Preservation - 03

by Phillip Tomasso

  “I think an occasional bathroom stop isn’t asking too much,” I said. No way was I peeing in a jug on a bus full of people. Be one thing if there was a bathroom inside the bus, like on the tour buses, but there was nothing like that on this one.

  Melissa came out of the men’s room, and Megan went in. When Michelle came out of the women’s room, Kia went in. I didn’t realize how badly I needed to urinate until I knew I wasn’t even next. Gene and Charlene were ahead of me. I bounced my weight from foot to foot, and was a movement away from covering my crotch and crossing my legs at the ankles.

  To distract myself, I looked around. I knew Dave and Andy were outside watching the place. The idea of just being inside a store like this made me a little apprehensive. We were all well-armed.

  “Still a few supplies we could scrounge up from here before we get rolling,” I said. The shelves were mostly picked bare. “Anything edible that isn’t open we should take. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

  “I agree with that,” Gene said.

  Once pee breaks ended, we walked back to the bus as a group. We each carried a hand basket filled with whatever else was left on the store shelves. There were a few tins of sardines, motor oil, baby wipes, plastic ware, and toothpaste, a jar of green olives, magazines, and boxes and boxes of Wheat Thins.

  “Let me go quick,” Andy said. He seemed nearly as impatient as I had been, like he felt his eyeballs about to float inside his skull if he didn’t drain his bladder.

  “I better, too,” Dave said.

  I climbed onto the bus, and got behind the wheel. “Everyone on,” I said. I watched Dave and Andy cut across the parking lot to the mini-mart. The others took seats behind me.

  “I’m gonna get some rest,” Gene said. Melissa agreed, suggesting they’d share a bed.

  I missed Allison.

  Looking around, yet again, I let out a sigh. I’d been waiting for the worst. Expecting the worst, but nothing had happened. The entire ten minute stop was uneventful, and that, for the first time in a long time, felt encouraging.

  “Notice the difference in temperature,” Charlene said. She sat in the closest seat across from me.

  “It sure is considerably warmer, isn’t it?”

  “Ah, yeah, like twenty degrees, almost.”

  “It’s about fifty-five out,” Kia said. She was in the seat behind Charlene. “I’m from Atlanta, originally. Winters were great. The fall and spring, too, but summer was brutal. The humidity alone was relentless. I’m probably the only black woman to move north for a chance at escaping the heat.” She tossed her head back a little and laughed.

  “I’m not a big fan of humidity either,” I said. I eyed the door. The gate was down and secured. I could drive a stick, but was thankful it was an automatic. ”Okay, where am I headed?”

  Charlene held up a folded map. “I’m your co-pilot,” she said. “I helped Andy, too. We are looking for I-65 South. To get there, we need to get back on I-264 West. Make a right out of here, go a few more miles, and we should hit sixty-five.”

  “Gotcha,” I said. “Not a bad co-pil--”

  A gunshot.

  The steel-covered windows might prevent someone or something from getting at us, but they also kept us from seeing everything around us. I shouldn’t have been inside the bus, anyway. Not with Andy and Dave inside the store. I should have grabbed a gun and stood guard. “Where did the shot come from?” I said.

  Gene was out of bed and ran to the front of the bus. “The store, I think.”

  I craned my neck and twisted my head. I couldn’t see either Dave or Andy. “Stay here,” I said, Charlene nodded. “Kia, take the wheel!”

  I scrambled down the three steps, off the bus, and freed my sword from its scabbard. Holding the hilt in both hands I spun around, but saw nothing. “You see anything?” I said.

  Gene held a Glock in each hand. He shook his head. His eyes were open wide, searching the pumps, the parking lot, and like mine -- staring desperately into the darkness that enveloped the store. “Let’s get inside and make sure the guys are okay.”

  We ran from the pumps to the front door. The store was encased in glass. It was easy to see inside, except for the rows of empty shelves making up the mart’s four aisles. “Both bathroom doors are closed.”

  Another gunshot. Glass around the door into the mini-mart exploded. It did not come from inside the store. “Get back to the bus,” I told Gene. “Lock it down. We’ve got visitors coming.”

  I heard car engines. More than one.

  “Chase?” It was Dave.

  I ran in through the missing glass, and sprinted for the bathroom doors. I slid on the linoleum to a stop. The guys were on the floor, backs to the empty shelves.

  “What the fuck is going on out there?” Dave said.

  “Company,” I said. I heard the bus horn honk. And honk. “I think we’re in trouble.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I watched two sets of headlights come at the mini-mart, one pair from the west and the other from the east. I could see them clearly from where we were inside the rear of the store, the last aisle by the bathroom doors.

  “We’re trapped in here,” Andy said. “Aren’t we? We’re trapped.”

  The bus rolled out of its spot by the pumps. It would never be able to turn on a dime and get close enough to the building for us to make a break for it safely. It would need to maneuver around some, and…

  “Where are they going?” Dave said. It pulled up toward the main road. We all watched it from where we knelt behind the shelving. “Where the fuck is our bus going?”

  “It’ll be back,” I said. “That’s what they should do. Take off.”

  “The fuck they should,” Andy said. He stood up. “Thing’s like a tank!”

  I grabbed his shirt and yanked him back down. “You want to get your head shot off?”

  I heard tires screech. The cars must have stopped right up front, both with high-beams on and aimed directly into the store. The back wall was lit like it was ablaze with halogen fire. I heard car doors open, and saw giant shadows play across the wall.

  “Ah shit. What was it, two cars?” Dave said.

  “That’s what I saw.” I knew he itched to destroy whomever was inside those vehicles. We never saw who shot and killed Dave’s brother, Josh. It had to have been groups of ruthless people just like this: Thugs who terrorized people instead of coming together to fight against a common enemy. In this case, the zombies of a fucked up apocalypse. “Look, we have no idea how many people are inside those cars. Figure eight total, worst case. Behind the checkout counter, do you see that door? Has to lead to the back storeroom. There must be an exit back there. Stay low, stay close, and follow me.”

  “We’re running?” Dave said.

  I knelt, like a sprinter ready to run. “Ah, yeah, Dave. I have a fucking sword. A sword. Perfect for fighting slow zombies, but these guys have guns.”

  Andy pumped his twelve gauge. “I have this and a pocket full of shells. We can pepper the shit out of them.”

  I wasn’t looking for an inventory. I’d been trying to make a point.

  Dave smiled. “I have my guns, too.”

  “Full clips?” I gave in.

  “One,” he said. He flipped the other gun over in his hand. “And half.”

  I closed my eyes for just a second, lowered my head. Where the fuck was the bus?

  I removed my machete. “When you’re out of ammo, we’re chopping the bastards up. Got it?”

  “Hey! Hello?”

  Dave, Andy and I stared at each other. I put a finger to my lips, and silently (and needlessly), shushed them.

  More glass fell. It sounded like it had been kicked in; clearing shards that dangled in the door’s frame. Boots crunched on pieces of glass. My nose wrinkled. A foul stench filled the store. Sweat, urine and feces.

  Watching shadows on the wall was all we had. I counted three. I didn’t dare sneak a peek. I knew if I looked, my head would get blown away. Was
n’t the way I was going to die. I hadn’t made it this far to be shot.

  I pointed to the opposite end of the aisle. Dave and Andy nodded. I crawled toward my end, the one closest to the front entrance, where the men with guns were.

  There was no plan. There had been no time to make one.

  “We hear you. We saw you in here. Just give it a rest, okay? Give it a rest and stand up. No reason to draw this out.”

  “We don’t have anything you’d want,” I said. “We just stopped to use the bathrooms.”

  “You have that bus. We’d want that.”

  “You see a bus out there?” Dave gave away his position. Why the fuck did he talk? Didn’t he trust me to handle this? After all of this time together, he should know better than to open his mouth. What was the purpose of us splitting up, if he was just going to blow it right away? We get out of this, I’m going to ask him, because I sincerely wanted an answer.

  “No way have they just left you. They’ll be back.”

  The guy might as well have said, “Abracadabra.”

  I heard the bus return. It must have turned around on the main road, picked up some speed and was now gunning it through the parking lot.

  I risked it. I stood. I had been right to. No one was looking at us. The three guys in the store were turned around and watching the bus cow-scooper-obscured headlights barreling down on the store.

  “Dave!” I said.

  I didn’t know where was going to be safe.

  Dave stood. He must have seen the bus, but it didn’t detract him. He fired off three rounds. His bullets struck two of the men. I couldn’t tell if they’d been killed, but they sure as shit went down.

  The third guy spun around just as the plow on the bus smashed into the side of one of the two cars. Metal crushed and creaked as the windshield popped, and shattered and rained pellets all over the parking lot. The plow drove the first car into the second.

  I heard screams. People had been inside those cars.

  If they weren’t dead, they had to be trapped with injuries. I couldn’t imagine anyone climbing out of either car without at least a concussion.

  Dave fired off shots at the third guy, the one who ran from the store.

  I didn’t know the status of the other two. Dave knew enough not to assume shit. He was on his side of the aisle, I was on mine. We both took cautious steps toward the front of the store where the two men went down.

  “Guys,” Andy said from behind us, still standing by the bathroom door.

  I held up a hand. “Stay.”

  It wasn’t my intent to treat him like a dog, but if he didn’t know enough to shut up and just be still, I had no issue reminding him.

  The bus backed up, the double doors swooshed open.

  “Close those!” I said.

  Gene, Michelle and Megan stepped off the bus with a rifles in their hands. They looked bad ass, I’d give them that. I remembered when we’d first met on the street by the high school. Getting off a crashed plane and seeing these guys with their guns was very intimidating. Right now, it would be best if they stayed out of it.

  “Get back on the bus!” I said, and pointed with the tip of my sword blade. Michelle and Megan moved to the front of the bus, where the cars they’d smashed would be.

  The side of Gene’s head exploded; brain and skull and hair bits sprayed onto the ajar bus door.

  “Son of a bitch,” I said.

  Dave reached the end of the aisles first and stepped around the corner fast. He positioned himself quickly into a firing stance with his feet shoulder length apart, both hands on the grip and let off three rounds. Looked like two went into one guy, the third into the guy a little further away.

  I rounded the corner. If the two guys he’d shot hadn’t died immediately, they were certainly dead now.

  Melissa came off the bus screaming. Couldn’t Kia or even Charlene have restrained her? “Get back on the bus! Close the doors!”

  She didn’t listen to me. She dropped to her knees beside to her dead husband.

  “Andy,” I said. “Get up here!”

  Holding his twelve gauge and the machete I gave to Dave, he stared at me with his mouth closed tight and tears streaming down his face. “Get on the bus. Keep everyone inside. Watch out for that other guy. Here, here, give me the machete.”

  I didn’t know where the third guy was, the one that killed Gene. And I couldn’t see Michelle or Megan.

  Andy held the shotgun up as he backed against the threshold, and did a quick peek around the building. “He’s over by the cars, checking on the others stuck inside.”

  “Be careful,” I said.

  Dave walked up to me. I tossed him the machete. “Don’t just leave it lying around, okay?”

  “Sorry about that,” he said. He looked at Gene and Melissa, and back at me shaking his head. “What the fuck, man.”

  Andy moved. I wasn’t ready. He was faster than I’d expected. He scooped up Melissa and carried her onto the bus. The doors closed. She didn’t make a sound. I don’t think she even knew what was happening until Andy already had her safely off the pavement.

  There was more gunfire. Handguns. “Michelle? Megan?” I said.

  Dave crouched, crossed from the store to the bus, and flattened his back against it. He waved me over. “I don’t see them.”

  I heard a rifle shot. They were fighting.

  The bus’ headlights shone on the wrecked cars. I couldn’t tell if anyone was inside either of them. “Michelle! Megan!”

  Nothing.

  Dave and I moved to the cow-scoop on the front of the bus. I looked around the pointed edge. Both women were standing, and firing.

  I couldn’t make out their target. “Get back on the bus.”

  Megan faced me. “There are three of them. They climbed out of the cars. They’re just over there.”

  “I don’t care,” I said. “Let’s go. Come on, come on!”

  A gun shot. Michelle fell. Blood spurt from the back of her thigh.

  Dave and I came out from behind cover, and ran past Megan.

  “Run,” I said.

  Megan knelt next to Michelle, who was screaming. She writhed on the pavement, threw back her head and reached to hold her leg with both hands. I slid my sword into the scabbard, and squatted down beside them.

  “I’ve got you. I have you,” I said. Dark blood sprayed from her leg in time with each rapid beat of her heart.

  “My God, Chase, it hurts. I mean, it really stings,” she said, and smiled.

  “Grab onto me,” I said, and Michelle wrapped her arms around my neck.

  “I can help,” Megan said.

  “Get her rifle,” I said. “Megan, the rifle.”

  I saw the hole in the center of Megan’s forehead. Small. Round. Blood trickled down her face. She fell forward. Michelle screamed.

  Dave grabbed the two rifles. “You have her?”

  “I got her,” I said.

  He opened fire. I don’t know if he saw who he was shooting at, or if he just fired blindly into the darkness stretched out in front of us.

  We made it back to the side of the bus. Kia was in the driver seat, the door opened. “Get on, get on!”

  “What about Gene?” Dave said.

  “Get on the bus, Dave,” I said.

  “We can’t leave him out there,” Dave said.

  “I want you to listen to me. Gene’s head was blown off. His wife is on that bus. We’re not bringing him on the bus. I don’t want to leave him out here either. You know that. You know it. Look at him, Dave. Look at him.”

  Dave cried as he looked down at Gene’s remains. He did not wipe the tears that fell from his eyes.

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  Michelle was getting heavy. Hot blood coated my arms, and was wet against my shirt and pants. I glanced back, and saw in the bus’ headlights where the two vehicle-corpses lay tangled in a knotted metal mess.

  Dave opened fire. I didn’t expect anyone to shoot back, but you never
knew. I climbed onto the bus first, with Dave right behind me.

  The bus lurched forward. I heard the engine grind and groan, but power up and accelerate until the purr was steady and rhythmic. It was the only sound for a few miles, the only sound, until Char spoke up and directed Kia onto I-264 West.

  We put Michelle on a bottom bunk.

  Charlene was ready with water and some clean rags. “I have a bandana you can use as a tourniquet.”

  “Thank you,” I said. I attempted to tie the bandana around Michelle’s thigh. It wasn’t going to fit. She was losing a lot of blood. “I need something else. Something bigger, longer,” I said.

  Dave took off his shirt. “Try this.”

  It worked. “I need a stick. A knife. Something long.”

  Charlene grabbed a snow brush. “This?”

  I snatched it out of her hands. “Perfect.”

  I used the snowbrush to torque the tightness of the tourniquet.

  “Now what?” Charlene asked.

  Kia was at the wheel. We droned on and on. “We wait,” I said.

  “Wait for what?” she said.

  I did not have an answer.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  1202 hours / 750 miles to go

  It was my first time in Memphis. I’d never seen the Mississippi. Now here I was on Interstate 40, and cruising through Tennessee. That mighty river was coming up, and in no time at all, we’d be in Arkansas. There were so many places I’d have liked to have stopped. So many places to see. My life had been so limited to Western New York. Canada and Niagara Falls were the places outside of New York that I’d visited most. Sixty miles from where I’d lived my whole life. That was sad and pathetic.

  Gene’s bus saved us more than once. The thing had the power to push through anything blocking the road.

  The mid-sky sun lit the land like nothing was wrong with the world, like people weren’t dead, dying or turning.

  “We’ve made good time,” Kia said. “You want me to take a turn at the wheel. We’ll keep on going. No stopping.”