No Room In Hell (Book 2): 400 Miles To Graceland

by William Schlichter

  Ethan treks toward the flashing dot. I like this thing. It’s direct the one from my car had to be on a road to track positions, but this works through a forested area.

  Ethan dives behind a tree he hopes gives him cover as a series of explosions echo before shaking the trees. Crackling branches shatter as they fall, echoing more noise on top of the explosions. He stays crouched toward as close to the ground as possible and still hop away.

  Chainsaws buzz.

  People are working. Ethan considers the force of armed people needed to operate chainsaws with a city full of thousands of undead a few miles away. He would never risk his group in this manner even to create a killing field to waist biters.

  The noise lies between him and the flashing red dot. He secures the GPS back in its hidden pocket.

  Discovering teams of uniformed soldiers, Ethan raises his arms high and surrenders. They waste no time or questions on him. They strip him of his weapons including the Taurus .22, handcuff him and place in in a Humvee. As they do he notes the explosions brought down rows of trees not only creating kill zone but they chop them up for a barricade. Cables strung across the road trap any wondering biter. They fall more trees attempting to create a bottleneck. A noise source and a line of well-armed Marines in the center of the road could pick off an approaching herd. Which should be heading this way will all the aftershocks drawing them north.

  “WHY DID THE horses run off? Are we going to find them? Why did the ground shake?” Grace barrages Frank with questions as she rides on his shoulders.

  “The quake scared them. Didn’t the quake scare you?” Frank asks with a childish demander. He won’t admit how much it terrified him.

  “Nope I wasn’t scared,” Grace beams. “Why’d it scare the horses?”

  “Earthquakes make a noise only animals hear. It frightens them.”

  “Will the noise frighten the biters?” Grace asks.

  Karen freezes at Grace’s question. From the mouth of babes. “No, but the quake should attract them. Draw them toward the epicenter.”

  “What’s that?” Grace asks.

  “The starting point of the earthquake.”

  “A better question is where?” asks Frank. “I thought earthquakes where a Cali thing.”

  “The New Madrid Fault in the Boot Heel is larger than those in California. Missouri just doesn’t get the press like a place about to fall off into the ocean,” Karen explains. “The horses would have run away from the quake where biters would be attracted toward it. We may have an opportunity to trek right into Springfield.”

  “Will they notice the quake at Acheron?” Frank asks.

  “I’m sure half the country felt it.”

  Karen draws a folded trenching shovel from her pack. “Frank, why don’t you scout with Grace?”

  “Dangerous to send her off with him alone. He has to hold her and fire. Just because we haven’t seen a biter in days doesn’t mean they aren’t around,” Kalvin says.

  After they are gone, Karen drives the shovel into the earth. “We’re about a mile from our destination. I don’t know what we’ll find, but I think we’d blend in better if we appear more desperate.”

  “I get it. We keep our gear safe in case we are not so welcome. Why send Frank off with Grace?”

  “The question queen might ask in front of someone why we buried our gear. If she asks where it went we claim lost it.” She scoops out more dirt. “One, we protect Grace. We bring her back to Acheron. These zealots crusading to Springfield have an unrealistic understanding of biters.”

  “You’ll get no arguments. We’re all unworthy when it comes to the undead.”

  “Another reason to stash some gear.”

  “We’ve a story to present? We’re a little too nourished to have been lost for long.”

  “We were with a group. Doing well and then too many biters overran us.”

  “Everyone has that story.”

  “Which is why it works.” She drives the shove into the loose soil.

  At the flyover where Interstate 44 crosses Highway 65, a barricade of smashed cars lines the road along with men in rifle stations on the upper highway.

  The four march forward until they are ordered to stop. Rifle barrels swing toward them. Karen raises her arms in the air keeping her finger off the trigger of the 38 special. She never cared much for the backup weapon. It fires high and to the right. Her feelings won’t hurt if they confiscate it. But to be weaponless would raise more suspicion than lack of food or water.

  “We seek sanctuary,” Karen calls out.

  The men with guns just stare at them.

  “How do you want to handle this?” Kalvin whispers.

  “If they build a barricade straight down those two highways then the entire city may be protected and intact. We need to ally ourselves with this group.”

  “Even if they are a bunch of religious nut jobs?” Kalvin asks.

  Frank does his best to keep Grace out of earshot of their conversation.

  “Just keep moving until they tell us to go away.”

  “And if they shoot us?”

  The gate is just welded metal over chain link. Nothing fancy, nothing a V8 truck at thirty miles an hour couldn’t crash through. Nor do these people strip and search for bites before allowing the living inside. Karen respects the security in Acheron. Ethan’s methods keep out infected. She wonders if the biblical lines about seeing thy father’s nakedness prevents a full out search. Blind faith will be their undoing as someone not yet turned will make it inside and rain havoc.

  Two bearded men approach. “We need you to hand over your weapons.”

  Karen wonders how much protesting should she preform? “How do we know we’ll be safe inside.”

  “I’m sure your God will protect you.” The first bearded man holds out the weapon butt first.

  “My faith has been shaken. Sounds like, so has yours,” she probes, as she hands over her weapon.

  “People of this town have had a healthy respect of faith. They still do, but somehow survivors beyond her borders have christened her a holy mecca. We’re just trying to survive.”

  “People out there need something to believe in,” Frank says, as he too gives up a twenty-two.

  “You steal those pants or earn them,” the second bearded man asks.

  “I’ve a license. For all that matters now about paper. Most of my skills are useless since no one revives alive if they code.”

  “We’ll feed you a meal or two and allow you to bunk for the night. We’re developing a barter system. Most will trade labor for food. Medical training highly valuable. Earn you good meals. Maybe even some beer.”

  “You have beer?” Karen asks.

  Her team perks wanting an answer.

  “The distillers are almost as important as doctors and vets. I recommend if you trade for beer, you trade it for items you need rather than drink it. Its value rates over bullets.”

  Kalvin gives up two long hunting knifes. “Who runs the city?”

  “Now you get complicated. Several of the more prominent churches seek a ruling council made up of representatives mostly of their branch of denomination. Most are in favor of an elected council to make decisions.”

  “Arguments are in abundance as to who should be on it. How appointed. It’s a cluster.”

  “So, who put you gentlemen in charge of greeting strangers?” Karen asks, noting specific lax in their security already.

  “We get a cut for protecting the city. Most don’t want anything to do with popping the unworthy.”

  “People pay us to keep them safe and don’t ask questions.”

  “Without outside resources food has to be getting scarce.” Karen speculates.

  “Direct all your questions to our leader. He holds final court over who stays and is cast out.”

  “YOU’RE NOT MUCH of a talker, are you, Corporal?” Ethan flexes his writs. They didn’t clamp the stainless steel as tight as they could, but his massive hands won’t s
lip through the cuffs.

  From the vehicle speed, Ethan deduces the road has been cleared.

  The Humvee rattles from a small aftershock. Ethan wonders how bad Memphis was hit. Many of the buildings were wooded framed and never earthquake proofed. At the onset of the outbreak someone must have turned off the gas line or he’d have seen the smoke from the city burning. Too bad cars can’t be switched to run on natural gas. Lots of places to get natural gas. I need to find more scientists.

  “Was the city hit bad in the earthquake?”

  The Marine ignores him.

  He attempts another approach with the soldier, “How have you survived? Memphis has the largest population of people on the Mississippi River, some seven hundred thousand in the city limits alone.”

  “We are the US Military.”

  Still prideful. Possibilities. “I’m confused. The military at Fort Wood packed it in. Gave up. Never thought they’d tarnish my grandfather’s memory by running. But the undead are nothing like the beaches of Normandy.”

  “Why didn’t you serve?”

  Ethan taps his leg. “Metal rod. They wouldn’t take me. I tried. I couldn’t be a Marine. I was in line for the Air Force.”

  “Simper Fi, mother fucker. Real men don’t join the chair force.”

  Ethan smiles to himself.

  “Why didn’t you say you wanted to be a Marine? Win my trust by creating a common bond. Saying Air Force makes me like you even less.”

  “Marines would be a lie. Catching me in a lie would end trust. I’m just here to bring a message to Dr. Ellsberg.”

  “You’ll have to speak to the L.T. Not part of my detail.”

  He’s not a tight-lipped soldier but he won’t just spill information.

  “I was expecting to locate Dr. Ellsberg in Memphis. When did you lose the city?”

  “The compound is actually North of Millington at a National Guard Armory,” says the Marine. “The compound has a medical facility and we brought all the CDC personnel there after Nashville fell. My boots never saw Memphis.”

  “They thought they had isolated the cause of the infection,” Ethan brings up to prove he’s not just a passerby who knows a name. He recognizes the purpose of the facility.

  “What good does that do?”

  “If you know what caused the disease science, can develop a cure,” Ethan says.

  “But people are dead. You can’t heal them and why would you want to? Some of them are half rotten. Imagine restoring them to life with no skin left.”

  “So, a vaccine’s not a priory for the military?”

  “Not for this Marine.”

  “I thought a vaccine was worth the trip since Fort Wood fell.”

  The Marine taps the brake as if this is the first-time Ethan mentioned this fact. “Fort Wood’s gone? No way?”

  “I was there when the last transport evacuated troops. I’ve no reason to lie about it. If the base was still there then why isn’t a platoon of rangers been sent here to locate Dr. Ellsberg? The soldiers remaining behind to demolish the base fled to my camp.”

  “They wouldn’t send some half-crippled who fancies himself John Wayne with the shiny hand cannon he carries.” The Marine slows the Humvee.

  “Eastwood carried a magnum, and neither one of them had to deal with an earthquake.”

  The Corporal flashes the lights in a distinct pattern.

  The guards have trouble pulling open the gate. Ethan speculates the earthquake knocked it off its runners. They get open far enough to allow the Humvee to pass.

  In the rearview mirror, Ethan witnesses the struggle to pull the gate shut. Not going to be good. I wonder why the biters from the city haven’t moved north toward the quake’s epicenter.

  Ethan rubs his wrist, now free of the handcuffs. He likes the idea they consider him weak. “Does this mean I’m a guest? The food was palatable, but maid never came to turn down the bed. Two days. I sat in cell for two days.”

  The man in the lab coat ignores Ethan’s banter.

  “Dr. Ellsberg said whoever his brother send would have a code phrase. What is it?”

  “It’s for Dr. Ellsberg—only.”

  “We don’t want to risk our top scientist if you aren’t who you say you are. He’s too close to curing this infection.”

  Ethan would lay odds this young man was a research assistant when the world ended and was never outside a fence for long to have to worry about his own survival. Something about such a person glazes his eyes over with disgust. Protecting people from the outside is one task he’s accepted, but all those people he protects have firsthand experiences dealing with the problems the undead bring.

  “Look. Kid, I’m here to speak with Dr. Ellsberg. If you’re not going to introduce me to him then give me back my guns. I want to swing by Graceland and pick up some souvenirs before I head back to my home.”

  “Souvenirs? Have you lost your gourd? No one’s going into the city. Even the Marines avoid it.”

  “Got to prove I was here to Major Ellsberg when I report back to him I wasn’t allowed to meet with his brother,” Ethan says.

  A man who Ethan would believe related to Major Ellsberg holds the interrogation room door open to allow the young lab coat to exit.

  “Are you trained in interrogations?” he asks.

  “In manner of speaking, yes. My pre-apocalyptic career made demands on my ability to read people.”

  “And you won’t tell me what you did before?”

  “Not unless you want to split the kitty. I hear the betting pool has gotten quite high around my camp,” says Ethan. “I’m something of a local celebrity.”

  “You played Dr. Seaseters, pretty good.”

  “The kid’s a doctor?”

  “Had his second master’s by age fourteen.”

  “Neither one in people skills.” Ethan smirks. “But as long as we are discussing it, you’re not Dr. Ellsberg either.”

  “I’ll give you the code phrase to prove—”

  “Lift your shirt. Left side,” Ethan orders.

  “What?”

  “You’ve got in an earpiece. So I’m going to assume—dangerous I know—the real doctor is feeding you information thought it. The real Dr. Ellsberg has a scar where they would have removed his kidney. His father needed a transplant. Dr. Ellsberg volunteered without hesitation. While on the table, his father died before the transplant was complete. But not before the aborted surgery left him a healthy scar.”

  The next lab coated man bears a near identical to but aged face Major Ellsberg. He lifts his shirt.

  Ethan nods at the pink scar. “You’re one intelligent individual. Stupid people never survive these situations.”

  “I need to speak with Ethan, alone.” Dr. Ellsberg opens the second door inviting Ethan to exit the integration room.

  Once in the medical lab, Dr. Ellsberg seals the door. “I don’t think they have been able to bug this room. If my brother trusts you…I know I can.” He hands Ethan a tote with his guns inside.

  “A bit too much cloak and dagger for the end of the world, don’t you think?”

  “You reason because the world ended things change. Nothing’s changed. Do you know what they are having me do?”

  “Injecting possible cures into people and then having them bitten to test if you have developed a vaccine,” Ethan guesses.

  “Are you a doctor?”

  “No, but it’s logical.”

  “I’ve murdered. I’ve murdered to stay alive. There are plenty of undesirables that would seek refuge at the base. I would test it on them. I overheard about the military base evacuations. Failure on my part would mean the military would leave the medical staff behind when they pulled out. Since Ft. Wood has fallen they have no contact with any other base,” Dr. Ellsberg’s confession spills from him.

  “Did you find a way to prevent the spread of this plague?” Ethan desires his guns—badly.

  “I need you to get me to my brother. I don’t know why he’s not on a shi
p in the Atlantic, but I’ll bet he’s in the safest place possible. This base has been damaged with all the aftershocks. The soldiers have been encountering more Vectors moving north and ramped panic consumes everyone. You’re the only person I’ve meet who’s been outside maintaining a cool head.”

  “Doc, I’m here to get you to your brother.”

  “This base is in the process of collapse. I no longer care what happens to me. My sins outweigh what I discovered. I need you to deliver a package to my brother.”

  “I’m here to retrieve you.”

  “Did you see many soldiers when they brought you in?” Dr. Ellsberg asks.

  “A few struggled with the gate. It seemed bent. The rapid building of a barricade a few miles down the road won’t hold long.”

  Dr. Ellsberg flips on a flat screen television mounted to the wall.

  An aerial view of the base clears as the screen warms. “This is drone footage for half an hour ago.” He presses play on a remote.

  “The aftershocks brought down the back wall.”

  The image scrolls down along the road for miles to the solider adding to the barricade. As the drone zooms further, the lens fills with hundreds of biters.

  “And you’re wasting man power building a pointless barricade. Get these men to pack their gear. My home has a place for all of them.”

  “I don’t have time to explain the politics involved here. Just trust me when I tell you if the current administration learns my vaccine research is succeeding they aren’t going to administer it to anyone not surrendering to their new government.”

  Aftershocks rock the building.

  SALT AIR WHIPS over the bow of the USS Harry S. Truman. Colonel Travis glances through binoculars at the horizon.

  Navy Helicopters hover over the luxury yacht. Sea water churns and bubbles as the blades drive down an air mass. Men rappel to the deck. With exact precision, the tactical team invades clearing the deck before moving in pairs inside.

  The waves prevent the rapid-fire sound accompanying the muzzle flashes Travis catches in the windows. Men drag out rotten bodies dumping them into the ocean.