“From the roof?” Barbara asked. “That's two stories high.”
“I had no choice.”
“Explains the busted knee.” Clive said with a nod.
“Yeah,” A.K. replied. “It's going to make things tough for a while.”
“We heard something on television about the military right before the stations went down. We're tucked away here waiting for them to arrive.”
A.K. thought about telling them the truth. The military damn sure wasn't coming and if they did, it would probably be a mission that involved killing anything that moved. And honestly, he wouldn't blame them. Instead, as he watched Barbara stir her tea, A.K. decided to let the honest couple have their hope.
“Maybe. Either way, I appreciate you giving me a place to hide for the night. I just want to lay my head down for a few hours and then I'll be on my way.”
“You understand that we can't let you stay longer than that, otherwise we would. We just don't have the resources.”
“No, I understand. And I'm grateful,” A.K. replied. “If you can just let me rest for the night and bandage my knee up properly-”
“Rest easy,” Clive said. “We worried about vandalism with the items we took in on a regular basis. These doors are reinforced and that grating on the window isn't budging. You're perfectly safe tonight.”
A.K. nodded.
“Thank you.”
Chapter 6
It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the gesture.
Clive and his wife had offered to let A.K. stay another night. But then what? They were right in assuming they didn't have enough supplies. Hell, they'd likely be out themselves by the end of the week. Most of the infected had wandered off to other parts of the small town and Tommy had made his way back into the store. Perhaps to spring a trap on the next group of unlucky bastards that came storming in.
Nope. The coast was clear enough to get moving and A.K. did just that. With a heavily bandaged leg and an assault rifle that held exactly one round of ammunition, he'd limped away. Spending the early morning putting distance between himself and that God-forsaken town. He considered leaving his rifle altogether, but decided to take it and us it as a sturdy object to swing, if things came to that.
His feet ached from the walking. His stomach scorched with pangs of hunger. Yet he continued to walk, making his way down a long stretch of gravel road. There were no dead in sight. No living, either. And that served him just fine. If only he could find something edible, sooner, rather than later.
-
“It's time.” Rudy said.
He waited several moments for a reply. Watching the door of the second group's hideaway very cautiously.
“Everyone here is ready. We've got everything we could scrape together,” Carlos finally replied. Pausing for a moment. “Just give us a head count and let us know when you're ready – before you bolt.”
Rudy looked through the store as best he could. Most of the horde had settled down. Proving themselves either lazy or stupid. Perhaps both. There were a few lingering infected in the way of things and plenty more near the entrance of the large store. Rudy had noticed that every morning the dead seemed to gather at the large door. If provided refuge from the sunlight, while allowing them to see the hills that faced the front of the store. Like bone laden beggars, they stood there. Steely eyed and preparing to feast on anything that moved. Wildlife, human – anything.
“We're ready here.” Rudy said.
“There's still time to call this off,” Pam suggested. “Please.”
“It has to be done.” Rudy replied.
His mind was made up. He planned to rush from the elevator and run into the opposite direction, giving the group an opportunity to slip away unharmed. He'd also likely lose his own life in the process.
Breathing deep, he prepared to be a man.
“Remember, when this starts – you run,” Carlos said.
“Yeah. Got it. I've got the heavy baggage and Lisa will be right behind us.” Derick said.
They'd checked their shoes, even double lacing them, just in case. Each of the survivors breathed heavily with anticipation. Trying to calm themselves.
“Good luck.” Carlos said.
With that, he sprang from the door and began firing shots from his 9mm pistol. Unannounced.
“What the hell?” Rudy asked. Staring from the back of their elevator.
“It's Carlos,” Pam began. “He's the one running for it!”
“Shit,” Rudy said loudly. “He's doing what he thinks is right. He's going to get killed! Come on, we need to move!”
Sticking to the plan, Rudy grabbed up several of the supply sacks, as did Pam and Lamar. They waited patiently. Standing like three master fishermen.
“Come on, you bastards. Take the bait.” Rudy said.
Moments later, literally every infected body in the large supply store began sprinting wildly after the sound of Carlos' pistol. He'd gotten a good head start on those who hunted him, though they closed in fast. Much faster than any prepping magazine had warned – these were not grandpa's zombies.
“Now!”
Each of them rushed out onto a carpeted overlook which had been the standing spot of living dead only a few moments prior. Pam glanced down and watched as Derick and Lisa made their way to the emergency exit. She wasn't far behind, only two flights of commercial shopping steps away.
“Pam.” he said. Glad to see her alive.
“We need to move,” Rudy said. Wasting no time in making his way to the small red door. Turning its handle easily, the former pilot cracked the door long enough to peer outside. Finally opening the door wide. “It's clear. I think they all went after him.”
Stepping outside into the warm morning sun, Rudy took a moment to soak everything in. A huge parking lot, once brimming with people who shopped for their favorite national brands – it was completely empty.
“What now?” Derick asked.
The rest of the group followed him outside. The glow of North Caroline sunshine cast upon their faces and provided hope, no matter how diluted.
“They'll figure out we're gone soon enough,” he said. Both the elevator and office doors now stood wide open. “We need to be gone before they figure it out.”
“Where?” Lamar asked.
“Anywhere but here.”
He began jogging through the massive parking lot. Turning several times to ensure that they'd not been spotted. They hadn't.
“Want me to corral these buggies before we go?” Lamar grinned.
“Just make sure that we don't leave any supplies behind. I get the joke, but this isn't the time. Carlos likely died to save us.”
“You've got it.”
“Here, in these woods,” Rudy said. Pointing to a small path which led into trees that were thick enough to mask their getaway. “This works.”
“Right behind you.” Derick replied.
“No gunshots. Not until we're far away from this place.” Rudy cautioned.
Derick nodded. He understood. They all did.
“Do you think Carlos made it?” Lisa asked.
“I don't know. Maybe.”
But even Rudy knew deep down that it was bullshit.
-
The road had taken all day to walk and there was no end in sight. Nothing but endless piles of gravel beneath his prison issued boots. Darkness had spread its wings over the horizon and his sight was limited. Dusk was setting in.
He wondered if the entire world had now been consumed by infection. Was he the only living soul left? And where in the hell was the United States Army? He'd seen the firepower headed toward Charlotte during the initial outbreak. There's no way in hell that it had been bested. And that was only Charlotte! He imagined that the larger cities had been sent more firepower.
Our military had tanks. We had aircraft, drones and some of the most well-trained men on the face of the planet. How in the hell did an infection spread like this? Even so, how did the infected, who stumbled around
aimlessly for the most part, best our military might?
It had to have been with sheer numbers.
The United States President, Congress, hell, every world leader for that matter. Their status and whereabouts were all good questions. But to a man who'd walked all day down a long gravel road that was devoid of anything living, it just didn't seem as important as a belly that grumbled with hunger.
Suddenly, A.K. heard something.
Not the rustling of leaves he'd expected. Eventually, there would be infected to contend with. There had to be. But he'd seen no signs of an outbreak or its aftermath of infected. Just gray gravel surrounded by uninviting trees. What he heard was completely different.
A car?
Turning to watch the road behind him, A.K. considered ducking out for a moment. He could have hidden in the trees rather easily. Ultimately he decided to stand and try his luck at flagging the car down. Or, in this case, a truck.
The truck was an older model, at least twenty years or more. From what he could tell beneath the dusk sky, it was light blue. Headlights burned into his eyes and nearly blinded him. Had it not been for the bit of screeching and sound of gravel churning against rubber, A.K. wouldn't have even known the truck had stopped. Its lights were just too bright.
He did what he could to deflect the light. Holding a hand to his brow.
He could see a shadowy figure exit the truck. Just one. Had Tommy somehow found him? What kind of monster was he? Surely Murphy had been enough meat for a few days. Here he was with one damn bullet left.
“Hello,” A.K. said. “I mean no harm.”
Realizing that he held a threatening rifle, and the fact that he had exactly one round of ammunition to fire from it, A.K. thought it best to throw the weapon to the ground. He could only hope for mercy.
“See. I'm just trying to escape the infected.”
“Aren't we all,” a familiar voice replied.
Moments later, the truck's headlights went off. Carlos stood before him with a pistol down by his side. His shirt was covered in blood and his face was very dirty. It had been one hell of a day and it showed.
“Carlos?”
“You mean convict?”
“No...Look,” A.K. began. “None of that matters now.”
“I should kill you,” Carlos began. “But the way I figure it, there are only two sides now. The living and the dead. Now, which one do you want to be?”
He held the black 9mm pistol steady. Aiming down at the former prison guard.
“I want to live.”
“I killed a man for harming my son,” Carlos admitted. “And I had to kill in prison. It was them or me, just like it is now.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” Carlos questioned.
“I read your information, Carlos.”
“I don't need you to know my information!” he shouted. “I need you to know that anyone would have killed under the same circumstances. You would have done the same thing. I committed murder on the outside and even though I felt it was justified, the judge didn't. I accepted that. That kill is on my hands. But the killing I had to do on the inside? That's on your hands and every other guard who wasn't doing their job. When I got to prison, the inmates tried to break me. I was just trying to do my time! The guards, they-”
“Carlos, I know,” A.K. admitted. “Look, you've gotta understand. I was just one cog in a very large wheel. I can't speak for everyone.”
He continued holding his pistol on the former prison guard.
“And you know that I was never one of those guards. I always treated everyone like a human being in there, which is more than I can say for most of the guards. Goddam, Carlos, I had a job to do. That's it! You and me, it was never personal. I had child support to pay and I needed the job. You were just trying to survive on the inside and I was doing the same on the outside. We're a lot alike, you and me.”
“This correctional officer and inmate arrangement – it needs to end right here.”
“Yeah,” A.K. replied quickly. “You're OK by me.”
“Good,” Carlos said. Placing the sidearm back into the side of his pants. “Then get your ass into the truck. It beats walking.”
“Where are you headed?” A.K. asked.
He wasted no time. Making his way to the cushioned seat of the older truck to rest his tired dogs.
“Charlotte,” Carlos replied. “I've had enough of these hick towns and their shitty retail shopping. I'm going to find my son.”
“You look like hell.”
“Long story,” Carlos said. Sliding the truck's column shift back into drive. “Where's the old man?”
A.K. glanced out of the passenger window.
“Long story.”
“There's a duffel bag on the floor. I think there are some snack cakes in there. Maybe even a soda or two.”
“Why are you helping me?” A.K. asked.
“I spent most of the day with drooling wicked nipping my heels. We're talking hundreds of 'em. It's blind luck that I found this truck with the keys in it,” he said. “I just figure that most of the world wants me dead now...for all of the wrong reasons. A man can use every friend he can get. It's either resent you for the past or watch each other's back. We've had our disagreements, but you seem to know what you're doing.”
“There's something you need to know about me, Carlos.”
“What's that?”
A.K. paused for a moment. Thinking his words over carefully.
“Sometimes I'm an arrogant asshole. I mean, I can be a real prick,” he admitted. “But I'm loyal. When a man helps me out like this – I don't forget.”
“Good,” Carlos said. “Because if you ever turn against me I'll kill you.”
Both men looked at each other for a moment. Finally settling back on the winding gravel road in front of them as the old blue truck made its way toward Charlotte.
And the many horrors within its city limits.
-
There it is.
Downtown Charlotte was nothing more than smoldering clouds of death and scattered ruins. There were still small skyscrapers at its center, but the fact that thousands of cars had been trying to get away from the city; stacked bumper to bumper on the interstate, was warning enough for both men.
Shit. A.K. thought.
Both men had been walking for almost a day solid. They'd had a vehicle, but the older model truck had crapped out on them a long way back. They'd run out of gas.
“Now what?” A.K. asked.
It was a damn good question. They'd spent the last few days trying to get to the small city in hopes of finding Carlos' son alive and well. Instead, they'd found a city which had been completely decimated by the infection. There were bound to be hundreds of thousands, if not millions of zombies to contend with.
“Look, I know you want to find your son-”
“I'm going to find my son.” Carlos corrected.
“And I hope you do,” A.K. began. Speaking the truth. “But we also have to be smart about doing it. Otherwise, we're going to wind up dead. And you won't be able to help your son if you're dead.”
Carlos didn't want to admit it at first, but A.K. was right.
“We need to go through these cars and see if there's anything we can use. Maybe there's a radio, hell, maybe even a few weapons. These people left out in a panic. There's no doubt about it. But someone had to be a little prepared, right?”
“Must be five thousand vehicles here.” Carlos replied.
“Maybe more,” A.K. was sure. “But I'm not saying we need to check all of them. We just can't go marching into the city with no clue as to what we're walking into.”
“Zombies. That's what we're walking into.”
“Look, man,” A.K. said. “Just a couple of days ago, I nearly had my face chewed off in my sleep. I've seen a good friend of mine gunned down by the U.S. Army and I've had other survivors cast me off for dead. I'll go with you and watch your back. Hell, I owe you that much. But I'm not going
to walk into a city that's likely filled with wicked, or even worse, people that want to kill me. We need some sort of plan.”
“Like what?”
“Like checking the fucking cars,” A.K. repeated. “As many of them as we possibly can. If there's a settlement of folks in the city just like us, we need to know. If not, we need to put our heads together and figure out what Plan B is.”
Carlos stared off into the horrific landscape of the city for several moments, pondering their options. He also thought of his son Trevor.
“We can't use our guns,” Carlos began. “Only as a last resort. At the store we were pinned down...gunshots brought infected in for miles. If we do that here, there won't be any escape. We need to move as quietly as possible, which is a given. No walking out in the open where we can be spotted easily.”
“Carlos-”
“I know.” he replied.
A.K. did his best to words things properly.
“We need to figure out what our move is if we get there and your son is-”
“I know.”
A.K. waited for some sort of a plan. Some inkling of strategy that didn't involve them becoming zombie chow.
“We'll figure it out on the way.”
-
“Thanks.” Lisa said.
She smiled warmly. As much as could be expected, given the current situation of the world around them.
It had gone to hell. As best they could tell, every major city in the United States and perhaps even the world over, had been infected by a virus of some sort. None of them knew how and none of them knew why. Concrete information was about as scarce as fresh water, edible food, and real sleep.
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