by Paul Hetzer
“Maybe Grandma and Grandpa are on their way to the farm,” Jeremy said brightly.
“Yeah, son, maybe.”
We turned south onto U.S. Route 301, a larger thoroughfare than the small country road we had been on for the last hour. We were five miles from the Potomac River bridge and toll station. Already the number of discarded or wrecked cars was on the increase, along with the meandering infected that tried to chase after us when we drove by. Twice I had to drive into the median to avoid large pileups or groups of Loonies. I knew the kind of traffic conditions that usually existed at the toll plaza and was not relishing the thought of having to take my family through there. There just weren’t any other viable options.
We came over the rise that looked down into the Potomac River basin and the toll plaza before the venerable old steel two-lane bridge that spanned it. I drove down the hill and stopped the truck within sight of the bridge and plaza. Cars and semis were lined up before the toll booths completely blocking the southbound egress. Milling about the stalled cars and trucks were dozens of infected. I looked up at the bridge; something seemed out of place.
“Jeremy, hand me your binoculars.”
He removed a small set of Nikon binoculars from his hip pouch and handed them to me. I focused them on the large steel span.
Near the peak of the bridge a semi had stalled with several cars lined up behind it. The bridge was twisted oddly in front of the truck. The roadbed canted at least twenty five degrees and dipped down near the center span. Parts of the steel girder suspension of the span were missing and many of the rest were blackened and malformed. Debris lay scattered about the roadbed. I looked in horror near the shore where the remains of a large commercial airliner lay scattered on the surface and flung along the property of a large power plant.
My heart sank. I handed the binoculars to Holly.
“No! Steven, you can’t be thinking of going over that!” Holly cried when she spied the wrecked bridge.
“We don’t have a fuc—” I lowered my voice an octave. “We don’t have a choice. The only other way across is in the D.C. metro area and that would be suicide.”
“Trying that would be suicide.” She gestured toward the span. “Maybe we should talk about going back to one of the farms we passed and holing up there.”
I let out an exasperated breath. “That would only buy us time. This is a peninsula with the Baltimore-Washington corridor to our north not more than thirty miles away. How long do you think it will be before those masses of starving monsters start working their way south destroying every living thing in their path?” I motioned to the bridge. “Our chances are better up there.”
“There has to be a better way, that thing is about ready to come crashing down,” she argued.
We had to make a decision and fast, the idling engine of the truck was drawing the attention of some of the nearer Loonies. I took the binoculars back and looked again hard at the bridge.
“I think we’ll be okay. Those things are over-engineered to withstand a lot of damage,” I said, hoping that was true.
“Please, Papa! I don’t want to go over the bridge,” Jeremy blurted out when he spied the structure after taking a turn looking through the binoculars.
I looked back at my son. His eyes were wide and he had a death grip on the Sig, the knuckles of his hand showing white. He handed the binoculars back to me. Despite the air conditioning I was sweating. A group of Loonies was approaching about seventy-five yards ahead of us, not having seen us in the truck yet. I tossed the binoculars onto the dash and gave Holly a reassuring squeeze on her arm.
“I’m sorry,” I said, putting my hands back on the steering wheel. “You’ll both have to trust me on this. It’s our only choice.”
“Shit,” Holly said as the truck accelerated down the road. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked.
“Just be ready with a gun if one of those things tries to get in.”
I increased the speed. As we approached the small group of infected one sprinted to get to the truck. I clipped him hard and sped by.
I shot through the median and into the northbound lanes to get around the stalled vehicles at the toll plaza with its collection of Loonies. The tires squealed and the motor revved when the wheels found pavement again, causing the infected mass of creatures to turn as one and run toward us. We sped past them with room to spare.
“They’re following us!” Jeremy cried from the back.
I accelerated up the northbound lane of the bridge, approaching the mangled section, slowing the truck to a crawl as I got closer.
“Oh, God,” Holly uttered when she saw the devastation before us. Pieces of twisted aircraft were lying in the road. The fire had been so intense that it had melted the asphalt and steel supports beneath it. A large crater nearly three yards long and half as wide shot through the roadway. You could see the brown waters of the Potomac running beneath it. Chunks of roadbed hung precariously along the edges of the hole.
If I skimmed the outer barrier wall the truck tires just might ride along the edge of the crater. The question was would the crater walls hold?
“This shit just keeps getting deeper,” I whispered to myself. I looked over at Holly and smiled at her. “We’ll fit.”
She looked at me like I was insane.
“Papa, you better hurry up!” Jeremy cried, his voice rising in fear. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw the mass of living infected rushing up behind us. They would be on us in seconds.
I put the Ford in four wheel drive and punched the accelerator. The truck lurched forward on the pitched road surface, the angle wanting to throw the truck toward the gaping hole. I slammed the truck up against the barrier wall that kept errant vehicles from plunging over the edge, sparks flying.
Part of the barrier next to the hole was missing where the aircraft had plummeted through. The truck had three choices: shoot over the edge of the bridge, fall into the collapsing hole or fly past to continue down the lane. I gripped the wheel tightly when we hit the edge of the pit. The truck lurched to the right as the edge of the crater gave way. My wife let out a scream beside me when she looked out her window at the water through the hole.
Then we were past. The truck bounced upright, its rear tires fighting for purchase on the pit’s trailing edge, and then there was clear roadway ahead of us and we raced down the bridge. Behind us the horde of infected reached the pit at a dead run and like lemmings over a cliff the ones in the center of the pack fell through in a long drop to the water over a hundred feet below.
We reached the Virginia shoreline, flying dangerously fast down the road. Only a few abandoned vehicles littered the two lanes of road before us.
We still had a long way to go.
CHAPTER 7
We raced down Rt. 301 past Dahlgren, easily avoiding the few cars and infected walking around. We would have to make a decision soon about which route to take, the back roads through Fredericksburg or down to the I-95 corridor to Richmond where we would pick up I-64 westbound.
I was reluctant to get anywhere near a major city. If there was a blockage of the highway we could be stuck with literally millions of infected surrounding us. Holly was worried about going through the shopping strip area of Fredericksburg and I conceded her points. State Route 3 was usually a nightmare of traffic wending its way through the intersection for half a dozen miles of shopping centers and strip malls.
Holly worked the GPS and it gave us an alternative that worked its way around Fredericksburg and down to I-64 just east of Charlottesville. The route consisted of small back roads through the horse country of eastern Virginia. It would add time but it would also provide safety.
We were making our way down 301 toward the Rappahannock River where it would cross over to Port Royal and our turnoff. The Rappahannock Bridge was a small four lane concrete bridge that arched up over the river. We weren’t expecting any trouble going over it as this route didn’t receive much heavy traffic and Port Royal is a very
small community.
We approached the bridge cautiously, just in case, and were surprised to see several cars littering the top, their doors open. I slowed down, steering over into the northbound lanes at the foot of the bridge to avoid the vehicles. Then we heard the gunshots, two in quick succession. In the closed truck I couldn’t tell how far away they were or even what direction they came from. I stopped before the top of the bridge where we were still out of sight from the other side.
“That has to be people!” Holly said excitedly.
“Do you think they’re sick like the others?” Jeremy asked from the back.
“I don’t know,” I said “but we need to find out before we go any further.” I turned the truck off and set the parking brake.
Holly looked at me. “How do we handle this?”
I ran my hand through my hair, running through different scenarios in my mind. “Okay,” I said after a moment’s pause, “I’ll get out with my rifle. You and Jeremy stay with the truck with rifles at the ready. Keep an eye behind us for any movement. I’m going to work my way to the top of the bridge to try and spot who fired those shots.”
“Safeties off and sites on,” I ordered. I turned the holographic sight on and thumbed off the safety of my own AR-15. “Don’t let any of the infected get near and don’t hesitate to shoot them.” I loosened the rifle and opened the truck door. “The keys are in the ignition,” I added.
“Be careful.” Holly leaned over and kissed me on the cheek then opened her door and got out. Jeremy was also out and scouting the area around the stalled cars. Good boy, I thought to myself. I got out of the truck, leaving the door open in case I needed to get back inside in a hurry.
I walked at a low crouch up the bridge close to the barrier wall scanning around me past the barrel of the rifle. I could see some of the homes along the river but no movement. I reached the top of the bridge and immediately saw why the cars were backed up and abandoned going into Port Royal. Past the foot of the bridge a small pickup had lost control and crossed the center line, striking a tanker truck head on. There had been a large fire spreading to cars on both sides of the accident. It looked like there would be room to barely get our truck around the burned twisted hulks.
I heard another gunshot and this time zeroed in on the direction. Off of the northbound lanes a hundred yards past the bridge was a small red brick building that looked like it had been a bar or diner at one time. A mob of infected were swarming around the building trying to get inside. The shots were coming from a broken window in the front.
A Loony’s head exploded in a puff of red and it dropped back from the window it was attempting to crawl through. Someone was inside with a shotgun. I counted twenty-eight of the infected around the building with more moving in from down the road. Whoever was inside wasn’t going to be able to hold out against that horde for long. I backed up quickly, crouched low so as not to be spotted by any of the Loonies. When I was out of sight of the building I ran the rest of the way to the truck.
“I heard the other shot. Did you see where it came from?” Holly asked as I approached.
“There’s someone holed up in a building at the base of the bridge. They’re being besieged by a mass of the infected.”
“Oh God,” Holly uttered quietly “We have to help them.”
“Yeah and soon.”
Jeremy had come up beside us. “Well, let’s go, Papa. I’m ready.”
I smiled down at him. “I know you are,” I replied, kneeling down and grasping his shoulder with my free hand, “but I need you to stay here and guard the truck.”
His face dropped.
“Son, Mom and I and whoever is down there will be coming back up here pretty fast and we don’t need any surprises waiting for us here.” I looked him directly in the eyes. “Can I count on you to defend this truck so we’ll be safe when we get back?”
He smiled. “You can count on me, Papa. I won’t let any of those things near it.”
I smiled back at him. “Good. Make sure of your target and what’s behind it before you shoot at anything.” I stood up.
He nodded his head in acknowledgment. “I know that, Papa.”
“Do you have enough mags, Holly?”
“Six,” she stated, patting the vest pockets holding the 30 rounder’s with her palm, “plus two for the Para and one for the Beretta.”
“Okay, let’s do this.” I turned back to Jeremy. “We won’t be long,” I told him.
Two more shots reverberated through the air.
“Remember,” I said, looking seriously at them both, “these things aren’t human anymore. Don’t hesitate to shoot. They will kill you if you give them the chance.”
I kissed Holly on the lips. “Be careful and don’t get close to them. Kill as many as you can. CNS shots,” I said, referring to the central nervous system which, when delivered a traumatic injury, will usually drop a person in their tracks.
We started walking up the span. “If it gets too hot, we get out of there and we’ll figure something else out. Don’t put yourself in any more danger than we’re already in.”
“I won’t,” Holly said. “Don’t you go playing hero either!”
We cautiously worked our way down the slope of the bridge, sliding over the concrete center barrier into the southbound lanes which enabled us to use it and the burned vehicles for concealment.
The sound of breaking glass came from the besieged building and immediately another blast from a shotgun. The cacophony of noise coming from the Loonies, which was a mixture of snarling growls and keening wails, nearly drowned out the gunshot. I motioned Holly to stay low behind the blackened car we were concealed behind and I peeked up over the hood at the building not more than fifty yards away.
One of the infected had run full force into the glass doors of the old brick building, shattering them. It lay dead at the entrance, a hole in its chest from being shot. Undeterred, the others were pushing past en masse and into the doorway. They all seemed to have sensed that they had breached the building and the pitch of their growling increased. They ran toward the entrance, pressing those before them as they fought to enter.
There was one more shotgun blast from inside and then no more.
“It’s time,” I said to Holly, checking down the street to make sure we weren’t going to be flanked by any of the creatures. “I’m going to move down about twenty yards and take a firing position. Be ready to start firing when I do. Try not to shoot through the doorway or windows and hit the person inside.”
“Maybe the noise will draw those things back out,” Holly said.
I shrugged. “Then hopefully we can kill them all. Be careful.”
I ran at a low crouch down to another burnt out vehicle and raised my rifle over the warped trunk, aiming at the mass of bodies trying to get to the doorway. I was about fifteen yards closer to the horde than Holly. We started firing nearly simultaneously.
I pulled the trigger as fast as I could, trying to send the rounds center mass into the group of infected. They dropped like mowed weeds, some writhing on the ground and howling pitifully in pain from mortal wounds. They halted in their push forward and one by one turned to face this new disturbance.
I completed a quick mag change. Those closest to me finally registered my presence and charged. They screamed their guttural call, racing the short distance between us, enraged with bloodlust. Some had spotted Holly and sprinted into her withering gunfire. I couldn’t help her.
At this range I was placing the reticle of the scope on one head after another, dropping in their tracks when the bullets tore through their brains. There were just too damn many of them. I backed up, changing mags as they reached the other side of the car. My back came up against the cold steel of another vehicle.
The infected scrambled over and around the car to get to me, a savage wildness alive in their bloodshot eyes. I began shooting indiscriminately. They were nearly on me, clawed hands reaching for me. I slammed one with the butt of the rifle
and shot it in the face. Three more moved in to take its place just as the rifle’s bolt locked open. There was no time for a mag change. I reached down for my pistol even though I knew they would be on me before my hand could touch it.
I heard three close consecutive shots and the three Loonies dropped lifeless at my feet. I looked over and Holly was there not twenty feet away with the smoking rifle pointed at the lifeless forms on the ground.
There were no more of the infected in our immediate vicinity. I thumbed the magazine release and slammed a new mag in place.
“Thank you, that was too close!” I said breathlessly. Holly was terrified, although she was holding it together admirably.
“I didn’t have as many come at me,” she said. “I didn’t think I would get to you in time!” She ran to me and hugged me tight.
I let my rifle fall to my side and hugged her back. “You saved my bacon, hon.” I kissed her and turned my attention back to the situation. The ground around us and leading to the building was littered with the infected, most dead but a few were still alive, crawling toward us despite their horrible gunshot wounds.
I headed toward the building with my wife close behind. The sound of fighting from deep inside reached our ears as we got closer. I unholstered my .45 and coldly put a round in the head of a Loony who hungrily reached for me when I walked by. I dispatched two more before I arrived at the breached entrance of the building.
“Stay here,” I said to Holly and pointed to some Loonies running up the street at us. “Keep them away. I won’t be long”
CHAPTER 8
I entered the dark, musty-smelling building and spotted where dusty tracks and blood smears led to the rear. Several of the infected lay dead on the floor, their skulls caved in. The sounds of a scuffle reached me from the back along with the growls of the infected. With my Para still in my hand I ran across the old wooden floor. Someone had barricaded themselves in a back room and four Loonies were trying to force the door, growling viciously. I quietly crept up behind them with my pistol raised, pressed it to the back of the head of one of the four and pulled the trigger. I shot another before the other two could turn around.