The Passenger (Surviving the Dead)

by James Cook

  “I understand there are emergency supply caches here, correct?” Ethan asked.

  “Yes, but that’s not what I’m worried about. This town isn’t safe anymore, not without the gate intact or…”

  Or the other two-hundred people who used to live here. “Is there a fallback point or an emergency shelter you can use for the time being?”

  “The roof of the main barracks is the safest spot in town. We could shelter there for a few days, but we won’t be able to stay for long. As soon as word gets out about what happened here, every raider for miles is going to come running. There’s still a lot of weapons, ammo, and food stashed around here. It’ll be a free-for-all. We don’t want to be here when that happens.”

  Ethan nodded. “Maybe I can help with that. Give me a few minutes, I’ll be right back.”

  Back on the roof, he powered up his radio and hailed FOB Harkin. The same bored private answered, but didn’t give him any grief this time before fetching Colonel Lanning.

  “Sergeant Thompson, what can I do for you?”

  “Broken Bridge has been overrun sir.”

  There was a long silence. “What happened?”

  Ethan related the events of the previous day: finding Alan dying on a rooftop, exploring the ruined town, and the plight of the few survivors. He also explained about the madman leading the horde around, and his theory that Broken Bridge’s fate had been the same to befall the other towns that had gone dark. When he finished, he had to wait a long time for Lanning to respond.

  “That’s a hell of a mess you got there, Sergeant,” he said, finally.

  “Yes sir, it is. My immediate concern is for the survivors. Most of them are children. I know our resources are stretched thin, but we can’t just leave them here.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it. As it happens, we have some extra air assets on hand, as well as two companies from the 82nd Airborne. They’re here en route to Fort Bragg, just got done handling some unpleasant business up in Kentucky. I can have two Chinooks on their way to you within the hour. How many men do you need?”

  Ethan thought about it for a moment. In addition to escorting these people to safety, he wanted to move their supplies and equipment along with them. The two Chinooks could handle that, but it would take a long time and require a lot of hard work. He said as much to Colonel Lanning.

  “Is Broken Bridge still viable?” Lanning asked.

  “What do you mean, sir?”

  “Are the defenses still intact? Can people still live there?”

  “For the most part, yes. The problem is the main gate; it’s completely destroyed. That, and all the dead bodies.”

  “Not a problem. I can have a Facilitator and a construction crew there within forty-eight hours. Best case, they’ll have that gate good as new in no time, and at worst, they’ll just wall it up until we can send a team of engineers. Central has been looking for a place to put an FOB out that way for months now. If those folks are agreeable, we might have just found our site.”

  Ethan was surprised; he hadn’t expected to get that much help. But he couldn’t deny it was a good idea. “I’ll ask them, sir. Something tells me they won’t turn you down.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  After a quick conversation with Alicia, he got the authorization he needed. The relief on Alicia’s face made Ethan’s chest hurt. He relayed the information to Lanning.

  “Excellent,” the Colonel said. “I’ll get the Chinooks in the air ASAP with as many men as they can carry. They’ll be under orders to get to work straightaway cleaning out the dead and repairing the main gate. I’ll radio Central and let them know what’s going on. You need me to contact Lieutenant Jonas and fill him in for you, Sergeant?”

  “That would be helpful sir. One thing though, I can’t hang around to wait for reinforcements.”

  “Why not?”

  “The horde that destroyed this place is on the move, sir. The man leading it is still out there, and I have reason to believe he may try to do something like this again.”

  Another silence. “That’s a good point. What do you want to do about it?”

  Ethan relaxed a little. He’d half expected Lanning to order him to return to his unit, and dispatch an attack helicopter to find the horde and disperse it. Which honestly wasn’t a bad idea, but the more pressing matter was finding the man responsible for destroying Broken Bridge. The twice-dead corpses outside the gate had once been good people, and they deserved justice. Their children deserved justice. Ethan planned to make sure they got it.

  “That horde isn’t getting any closer,” he said. “We need to go after it and find out where it’s headed. If we find the horde, we can find the person responsible for what happened here.”

  “You need air support?”

  “Not yet. If our man spots a helicopter, he might get spooked and go to ground. If that happens, we’ll never find him. For now, it’s best if he doesn’t know we’re on to him.”

  “Makes sense to me. What about the survivors? Is someone in charge there?”

  “Yes sir, a woman. Her name is Alicia Meyer. Average height, medium build, Caucasian, late thirties to early forties, dark hair. She and one other adult are looking after the children.”

  “Very well, I’ll pass along the description. I assume you’ll be moving out after the horde.”

  “Yes sir. Just as soon as I’m off the line with you.”

  “All right then, Sergeant. Watch your ass out there. Get your men back in one piece.”

  “I’ll do my best, sir. Talk to you soon.”

  *****

  Alicia waited with Zeb while Ethan and his men removed the corpses from the main barracks, swept aside the severed body parts, and washed Alan’s blood and brains off the roof. They knew the children had probably seen their share of gruesome things, but still, the soldiers wanted to spare them as much horror as they could, even if only to make themselves feel better about leaving them behind.

  Once the survivors had settled in on the roof, Ethan gave Alicia a smoke flare. “The helicopters will be coming in from the northeast,” he said. “When they get close, pop this flare and throw it on the rooftop next door. They’ll most likely set down outside the main gate, but you want them to see your location from the sky. When they approach, have everyone keep their weapons out of sight. These guys just got back from a combat mission, so they’re probably jumpy. Some of them might react badly if you guys show up armed.”

  Alicia nodded and looked down, turning the flare over in her hands. She had black circles under her eyes and congealed blood in her hair. It was all Ethan could do not to wrinkle his nose at the smell, but still he had to fight the urge to put his arms around her.

  “Thank you, Sergeant,” she said. “For everything.”

  The sunrise cut through her blue eyes as she looked up, translucent irises glittering like flecks of ice. Ethan forced a smile. “It’s the least I could do. Good luck, ma’am.” With that, he turned and climbed down the ladder. His men followed.

  Zeb and his men rode a circle around town trying to pick up the horde’s trail. It didn’t take them very long; the swarm had flattened a massive swath of undergrowth along an old gravel farm road. Hedges rode back and found Ethan near the main gate.

  “Looks like they’re headed north,” he said, swinging down from the saddle.

  “Any towns out that way?” Ethan replied.

  “There’s a couple of small camps used by runners and a trading post off the highway, but the nearest town is Steel City.”

  “How far?”

  “About twenty miles. You think that’s where our man is headed?

  Ethan rubbed a hand along the back of his neck and let out a sigh. “Could be. We’ll worry about that later. For now, we need to follow this trail and try to get ahead of him.”

  Hedges nodded. “All right. I’ll go round up the others and grab some supplies, then we’ll get going.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  They followed
the trail for a few miles until they came upon a set of railroad tracks running parallel to the road. Zeb asked everyone to stay put for a few minutes, then rode out to scout the way ahead. When he returned, he was urging his mount at a canter and practically jumping in his saddle.

  “I know these tracks,” he said. “Used ‘em last year to escort a caravan from Broken Bridge to Steel City. Can’t believe I forgot about it. If the horde is headed for Steel City, we can use these tracks to get ahead of it.”

  “You sure?” Ethan asked.

  “Yep. It’s a straight shot, all the bridges are intact, and it’ll spit us out less than a mile south of town. We can pick up the highway there, and be at the gates before sundown if we hurry.”

  Ethan turned to his men. “Cole, mark this location on GPS, upload it to the tablet, and radio FOB Harkin. Hicks, find us a spot to cache our gear. We’re traveling light from here on out—water, weapons, and ammo only. Leave everything else behind except the comms gear. We can come back for it later.”

  Zeb nodded his approval and swung down from the saddle. “Mike, Chris, we need to muffle the horses hooves. They’re going to be loud as hell on those rail ties. If that horde comes near, I don’t want them to hear us.” He reached into a saddlebag, pulled out a blanket, and began cutting it into squares. Hedges and Michael did the same until they had four squares each, then they wrapped the material around the horses’ hooves and tied them off at the ankles.

  Ethan and his men returned from caching their packs to find the others mounted up and ready to go. They set a brisk pace, the horses plodding ahead at a slow trot and the four soldiers moving double-time. After five miles, Cole—being the biggest of them by far—began to show signs of fatigue. His massive strength, an advantage in almost every other situation, turned out to be a liability now that speed was their primary concern. All that muscle was useful, but required lots of oxygen. He began to lag farther and farther behind until Ethan finally asked Zeb to slow down.

  “Y’all go on ahead,” Cole huffed, sweating profusely. “I’ll catch up.”

  “No can do,” Ethan replied. “We go together, or we don’t go at all. Can you keep up a brisk walk?” Cole ground his teeth and nodded.

  They carried on at a slower pace for a few hours. The sun arced through the sky overhead, tracing its path toward evening. They stopped only once to water the horses and wolf down a quick meal. Zeb was obviously frustrated they weren’t making better time, but as it turned out, slowing down worked to their advantage. Just after crossing a short trestle over a creek, Hicks tapped Ethan on the shoulder. “Hey boss.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Look over there.”

  He craned his head, saw what Hicks was pointing at, and nearly tripped over his own feet.

  “Holy shit.”

  Hicks grunted.

  “Zeb,” he hissed, pitching his voice low. The lawman kept riding.

  “Zeb.” Sharper this time.

  He stopped and turned around in the saddle, his expression irritated. “What?”

  Ethan stabbed a finger to his left three times, and then placed it over his lips. Zeb bent down to peer below a few branches obstructing his view, saw what Ethan was gesturing at, and went still. The color drained from his face.

  “Dear God,” he whispered.

  Parallel to the tracks, maybe two-hundred yards down the gently sloping valley, was the horde.

  Ethan guessed there had to be over a thousand of them, weaving, stumbling, and lurching through the forest. Distantly, he heard a faint clacking sound.

  “You hear that?” he whispered.

  Hicks nodded. “Yep. Sounds like somebody hittin’ sticks together.”

  Realizing what that meant, Ethan raised an arm and waved to Holland. For once, the diminutive soldier didn’t roll his eyes as he came over.

  “You hear that noise?” Ethan asked when he was close.

  “Yeah. What the hell is it?”

  “I think it’s him.”

  “Our guy? The fuckin’ pied piper?”

  “Yeah.”

  Hicks raised his rifle and peered through the optics. “You want me to go kill ‘im?”

  He whispered it casually, as if offering a drink of water. The certainty in his voice, the utter confidence he could do it, sent a shiver up Ethan’s spine.

  “No. Not yet,” he said. “If we kill him here, we still have the horde to contend with. We need to get to Steel City first. We can’t handle all these ghouls by ourselves. We need help.”

  “So let us follow him,” Holland said. “Me and Hicks. We’ll keep eyes on him. You and Cole get to Steel City and warn the people there. We can radio updates as we go.”

  Ethan nodded. “Good thinking. Just be careful, you hear? Stay out of sight. Do not, I repeat, do not fucking engage. Just keep me updated on his position. I’ll radio back with a plan once we reach Steel City.”

  Holland was skeptical. “You really think they’re gonna help?”

  “I can’t be sure, but Zeb seems convinced. He’s been right so far, so that’s what we’re going with.”

  “No worries bossman,” Hicks said, checking his rifle and switching out the batteries in his NVGs. “We’ll keep you in the loop. Just do the same for us. Fair enough?”

  “Fair enough.”

  The woodsman and the sharpshooter split up and headed out after the horde. Hicks turned north while Holland swung around to the south. In less than twenty yards, they melted into the foliage and Ethan lost sight of them. Glad those two are on our side.

  He turned to find the others staring at him.

  “You sure about this?” Zeb asked, jerking his head toward the horde. “Seems like your men are taking a hell of a risk.”

  “They’ll be fine,” Ethan replied. “We’re soldiers. This is what we do.”

  EIGHTEEN

  Now that I knew his name—even though he had no idea I was rattling around in here—Gideon seemed determined to frustrate and enrage me.

  After the destruction of the town by the river, he led the horde along all through the night. During that time, it occurred to me I had never seen him sleep. Not once. He was clearly on drugs, probably meth, and must have had enough supplies to stay amped up continuously. But even the most determined fiend needs to rest now and then, so he led us off the main road and ran ahead at top speed. Noises rang through the woods, loud to our sensitive ears, and when we reached them, we were trapped.

  Gideon led us to a shallow gully, the end of which he'd blocked with heavy branches and a few deadfall trees. I watched him skirt around the barrier, scramble up a tree, and climb into a makeshift hammock. By simply dangling there like a meat piñata, he kept the attention of the swarm and ensured none of us would try to leave. The barrier in front of us stopped our forward motion—less through structural integrity than sheer cussed messiness—and the few ghouls to make any progress became hopelessly tangled in the thing, making it that much harder for the rest of us to move forward.

  Clever bastard.

  My body tried to reach him, along with the rest of the swarm, and for a while the two of us were in harmony, my anger shining inside my head like a star. It wasn't just the terrible things Gideon had done that ignited my hatred, it was his disdain for the gift of life. Real life, not the shadow of it I was trapped in. Here he was, a survivor at the end of the world, and still he kills. Still he destroys. The notion fed my rage for the next few hours as he slept above the forest floor.

  My body had a seemingly endless supply of energy and a bottomless capacity for hunger, but I didn't. Eventually I ran out of juice and gave into emotional exhaustion. I felt better after a while, which is stupid. But that's how the mind works, you know? You weep, and rage, and when it's all done, you have a rush of chemicals to boost you up. That--

  Wait a minute.

  I felt better. That meant my body was still doing something for my mind. There had to be some kind of connection between us, however thin and weak.

  Gideon rose a
nd sauntered away from the swarm, leaving us trapped in the blocked-off little gully. My anger rose up again and without thinking about it, I reached for him. My right arm lifted to point in the direction of his dwindling outline.

  Holy shit.

  Excitement raced through me like a flash flood in a parched canyon. With the desperation of the truly hopeless, I tried everything I could think of. I tried to move my hand again, my legs, turn my head, shift my eyes. I forgot about Gideon completely as I ran through the mental checklist of Things I Used To Do All The Time.

  I got nothing. Nada. Whatever connected me to my body's functions, it wasn't something I could turn on and off like a switch. I took stock, no longer giddy about the possibilities but not despondent, either. I let my body work away on autopilot for a time and went over it every second, again and again.

  After an hour or two, I came to a conclusion: It was the burst of anger that did it. My mind hummed with the desire to hurt Gideon, and my body's vicious hunger felt it. Responded to it.

  For a few seconds, I laughed like a madman in my own skull. First out of victory for finding a way to interact with the world, and then because a funny thought struck me. Funny, and sort of disturbing.

  Was this how crazy people felt? Was my body disturbed by the laughing, crying, screaming voice inside of it? I was that voice. The thought led me down a rabbit hole of possibilities, and my internal guffaws cut short when I came to the next logical question:

  Was I insane?

  It made sense, after all. A world destroyed by reanimated dead people? That's the stuff of bad movies. What if everything I had done, all the people my body killed, were just victims in the sane world seen through the filter of my own madness?

  The thought chilled me. I wrestled with it for a long while but eventually decided I was sane. Crazy people rarely question themselves, and the world didn't seem distorted or weird. Aside from the circumstances around me, everything was logical. There were no giant unicorns or magical beings. Just a lot of death and destruction and sadness.