by Tim Moon
“What are these for?” Charlotte looked down at the forty-odd pillow cases she carried.
“Improvised sandbags,” Ben said. “We will fill them with the dirt from the holes we dig and use the wheelbarrow to transport them home.”
“What size hole are we talking about here?”
For some reason, his mind went straight into the gutter, so he looked away to hide his smirk. “A cubic-foot should be big enough.”
“Do I get to dig?” Oliver asked.
“Of course,” Ben said with a smile. He glanced at Charlotte and muttered, “Good thing child labor laws are a thing of the past.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes and Oliver looked confused.
Once they figured out the work flow, they got into a rhythm and it went quickly. The ground was damp and had not frozen solid yet so that helped. Still, it was certainly tougher than digging during the summer.
There was a minor hiccup. They had to move several times, to avoid damaging buried pipes. None of them knew if the electric lines still held a charge. If they were gas lines that could be worse, so it was just easier to move.
Over the next few hours, they dug holes in the front yards of three houses near the vehicle barrier. The dirt slowly filled up the pillow cases which they cinched closed and secured with big zip-ties. Ben stacked them in the wheel barrow. Oliver insisted on trying every job. Moving a sandbag didn’t work out so well, but it was hilarious to watch. Ben gave him credit for giving it the ole college try. After carefully poking in the dirt for buried pipes, he let Oliver dig a hole entirely on his own. It took forever, but Oliver was so proud.
When they finished, Ben looked around a chuckled.
“The lawns look like crap, but safety first, right?” Ben said.
“That’s right,” Charlotte said.
Ben held out his fist to Oliver. “Good job, kid.”
Oliver bumped his fist and they waggled their fingers like Baymax.
“I’m going to heat up water as soon as we get back inside,” Charlotte said, cupping her hands together and blowing on them. “I am freezing.”
“I think I’ve had more tea and hot chocolate since we got here than in all the previous years of my life.” Ben chuckled again.
He lifted the wheelbarrow and groaned. Digging wasn’t easy, and his forearms ached from lactic acid buildup. The wheelbarrow had grown heavy with their improvised sandbags, so Ben made Oliver walk. The kid didn’t mind though. Oliver skipped ahead, running, jumping and balancing on the curb. Boundless energy.
“Someday, I hope that he can play in the street like that and not freak us out,” Charlotte said.
“That will be the day.” Ben looked around at everything they had done so far. “We’ve made a good start. We’re moving in the right direction.”
19
The next morning, Ben sat at the dinner table, sipping coffee. Crumbs from a sandwich decorated a small white plate in front of him. Beside the plate sat the crumpled wrapper of a protein bar. Breakfast of champions.
Ben was fully engrossed in an old newspaper story from the beginning of the outbreak. He almost didn’t notice Chadwick stagger into the room with messy hair and crease marks on his cheek from his pillow.
He gave his friend a polite “What’s up?” nod.
“Are you reading the article about Black Tide?” Chadwick asked. His voice was groggy and slow, and his jacket crinkled as he gestured at the newspaper.
Ben grunted, not actually sure if it was. When he finished the article, he put the paper down and chugged the last of his coffee.
“Coffee’s done. I can talk now.”
Chadwick grinned and rubbed his face.
“How does your leg feel?” Ben asked.
“You know, Charlotte’s been brilliant. It hasn’t bothered me much and seems to be healing quite well.” Chadwick yawned and then continued. “We’ve been so busy though that it’s started to swell. I might have to lay down today and keep it elevated.”
“Any infection?”
Chadwick shook his head. “Like I said, Charlotte has done a brilliant job.”
Ben swept some stray crumbs into his hand and dumped them on the plate. He put the dishes in the sink and sat back down. A pensive look crossed Chadwick’s face. Ben raised an eyebrow, but he looked away.
“Something on your mind?” Ben asked with a smirk.
“Do you ever wonder about your dad?” Chadwick asked carefully.
“In what way?”
“You showed us the text messages he sent. He had some role in the virus.” Chadwick raised his hands when Ben narrowed his eyes. “Do you think he knew what was going to happen? Is he alive? Is there a vaccine or cure? I just have so many questions.”
Ben frowned. “Do you think about your parents?”
Chadwick’s eyes grew pained and Ben couldn’t hold his gaze.
“Yeah, sometimes.” Chadwick sat down at the table and pushed back his hair. He pulled a beanie out of his jacket pocket and pulled it on. “I worry that they’ll try to get back to Hawaii and when they realize I’m not there, assume the worst.”
Ben folded the newspaper and then his hands. “Will you go searching for them?”
“I don’t know. Part of me wants to and the other part says it’s hopeless,” Chadwick said with a wry smile. “I’m a horrible son.”
They heard footsteps coming down the stairs and Charlotte popped in a few seconds later. Ben sniffed and opened the newspaper, resuming his reading.
“Good morning,” she said with a yawn.
That made Chadwick yawn again. He raised a hand in greeting.
“Morning,” Ben said. “Too early to tell if it’s a good one.”
She slapped his arm playfully.
“What’s on the agenda for today?” she asked.
“Supplies. I want to swing by the big home improvement store. We gotta get stuff so I can make that rooftop lookout we talked about.” Ben fished a piece of paper from his pocket. “I’ve already sketched out my idea.” He laid the paper on the table. “Behold, the sniper’s nest.”
Charlotte put a hand on his shoulder and leaned over to look at the paper he unfolded. She looked impressed.
“Can you make it?”
“Of course,” Ben said confidently. Secretly, he hoped that was true.
“Who is going with you?” she asked.
“I was going to ask Chadwick, but his leg is swollen so I planned to ask Anuhea.”
Charlotte wagged a finger at Chadwick. “You need to take care of yourself. Do too much and you’ll only prolong the healing process. We talked about this yesterday.” She squeezed Ben’s shoulder and then walked over to the cupboards. “I can go with you.”
“You sure?” He turned to face her as she rummaged through the kitchen for something to eat.
“Yeah, why not? It’d be great to get out of here for a while.”
“Okay.”
“Really?” she asked with a surprised expression.
“Why not?” he asked. “Can you be ready in twenty minutes?”
“Perfect.”
While Charlotte ate a quick breakfast, Ben began loading thirty-round magazines with ammunition. Along with the four loaded mags sitting on the coffee table, the four he loaded should be plenty for their quick raid. He grabbed an extra mag of 9mm cartridges for his pistol, slipped it into the empty ammo pouch on his belt and set aside two baseball bats. Then he put two large, empty backpacks inside a black duffel bag and set them next to the weapons. The bags would be filled with whatever they picked up and didn’t want loose in the van.
Then he sat on couch and thought through his plan.
“All set.” Charlotte stopped in the hall and eyed the weapons and gear. “Wow, you’re totally prepared.”
She wore a light blue jacket, a black beanie, and thin black gloves that would still allow her good control of her rifle which was slung over her shoulder. She was still as radiant as the first day they met. Ben handed her a baseball bat, slun
g his rifle and lifted the duffel.
“Wait, did you put shin guards on your arms?” Ben asked.
“They’re under my jacket.”
“Okay, let’s roll,” he said with a smile.
“Safe travels,” Anuhea said down the stairwell from the guard station.
“Fingers crossed,” Ben said.
On the way to the truck, which was parked outside of the wall, they encountered one infected. She was a little old lady, probably the nicest person in her neighborhood at one time. She shuffled across the road as soon as they dropped down from the barrier. Ben figured she was moving faster now than she had in about twenty years. Her damp, purple muumuu clung to her dark skin like a bathing suit. Light, misty rain fell on them. Droplets of water glistened in her silver hair like tiny jewels. One forearm was bare to the bone. The stark white matched her hair and her hand flopped loosely as she lifted her arms to reach for them.
“That is not a flattering look,” Ben muttered.
“Ben,” Charlotte said, slapping his arm. “Are you going to get her?”
“Why don’t you take this one?”
Charlotte deflated slightly.
“With your bat,” he clarified, resting his hand on the handle of his own bat. “Don’t worry, I’ve got your back.”
She shot him a dark look before lifting the bat and adjusting her grip. Even though it was a simple weapon, she looked unsure. Perhaps she didn’t want to get that close to the infected woman.
Mumu stumbled closer, growling and clacking her teeth. Charlotte clenched her jaw and stepped forward with the bat raised high, ready to strike. Ben half expected her to hesitate or back away.
Instead, she lunged forward and brought the bat down hard on the top of Muumuu’s head with a spine-tingling crack that made Ben wince. The zombie stumbled but swiped at her. Her hand caught on Charlotte’s jacket. As the bat bounced back off the head, Charlotte pulled it around in an arc to swing at the side of the woman’s head. It connected with a dull splat that instantly dropped the infected. Charlotte gave Mumu two more wicked strikes before backing away, her shoulders heaving as she caught her breath.
“Damn,” Ben said, thoroughly impressed by the intensity of her take down. “That was scary-good.”
“I learned from the best,” she said, walking away from the corpse.
“Right,” he muttered as he rushed to catch up. “We should take the body with us and dump is somewhere.”
“Damn it, she tore my jacket,” Charlotte said, indicating a tear that exposed fuzzy insulation.
They reached the truck without further incident and a few minutes later they loaded Mumu and pulled away from the neighborhood. Ben stayed on back roads to avoid infected and survivors.
The odd zombie staggered out to give chase, but none posed a threat. Ben was struck by the number of bodies and other signs of destruction. A burned house here; a body in a yard there.
One house they passed had been fully decorated for Halloween, with fake spider webs in the trees, decorations on their windows, a plastic statue of Frankenstein’s monster by the front door and a body swinging from one of the trees. A collection of three shriveled, moldy jack-o-lanterns lingered by the front door. Neglect and vacancy radiated off the otherwise normal looking homes.
The body swiveled on its rope and he realized it was real. Ben sucked in a surprised breath. The guy couldn’t have been over twenty. His bloated purple face looked like a ripe plum waiting to burst.
Charlotte cursed softly.
“Yeah,” Ben agreed.
He mashed his foot down on the gas pedal and the truck launched forwards. Then the terrible sight was gone, lost in the rearview mirror.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. That wasn’t my first time seeing a body.”
Ben sighed. “I know.”
As they approached Mill Plain Blvd, Ben had to weave around abandoned vehicles. Signs of struggle and death popped up with growing frequency. They passed a bullet-riddled police cruiser that they checked for weapons.
“I’ve got nothing,” Ben said. “You?”
“How about a first aid kit?”
“Nice. Our first pinch of the day.”
Charlotte looked at the old lady’s body in the back of the truck. “Can we leave her here?”
“I don’t see why not,” Ben said. “It’s as good a place as any.”
After placing the body on the strip of grass between the road and the sidewalk, they climbed back in the truck and pulled away. Not even a quarter-mile away, they came upon a car that had crashed into a tree. The driver’s rotted body was halfway out of the opened door. A crow looked up from its private meal as they drove past with a piece of flesh dangling from its beak.
Several bodies of infected littered the road, including a legless zombie pulling himself along the ground. It growled impotently as they passed. Ben was mindful not to run any of the bodies over, so bones wouldn’t puncture their tires. He didn’t want to risk that kind of setback.
“This has been a depressing drive so far,” Charlotte said, breaking the silence.
“We seriously need to find some music for this thing.” Ben gestured at the stereo, an old CD player that was missing any kind of USB or AUX input.
“Yes,” she said, drawing out the word. “That would help. It feels so weird being out here. It’s so still and quiet, like a graveyard. It gives me goosebumps.” She held her arm up. “Literally, goosebumps.”
Ben chuckled. “The strangest thing is how normal most of the neighborhoods look. You know? Where did all those people go? It’s almost like they disappeared.”
“Nancy said the police and the National Guard were quick to evacuate people to quarantine centers.” She shrugged. “Maybe they’re all hanging out somewhere safe.”
“You think so?” he asked, skepticism in his voice.
“One can only hope.”
That scenario seemed highly improbable. The logistical challenges alone made it nearly impossible to move thousands of frightened people to one secure location. Not only would some people be skeptical of the government, many would try to flee on their own. Or shelter in place. Where could the government take people and keep them safe? Not to mention having to provide food, sanitation, and security for hundreds or even thousands of folks. It’d be a nightmare.
The store loomed ahead in the distance.
“Here we are,” Ben said, pointing ahead. He slowed the truck to a stop before entering the intersection.
The vast parking lot in front of the store was nearly empty, which was a nice surprise. Shopping carts dotted the empty space with a few of their signature garish orange flatbed carts. Only a handful of vehicles remained, and two of them were trucks which caught Ben’s attention.
If we can find keys for one of them, we could take double the load, he thought.
“See anything weird?” Ben asked.
The scanned all around. After a few minutes of looking, Charlotte shook her head.
“I don’t see any infected.”
“Okay, here we go.”
Ben pressed the accelerator and the truck sped across the road towards the huge store. He slowed down in the parking lot to swerve around a few carts before parking in the loading area. They both stared into the darkened interior of the building.
“Looks creepy in there,” Charlotte said. There was no fear in her voice, just an observation.
“I think we should do a quick walk through to check for infected before we start loading supplies. It’s a big store so we can’t be one hundred percent, but we can at least walk the perimeter.”
“You’ve done this more than me, so I’ll follow your lead,” she said.
They climbed out of the truck and prepared themselves. Ben opened the duffel and passed an empty backpack to Charlotte. He put on his backpack and carried the empty duffel bag.
“Remember we’re going for silent kills unless some real shit hits the fan.” Ben slung his rifle and hefted his bat.
His flashlight and the empty duffel were in his other hand. “First, we’ll walk across the front of the store to peek down the aisles, but don’t forget to keep an eye out for infected hiding behind the cash registers and customer service area. When we get to the other end of the building, we’ll turn and circle back down the center aisle to double check. Then we should be all set to collect our goodies and load the truck.”
“Sounds easy enough.” She lifted the bat to her shoulder and took out her flashlight, a red aluminum tube with bright LED lights that he recognized from the supplies they had gathered from the neighborhood.
“If you see any infected, let me know. We’ll move in and take them out together,” Ben said. “I’ve got your back.”
“Ditto.”
“Oh, and if we find any bodies, we need to check for keys.” Ben grinned at the face Charlotte made. “It would be sweet if we could drive away with one of those trucks.”
Ben did a quick check behind them, scanning for the living and the dead. Nothing stood out, so he strode forward to help Charlotte pull the electric doors open. She pointed at something. He looked closer and saw a thin crust of blood from smeared handprints.
“Looks like we won’t be alone,” Ben whispered. “Stay sharp.”
The doors resisted them at first, moving slowly with a soft grinding sound. When they had a gap of a foot or so, Ben put his shoulder into it like a football player and pushed the doors all the way open. When he stepped back, he was staring into a cavernous interior that could potentially house dozens of infected.
Clicking on their flashlights, they stepped inside to begin prowling for threats. Ben tightened his grip on the bat. It was still and quiet.
Cloud-filtered daylight illuminated the entrance, throwing their shadows far ahead of them. The hairs on the back of Ben’s neck stood at attention. The air was pleasantly tinged with the scent of lumber. A gust of wind from the open doors pushed a swirl of dust across the smooth concrete floor.
Charlotte raised her bat to point at something on the floor about forty feet away. A dark, shadowy form lay in the open space between the cash registers and the product aisles. Both of their flashlights aimed at the object and a fresh wave of chills ran down Ben’s neck.