“What did he say?” Claire says.
“He said that we should head for Cheyenne Mountain. There’s an underground facility there,” I tell them.
“So that’s who she was talking to,” Scout says.
“How far away is that?” Claire asks.
“Probably about six hours,” Fletcher says.
I turn my head to see him walking back out of the hallway with the rest of the group.
“That was before,” he says. “Now it’s probably about a day. Maybe two.”
The thought of getting back on the road again makes me anxious. Especially since we have no idea what we could be heading into.
Cheyenne Mountain is supposed to be the most secure facility in the entire country. By now we’ve come to accept that no place is ever really safe anymore. Still, we don’t exactly have any options left. We just have to take our chances and hope it keeps us alive awhile longer.
“So when do we leave?” Steven says.
“Hold on,” Scout says. “Who says we should go there? I’ve had my share of underground bunkers. I’m not so sure I can handle going back into another one. How do we even know it’s safe there?”
I think she is referring to what happened to them back in Missouri; the militia that was in some underground commercial facility.
“What else can we do, doll?” Fletcher asks her. “We can’t stay here. We’re out of options.”
“I don’t know,” Scout sighs. “I don’t like it, though.”
“We’ve been on the road for too long,” Fletcher says. “I mean, hell, look at yourself, Scout. We can’t keep doing this.”
“I’m going in the morning,” I say. “I’m taking Claire and the doctor with me. The rest of you can do whatever you want. It’s your choice.”
“What exactly do we know about the situation there?” Hoff says. He seems skeptical.
“Not much,” I say. “There wasn’t enough battery left to have much of a discussion. But he knew Jess. I think we can trust him.”
Hoff considers this for a moment.
“Okay,” he agrees. “I think we should go. But we need to be prepared for anything. We’ve already walked into enough situations that seemed on the level and ended up paying for it. It’s not happening again on my watch.”
“I’m with you,” I tell him.
“If we are staying here tonight, I think we should move upstairs to the top floor,” Blake suggests. “It’ll be safer.”
“I think I’ll stay down here,” I tell him. “Keep an eye on the Victors.”
“The what?” he says.
“Vehicles,” Hoff explains.
“They’re not going anywhere,” Blake says.
“I’m not taking any chances,” I tell him.
“Suit yourself,” Blake says.
He takes Danielle by the hand and heads into the stairwell. I don’t know what it is about that egghead, but he really just generally gets on my nerves. It’s like he thinks he is smarter than everyone else in the room. Maybe he is. Maybe I’m just jealous because I know, in reality, he is a lot smarter than me. Either way, I still can’t help wanting to beat his ass. I just might when this is all over with, but for now it’s probably better to avoid starting any trouble.
Most of the others wander upstairs as well, but I don’t mind. It’s been a long time since I didn’t have to deal with anyone else, and to be completely honest, I’m kind of sick of hearing about their problems.
As the sun sets, and the lab descends into darkness, I sit by myself in the lobby. A corpse wanders up to the entrance and spots me on the sofa. It moans as it shuffles through the broken glass and scattered papers on the floor.
I wait and let it approach me.
Part of me wants to just lie here and do nothing, and see if the thing might just lose interest and go away.
But these things don’t operate like that.
They don’t just go away.
It never ends.
I groan as I get to my feet and snatch up my rifle off the floor; the thing closes in. I raise the rifle and crack the stiff in the side of the face. It stumbles to the side and falls to the tile floor. It tries to sit up and reaches out to grab me, but I raise the rifle and bring it down on the damn thing. It moans, and the haunting noise reverberates off the empty walls of the lobby. Then, it goes silent as I hit it in the face again, driving its skull into the hard surface of the floor.
Even though it’s been almost two days without sleep, I know that falling asleep down here alone is not an option. Not if I want to live anyway. Even though I don’t want to, I’ll have to head back upstairs. I turn around to pick up my things, and then I hear the click of a door opening across the room.
Not another one.
I pick up the rifle and walk toward the hallway wondering how it got inside. Maybe there is another entrance. It’s possible the thing was in the building all along and we just missed it. The figure steps into the moonlight and I raise the rifle.
“Jesus,” says the blonde girl as she walks around the corner and finds me ready to bludgeon her to death.
“Sorry,” I say as I lower the rifle. “Thought you were one of them.”
“You scared the shit out of me,” she holds a hand over her chest and laughs.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize again. “You had it coming, though. Creeping around in the dark like that.”
“I was just coming to make sure you were okay,” she says.
“You don’t need to worry about me,” I tell her.
“I wasn’t,” she says. “Well, I really just needed a break.”
“A break from what?” I ask her.
“From people,” she says.
I don’t say it, but I have to wonder what that makes me then. At the same time, I kind of understand where she is coming from.
“I think I know what you mean,” I say turning around to head back for the dilapidated sofa.
“I didn’t mean to bother you,” she explains. “I thought you would probably be asleep already.”
“I had a friend stop by,” I gesture to the corpse on the floor.
“You really should treat your friends better,” she says.
“Well,” I sigh and sit down again. “He really should have had the decency to call first.”
She smirks and continues to stand next to the couch. I gesture to the other end to invite her to sit down.
“Don’t worry,” she tells me. “I’m not going to talk your head off or anything.”
I grab an extra shirt from my bag and ball it up.
“You aren’t bothering me, Miss,” I say.
She makes a face when I call her that.
“I’m sorry, I never caught your name,” I say.
“Natalie,” she says.
“I’m Chase,” I tell her.
“I know,” she says. “I mean, they mentioned it.” She gestures toward the upper floors.
“Of course,” I say.
The moment feels awkward. Neither of us seems to really know how to talk to the other, and yet that kind of makes it all seem okay somehow.
“Go ahead,” she tells me. “Get some sleep. I’ll keep an eye on things.”
I tuck the shirt behind me and rest my head against it. It’s definitely not the most comfortable position I’ve slept in, but I’m so tired it probably won’t matter. Besides, I’m not planning on resting very long. These days, three to four hours is about as much as I get in before my dreams wake me back up again. Most of the time, the thoughts that come during sleep are far more frightening than what happens when I am awake.
I close my eyes and stare at the dark undersides of my eyelids for several minutes, but I can’t fall asleep. Natalie sits quietly beside me. Even though she isn’t doing anything, her presence keeps me awake. She isn’t talking or moving around, but I can feel her there beside me. It’s almost what I’d imagine sitting in a room with a ghost would feel like.
I resist the urge to open my eyes and turn and look a
t her again. Partly because I don’t know what to say anyway, but also because I don’t want to get close to anyone now, especially someone like her.
Finally, I open my eyes again and turn my head to look at her beside me. She stares outside at the empty, moonlit streets. Maybe she senses me watching her before she turns to look at me.
“Sorry,” she says.
“You didn’t do anything,” I say. “I just can’t sleep.”
“I thought I might have been talking to myself out loud,” she says.
“You weren’t,” I tell her.
“Good,” she says and lowers her eyes to the floor.
Then I think about what she said.
“You usually talk to yourself?” I ask her.
“No,” she says. “I mean I don’t think so. Sometimes I feel like I’ll be like thinking, you know, and I’m just not sure if the voice is in my head or if I’m actually saying it.”
I nod politely, but then I start to wonder if this girl has some issues.
“You’re looking at me funny,” she says. Her blue eyes almost seem to glow in the darkness. “That probably made me sound weird.”
“No,” I say. “It’s not weird. Well, maybe it’s a little weird, but everyone is a little weird, I guess.”
She almost smiles as I’m talking, but instead she looks away from my eyes and stares out into the moonlight again. The glimmer I momentarily saw in her eyes vanishes and her eyelids seem to narrow again.
“Damn it,” she curses and drops her gaze to the floor.
“Did I say something?” I ask.
“No,” she says. “Not at all. I just didn’t expect you to be nice.”
“I’m sorry?” I say. “I didn’t realize that was a problem. I can act like more of a dick if you like.”
“No,” she says. “I mean I thought you would be someone I could be around without really feeling anything, you know?”
I think I understand what she is getting at, but I’m also wondering if she is just crazy.
“I make an effort to keep to myself, and it isn’t because I don’t like those people upstairs,” she explains. “It’s because I’m trying not to. That way it won’t hurt so bad when something happens to them.”
“I know what you mean,” I say.
“You do?” she says.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’ve kind of felt the same way my whole life. Might not be as methodical about it as you, but it’s all the same.”
We both get quiet as a corpse wanders down the road in front of the entrance to the lab. It doesn’t take notice of us in the darkness, so we just stay quiet and watch and wait for it to pass on. It seems to take an eternity, but honestly, it’s a relief, too. As long as the corpse is out there, it means we have a reason to avoid talking to each other. When it finally leaves, I tilt my head back and close my eyes again.
I can still feel Natalie beside me, sitting there quietly, wanting to be near someone but also remaining disconnected.
“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “If something happens to you, I doubt it will really bother me too much.”
“Thanks,” she says.
I can’t tell if she means to sound sarcastic or not, but I’m tired enough that I don’t really care.
“Now, if you don’t mind,” I say, “I might actually try to sleep now.”
“Go ahead,” she says. “I’ll be right here.”
Thirty-two
It is still dark outside when I open my eyes again. I lift my head up and find Natalie sitting exactly as she was a few hours ago when I fell asleep. As I stretch out the godawful kinks in my neck from sleeping in one of the worst positions imaginable, I remember the incredibly awkward conversation we had earlier in the evening.
“How long was I out?” I ask her.
“Just a few hours,” she says.
I check the trucks in the empty street, and then turn my head to look at Natalie again. She yawns and stretches her back a bit.
“Go ahead,” I tell her. “Get some sleep. I’m good now.”
I get up off the couch so that she can stretch out if she wants, and then I crouch down and search through my bag for something to eat. The food in my bag is all gone. Blake gave away what I had in the truck, too.
Dumbass.
“Something wrong?” Natalie asks me as she settles on the sofa.
“Blake gave away my food,” I say.
“There’s a Pop Tart in my bag,” she says as she twists her body on the cushion to rest on her side. “It’s all yours if you want it.”
I pick up her backpack and open it up. I try to locate the silver wrapper without digging through all of her stuff, but the inside of that thing is a nightmare of crap. I move a couple things around, but all I find is more stuff. She notices me struggling and sits up on the sofa.
“Give it to me,” she says and holds out her hand.
I pass her the bag and she reaches down, shoves something aside and brings out the shiny package a second later like some kind of fucking magician.
“Thanks,” I say as I open the crinkling wrapper. I sit down on a small end table beside the couch and start to eat. It’s the first thing I’ve had since yesterday morning and eating it makes me realize just how hungry I am. After I finish, I look back over to the couch, but I can tell by her slow, deep breathing that Natalie has already fallen asleep.
Even though I told her before I passed out that I would not be upset if something were to happen to her, I don’t know if I believe myself. That is not what matters though. I just said it so that she would hopefully believe it.
As much as I feel drawn to this gal, I don’t want to be getting close to anyone. Not before and certainly not now. I keep telling myself that, but I can’t help watching her sleep until the sun begins to rise over the buildings to the east.
Shortly after dawn, the rest of the group comes down from the upper floors. The sound of them coming through the stairwell door stirs Natalie from sleep, and she sits up on the couch. Blake gives me a wave and walks over.
“Everything okay?” he asks. The question seems to be directed toward Natalie more than me, so I let her answer.
“Yeah,” she says.
“I was a little worried when I woke up and realized you never came back up,” he says. His eyes dart between Natalie and me. I don’t know why the hell he is acting like an overprotective father all of the sudden, but I don’t appreciation the implication.
“Everything’s fine,” she tells him. “It was just a little crowded up there.”
“She’s a big girl,” I tell him. “I think she can look out for herself.”
“You don’t know the first thing about her,” Blake informs me; then he turns and carries his bag to the truck.
“He always like that?” I ask Natalie.
“No,” Natalie says. “Just with you.”
As I watch him walk away, I notice Claire looking at me and Natalie. When our eyes meet, she averts her gaze, climbs into the pickup, and closes the door.
I pick up my rifle and my pack off the ground and get myself ready to leave as Natalie stretches on the sofa.
“Thanks,” I tell Natalie. “For helping keep an eye on shit. And the food, too.”
“Don’t get all mushy on me,” she smiles.
“Right,” I say. “My bad.”
I leave her to get herself ready to go and head for the pickup. I toss my pack in the bed of the truck and then look up at Fletcher sitting on the tailgate next to the annoying dog.
“You got an idea how to get to Cheyenne Mountain from here?” I ask him. “You seem to know this area a bit.”
“Yeah, I grew up around there,” he says. “I can’t draw you a map or nothing, but I still got a pretty good idea.”
“So, what kind of resistance are we looking at?” I ask him.
He thinks about it for a few seconds as he stares off at the sky.
“Well,” he says finally. “Once we get through Española, it shouldn’t be too bad. Bunch of small to
wns the rest of the way. At least until we get up near Pueblo and Colorado Springs. Then all bets are off.”
“No way around those areas?”
“We can avoid Pueblo,” he says. “It’ll be safer, but will probably add on a few hours of travel time. Still have to go through Colorado Springs, though. No way around that.”
“We’ll take the scenic route then,” I say.
He nods, and then I open the door and climb into the driver’s seat, stowing my rifle between my leg and the center console while I avoid making eye contact with Claire again. She probably is assuming something stupid about Natalie, because women generally assume the worst when it comes to men.
“Good morning,” she finally says.
“Morning,” I say as I stick the keys in the ignition.
“Did you get some sleep?” she asks me. It’s one of those questions that seems like it is really asking something different than the words actually mean.
“Best night I’ve had in a while,” I say and start the truck.
Maybe that seems cruel. I don’t know why it matters to her anyway.
We get on the highway and navigate the winding roads through the Sangre de Cristo mountains. When we reach the Pueblo territory, we veer north on a highway that runs alongside a steep canyon far above the rocky waters of the Rio Grande.
“We just keep following the river up north,” Fletcher says. “Takes us straight up to Colorado.”
I give him a thumbs up and continue rolling down the highway. Brown shrubs dot the downslope of a mountain along the right side of the road. Eventually, the dry brush gives way to trees that throw shade on the neglected houses. Only a few of the dead wander through the rocky, rust-colored dirt and thickets alongside the road until we reach a small community on the outskirts of Española. More and more of the dead stumble out of the woodwork toward the vehicles on the highway, moaning and flailing their arms in a futile attempt to catch us.
The small town comes in to view ahead as we crest a hill. I can see the highway runs right into a maze of tight streets lined with shops and shitty single-story homes. It reminds me of some of the towns I saw in The Stan. Except this place is crawling with walking corpses.
Fletcher didn’t seem too concerned about this area, but I am. It won’t be easy to navigate down these narrow lanes and all it takes is one wrong turn and we could find ourselves boxed in and surrounded by the dead.
ROTD (Book 3): Rage of the Dead Page 20