“How about the crazy people?” Cheyenne asked. She noticed my frown and asked, “What? That’s what they are.”
Janessa continued, “We’ve got a few cutters who are really hurting themselves. That one lady who won’t speak? We’ve had to run her down twice after she untied herself last night. I don’t know what we’re going to do with her.”
Cheyenne remained silent.
“No,” Janessa said, sensing the same argument Cheyenne used over some of the people over the last few days, “No. We’re not just going to cut them loose. They wouldn’t stand a chance out there, Cheyenne.”
Cheyenne let her hair flop down on the left side of her face but didn’t answer.
“That lady is becoming dangerous to us, Janessa,” I interrupted before Cheyenne could respond. “Remember when she screamed for an hour before we gagged her the day before yesterday? Now she’s wandering off and we have to chase after her?”
Janessa’s eyes began to moisten, “We can’t just let people wander off, Taylor. What about the little kids? What happens if they become dangerous to us? Crying, screaming in fear, wandering off while they play? Do we just ignore them? Let them go? Leave them behind?”
“It’s not the same,” Cheyenne mumbled into the passenger window.
“It is,” Janessa argued, “It is the same. They’re helpless. So is she. We need to look after them.”
Cheyenne turned partly around, but her hair continued to cover her face, “Janessa. It’s a liability. Remember that older Spanish guy with dementia in Lumberton? He wandered right into a pack of Roamers and led them right back to our camp. We lost two people to that one event.”
Janessa wiped her tears, “I know. I know. But . . . she needs us. She can get better.”
Cheyenne flipped her hair out of her face and looked back at Janessa, “No. No, she can’t. She’s crazy. She’s traumatized beyond all repair.”
“We all are!” Janessa shouted, “You are! Taylor is! I am! We’re all traumatized! Does that mean we should abandon each other?”
Cheyenne looked away. “It’s not the same.”
“You freeze at random moments. Taylor can’t process his own injuries. I can’t sleep. We all have something going on!”
“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.” I held up my hand. “What do you mean I can’t process my own injuries? I know how bad I’m hurt. I just . . . I just have to move past it to keep functioning.”
Janessa was getting angry. “No, you aren’t. You have an infection in your leg that we have to watch. You don’t even realize how bad it is. You don’t realize you’ve had a low-grade fever for two days. You don’t know!”
I glanced at her, then at Cheyenne.
Cheyenne slowly turned her face toward me, she couldn’t look me in the eyes, she was staring at my right thigh.
“I’ve always had a slightly higher temperature,” I argued back, “That’s not new. Not everyone has a normal temp.”
Cheyenne glanced up at me, “Do you know how much you’re favoring your leg when you walk and run?”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, duh! Yeah, I’ve got a couple of four-inch-long cuts that are trying to heal.”
She reached over and pressed on my thigh, I hissed and slapped her hand away. “Not funny.”
Cheyenne shook her head. “I barely touched you. Taylor. She’s right. You’ve got an infection going on. I see how red it is when you aren’t wearing the bandage. Your arms are fine, but your leg is infected.”
“It’s not severe, but it could be if we don’t watch it,” Janessa agreed.
“It’s not that bad,” I replied.
Cheyenne reached over and lightly dropped her hand on my thigh.
Spots flashed across my vision as I jerked my foot off the accelerator.
Cheyenne grabbed the wheel to steady us. “You’ve got a mild infection.”
Without thinking about it, and before I could stop myself, I poked the bandaged stitches on her arm.
She winced, frowned at me, I apologized immediately, and she smiled. “That’s how you react when some jerk pokes your wound without warning you. It hurts, but you don’t jump as if you got stabbed. You jumped.”
“Well,” I pouted, “It hurt.”
Her eyes were filled with sadness. “You only notice it when we mention it. King kicked your leg when you were putting him in. You didn’t even flinch.”
“It’s called discipline.”
Cheyenne tsked. “Whatever. Okay. Fine. We leave the crazy lady alone. Point made.”
Janessa put her hand on Cheyenne’s shoulder and Cheyenne squeezed her hand.
“When we get to Bruxton, we’ll get the stuff we’ll need to take care of that infection.” Cheyenne sighed. “We’ll fix this nut if we can’t fix any others.”
Janessa smiled, “Thank you. I’ve been reading the books we have but we’ve not found the medication we need, and I really searched that last CVS.”
Cheyenne rubbed my shoulder, “Don’t worry, with me and the Doc on the job, you’ll survive.”
“That’s the truth. You’re stuck with us,” Janessa agreed.
“Head’s up! We’ve got company ahead!” Randy warned over the radio.
I grabbed the radio, “What’s up?”
“Runners!” Randy yelled, “Coming around the gas station before the bridge. They’re charging!”
“How many?”
Patty answered, “Fifteen, I think!”
“Alright everybody, look alive,” I advised our wagon train.
If we hadn’t had random abandoned cars blocking the road, Randy might have just plowed through the Changed and we would have gone on. Sadly, our top speed between wrecks was forty miles an hour, typically less than that since we turned on 64.
The Change happened during early morning rush hour and it was also during local summer tourist season. One of the main reasons I left home and traveled while writing a new mystery novel were the tourists at home. Tourists often left a bad taste in my mouth. I’ve cleaned enough beaches during the summer growing up and often the local influx of Northerners and vacationers were rude, demanding, or just indifferent to the environment.
Thankfully, a severed power line to the island during bridge construction cancelled all the power to Hatteras Island prior to the Change and hadn’t been fixed. The tourists on the island were evacuated and sent toward the mainland or surrounding towns. It was a blow to the economy, but required, which was why we were traveling toward my home. A lessened population, isolated, hard to get to, with only a limited number of main access roads, mainly bridges, and a least for me, familiar territory. A safe harbor in more than one way.
We hoped.
“There!” Cheyenne yelled, pointing out her closed window.
Two runners were converging toward the group.
Janessa confirmed more on the left.
“Maybe we can just drive through,” I suggested.
A Runner appeared to the left of the plow, attempted to grab it as it passed, missed, and tried to grab my side mirror and missed.
Sticky blood splattered the windshield in fine droplets from over the top of the plow.
“They’re climbing us!” Patty’s voice rang out.
Three climbers appeared on the pile of rocks in the back of the dump truck.
“Oh, no, you don’t!” Cheyenne warned, rolling down her window and climbing out.
“Janessa!” I yelled, realizing Cheyenne wasn’t tied to her seat.
“I’ve got you! I’ve got you!” Janessa yelled, climbing between the seats, and wrapping her arms around Cheyenne’s legs.
Runners tended to climb the plow, see who was behind them, then leap to the next car, usually us. We have a dent in the roof where one collided with us but rolled off on our fourth day. Cheyenne made sure no others since then would launch themselves through our windshield.
BANG klik-klack
The Runner, about to leap off the top of the heap, jerked backwards as its head exploded and it rolled off the ba
ck of the truck and into our path.
“Speedbump!” Cheyenne screamed as her free hand braced her against the Jeep’s roof.
There was a pop, a squish, a knocking sound beneath us, and then Cheyenne was back out the window.
BANG klik-klack
BANG klik-klack
BANG klik-klack
Two more Runners fell.
A third Runner appeared, its body pressed close to the rock pile.
BANG klik-klack
The Runner stood and threw a rock directly at Cheyenne!
“What the hell!”
We’d noticed in the last few days that the Runners and some of the other types were no longer acting like animals committing random attacks of opportunity. Lately, they were hunting in packs, with tactics, and even beginning to use tools.
Like using rocks as weapons.
Cheyenne cursed as the rock hit the roof above the passenger seat.
BANG klik-klack
The Runner ducked as she fired, rose, and threw another rock.
The rock collided with the windshield and pulverized, creating a pinhole crack.
King barked a hoarse, tired, bark.
BANG klik-klack
“Janessa! Get Grandpa’s shotgun!” Cheyenne yelled.
I realized other shots were ringing out behind us.
Glancing in the mirrors, other Runners were converging on vehicles behind us and the caravan was fighting back.
“Look out!” Janessa screamed as she let Cheyenne go to get the shotgun then grabbed her again.
A Runner appeared on the right of the road and leapt at Cheyenne as she aimed at the pitcher.
Cheyenne cursed and used the butt of the Winchester and hit the Runner just as it reached for her. It flailed wildly as it fell and rolled before Julie behind us ran it over.
A rock ricocheted off the hood of the Jeep and bounced over us.
“Shotgun! Shotgun!” Cheyenne demanded, repositioning herself.
King barked and crawled down into the floorboards.
Janessa let go, searched the floorboard behind us and retrieved the shotgun.
BANG klik-klack
The Runner hissed and recoiled as she hit it in its right leg bringing it to her knees. The Runner was female. Runners were often previously athletic before their change. I assumed this one had been a pitcher on some baseball or softball team.
Cheyenne exchanged the Winchester for Grandpa’s shotgun as she yelled for a reload and that more shells could be found on the floor.
Additional Changed blood splashed the windshield and covered Cheyenne. Randy must have rammed another in his way.
Cursing a blue streak, Cheyenne open fired on the pitcher again.
BOOM
The Runner flattened to the rocks, rose as Cheyenne chambered a shell, and furiously began pitching.
Cheyenne screamed as a rock hit her shoulder and bounced inside the window onto the passenger seat. Two more hit the roof of the Jeep near her.
Cheyenne casually but forcefully and enthusiastically expressed her opinion of the sexual relations of the pitcher and its mother.
BOOM
The Runner jerked, stood, roared, and did a running leap at Cheyenne, determined to take Cheyenne with it.
BOOM
The Runner changed direction in midair, slammed against the back of the dump truck and fell beneath our wheels.
Thumpity. Thumpity. Thumpity.
Cheyenne cursed again as she shot back into the window.
A warped green traffic sign whizzed past as we crossed over the near end of the Virginia Dare Memorial bridge crossing over Croatan sound.
On either side of us, the Atlantic waters lapped against the shore, gunfire continued behind us for a few more moments and then cheers rang out over the radio.
Peeyew! Cheyenne stank from the splattered Changed blood mixed into her hair and dotting her upper body. Janessa handed her a towel and wet wipes we kept for just such an eventuality.
I picked up the radio, “How’s it look ahead, Randy?”
“We’ve got cars partially blocking our way but not too many. I can move them, but I see an eighteen-wheeler just before the bridge rises into a hump, we might have trouble with it. Oh, wow, and be careful, some cars broke the railing and we’ve got burned debris in the way.”
“Good to know. How about behind us? Everyone okay? How’s our rear look?”
We received no casualties and the rear guard reported the Runners were not pursuing.
“Alrighty then!” I brightened, “One more island and we can hit the beach!”
Cheers rose from the radio. “Keep your eyes open though, everyone,” I warned, “We’re not on safe ground yet, keep alert.”
I put the radio down on the dashboard and smiled.
Cheyenne pointed at the bruise on her shoulder, “Did you see that? Did you see that bitch throw!”
Janessa leaned forward and checked the wound, “It didn’t break the skin. You’re going to have a good knot though.”
“Ow!” she laughed pushing Janessa’s hand away, “At least it wasn’t my head! They’re getting smarter. Maybe remembering things from their previous life.”
“Yeah, they’re evolving. Not all of them but they could learn from others. We’ll have to increase our shooting practice and hand to hand combat training.”
Cheyenne took the Winchester back and finished reloading it. “Crossing my fingers, I hope we’ll find more survivors in your hometown.”
“And less Changed,” I added.
Janessa helped King back into his seat, trying to calm the panting Irish Setter. Janessa gave Cheyenne more towels as she rubbed the sticky mess of vile liquids out of her hair and off her face and neck.
Janessa reached into the back and offered each of us water bottles as I turned the A/C back on full blast.
Janessa leaned against the windows behind me, “Not a cloud in the sky. Still no rain.”
I glanced toward the sky, “Don’t worry. There’s clean water in Bruxton and eventually, the drought will break. The water’ll taste a little funny, but you’ll get used to drinking the local flavor.”
Cheyenne frowned, rolled down her window, and leaned out, looking around the dump truck ahead of us.
She picked up the radio, “Hey, Randy? Are there fires ahead of us?”
It took a second before Randy answered, “Yeah. What island is this ahead of us? Roanoke?”
Cheyenne held the radio, so I could answer. “Yeah, It’s Roanoke island. How many fires?”
“Lots of fires. Fifteen. Twenty? It looks like the whole island has either burned or is burning.”
Chapter 6
Fires were becoming a regular occurrence everywhere lately.
Weeks of drought, high temps and, now that were nearing the ocean winds that tended to blow any little bit of tinder into a full-blown forest fire.
With no operating fire departments, the only option was to let it burn and run from it. We’d seen several major towns burned to the ground on our way up from Georgia. Wrecked vehicles and planes fallen from the sky, crashing and burning, contributed to the scattered and random deforestations along our long route.
“We’re going to be stopping here in a minute,” Randy announced, “We’ll have to push that tractor trailer out of the way up ahead. I don’t see any dangers. It looks like the driver just ran into the barrier and stopped.”
His plow bumped cars out of the way for us.
“Hey, sexy?” Julie’s voice came over the radio.
Cheyenne grinned and picked up the radio, “Yes?”
Julie laughed, “Well, you’re sexy too, but I meant the kung fu master in the driver’s seat.”
I took the radio, “Yes, Julie?”
“Me and Demetri have been noticing as we pass cars, after Randy nudges them out of the way, that they look like they’ve been moved already. We’re not having to weave so much. Randy? You noticing that?”
“Yeah, Patty and me were just about t
o say something. Really the only reason I’m hitting anything except for when we first came on the bridge was because the plow is wider than most of you behind us.”
I glanced at Cheyenne. “That’s suspicious. Do the cars look out of the ordinary?”
“Nah,” Randy replied, “Just pushed. Not pushed like one of the Tanks would have done, but still moved out of the way.”
I thought for a moment. “Okay, everybody lock and load. When we stop to move the eighteen-wheeler, space yourselves out. Don’t clump up. Anybody who can shoot a weapon get ready to do so. Randy, let us know when you’re about to stop. Don’t get too close to that rig either.”
“Are you getting a bad feeling about that moon ahead, Obi-Taylor?” Julie asked.
“I don’t sense a disturbance, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one,” I replied.
“Roger that. Making sure we don’t have anybody wearing a red shirt just in case.” Julie laughed.
I grinned, deciding to challenge her geek sensibilities, “The orcs will not prevail this day!”
“We await the quickening! Draw forth your blade! This is not hallowed ground!”
Cheyenne shook her head, smiling. “You both need to cut back on your sugar.”
“Protect the fifth element!” Julie yelled.
“Charge the rainbow bridge!” I yelled back.
“As you wish!”
“Children?” Randy interrupted, “We’re coming to a stop.”
“Preparing dry dock procedures,” Julie confirmed.
“Be careful. Vincent says it could be a rip in the very fabric of space and time.”
“Dude! The Black Hole? Julie laughed, “You’re so awesome!”
“Is that a movie?” Janessa asked.
I nodded, slowing the Jeep. “Yeah, a really, really, old one.”
Cheyenne crossed her arms and grinned. “Do you and Julie need to find a movie theater? I’m sure we can find a working DVD player and projector somewhere. Though we would probably never see you two again.”
“We can just toss them a bag of chips once in a while,” Janessa agreed, “Or some popcorn.”
The Unchanged (Book 3): Safe Harbor Page 4