanced books.

  “Oh, no,” Mia said, chuckling a little. “School’s so boring. I get these from the city library. My mom’s always taking me.”

  Her face fell, remembering.

  “I mean, she always used to take me. She wanted me to read everything I could. But I had to hide them from my dad. He didn’t like me to read this kind of stuff.”

  “Why?” Liz asked, frowning.

  “He said I was a freak. That I should be a normal kid, do stuff like other kids my age.”

  Mia didn’t look up at Liz, but kept turning the pages of her physiology book.

  Liz tucked Mia’s hair behind her ear and felt a lump in her own throat. “You’re not a freak, sweetie. I’m so sorry your dad used to call you that.”

  Mia shrugged. “It’s OK. I just had to keep these books a secret. It’s nice I can read them whenever I want to now, at least.”

  Liz nodded, and looked at the picture of a white blood cell that Mia was showing her. Liz noticed that the child was sitting closer than she ever had, and it made her happy that they were slowly forming a bond.

  She forgot all about James at that point, fascinated by what Mia could tell her about the body’s immune system.

  After the down time, the three of them returned to work. They wanted to stay close to the lodge, so they began a project closer to home. They built a rough wooden compost bin, then cut down some weeds around the house. The green material went directly in the new compost heap, the first offering for what they hoped would become a rich source of nutrients for the soil.

  Finally it was time to go in and prepare dinner. The sun was getting lower, and Liz knew she’d have to go soon. She muttered a vague complaint about a stomachache, then went outside as if to use the latrine.

  Instead, she crossed the meadow at a brisk pace, then entered the woods. It didn’t take her long to make it to the small clearing with the three remaining vehicles. She opened the Dodge truck and pulled out the stash of food she had. Liz placed it all behind the front tire, just as she had told James he could find it, and tucked a note for him under the items. She hoped the food would be enough to last James until he could provide for himself.

  As the light started to fade, she nervously glanced around, then re-entered the darkening woods.

  29

  The stranger’s shots sprayed all over the driveway and truck, and Nick returned the fire.

  The shooter got hit in the shoulder and stumbled backward. Nick squeezed another shot off, and the guy fell to the ground.

  "Drive!" Nick shouted, climbing into the truck.

  Jessa sat up and started the truck, her hand shaking.

  "He's in the way!" she said as she peeled off, hurtling them toward the body lying at the intersection of the driveway and the main road.

  "Just go!" Nick shouted, positioning himself to shoot out the window.

  They bounced over the dead body on the right side, then turned onto the main road.

  Nick grimaced as he turned to look out the window.

  "Are you hurt?" Jessa cried.

  But he didn't answer, because a van with two men in it was approaching behind them.

  Jessa stepped on the gas and swerved the truck through the narrow street with the van gaining on them. The passenger in the van aimed his semi-automatic rifle out the window and started shooting at the truck. Nick returned fire, and the van quickly swerved out of the way, missing his fire.

  She turned sharply down an alley and came to a quick stop, grabbing her pistol and firing while she ducked down as low as she could. The van stopped at a short distance behind them, and the two men took cover as they shot at Nick and Jessa. Glass flew everywhere as they shot the windows and windshields out on both vehicles. Finally, Jessa hit the driver in the head, causing him to slump backward in his seat.

  The passenger hesitated a split second to look at his partner, and Nick shot him dead. The bullet went through his chest and he, too, slumped over. Nick shot them both a couple more times to make sure they were down. He quickly reloaded his weapon and indicated that Jessa do the same.

  Jessa swept her head back and forth, scanning the area for any more dangers. She noticed her tunnel vision had returned as she slid out of the truck, the broken glass falling out of her lap. The air was heavy with the sharp, acrid smells of gunpowder and blood. Her ears were ringing and she felt disoriented. She took a couple of steps, gasping for air, then bent over to vomit in the street.

  Nick moved quickly to the van with his rifle still ready, then he returned to the truck carrying the men's firearms – a rifle and a shotgun. His ears were ringing, too, and he had to yell and pantomime for Jessa to understand him.

  "We've gotta get out of here! There could be more coming!"

  He grabbed the snow removal brush he kept in the back seat and brushed all the glass out of the seats as Jessa watched, still confused and reeling. He indicated for her to get in the passenger seat. He got behind the wheel, started the engine, and took off with another flat tire and the windshield and windows broken.

  He drove quickly, keeping his eye on the rear-view mirror. He squinted through his watering eyes, expecting to see another vehicle appear at any second, but he saw nothing. No one was following them. Once he got a couple of miles away and crossed into the south side of the city, he could catch his breath a little, but he was still operating on auto-pilot. The events of the past few minutes had not yet sunk in for either of them.

  He stopped at a Walmart. The sprawling parking lot was dotted with vehicles, so he could have his pick. He weaved in between the scattered vehicles – some parked neatly in rows, and some that had collided into each other -- stopping next to a late-model Chevy Silverado.

  He got out and saw the corpse at the steering wheel. Putting on the work gloves Jessa had gotten, and tying a bandana over his nose and mouth, he lifted the dead body out of the truck. He limped back to his truck and gestured to Jessa.

  "We've got to move everything over to this one," he yelled.

  "Aren't you hurt?" Jessa asked, suddenly noticing his limp and remembering his grimace from earlier. "You got shot!"

  She looked him over, but did not see any blood, except for some surface wounds on his face and arms from the shattered glass.

  He waved away her worry. "No, no. Just twisted my ankle a little," he said with a hint of a smirk.

  They moved all their cargo over to the new truck and started it. The tank was half full. Not bad.

  Nick took one last look at his old truck, now all shot up with broken windows. He hesitated for just a moment, recalling the memories of moments he had spent with his family in that reliable old vehicle. He reached in the glove compartment box, having almost forgotten to empty it. He scooped out its contents, including a first-aid kit and a head lamp that he put around his neck for now. Then he shut the doors and climbed inside the Silverado, and Jessa did the same.

  Nick motioned for Jessa to sit still as he cleaned and bandaged the minor wounds she had on her face and arms from the shattered glass, and she did the same for him. When they were all patched up, they looked at each other, their eyes locking briefly in a moment of mutual
recognition over the horrific experience they had just gone through together. They knew they were lucky to be alive.

  There was a supermarket next door, and he pulled up to its front entrance. There was no movement anywhere in the parking lot, but the smell was awful. A combination of the sweet rot of dead people and the putrid odor of decaying food filled his lungs.

  "You wait here," he told her as they both got out, holding their guns. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

  He grabbed a shopping cart and disappeared inside the store, which had clearly already been broken into. She watched him limp inside, then scanned the parking lot and the highway beyond it, sweeping her eyes over the immense, but silent, destruction.

  Jessa’s heart was still pounding from the shooting, and she felt sick. She had to focus on her breathing to calm herself down. Still feeling dizzy and light-headed, she reached inside the Silverado for their small food stash they had transferred from Nick's truck. She drank some warm soda and ate a candy bar as she continued to scan the parking lots and remain vigilant. She was feeling cold and shaky, and she holstered her gun for a moment to pull her hoodie on, then drew the gun again right away.

  The sugar calmed her heart down a little, and she took another few deep breaths. She was starting to feel a little better. Jessa smiled a little as she remembered her grandmother, who had always suggested sweet foods to anyone feeling upset.

  You were always right, Nana, she thought. Of course, Nana had always kept homemade peanut brittle and sugar cookies in the house, instead of this packaged junk.

  She felt the cool metal of her gun in her hands. Now that they had been shot at twice in one day, she appreciated more than ever the protection it offered her. She didn't ever want to be without a gun again. A strange mixture of invincibility, guilt and regret ran through her.

  She had put Nick’s life and her own in danger by going to Chris’s house. Miraculously, neither of them had been seriously injured, but their luck could have easily been different. Her guilt over throwing them in that situation was strong. She knew it had been a risk to go to her friend’s house, but she had been possessed. She hoped Nick would forgive her for putting them in harm’s way.

  Now that she had seen Chris’s note, she knew that there was at least a possibility that he had survived. Her heart swelled, though she tried to tell herself to not get her hopes up. There was only a small possibility that he was still alive.

  In the note, Chris had written that he was leaving when the first people started dying in Santa Fe. She reckoned that was the first or second day of her Forest Service trip. So he could have left before he had started to show symptoms of the illness, and then died in Colorado. She knew the chances were slim, but she couldn’t help but keep her hope alive that Chris had survived.

  Her smile faded as her thoughts returned to the horror she and Nick had just been through. She had killed another man, bringing her casualty toll up to two. Making the decision to shoot this one had been easier than the first man, considering this one was shooting at her and Nick, and had come close to killing both of them. Even so, taking his life still troubled her deeply.

  She didn't think she would ever get used to shooting at people, but she knew it was a possibility. The thought was alarming to her. She didn't want to become habituated to the act, but she supposed she had little choice in the matter. She found herself in a strange, new world, and all the rules had changed.

  She continued to patrol the area as the minutes ticked by with Nick in the supermarket. She was anxious, and she hoped that the store was big enough that it hadn't been totally cleaned out of edible food. Most of all, she hoped that she and Nick made it home alive.

  Though her hearing still wasn’t back to normal, a faint sound startled her. It was a familiar sound from the before time -- a grocery shopping cart being pushed over the parking lot. She turned around to see Nick pushing a cart heaped over with food. He was smiling, and she felt her own face open up into a grin.

  “There’s still food!” she exclaimed, running over to see what he had found.

  “Yes, and more still inside,” he said happily. “You unload this and I’ll go get more.”

  She took the cart from him and started to unload the precious cargo, packing it efficiently in the back of the truck. She had never been so grateful to see food before. It meant they had a chance of surviving the winter.

  There were cans of meat, vegetables, soup, and fruit, and a few boxes of raisins and trail mix. Twenty-five pound bags of white rice, brown rice, pinto and black beans -- enough to feed them for weeks! When she saw the bags of fresh potatoes and onions that had not yet gone bad, she almost cried. She had gone far too long without fresh food, and she could taste the hot spuds and sauteed onions already. At the bottom was a bag of dried New Mexico chile peppers, and she smiled.

  Soon, Nick was returning with another loaded shopping cart. He pushed it over to her and turned to make another trip, but Jessa stopped him.

  “Wait!” She had to yell for him to hear her. “I can take a turn.”

  “It’s horrible in there,” he said. “You don’t want to see it. Or smell it.”

  “You’re limping,” she said. “And I should take a turn. I insist.”

  He shrugged, then pushed the empty cart to her and handed her the head lamp. She stretched the strap over her head, tied a cloth over her nose and mouth, and pushed the cart over the broken glass in the entrance.

  The stench hit her in the face as soon as she entered. Jessa tried not to breathe through her nose as she maneuvered around rotten food, broken bottles and glass, and knocked over display cases. Occasionally she came upon a dead body, twisted up in a gruesome, unnatural position and wearing an eerie grin. She doubted she’d ever get used to seeing that sight.

  The store was dark, and her head lamp illuminated only a narrow path directly in front of her. She was almost grateful her hearing was still not back to normal, because she thought she heard the faint sound of scampering mice, or other, larger animals.

  She almost regretted having volunteered to do this, but she pushed on. She wanted to eat just as much as the others, and Nick shouldn’t have to do all the dirty work.

  She imagined all the people who had passed through these aisles before her. There must have been chaos when everyone started dying, and people had tried to stock up. Some of them had apparently died trying.

  What remained of the canned food aisle had mostly been cleared out. She guessed that Nick had found the remaining few cans from the back of the shelves. On the next aisle, though, she found a few boxed meals -- instant potatoes, grits, and dried soup mixes. There were some bottles of juice and flavored drinks, and some jars of applesauce. She had to lie down on the dirty floor to reach those all the way at the back of the shelf, but she didn’t mind.

  At first glance, many of the shelves looked cleaned out, but as she got closer to some of them, she could see scattered items still remaining in the back. The store had been ransacked, but what remained would add up to a substantial amount of food to take with them.

  On the bottom shelf, all the way in the back, she found several boxes of canning salt, and she took them all. Salt would be crucial for preserving food and adding flavor.

  She moved on to the baby section, which still had some items left. Using her arm, she raked the tiny jars of pureed vegetables and fruit into the cart. They fell on top of the cardboard boxes of packaged dinners. She figured pureed peas were better than no peas.

  Next up was the meal replacement section. She grabbed the remaining cases of Ensure and protein bars. The first aid supplies were nearby. She knew Nick had most of what they needed, but she grabbed the remaining hydrogen peroxide, gauze and bandages on the shelf anyway. A few bottles of multivitamins, just in case. Arnica balm would help Nick’s sprained ankle, and it never hurt to have peppermint and tea tree oil.

  There were some personal hygiene products at home, but what would it hurt to have more? It’s not like anyone will be making t
his stuff again, she thought. She grabbed handfuls of bar soap, shampoo, dental floss, and toothbrushes. No need to slack on dental care just because the world has ended.

  She laughed a little as she saw the undisturbed makeup aisle. She moved on without further thought. She did, however, grab what was left of the lip balm and hand cream, knowing it would come in handy during the cold, dry winter.

  The pharmacy door was open, so she went in and helped herself to some large bottles of antibiotics and painkillers. There were even some snake bite kits she snatched up.

  With the shopping cart heaped over, she pushed it to the front entrance. A newspaper display caught her eye. Most of the newspapers were gone, but there was one from Santa Fe New Mexican dated September 2.

  FOUR PERCENT SURVIVAL RATE, the headline read. It was apparently the last article issued by the Associated Press. Jessa moved her eyes quickly over the article, which had clearly been written hastily. This edition of the newspaper was little more than a couple of pages of short write-ups, but she grabbed the remaining few copies. It was the only mention of the survival rate she had seen in any publication.

  And it confirmed that Mia had been right all along, she realized with a smile. She knew that Mia had been in hiding when any newspapers from that date had come out – the girl had told her that she had stayed indoors when her parents first got sick – and she wouldn't have seen it. They had a real child prodigy on their hands.

  She pushed the cart outside, relieved to fill her lungs with the fresher air outdoors.

  They were able to scavenge a few more loads of food and supplies, filling up the truck. The sun was dipping low in the blue sky, and neither of them needed to even mention the increased risk of being out after dark. Without a moment wasted, they hopped in and drove off, looking forward to leaving Santa Fe.

  Their hearing had partially returned, and they could communicate with each other a little better. As soon as they got out of the city, Jessa spoke up.