Ranger Martin and the Zombie Apocalypse

by Jack Flacco

  * * *

  Making distance on the highway, the pickup sped north to the location of the dozen dots detected on the radar at the military silo earlier in the day. The desert heat had settled, as it did every afternoon before twilight.

  “How many miles?” Matty asked.

  “About thirty, give or take. They were heading south in our direction.”

  “I didn’t think we’d have a problem defending ourselves. We’re safe in a bunker surrounded by electrified fence.”

  “How do you know it’s electrified?”

  “I saw Jurassic Park. I know what electrified fence looks like.” She dug into her backpack, whipping out two snack bars. She passed him one.

  Ranger laughed. “Jurassic Park? That’s a movie.”

  “It is electrified, isn’t it?” She said it with her best “I know what I’m talking about” look.

  He nodded, giving her the point on her comeback. With one hand on the wheel and the other holding the snack bar, Ranger kept a steady eye on the road as he tore into the packaging with his teeth.

  “Hold on,” she said, grabbing his dinner from his hand. “Let me get that for you.”

  As she tore the wrapping, Ranger glanced at her. “You still haven’t told me how you and your brother ended up at Peggy’s Gas Station.”

  Matty handed him the bar with enough wrapping around it to prevent any of the sweetness from caking to his fingers. “We were traveling to Nevada to visit my grandfather who had retired from the military three years ago.” she fixed her gaze at the setting sun from her passenger window. “My mom kicked my dad out, loaded us on a bus to Las Vegas, and started divorce proceedings. By the time we arrived, everything had changed.”

  He ate, staying silent.

  “As soon as we got off the bus, they came after us. Picking us off one by one, we were like some prey to them. The old people and kids were the first to go. Right in front of me, I saw one kid ripped to pieces by three of them.” She shifted her sights on the road ahead, never making eye contact with Ranger. “When I saw that, I pushed Jon under the bus. One of them grabbed me by the arm and threw me to the ground. It sunk its teeth into my stomach. I screamed. I don’t remember much after that. I have a memory of dragging my fingernails all over its face and rolling under the bus when it let go. Next thing I knew I was hiding in an alleyway until dark. Jon and I left the city to head to the light in the desert. I know if we stayed in the city, we wouldn’t have made it out alive.”

  Crumpling the wrapping from the snack bar, he threw it on the highway. The undead littered America, a discarded wrapper was the least of his worries. “You mean you were on a bus from Boston when all this was happening around you?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  Ranger pulled a can of soda water from the glove compartment. He cracked it open and poured the contents down his throat. Ingesting the liquid, he wiped his mouth with the palm of his hand. “Some were affected by the change and some weren’t. Best as I can figure, it isn’t a virus caught by a bite or taking in their goo.”

  “Do you have to gross me out again? What is it that you do with your free time, Ranger?” She sunk in her seat sideways and stared at his profile. “How did you get goo in you?”

  “Long story. I was in one of those government offices, searching for elastic bands and—”

  “Wait a minute. Elastic bands?”

  “Yeah, can I continue my story?”

  “What were the elastic bands for?”

  “It’s a hobby. Can I now continue?”

  “Not until you tell me what you use the elastic bands for.”

  He rolled his eyes regretting he’d ever mentioned it. “I have a ball—”

  “A ball?”

  “I roll elastic bands into a ball.”

  “What do you use the ball for?”

  “You’re not giving up, are you?”

  “You started it. What’s the ball for?”

  “Like I said, it’s a hobby.”

  “Photography’s a hobby. Fishing’s a hobby.”

  “Fishing’s a sport.”

  “Fine. Fishing’s a sport. But what’s the ball for?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just a ball. I roll it with elastic bands, and I keep it on a shelf.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “It’s not weird.” He tried to convince her.

  “Oh, I know.” She permitted a shy smile to escape her face.

  A silence fell on them for a short moment, allowing Ranger’s words to sink in.

  “Like I was saying, I was in a government office looking for—stationary—the next thing I knew a belly-muncher had me on a desk, trying to eat my face. I drove one of those American Flag ornaments through its ear and it collapsed on top of me. Green goo trailed from its ear into my mouth.”

  “All right, you can stop there ‘cause I don’t want to hear anymore.” Matty placed her hand on her stomach. Yet still had one question she needed answered. “What did it taste like?”

  At the ready, Ranger came back with the cliché, “It tasted like chicken.”

  * * *

  As the sun faded into twilight, Randy’s Ford cruised into the abandoned town. Weak and disheveled, his stomach gurgled. He couldn’t remember when he’d had his last meal. A light at the end of the street from an old country home glimmered through the drapes, lending hope someone had survived the change.

  The car came to a complete stop. Looking over his shoulder, in the mirrors, through the windshield and out the broken passenger window, Randy took satisfaction none of the monsters he had encountered at the jail crept the streets. He popped the trunk to the car, exited, eased the door closed and dragged to the rear. He tossed the trunk, searching for anything he could use as a weapon. The tire iron would do. It weighed heavy in his hand. Perfect.

  A loud click behind him caused Randy to stare into the trunk in fright. They’re here too? He swooshed the tire iron through the air to meet a long single-barrel shotgun pointed at his face.

  “Well, now.” An old man wearing jean overalls and a straw hat chuckled. “What do we have here?”

  Randy gulped staying silent. In a short span, monsters have tried to pound, maim, eat and kill him, so a measure of uncertainty surfaced when the old man asked the question.

  “You look like you’ve been through a dogfight without dogs,” he dropped the shotgun and offered his hand. “Let me help. I’m Harper, and you’re, uh...?”

  “Randy.” He shook Harper’s hand. It was warm.

  “Randy. Now that’s a mighty fine name. A strong name. Randall, I believe, yes?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, come on into the house and we’ll make you something fine to eat.” Harper went one way while Randy went to the house with the flickering light. “Where are you going? That’s not my home. That’s there to lure the undead. You don’t want to go in there.”

  Harper walked the boy to the barn, straddling his shotgun over his shoulder the whole time. At the door, he pulled a lever next to the frame, which released a latch on the other side. “Watch your step.” Harper pointed at the bear traps set over the floor on the inside of the barn. When they cleared the entrance, Harper locked the door with a heavy piece of lumber lowered by a rope. He then led Randy through a trap door at the base of the barn. Once Randy climbed down the ladder, Harper followed and locked the door behind with his own tire iron.

  Chapter 8

  Veering right from the highway on to a dirt road with a cornfield on the right, the rusty pickup carrying Ranger and Matty broke distance in the dusk. It sped along hurling dust as it went. Once past the cornfield, it made its way through a canyon with very little vegetation save for the parched bushes on either side of the road. Exiting the canyon, the truck slowed to a crawl.

  “I don’t see any of them.” Ranger said.

  “Where are they supposed to be?”

  “Before that ridge.” He gave a nod to the right.

  As the pickup inched forward, M
atty pointed to a passenger bus next to the area of the dozen dots. A suspicious look developed on Ranger’s face. He shifted the truck into park.

  “What’s wrong?” Matty asked.

  “I’m not sure yet.” He turned off the ignition as his eyes met hers. “Those dozen dots on the radar were clumped in pretty close. We should have seen something by now.”

  “Do you think it’s a trap?”

  “I think somebody’s done a pretty good job of hiding whatever was out here an hour ago.” Ranger scratched the side of his chin, rubbing the stubble from the irritation. He jumped out of the vehicle, pulled out his sawed off shotgun, and slipped a few shells in his right jeans pocket. “Let’s go find out.”

  Matty followed with an even-tempered stride, throwing two clips of ammo into her jacket. She pulled out her .45. “What do you think we’ll find.”

  “I don’t think we’ll find anything. No footprints, bodies. Nothing.”

  When they arrived at the passenger bus, he noticed how the ground lay undisturbed. With his shotgun leading the way, they entered, examining the seats as they went along. Near the middle, they stopped.

  “Nobody’s here.” Matty said.

  “Someone was here.” He studied a plastic sandwich wrap from an empty seat. His fingers played with a loose crumb of bread, squeezing it between his fingers. “The bread’s still fresh.”

  In the two days Matty’s known Ranger, she could sense when something bothered him. The way he shifted his eyes. The pursed lips. How his voice trailed off. He continued his search for answers all the way to the back of the bus while Matty stayed behind, taking a seat in the middle.

  “What are the chances your radar was wrong?” She leaned on the headrest thinking how a warm bath would feel on her skin right about now.

  “Radar don’t lie.”

  “But what if it did?” Her nose reminded her of the awful stench on her clothes. “All we’ve found is an empty bus and no footprints. In the meantime, you have a loaded truck of what? Gas? What were you thinking of accomplishing this afternoon? Were you planning on bringing home more kids to your lair of solitude?”

  “You think I’d come all the way out here to kill the changed? What if it was you out here with eleven of these vomit bags, wouldn’t you have liked me traveling all the way here to save your ass?” Ranger smacked the top of one of the seats in frustration.

  “Whatever.” She rose, and marched wanting to leave, but in an abrupt halt, she stooped to find something instead. It lay under one of the front seats.

  “What’ve you got there?” He came to her.

  Matty met him in the middle and handed him the napkin. “Where’s Matthew Airbase?”

  He read the scrawled writing of the location. “A few miles south of the silo.”

  “Is that where they were heading?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose whoever wrote this wants us to find them there.”

  “We can check it out.”

  “What is it that makes me want to pay attention to your wild ideas?”

  “My good looks? My charm?” she bit her tongue until the last moment. “My gun?”

  He smiled having another idea. “Let’s get back. I want Wildside to check out the base before we go anywhere. He’s my belt. I never liked coming from the outhouse holding my britches by the hand.”

  * * *

  The fire in the middle of the subterranean hideout radiated with warmth. A smartly built chimney hid the smoke from the undead. It ran from the base of the barn to the top of the roof.

  “Make yourself at home.” Harper said.

  An older woman about Harper’s age sat near the fire heating a can of beans. More interested in the smell from the food than who the survivors were, Randy stared at the meal like a dog anticipating a scrap from the dinner table.

  “Come on.” The woman said. “I don’t bite. There’s plenty here for everyone.”

  Randy took a step forward, but hesitated. Who are these people? For all he knew they ate human flesh and wanted to fatten him up like a turkey for Thanksgiving.

  Harper picked up a plate, set it in the boy’s hand, allowing the steam to penetrate his nostrils to do its magic. It only took a few seconds. With a voracious appetite, Randy seized the spoon from Harper’s grip, dropped to one of the chairs next to the fire, and devoured the contents of the plate without taking a single breath.

  “Slow down,” The woman said, “Savor the food. We have plenty enough to go around.”

  “Martha,” Harper called out, sitting down in the circle, “Can’t you see he’s a famished wolverine? Let him eat.”

  With a wave of her hand, she emptied another can of beans in the pot, disregarding Harper’s suggestion.

  After several more spoonfuls, a burp escaped Randy’s mouth.

  “There we go.” Martha laughed.

  “Another job well done.” Harper chuckled.

  “Ma’am, I’m sorry.”

  “Nonsense.” She smiled. “How long in God’s earth has it been since you’ve eaten?”

  “Ma’am, I can’t remember. And I beg your pardon, I would disagree about this being God’s earth.” Randy set the plate and fork to the side, and stretched his legs, feeling comfortable in his new company.

  “Have you run into any of those chewers?” Harper asked.

  “I have. What are they?” Randy didn’t want to reveal too much. He didn’t know if he could trust them with what he’d discovered in the prison about himself. At the same time, he relaxed after being away for so long without human contact.

  “No recollecting where they came from—”

  “That’s not true.” Martha interrupted.

  “Right.” Harper nodded. “They are our friends, our loved ones our—”

  “Our family.” Martha continued.

  “How did they get that way?” Randy remembered reading how the warden tried to save him before he’d changed.

  “We don’t know.” Martha, traded knowing looks with Harper.

  Randy caught them. “What?”

  Martha poked the fire with a stick, “We had gone on a trip to the valley—”

  “On account of my liking to hike.” Harper interrupted, this time.

  “Shush. We all went into the valley. After a few days, we came back to town. Well, I never. The whole town was overrun with them. They walked the streets. In the homes. Those who were not changed didn’t survive the night.” She held back her tears.

  “You mean there were others like me?” He no longer feared them.

  “Are you one of the saviors?” Harper asked.

  “Saviors?” He knew what he meant.

  “Those who’ve been here when the change took place.” Martha wiped her eyes with her handkerchief. “We ain’t sure how it works, but some of us can’t be changed. We just know if you don’t get changed, you get eaten.”

  His eyes drifted on the news. “Did any of the saviors survive?”

  “Not a one.” Martha continued her story. “When we got back, the changed had a run of the place. Everywhere we turned there was death. We left town to go back into the desert for a few more days. When we came back, except for a few, they were all gone.”

  “We figured they y’all be heading out where there’s more food.” Harper added.

  “A few stayed behind.” Martha nodded to Harper.

  “Yeah, but there weren’t much left of ’em once my shotgun got through with ’em.”

  At that point, Randy’s mind wandered. His head swam in too much information. He needed to get things into perspective. He understood something happened to the town. He didn’t know what yet. And he understood a majority of the population transformed from happy-go-lucky townsfolk to monstrous beasts, bent on eating humans.

  “Where did you come from, son?” Martha piled another log on the fire.

  “I was in Katlyn County Jail, miles up the road.”

  “You ain’t no murderer, are you?” Harper teased, sensing the boy as harmless.

&n
bsp; “No, sir. I woke up not knowing who I was and escaped from the chewers to rest here.” He pulled out his wallet to show Harper his student card.

  “My word.” A look of shock penetrated Harper’s face.

  “What is it, dear.” Martha asked.

  He passed the card over to her.

  “My word.” The same look of shock that had hit Harper hit Martha.

  Randy’s gaze bounced between them. “Is there something wrong?”

  “Why y’all from our town, Randy. This here says you’re from Sherman High School, here in Jessum. I knew your momma. She y’all been part of our ladies group on Wednesday nights.” She scanned him from head to toe, “My, you’ve grown.”

  “You knew my mother? Where does she live? Where’s my father? Do I have brothers and sisters? Can we go visit them? Can we—”

  “Hold on there, son. Hold on. Your family...” Harper’s voice broke away as he passed the card back to Randy. “Your family is no longer here.”

  Martha filled in the blanks with a gentle voice. “Son, your family’s either dead or with the undead. I’m sorry.”

  The look on Randy’s face remained the same. No emotion. No regret. Not one reaction. He had no memory to have feelings for the past. So nothing could affect him in the present. However, he did want to understand more about his identity, so he asked the question, “Can you take me to where I live tomorrow morning?”

  “Sure, son.” Harper gave the boy a slight smile. “I’ll take you there myself.”

  “In the meantime.” Martha rose from her chair to a stretch and a yawn. I’m going to bed. “Go ahead and have some more of those beans. They’ll replenish your energy and you’ll be good as new tomorrow morning when we visit your home.”

  * * *

  That evening, as Matty and Jon slept, Ranger and Wildside reviewed the map to Matthew Airbase spread on the kitchen table. Coffee from Ranger’s military issue mug permeated the air. Wildside pointed at the location where he believed Ranger could penetrate the compound. The symbol on the map indicated a fence. Yet the map did not provide one important detail. Wildside sprung from his chair to the bookshelf against the far wall next to the supplies. He thumbed through several volumes before finding the one he wanted. He brought it to Ranger already dog-eared in the middle. As soon as he dropped the parts book on the map, he circled an entry with a pencil. Ranger memorized the photo and description.