View

by J N Wood

  Holy shit that was too fucking loud.

  I stopped and had a look outside. I quickly glanced in all directions. There was nothing out there, just absolute silence.

  Fuck it. I’m getting it over and done with.

  I pulled as fast as I could, the chain started to run through on its own, so I was struggling to get a good grip. I stepped away and let the chain fall.

  Thank fuck for that. I was already looking forward to a comfortable sleep.

  With a loud clunk the noise of the descending shutters was finally over, only to be replaced by the hissing of a zombie.

  My heart lurched when I crouched down to pick up my baseball bat. Just inches from the end of the Smasher was a dead face staring up at me, its mouth rapidly opening and closing. I instinctively fell backwards on to the floor, trying to scramble away from the horrifying sight.

  The shutters had come down on its back, as it was trying to crawl in. It was now desperately trying to drag itself inside to get to me.

  I lifted my bat above my head but hesitated, before bringing it back down to hang at my side. The thing was well and truly stuck. The weight of the shutter doors meant it wasn’t going anywhere.

  It wasn’t ideal but it could have been worse. I needed to get rid of it before anything else tried to crawl in.

  I walked over to one of the benches and picked up a car battery, no need to get my bat dirty again.

  I held the battery above its head, ready to let go and smash its brains in. Then I remembered that I didn’t have another change of clothes on me. If I ended up splattered with zombie shit I’d have to sleep with the smell. Most of my belongings were now crushed under our old truck.

  I quickly scanned the workshop for something to stop the splatter. The hissing was echoing through the building.

  They must be able to hear it from outside.

  There was nothing to use as a screen, so I decided to go with a screwdriver, hoping it was the best way to avoid getting zombie gore on me. It was actually a very efficient method, but also disgusting.

  I placed my boot on its head to stop it thrashing around, and inserted the screwdriver through the thing’s ear. It was probably the quickest way, but it was also an utterly repulsive feeling when it first entered the ear canal, and then into the soft mushy brain beyond. It was even worse than forcing a baseball bat up through the inside of a skull.

  I pulled the shutters back up, just enough so I could use my bat to shove the now motionless head and shoulders back outside to join the rest of its body. Once it was gone I pulled the chain and the shutters dropped back down, now resting on the ground. I jammed the blood covered screwdriver into the chains so they wouldn’t move, immediately feeling more relaxed.

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  My phone needed charging so I retired to the back seat of the Rav and plugged it in. I started looking at the photos on my phone, pausing as the first picture of Joanne popped up. I stared at her face for a long time. I didn’t know how I was gonna get back home to her. The world seemed to be a whole lot bigger now.

  All this time I’d been trying not to think about what I would do after getting to Mountain View, I was just thinking one step at a time. Originally I assumed life would be back to normal by the time we got to California, and I could just jump on a flight home. If Beth was okay I’d have to do my best to help her get to safety. The last few attempts to kill a zombie had proven I could barely take care of myself.

  Getting up to Canada was gonna be an absolute fucking nightmare, it’d been hard enough getting to this point. I didn’t even know whether Canada was safe.

  I realised that I seemed to be accepting the fact that Jack might be gone for ever.

  I decided to send Jo an email, I knew it wouldn’t get to her but I wanted to do it.

  Hi Jo

  Just wanted to say that I

  Fucking hell. That was a lot harder than I thought it was going to be.

  I tried to take a deep breath but it caught in my throat, a very audible and embarrassing sob escaped my mouth. Tears began to fill my eyes so it was difficult to see what I was trying to type. I tried to blink them away but they were quickly replaced with new ones, wiping them away with my hands.

  I’ll leave the email until I’m more emotionally stable.

  DAY ELEVEN

  My mood hadn’t improved.

  There was actually about five or six seconds when I was completely ignorant of the shit happening in the world. I’d have given anything to have that feeling all the time. Unfortunately the truth rushed back to me with a vengeance, like a punch in the face, and not just figuratively. I’d woken up with the left hand side of my face resting against the car door. That side was still bruised from the roll down the hill.

  I’d only been asleep for three hours, so I closed my eyes and rolled over. Forty frustrating minutes later and I was still wide awake. The windows in the roof of the building were allowing the sun to shine in, not only making it far too bright to be conducive with sleeping, but also making the car really hot and stuffy.

  Falling asleep again wasn’t on the cards, so fuck it. I’ll get up and sort out my route across the mountains.

  I was beginning to feel really apprehensive about driving through the Eldorado National Forest. I’d been to Yosemite in March a few years ago and the snow had been pretty bad then, but civilisation hadn’t collapsed at that point, so the roads had been cleared daily. I very much doubted there’d be snow ploughs driving around during the apocalypse.

  That reminded me. I needed to get some snow chains for the tyres.

  Actually, could I get a snow plough? Could I attach a plough to the Rav?

  What was I talking about? It would take me ages to find one that would actually fit the Rav, and even longer to attach it.

  Why couldn’t I just find a new truck with a plough already fitted? Or even better, one of those huge snow plough vehicles?

  Okay, that’s what I’ll fucking well do. I wasn’t feeling quite as depressed any more.

  The tsunami swarm from last night was still very much on my mind though. I was just gonna have to hope that my theory was correct. The huge swarms couldn’t stop because there’s too many zombies within it, smaller swarms and individual zombies could still go into a dormant state at night.

  If that isn’t right I’m fucked. So I’m sticking with it.

  While I waited for it to get dark, I had a look around the mechanics shop. I didn’t find any snow chains, but there were some snow socks, something I’d never heard of before. I read the label on the bag, and they seemed to do the same job as the chains. I chucked them in the car, just in case I couldn’t find a snow plough truck. I also took two of the big screwdrivers. Inserting one into an ear last night had been revolting, but it had also been a very efficient and clean way to finish off a zombie. The ear insertion method had always been a tried and tested way to get rid of the fictional undead in movies, but I think I must have put it to the back of my mind.

  I really needed to get over my squeamishness when it came to inserting things into flesh.

  Finally it was dark outside. For the last two hours I’d been lying on my car and staring up at the windows in the roof. Probably not the most productive of activities, but there’s only so much you can do in a mechanics garage when you don’t know anything about car engines.

  The inactivity had not helped my sanity. The events leading up to me dropping Jack into a bin had been running through my mind. I must have thought up a hundred alternative options.

  Try more doors. Carry on running with him. Squeeze both of us in the bin. Not sleep in the fucking truck. The list went on and on.

  I left the Rav’s engine running and got out to raise the shutter doors. I pulled them up just a few inches and lowered my face to the floor to peer under, almost shitting myself when I came face to face with the zombie I’d skewered this morning.

  Apart from that scary little bastard, it seemed clear. I pulled the shutte
rs up half way so there was enough room to get the car out, stepping out into the night. The streets looked empty.

  After a quick drive around town, I soon found out that Silver Springs wasn’t the best for shopping, not when it came to shopping for snow plough vehicles. It wouldn’t be long until I hit the edges of the forests so I figured I’d be able to pick something up on the way. I got back onto the US-50 and headed towards California.

  Crossing the border should have been a triumphant moment for us to share. Now it was just gonna feel empty, and be a depressing reminder that Jack was no longer here. The thought of it was also filling me with dread, because it meant I’d probably be driving through some bad weather conditions, on my own.

  As I drove through the outskirts of Carson City, I constantly kept a lookout for any marauding nighttime swarms. I was desperate not to get caught out again. Being scared all the time really was exhausting. Being vigilant at all times honestly does take it out of you. I felt like I could have easily fallen asleep already.

  So far I couldn’t tell if a swarm had come through here. It was like a disaster zone, but that might have just happened in the aftermath of the initial outbreak. I hadn’t seen anyone or anything moving around. It was like the whole place had been abandoned.

  My plan had been to get onto the Interstate-580, but as I approached the junction, I realised I had a slight issue. The roads were jammed with vehicles. It looked like everyone had been trying to use this one road to get out of town and head north. I stopped for a few minutes to see if there was any way through, but all of the ramps that led up to the 580 were blocked. Overturned vehicles also surrounded the ramps. People must have tried to go off-road to get around the traffic. I didn’t want to go any further into the city so I drove back the way I’d come.

  A couple of minutes later I took the right turn onto Fairview Drive, with the intention of getting onto the 580 further south.

  The next junction was also impossible to drive up, so I continued using the smaller roads. I was more than happy to stay on them, as they were also skirting around the city, and they’d been clear so far. I was amazed I’d managed to get this far within the city limits without hitting any trouble.

  I need to stop thinking like that, I’m gonna jinx it.

  I’d somehow made it all the way around to the south of the city and was driving on the US-395.

  Flickering orange lights to my right caught my attention. I glimpsed a Walmart sign out of the corner of my eye, behind some other buildings. It was one of the out of town shopping malls you see everywhere. My confidence was high after safely circumventing Carson City, so I decided to see if there was a sports shop or some kind of outdoor clothing shop.

  I took the next right, but the entrance to the car park was blocked by something enormous. The scorched and blackened engine of a massive airplane filled the whole width of the road. Part of the wing was still attached, but I couldn’t see the rest of the aircraft anywhere. Before I’d driven onto this road I’d seen another possible right turn further up, so I spun the Rav around and headed towards it.

  By the looks of it there seemed to be two car parks separated by a large road running through the middle. I took the right turn onto the large road, and the shocking view made me slam my foot down onto the brake pedal.

  There was a breath taking scene of destruction in front of me. Almost half of the Walmart had been demolished. It was as though it had been sliced down the middle, and the left hand side been flattened. All that remained of that side was rubble, scattered across the car park and the field behind.

  The buildings to the left of Walmart had also been destroyed, there wasn’t enough left of them to tell what they had once been. Through the charred and crushed remains of the buildings, I could see the other wing and engine in the field behind. It had left a massive groove in the earth, from when it skidded through the field. Little fires were scattered throughout the path the engine had taken.

  I couldn’t imagine what it would have been like to actually witness the plane come down, or indeed, to be a passenger, I was glad I hadn’t been anywhere near it.

  The tail end of the aircraft had come to rest in a crushed building close to Walmart. I could just see the sign on the front of the collapsed building. Huge letters spelling Blue Zone Sports were lying on the floor underneath the aircraft. I didn’t really want to risk searching through the debris, looking for clothes my size.

  I drove a little further so I could see the other side of the shopping centre on the left of the road. More flickering flames illuminated the terrible scene on this side. I didn’t think it was possible but it actually looked worse over here.

  The bulk of the plane minus the cockpit was lying on its side, stopped in its tracks by a partially demolished building in the corner. It must have been a huge passenger plane, an Airbus or one of the biggest of the Boeings. Just like the field behind, the car park had been carved up by the plane as it travelled through. The roof of the cabin had partly been torn away, so I could see what was left of the seats inside. There were scorch marks on the outside of the plane coming from the large hole, and the seats were burnt to a crisp.

  I was in luck. Near to the front of the downed aircraft was a mostly intact sports shop. The former car park now looked like a sea of burning scrap metal, so I decided I’d better travel over there on foot. There was way too much debris and burning vehicles to try and manoeuvre the Rav through.

  With the torch in my left hand and the Smasher in my right, I got out of the car and had a look around. Apart from the many little fires dotted about, I couldn’t see any movement. The city still seemed like it had been emptied.

  As I walked through the burning wreckage I saw some of the passengers’ luggage, bags had burst open on impact with the ground and thrown their contents out. People’s belongings were spread out across the car park. There were a lot of burning puddles, which I assumed was fuel leaking from the aircraft.

  I decided not to get too close to the airplane. As I neared it I could see the charred remains of some of the passengers hanging from the seats. I just made a beeline for the sports shop.

  The dark and ominous looking shop had turned out to be clear of anything that wanted to eat me. My looting was a success, acquiring some new clothes, most of which I stuffed into my backpack. A new sleeping bag and an amazing looking mountaineering tent were also lying at my feet.

  I finished changing into my new clothes and looked down at the pile of smelly discarded clothes on the floor, wondering what to do with them.

  ‘Hello,’ a voice said from close behind me.

  ‘Jesus fucking Christ!’ I quickly spun around to see who had crept up on me. I didn’t think my heart could take much more of this.

  The guy in front of me backed away a few paces and raised his hands. ‘I am very sorry. I did not mean to frighten you.’

  I reached for my gun but my hand just came to rest on my hip. The gun was still in its holster, lying on the floor.

  Fucking hell. I’m really shit at this.

  ‘You scared the shit out of me,’ I said, and crouched down to pick up my gun. I kept my eyes on him the whole time. He seemed a bit frazzled but harmless enough, and as far as I could tell, unarmed.

  He took a few more paces backwards when he saw what I was reaching for.

  I tried to reassure him. ‘Don’t worry about the gun. I just forgot to put it back on.’ I undid my belt and looped it through the holster. He seemed to relax a little but his eyes kept glancing back down to my gun.

  ‘Again, I am very sorry,’ he said. ‘I had been trying to think of a way to let you know I was here without scaring you. I failed obviously.’ He had a slight Indian twang to his American accent.

  ‘That’s okay, don’t worry about it.’ I bent over to pick up the rest of my stuff. ‘I jump at most things nowadays.’

  He stepped forward and thrust his hand out towards me. ‘My name is Gurbinder Singh.’

  It was my turn to back away, staring
at the gloveless hand being offered to me.

  He noticed my obvious apprehension and quickly withdrew his hand. ‘Ah yes, do not worry, I am not infected with the virus.’

  ‘Yeah sorry, I’m still just trying to be careful.’ I gave him a little wave. ‘I’m Chris.’

  He had a thick black beard, and his dark blue turban came down quite low on his forehead, so a lot of his face was covered. I didn’t know if this was a conscious decision for the apocalypse, or if he always looked like that. He was well suited to hiding from zombies in the dark.

  ‘Hello Chris, it is very good to meet you. I apologise but I’ve been watching you while you’ve been doing your shopping.’

  ‘To be honest that’s a bit fucking creepy Gurbinder. Did you just watch me change my clothes as well?’

  He lifted his hands up defensively again. ‘I just needed to make sure you were not somebody else. I did not watch you undress, but I think you should get that mole on your ass looked at.’ He started to quietly chuckle.

  ‘Yep, very funny.’

  I wasn’t sure what to make of this guy.

  ‘I am just joking.’ A big friendly smile almost filled his face. ‘You would not believe how good it is to speak to you. I have not properly spoken to anyone for seven days now.’

  ‘Yeah it’s been a few days for me too. Who did you think I might be?’

  ‘Ah it is nothing, just some white supremacist type,’ he said, with a wave of his hand. ‘I have not seen them for two days, they have probably moved on to another place.’

  ‘Oh right, they sound nice,’ I said, dryly. ‘What are you doing here then?’ I asked, gesturing to my surroundings. ‘Why aren’t you trying to go north?’

  ‘We were travelling north to meet up with my wife’s family in Oregon, but I cannot leave until I have found my wife and children.’

  ‘Okay…I take it you lost them around here?’ I asked, sensing the story wasn’t going to have a happy ending.