by Lee Argus
Near the door was a knocked over metal trashcan that had been filled with long handled gardening tools. They were spread out on the floor. The hoes and rakes wouldn’t be of any use, but several shovels were there too. I only had to take a few steps to get at the shovels, but I didn’t like it. I felt like something was watching me. It was awkward to hold the shotgun under one arm while picking up and carrying two shovels, but I’d managed it. Their green fiberglass handles stuck far behind my back, but my forearms propped them level enough to not slip out of my hold.
I almost dropped them in the parking lot, but just managed to get them near to the car before they fell. They were almost too large to fit into the trunk, but I managed to angle them enough to force it closed.
I remembered to turn off the flashlight before getting into the car. I placed it between the seats as I sat down. Rachel still looked as in shock as before. I pulled out of the parking lot before heading farther into the town. Maybe I could find a playground or a park we could use. I hadn’t remembered to grab any pain medication, and wasn’t looking forward to how my hands would look by the end of the day.
After almost an hour of driving around I saw a place that might be acceptable. It was a small park with a few picnic tables and a small basketball court. Several large trees dotted the overgrown grass. Large stones that were a third the size of the car surrounded the park. There was no way I could pull the car inside, so I parked as close to the trees as possible.
Rachel was staring at the dashboard when I asked her if the park would be alright. She looked around and nodded. I popped the trunk. It would take a long time for us to dig a six foot deep grave. Somehow I knew that it had to be six feet deep for predators to not smell the decomposing body. I was smart enough to not mention this to Rachel.
It was sunny, but I still brought the shotgun. You never knew what might happen. Rachel followed me out of the car and came around to get the shovels. Her body language was that of someone who had lost everything, and didn’t know what to do now. I didn’t want to push her until she was ready to talk on her own. Picking up both shovels, she turned to decide on a place to start. I grabbed a gallon jug of water out of the trunk before shutting it.
She walked towards the trees until she was in the shadow of the largest one. I followed behind her, keeping close enough to reach out and touch her. She stopped, driving one of the shovels into the ground.
“This is it. We should start here.” she said, looking over her shoulder at me and sounding sure of herself.
I walked to the tree and leaned the shotgun against it once I was sure the safety was on. The gallon of water went next to it. When I had come back she had already started to dig. I put on the leather gloves I’d picked up at the pharmacy, and started to help her. I worked at the opposite side of the grave.
Neither of us had ever dug a grave before. It’s harder than most people imagine. The repetitive motions began to wear into my arms and back. By the first hour we had reached several feet down. It looked like two holes with a slight mound between them. After a while we started to dig in rhythm, one after the other. It wasn’t anything we planned, more instinctual than anything. We both knew it was more a matter of endurance than strength.
We started hitting larger and larger rocks in the third hour. We were about halfway done, and I couldn’t feel my hands anymore. More and more blisters had formed inside my gloves. Thin rivulets of pus were running down my arms each time I flung a shovelful of dirt outside of the hold. My back was screaming at me, but I refused to listen. Rachel kept steadily working, and so would I. It got to the point where there were too many small and medium sized stones for us to dig anymore.
We stopped, both of us breathing hard and leaning on our shovels to keep standing.
She was keeping herself from breaking down by staying busy. I knew she needed to rest and drink water as much as I did.
“I’ll clear all these stones out if you bring the water over. I feel kind of dehydrated.” I told her.
She nodded, and climbed out of the hole. It must have been about three or four feet deep now, and about six feet or so long. I wanted to finish before the sun had gotten overhead, but it was nearly there already. The dirt and dust that was thrown up during our digging had stuck to the sweat covering us and turned into a second skin of dripping mud. I wiped off what I could onto my shirt, but it seemed to just smear it around.
My hands felt stiff and swollen. I didn’t want to take off my gloves. It might have been impossible to get them back on again. Before she could get back I started tossing out the larger stones. It wouldn’t have been hard before, but now each fist sized stone felt like it weighed forty or fifty pounds.
I didn’t notice her coming back until she slide back into the hole. The gallon jug was about a quarter empty. She handed it to me and the first mouthful made me realize how dry and parched my mouth and throat had become.
I didn’t drink too fast. It probably would have come back up. After pouring some into one hand, I used it to splash into my face. I felt better, but still bone tired. I dried my face on the sleeve of my shirt before twisting the cap back onto the jug and passing it back to Rachel. She opened it and took another drink before putting it behind her.
“Do you think this is deep enough?” she asked.
I shook my head. “We need to go a few more feet.”
She didn’t reply, she just picked up her shovel and started on her side of the hold. I tried switching the side I held the shovel on, but it didn’t help much. After a few minutes it hurt my back just as much as the other way.
It was another hour and a half before we finished. It was a little less than six feet deep, but the ground had become so hard we’d need a pickaxe to keep going.
“This should be good.” I told her. “We can stop digging now.”
We tossed out our shovels and she offered me the last of the water. I told her I was fine, and she finished it in several swallows. She had to help boost me up to climb out, and I was able to reach down far enough to help pull her up. I almost dropped her when my pus slick glove started to slip, but I tightened my grip enough to make the difference.
The sun was about a quarter of the horizon before it was going to set. Rachel noted this and motioned for us to go back to the car. Stephanie was undisturbed from where we had left her. I grabbed the blanket next to her shoulders and slowly pulled her out until Rachel could grab the blanket near Stephanie’s ankles. With the last of our strength we carried her back to the open earth.
We didn’t want to just toss her into the hole, so we lowered her as far as we could before letting her go. The ground seemed to gently catch her as she hit it. Half of the sheet landed over her, and resembled a shroud.
Rachel asked me to leave her alone for a few minutes to say goodbye to her sister. I nodded and wandered to the car. Looking back, I saw her kneel next to the grave. She spoke too quietly for me to hear her, and I didn’t try to listen. After several minutes she motioned for me to come back. We finished filling the hole in less than a quarter of the time it took to dig the hole. The sun was dipping towards the horizon when we threw the last few shovelfuls of dirt into the hole.
Rachel went back to the car and pulled out a full gallon bottle of bleach. She poured it around the freshly dug grave. I guess she didn’t want a hungry Kuru digging around her sister’s final resting place.
We stood apart for a time, looking at the grave and the park we were standing it. There wasn’t anything to say at that point. Rachel picked up the shovels and I took the water jug and shotgun. The air was starting to cool and night wasn’t more than a few hours off. We got everything into the car, and I drove us back to the house.
The light was fading fast by the time we got back to the house. Rachel walked into the house, leaving me to clean up our scent. I’m sure the heavy labor had left our smell all over the car, so I poured more than normal amount generously over everything.
When I went into the house Rachel was sitting in the near dark, tears f
reely running down her face. I avoided staring at her by looking around the room. Everything reminded me of what we’d gone through. The sword with the white dragon handle was lying near the bedding where Stephanie died. I stood in disbelief. She’d survived monsters and horrors, only to succumb to a stupid disease. It wasn’t fair.
She broke my concentration on the past when she finally spoke.
“I want to get out of here. I can’t stay here any longer. It hurts too much.”
I agreed. It was too late to go anywhere now, but we would leave first thing in the morning. We slept in a different room that night. Neither of us wanted to stay in the room where Stephanie died. It was just too painful. We took the blankets that hadn’t been used the night before and went into a smaller bedroom. It must have been designed for children. I could almost put my feet against one wall and stretch my arms over my head to reach the opposite one.
Both Rachel and I smelled awful. I wasted a gallon of water washing myself in the bathtub. When I peeled off my gloves and bandages, it looked as though my hand had half melted off. I cleaned it as best as I could before trying to re-wrap them in clean white strips. They looked rough, but at least the burns were covered. The cold air on them felt like dancing razorblades on the open skin.
When I went back into the room Rachel was laying in the fetal position, in the far corner of the room. I laid one blanket over her before closing and locking the door. It wasn’t thick enough to do much more than slow down a Kuru, but it made me feel a little bit safer. I kept the shotgun next to me and slept near the closet next to the door. Despite the pain in my hand and back, I was tired enough to fall asleep after only a few minutes.
Rachel must not have slept until she passed out from exhaustion. She was still sleeping when I woke up. My back had seized up and it took a long time to move. My hands felt worse than my back. They had stiffened and felt more akin to claws than hands. I could wiggle my fingers a little, but my hands refused to open and close. I tried to stretch my back out on the floor while I waited for Rachel to wake up. She might not take it well if she woke up completely alone. It was bad enough just losing her sister.
The sun had risen for an hour or two before she finally woke up.
She struggled with her tiredness until finally overcoming it. Rubbing at her bleary eyes she finally woke up. When she looked at me I saw dark circles around her bloodshot eyes.
“Morning.” she muttered.
“Let’s pack up while we can. I’ll start downstairs. You can wash up first, if you want to.”
She looked at herself as if first realizing the layer of grime from yesterday’s efforts.
“Sure.”
I had to make an effort to not show the pain that raged through my arms and lower back while I got up. We ambled to the kitchen. From her slight limp, I could tell she was hurting pretty bad too. She went to her bag and grabbed a few things to change into. She chose dark sweatpants and a matching hoodie. Then she took one of the full gallon jugs of water into the bathroom. I’d left one of the flashlights in there so that she could see with the door closed.
I went through the pill bottles on the counter. Opening childproof caps with stiff and swollen hands was nearly impossible. By the time I opened the first one Rachel had come out of the bathroom.
“Here, give me those. I’ll do it.”
She picked up two more bottles. She expertly popped off both caps and made a small pile of pills. With what was left in her bathing jug she swallowed one herself.
“I’m hurting too. Those are just over the counter pain and inflammatory pills. I’ve added those to your antibiotics and painkillers. You need to eat after you take them.”
Before she said anything about eating I was too tired and in pain to think about food. Now my stomach made a loud gurgling sound, and felt like it had been several days since I’d last put something in it.
“You need to eat too.”
She shrugged, but opened a few cans. Mostly fruit. I guess she was still too upset to cook. I swept my pills off of the counter and onto my bandaged hand. She’d left her jug with a few swallows that helped me choke down the dry pills. Rachel put a spoon into each can. She absentmindedly worked on a can of pears. The can of pineapples was rather tart, but my stomach ached for anything at all.
I ate about half before my mouth couldn’t take any more. The third can she had opened was chicken noodle soup. I ate a few bites, and drank some of the broth. The salt helped cancel out the tart.
I looked at Rachel. She’d eaten less than half of her can and was now just idly pushing fruit around with her plastic fork.
“We should go to Los Angeles. There could be people there, people who aren’t infected.” she said.
It wasn’t a great plan, but I couldn’t think of anything better to do. I tried to talk her out of it. It could be as bad as Las Vegas, or worse. She was stubborn, and wanted to try. I thought about going it out on my own, but I didn’t feel comfortable just leaving her by herself.
We didn’t talk about Stephanie, or much of anything else for that matter. We sorted through what we had, and what we could carry. Food and water were first, then extra clothes for us. Rachel kept Stephanie’s bag on the keep pile. It was just a small backpack.
It took almost an hour to haul everything out and pack it into the car. The trunk was filled first, then the back seats. We had enough for at least a few weeks between the two of us. We placed clothes, blankets, and snacks on the back seats. I had to ask Rachel to drive. My hands didn’t hurt, but they weren’t working completely right. That combined with the painkillers wouldn’t be a good idea. She nodded and we were ready to go.
She scrolled through the iPod until choosing a playlist. It started out softly and worked its way up to a heavy drums and electric guitar. It screamed classic rock.
The music seemed fitting as we drove out of the town. The empty streets and broken storefronts blurred by until we left the town. The road was mostly clear, just the occasional crashed car or abandoned one.
The clear road would probably give out before the car would. I guess we would cross that bridge when we got to it. Until then, we just had each other now.
This is the first half of The Road to Nowhere, a two part series.
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY
Lee Argus is a veteran of the military. He served eight years in the U.S. Army as a Fire Fighter (and three years as an Administrative Specialist). He was stationed in Germany and Louisiana during his enlistment. He was also stationed at Ft. Jackson, Ft. Leonardwood, and Goodfellow Air Force Base during M.O.S. training.
He was born in Washington State and now resides in Southern California. He draws his inspiration from his travels across Europe, South Eastern Asia, and North America.
He is the primary author of Chance Escape, The Road to Nowhere, and an upcoming release titled Down & Out).
CONTACT INFORMATION
Lee Argus welcomes emails at [email protected]
You may also reach/find him on several other sites. Sites are listed below.
Twitter:
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Blogspot:
Click here to view the Lee Argus Blog
Author Central:
Click here to view his Amazon Author Page
CHANCE ESCAPE SAMPLE
2011 Lee Argus copyright.
CHAPTER ONE
The dead have risen.
It had been three weeks since the first reports of an infection were announced. First it was thought to have just been a hoax, maybe a publicity stunt for a new movie. Then it was attributed to be mass hysteria, but once the body count went up, people started to take things more seriously.
The first reported incident came out of Los Angeles, more specifically the Los Angeles International Airport. What had first been mistaken as a passenger going insane during a flight, was now realized and confirmed to be one of the infected.
Other cities with major airports around the wo
rld followed in the same pattern, then smaller towns and communities, spreading the infection faster than it could be controlled.
A group of terrorists tried to claim responsibility for the actions but their statements were never proven. The F.B.I. and Department of Homeland Security investigated, but refuted their claims.
The general public was told to stay home and lock their doors. It was advised to stay off the roads and avoid anyone who had come in contact with the virus. Of course, no one listened. People flooded the streets in an attempt to get to family, or just get out of the major cities. Roads that had never been designed to handle that kind of traffic were at a standstill with congestion.
That’s when everything got worse. More and more of the infection spread every day. Some countries tried to impose quarantines, but they didn’t help. There were even reports of people shooting anyone who came to their door, even before they could be identified as infected or not.
Since there was no cure or treatment, people who had been bitten were herded up and mass executed. The government had tried to suppress it, saying that they were being sent to be treated and kept separate from society for their own protection.