Z Plan (Book 2): Red Tides

by Lerma, Mikhail

  The cook had gathered the others in the kitchen, where they made their stand. Some of the injured managed to make it outside and into their vehicles, only to succumb to the new plague on man anyway. Once the terror of life was beyond them, they’d settled into the calm of being undead and forever starving.

  Now all they could do was watch the sun rise and set along the panoramic window that wrapped around the exterior of the diner that now served as their tomb. Sad, vacant, and rotting faces stared at one another. One undead man sat in a booth, pawing at his shadow, totally confused by the concept. His wife and brother sat at another table. He of course didn’t remember them, nor they him. The elderly woman walked around the diner, randomly bumping into chairs and tables. Her first victim, her husband, stood facing a poster on the wall, with his face less than an inch from it. This was how he would spend eternity.

  The only time there was a change in the daily schedule, was when it rained. As one, they would turn and stare, watching in silence as the water ran down the large windows. Today was shaping up like any other day; or it was, until they heard it. The sound of metal scraping on rock resounded like thunder. All thirty-nine faces shifted their gaze to the west window. A grey van had entered their world. Its driver hopped out and circled the vehicle. The object he carried with him meant nothing to them.

  This one wasn’t like them. He was different, and different was good. Soon, they were crowded at the window, pushing up against the glass. There was food on the other side, and they were so very hungry. One of them began clawing at the glass, and the others followed suit. Soon they were fighting each other for position at the window. They all wanted to see their next meal.

  They watched as the man came toward them. He moved from vehicle to vehicle, occasionally shouting. They didn’t know or care what he was looking for; only that he was coming closer. He was suddenly right in front of them. The banging on the glass reached a frenzy. He looked up and froze in fear, then returned to work, looking around each vehicle, and then moving away. His frustrated audience hammered on the glass until it shattered. The first row of bodies fell six feet to the ground, and row after row followed, landing on their comrades as they did.

  Soon, they were all free of the diner, and wandering the parking lot, looking for their meal. They couldn’t see him, but his smell was fresh. He was here somewhere, and they would find him.

  26.

  Country Drive

  It had been only an hour since he’d sat at the roundabout, pondering which way to go, before finally deciding northwest on D168. The sign read Narbonne. Now, whether it meant that was where he was, or where he was going, he didn’t know. As long as he got away from the water and closer to home, he didn’t care about anything. The hum of the van’s tires on the highway began to grate on Cale’s nerves. There was nothing on the road to keep his attention. No one had travelled the roads for some time. There weren’t even any abandoned vehicles; undoubtedly the French government must have put a stop to all travel between cities. Cale thought it was a smart idea, and perhaps it had limited the spread of the infection. Maybe there were pockets of survivors.

  He could feel his eyelids getting heavy, and so, out of habit, he reached down and turned on the radio. The sound of static filled the cab, causing him to swerve as he panicked to turn it down. The van’s passenger side tires left the road, and Cale quickly corrected.

  “It’s a good thing I have the road all to myself,” he said out loud.

  As he drove on, he looked down every few seconds scanning the airwaves for a signal. After cycling back to the original frequency, he tried again. Again he found nothing. He attempted to find the button to switch the band, but couldn’t, and so he pushed buttons at random while he watched the road. When he once again looked down, he discovered he’d only succeeded in changing the time.

  “Damn it,” he said frustrated.

  He wanted to punch the dash, but took a deep breath instead. Cale knew that he was on edge and irrational. At least he had the clarity to establish that much. He turned his attention back to the road.

  An infected was eating an animal in the ditch, and Cale slowed to take a better look. It was eating a cow or a horse, but he couldn’t tell which, as its flesh had been stripped away. The creature sat in the grass gnawing on a bone, glancing up only when Cale drove past.

  Cale resumed his speed and continued. The farmland to the left and right of the highway was overgrown with weeds. He had to be getting close to a town or city; he could see smoke over the next few hills, about fifteen miles away. He slowed again as a small group of infected crossed the road to follow some livestock. Not wanting to damage his vehicle, he swerved around them. Two of them broke from the pack and threw themselves at the van, both bouncing futilely off the side. He could see a sign ahead, advertising a restaurant or gas station ten kilometers up the road. Cale looked at the fuel gauge and found it at the halfway point.

  “This could be a good place to fill up,” he thought out loud.

  Cale drove to the exit, and from the highway he could see a diner with a gas station around the side. The parking lot was full of vehicles but he couldn’t see any people, either living or undead. He started the turn into the parking lot, but something in the window of the diner caught his eye. There was movement, or so he thought.

  “I think I’ll fill up somewhere else,” he thought.

  Just as he accelerated, the passenger side tire let out a loud pop. The tire rim ground on the rocks of the parking lot, and Cale realized that he had no choice but to stop. He wouldn’t be able to go any further until it was repaired. Cale stopped the van and put it into park. He hopped out of the seat, and grabbing the AK47 off the floor, circled the vehicle to survey the damage. What was left of the tire barely hung on the rim, and a piece of metal protruded from the rubber.

  For a moment, he thought he heard something. He looked around, with his weapon at the ready and his heart thumping once again. He scanned back and forth across the crowded parking lot, and again, movement caught his eye. This time it looked to be coming from behind the window of a car, but it was out of sight before he could identify it. The sun reflected off the windows of the diner, creating a glare that prevented him from seeing inside.

  “Better not wait around,” Cale thought.

  Quickly, he circled to the back of the van and opened the doors. He rummaged through its cache, looking for the floor compartment where a spare would be kept, but the surface was solid.

  “Shit,” he said, as he slammed the doors closed.

  He looked around again to make sure he was still safe. He was alone, but he could hear the noise again. It was like a screeching and thumping. What was it? He didn’t have time to just stand around. Cale wondered where else there might be a spare.

  “Underneath,” he said excitedly, as he kicked his legs back and lay flat on his stomach. Looking at the undercarriage of the vehicle, he didn’t find what he was looking for.

  “What the fuck do the French do when they get a God damn flat?” he whispered.

  He was becoming angry again, and so took a deep breath, realizing that he needed to maintain his calm if he was going to think this through. He looked around the parking lot at the other vehicles, already seeing spares on some of their exteriors. They were all either too large, or far too small. Cale narrowed his search to vans, and moved toward them cautiously. A red one looked to be the same make and model as his. He slung his rifle and cupped his hands to his face so that he could see into its interior. An undead face met his own.

  “Oh, fuck!” Cale shouted, as he jumped back.

  The creature began pounding on the door but was hidden again by the sun’s glare.

  “God Damn in!” he swore.

  He moved to the next vehicle. Again no luck.

  “Are you freaking serious? Do the French never get a flat? he screamed.

  Cale was uneasy being outside. He felt like he was being watched, and he still didn’t know what the weird sound was, but
it got louder as he moved toward the diner. He looked at the window again. Now that he was at a different angle, he could see the horror that waited inside. A mob of infected stood within, their undead eyes focused on him.

  Cale knew his presence would stir them into a bloodthirsty frenzy, and he immediately returned to the task of finding a tire. He moved from van to van, searching desperately.

  “Look in the back—no? Now look underneath,” he kept saying to himself.

  The sound of breaking glass followed by moaning froze his blood. His body refused to move.

  “Come on! Get fucking moving!” Zach shouted at him.

  Cale didn’t give it a thought, but he did as Zach ordered, and ran toward the gas station. A tow truck sat along the south side of the building, and in the window, he saw a stack of spare tires and donuts. His reflection caused him to panic for a moment, thinking there were infected in the station as well. He then realized it wasn’t his image in the glass, but Zach’s.

  “Hurry the hell up!” reflection Zack shouted and pointed behind Cale.

  Cale turned and saw that the diners were moving around the restaurant toward him. He fired a volley of shots into the crowd, dropping only two of his targets.

  “You can’t put them all down. They’re so slow! Just go!” Zach yelled.

  Cale spun around and shot out the window of the gas station. He formulated his plan instantly. Quickly grabbing a donut, he ran around to the tow truck and tossed the tire on the back. He then jumped up into the cab. The keys weren’t in the ignition.

  “Fuck,” he said.

  Cale looked through the windshield. The crowd was right in front of the tow truck now.

  “The visor, Cale! Check the visor!” Zach shouted at him again.

  “Okay!” he yelled back.

  The keys fell into his lap as he lowered the sun visor. Cale held his breath as he inserted the key and turned the ignition. The truck sputtered, then the exhaust pipe spewed dark smoke and the beast was alive.

  “Fuck, yeah!” the two friends said together.

  It was a manual transmission, but his first car had been a standard, so Cale figured he could manage it. He put it into what he thought was first gear, but was surprised when the truck decided to go in reverse. Then again, reverse worked fine too. He continued his path backwards until he was behind the station. A large white tank stood parallel to it, with the universal flammable sign on it.

  “Blow ’em up,” Zach suggested roguishly.

  “Perfect,” Cale whispered.

  Cale stopped, and waited for the infected to gather around the truck. He didn’t try to count them, but he knew there were a lot. Once he was confident that the majority of them were amassed, he backed up again, at the same time aiming his rifle out of the window. The weapon was on fully automatic, so he just held the trigger. The weapon recoiled upward, and what came next prevented him from seeing where his rounds hit. The shockwave from the blast blew out the all the glass in the truck. He raised his right arm to protect his face, and then the heat wave hit him like he was standing inches from a massive bonfire. In an instant, it was gone. When the smoke began to clear, he could see that the station was leveled, just a charred crater. Flaming debris rained down, littering the ground.

  A few infected survived the blast, but were too injured to pose a threat. Cale put the truck in first gear and moved it up to the front of the diner. He positioned the truck ahead of the van and was glad to see the controls were similar to a military wrecker unit. Wreckers were used to tow or repair vehicles in the field or on the road. He’d never had official training on one, but understood the basics. After engaging the Power Take Off, Cale lowered the tow hook to the ground. He jumped out and ran over to attach the hooks to the van. He found a couple of good holds underneath, and after making sure it would stay attached, he raised the tow, lifting the front end of the van high enough to change the tire. The truck had its own set of tools, which expedited the process nicely. Cale was disappointed when he realized that the donut spare he’d grabbed was a little small, but it would have to do. Cale tightened each lug nut, scanning the area frequently as he worked. Some of the charred and injured undead were crawling slowly toward him, but he still had plenty of time. When he finished, he lowered the vehicle back down. It sat lower on the front passenger side now, but it would run.

  Cale looked at the diner, now ablaze. Some of the flaming debris had landed on it.

  “Oops,” Zach’s voice said.

  Cale knew he’d been imagining Zach was there, but at the moment it didn’t bother him. He set to the task he’d originally planned when he’d left the highway, and topped off the van’s fuel. He then searched the tow truck and found a road map.

  “I’ll definitely need this,” he said.

  A crawling infected just reached the van as it pulled back onto the highway. It was the elderly woman who’d sat with her husband at table seven.

  27.

  Campfire Stories

  After walking the perimeter to ensure the fence was solid all the way around, Cale returned to the center of the pasture where he’d left the van. He checked it over as he approached. His fever was on the downswing now, so whatever he’d had, his body had about finished fighting it off. Cale was just relieved it hadn’t been anything major. Given the circumstances that he faced, even the smallest cold could become fatal. It wasn’t as if he could just set up an appointment at a clinic somewhere. He knew what he needed was plenty of fluids and rest, but rest might be a little difficult to come by.

  It would be dark soon, and Cale looked around, pondering whether or not to chance a fire. He’d need the warmth, and it would be nice to have a hot meal. The fence around the pasture would hold the infected long enough for him to ready an escape if need be. He opened the side door of the van and began rummaging through its cargo. The van held a tent, pillows, sleeping bags, a couple of blankets, bags of dried fruits, canned meats and vegetables, crates of flavored and unflavored water, a collapsible shovel, flashlights, a lantern, batteries, chemically treated fire logs, matches, lighters, a set of handheld radios, some juice boxes, instant potatoes, powdered milk, and at the very back, a set of suitcases.

  Cale wondered if maybe the owners of the van had known of a place to go, somewhere they would have been safe. He wondered what had stopped them. Any number of things could have prevented their flight: infected family members, government orders, or maybe the level of infection was so high that going outside would be suicidal. Cale removed the shovel, one of the lighters, and the quick starter fire logs, and went to work digging a small fire pit.

  After consulting the map, he saw he would be able to avoid the city of Narbonne, and plot a course north, through France. The route would take him along the outskirts of Paris, but was the fastest way to get to a port city. He considered just going straight west to the coast, but didn’t want to run into the Egyptians again. It would be safer to travel across the country, and then go by sea. ‘Safer’ might not be the correct word, but then again, when he thought about it, at least the infected wouldn’t be shooting at him.

  Soon, the fire was crackling quietly, warming him, and camp was all set up. There was a sleeping bag rolled out on the ground, and a camp chair erected. He sat eating a can of meat and veggies that he’d found in the van. Dessert sat next to him, in the form of a can of fruit cocktail. He listened to the crickets chirping, and looked across the firmament. Stars shone, glimmering in the night sky, stars he’d never seen before. No electricity meant no light pollution. Every star could be seen in all its glory. A waning crescent moon marked the beginning of a new lunar cycle and made him think back to his sixth grade science and homeroom teacher, Mr. Evans. He preferred to be called Mr. E only because he liked to hear everyone say Mystery.

  Behind him, Cale heard something moving through the grass, panting. He spun around with his rifle aimed at the source. A small black dog, with a peppered white belly stopped in its tracks. He was mangy looking, with grey hair on his chi
n and a hungry look in his eyes. . He clearly hadn’t been cared for in a long time. His brown leather collar hung loosely around his neck, with a tag dangling from it. Cale had always been a dog person, and he softened at the sight of the poor canine. He lowered his weapon, and dropped to one knee.

  “Come here, boy,” he said as he extended his hand.

  The dog didn’t move.

  “Shit. I suppose you only speak French,” Cale chuckled.

  Cale grabbed his can of food, reached in and tossed some toward the animal. The dog crept forward cautiously and sniffed it, watching Cale closely all the while. After thoroughly smelling the food, he decided to eat it.

  “It’s okay, boy. Come here,” he repeated, and then made a kissing sound.

  The dog wagged his tail and moved closer. Cale could now see his tag.

  “Delrick? Am I pronouncing that right, boy?” Cale asked.

  The dog moved closer when he heard his name.

  “Delrick,” Cale repeated.

  Delrick moved in, and sniffed Cale’s hand. After deciding the human was okay, the pup licked him, and then joined him by the fire. Cale was more than happy for the company and scratched him behind the ears. Delrick wagged his tail happily, and together they sat, each enjoying the rare presence of a being that didn’t want to eat them.

  “How are you surviving out here?” Cale asked him.

  Delrick tilted his head, curious or perhaps confused.

  “Ya know, you and I could be partners,” Cale offered.

  Delrick laid his head on his paws. Cale laughed, and tossed him more food, which he ate greedily.

  “You thirsty too?” Cale asked, as he filled a plastic bowl with bottled water. “Nothing but the best for Delrick.”