Last Pandemic (Book 2): Escape The City

by Westfield, Ryan

  “They must have put something in the road,” said Judy. “The whole thing was a trap. They wanted us to get a flat.”

  “And now they’re going to easily catch up to us,” said Matt. “They had shotguns. They’ll pull up near us and blow out our other tires.”

  “What do they want?” said Jamie.

  “Doesn’t matter,” said Matt. “We need to come up with our own plan, rather than figure out their motives.”

  “Who’s to say the two things aren’t connected?” said Jamie, snapping at him.

  “All right, kids,” said Judy, her voice stern as she interjected. “There’s no time for squabbling. We’ve got about two minutes before they catch up to us. Whatever they want, we don’t want to get caught. Let me do a bit of quick delegating here, since neither of you two seem capable of a decision. So Matt, you focus on driving. Get your gun out. But you’re not going to use it.”

  “What? I’ve got to help. We’re going to have to shoot them, you know?”

  “Exactly. We’re going to have to shoot them. Give me your gun. Here, hand it over.”

  “I don’t like this,” said Matt, digging into his holster and handing his gun to Judy, one hand on the wheel, his eyes flicking back and forth between the windshield and the rearview mirror.

  “It doesn’t matter whether you like it,” said Judy. “What I care about is whether we live through this. And we have a better chance of living through this if you focus on driving, rather than shooting. I don’t want you getting carried away with the firefight and crashing us into an embankment.”

  “Good point,” grunted Matt.

  “Now we don’t know which side they’ll come up on. But we’re going to try to stop them before that. Here, I’m going to climb into the back. That’ll work better.”

  Judy found her way between the two front seats and was soon sitting beside Jamie in the back seat, checking over the handguns, which she had laid out on the bench space between them.

  “They’re close now,” said Jamie, fully turned around.

  “Now we’re going to have to lean out the window a bit,” said Judy. She spoke calmly in a way that completely belied the intensity of the coming situation.

  “Out the window? Are you serious?”

  “How else are we going to get a good shot off? Now, the real question is - windshield or tires.”

  “Windshield or tires?”

  “What about the engine block?” said Matt.

  Judy shook her head. “That only works in movies,” she said. “How about this, Jamie, we’ll go for the windshield first. Ideally, we’ll kill the driver with a lucky shot. And if not, maybe we can crack the windshield enough to hurt their visibility. After that, we’ll go for the tires.”

  “They’re going to shoot at us, right?” It was a dumb thing to say.

  “Yes, Jamie,” said Judy. “They’re going to shoot at us.” She didn’t say it in a reprimanding, punitive way. She just said it like the fact that it was. “They have shotguns, so they’re going to have an advantage. They don’t really have to aim...”

  Time was up. Jamie spotted the pickup, nearly right behind them.

  Jamie’s movements felt automatic. The gun was in her hand. She glanced over at Judy once, before she shoved her head and quite a bit of her torso out the window of the tilted, racing sedan.

  The wind was intense. She felt it in her ears.

  And, paradoxically, she felt, all of a sudden, fully alive. It was the way she remembered feeling when she’d first gone on a rollercoaster as a kid.

  This was it.

  6

  Joe

  The door to the SUV opened.

  A tall, lanky man stepped out.

  Joe didn’t know what it was, but he could tell right away that the man didn’t belong here. He wasn’t from New Mexico.

  “Stay where you are,” said Joe, his shotgun aimed right at the man.

  “Now I’m not looking for any trouble,” said the man. His accent was clearly from the East Coast. Maybe somewhere outside of Boston, even though he didn’t have the classic Boston twang to his accent, or anything like it.

  “Hands in the air,” growled Joe.

  The man did as he was told, calmly lifting his hands in the air. The way he moved made it seem as if he didn’t have a care in the world. But here he was, on a stranger’s property, with a shotgun pointed in his direction.

  Why wasn’t he worried?

  The passenger door of the SUV swung open and a tall, slim, graceful woman stepped out. She wasn’t dressed elegantly. Instead, she wore the kind of hiking and outdoor clothing that you’d buy at REI in preparation for a hike that you’d never actually go on.

  But something about the way she stood made it clear that she’d feel equally comfortable in high heels and a smart dress.

  Joe had seen these types before. They had money and they were from out of town. They came in and acted as though they owned everything. They had this entitled attitude, as if the world owed them something.

  The man wore khakis and a button-down shirt. He had a stylish haircut and just the right amount of stubble.

  Joe and Sean couldn’t have looked more different. Joe wore cheap, practical pants from a big-box store and a ratty old workman’s button-down. He liked durable, practical clothing that had plenty of pockets.

  “You’re on private land,” said Joe, not lowering the shotgun. “You’d be wise to get back in that fancy truck of yours and head back the way you came. I know you didn’t miss the signs.”

  “No,” said the man, speaking casually, as if a gun wasn’t pointed at him, or as if the fact didn’t bother him in the least bit. “I didn’t miss the signs. In fact, I’ve known who you are for quite a while.”

  “You’ve known who I am? What does that mean?”

  “I’ve known about this little...camp you have here.” He said the word “camp” with a classic rich man’s sneer. “Now I think you’ll find that I’m a very reasonable man and I’m more than willing to pay handsomely for what I want...and I always get what I want.”

  “It’s true,” said the woman, chiming in for the first time.

  The man, hands still in the air, took a casual step forward.

  “Stop,” said Joe, racking the shotgun.

  The man stopped.

  “Step back,” said Joe.

  “My mistake,” said the man, casually, as if he’d carelessly made a crude remark at a dinner table. “Now if you’ll just hear me out...”

  “Fine,” said Joe. “What do you want?” He was curious about what would make this man risk his life coming here.

  “I’ve heard about you around town.”

  “Around town?” said Joe.

  “Santa Fe; Cerillos, sometimes.”

  “I don’t get into Santa Fe that much. Who’s talking about me up there?”

  “People,” said the man vaguely. “They described you as the sort of man who could be persuaded to...do certain things...provided the price was right.”

  “If you’re talking about criminal activity, or anything like it,” said Joe. “You’ve got the wrong man.”

  “Oh, no, nothing like that. It’s just that, well, given what’s happened in the last twenty-four hours, my wife and I realized that we’re going to need to beef up security. And by beef up, I mean we’re looking to hire our own private security detail. You and your friend would come live at our place.”

  “So you want us to come to your house and do the dirty work for you? What would we get out of it? Money? Because I have a feeling that money isn’t going to mean a lot in a pretty short amount of time. You’re talking like society’s going to come crumbling down in a matter of days, to the point where you need some hired guns around just to stay safe. I don’t think money’s going to amount to much in a world like that.”

  “We could give you money, you’re right about that. But you’re also right that it’s not going to do you much good. At least, probably not. But if the world goes the way we thi
nk it’s going to go, we can offer you something. Something that you don’t have here.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A real house. Real accommodations. A real kitchen.”

  Joe just shrugged.

  Sure, his kitchen may be outdoors. Nothing but a makeshift little shack without walls. Nothing more than a roof and a counter. A gas stove, the tank lying not far away. No running water. But it worked.

  “Anything else?” he said, not impressed by the offer.

  “We’ve got food. We’ve got provisions. We’ve got medicine.”

  “Sounds like you two were expecting something like this.”

  “We were.”

  “You just didn’t get quite far enough in your plans. You should have already hired security help, if that’s really what you want.”

  The man didn’t answer. He just looked at Joe, vaguely puzzled that someone wasn’t caving to his money, his influence and obvious superiority.

  “Doesn’t sound so bad, does it, Joe?” whispered Sean.

  “Shut it, Sean,” hissed Joe.

  “You sure there’s nothing we can do to change your mind?”

  Joe shook his head. “No. Now get the hell off my property,” he said.

  The man didn’t look upset. His wife sort of did. But her face was a little hard to read. It seemed to have been frozen in place in various spots. Probably too much Botox.

  “All right,” said the man, laconically. He pulled his long limbs back into the SUV. His wife did the same.

  And they were off, the SUV going into reverse, doing a three-point turn.

  Dust followed the SUV as it headed out toward the road, down the bumpy trail that served as a driveway.

  “What the hell was that all about?” said Sean, his young face looking completely puzzled. “And why’d you reject that offer? That sounded like it could be a pretty sweet deal for us. I mean, here I am living in a tent and you’re like, ah, no, man, we don’t want a house or anything like that.”

  “I don’t totally know what to make of it,” said Joe. “But I have a feeling that something was lurking beneath the surface. I doubt it was as simple as he made it out to be. When you work for someone, you end up giving more than you get.”

  “Yeah, just like how I work for you. And I’m always giving and giving, and what do I get? This tent...”

  “You were perfectly fine with that tent until another option came up.”

  “Exactly. I didn’t know what I was missing.”

  “What about your girlfriend’s place?”

  “She’s not exactly my girlfriend.”

  “I thought things were going well between you.”

  “What do you think that guy wanted then?” said Sean, trying to change the subject, which Joe was fine with.

  “No idea,” said Joe. “But if I know anything, it’s that you can’t trust people like that. They act all nice, but underneath their masks, there’s nothing but evil and fury and jealousy in their eyes.”

  “Maybe they were checking out the land,” said Sean. “Just saying that they’d hire us as a pretext or something.”

  “You might be onto something,” said Joe. “After all, why would they hire us? We don’t know anything about security. Do we?”

  “Maybe a little,” said Sean. “Definitely more than your average person.”

  “What would they want here, though?”

  “Plenty,” said Sean. “We’ve got a well. Good clean water for drinking. Plenty of space. Plenty of food.”

  Joe had his hand on his chin. He was deep in thought. Sean had quite a few good points.

  “You know,” said Joe. “If this thing gets as bad as it could, then we’re going to be a hotspot for desperate people...that’s something I didn’t think about. I’ve always imagined that I was kind of invisible out here. After all, nobody really ever paid me any attention. But I guess they always knew someone was out here...word seems to have gotten out.”

  “No shit,” said Sean. “People in town know you’re a prepper. Don’t have any doubts about it.”

  “That’s not good.”

  “No,” said Sean. “No it’s not.”

  “You’re sure about all this virus shit?”

  Sean nodded. “Yup.”

  Sean wasn’t the type to make stuff up. And he wasn’t the type to exaggerate either. It was one thing that Joe really appreciated about him. If Sean said something, then he really meant it.

  “Come on, follow me.”

  “Where we going?”

  “To close the gate.”

  “There is no gate.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Let me get my shirt. If you’re going to be that unspecific, I know that I’m going to need my shirt. It’s one thing I’ve learned over the years with you: you say ten minutes and then suddenly four hours later we’re still working on some insane project.”

  Sean had disappeared back into his tent and his shadow was visible as he rummaged around inside there, evidently looking for a clean shirt.

  The sun was rising into the sky. It was still well before noon.

  On the other end of the sky, half the moon was visible. The bottom half was fleshed out, a pale white that looked not unlike a small cloud hanging there in the sky.

  Sean, now dressed, clambered into the passenger’s seat of Joe’s busted-up pickup. Joe started the engine and they went bouncing down toward the road.

  “So what’s the plan?” said Sean. “Somehow block off the entrance?”

  “Basically,” said Joe. “Ideally, we’d hide it from view. But I can’t think of how to do that.”

  “So what are we going to do? Just dump a bunch of junk there? Make it difficult to drive over?”

  “I hadn’t gotten that far in my planning,” said Joe. “But, if we just dump a bunch of trash there, they can just drive right over that, right?”

  “What about the dumpster? If we hook it up to your truck, we could probably tow it over...”

  “That might work,” said Joe. “But I don’t really like the idea of blocking off the entrance with a dumpster.... Somehow it seems kind of classless. It’s literally a big metal box of trash. And how are we going to get out if we need to?”

  “There are plenty of other entrances. This is just the one that most people know about.”

  “What the hell,” said Joe. “Let’s just do it. I mean, if they really want to get in, they’ll just drive through the fencing, right?”

  “Exactly.”

  They drove in silence for a few minutes down the bumpy trail.

  Joe didn’t think he’d ever get tired of this land. The sky itself was really something, a sort of endless blue and white canvas that had so many different shades, so many different distractions, that it really was something to behold. Even in July and August, when the heat came rolling in, Joe didn’t mind. It was a dry heat. And it was still beautiful, no matter what the temperature.

  When the monsoon season came, maybe in August, as it had been doing lately, Joe didn’t mind that either. The plants needed water, after all, and a little rain had never hurt anyone.

  Not that the climate couldn’t be dangerous. He’d seen hail the size of baseballs. He’d even been struck with it.

  They were headed up a hill. Shrubby small trees dotted the area.

  Not far away, the road was visible.

  “Hey,” said Sean, spotting the cars moments before Joe. “Who the hell are they?”

  A half-dozen cars had pulled in from the road.

  “They’re clearly on my property,” said Joe. “What the hell do they think they’re doing?”

  “There’s that same SUV,” said Sean, pointing to the black shiny vehicle, the owners of which they’d just talked to.

  “I told them to get off my land,” said Joe, feeling himself grow red in the face with anger.

  Joe slammed on the brakes and the truck rocked violently to a stop.

  Joe got his hands on his shotgun.

  “I’m going to go
get them off this property,” he said.

  “Hey,” said Sean, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s wait a second.”

  “Wait? For what?”

  Joe was worked up. And he knew it.

  But it took Sean actually pointing it out to him for him to do something about it.

  “You’re worked up,” he said. “What do you always tell me when I get this way?”

  “That you need to calm down and take a few breaths.”

  “Right. Am I’m always glad when you tell me that. You’ve saved me from a few fights. So why don’t you do that now?”

  Joe nodded curtly.

  He didn’t like being told what to do, but he wasn’t stupid enough to ignore good advice when he heard it.

  He let his eyes close and took a few breaths, focusing on the sensation in his diaphragm and lungs. It felt a little silly, but it was useful. It gave him some distance from the situation.

  When he opened his eyes, the cars and the SUV were all still there. And a new thought came to him.

  His eyes fixed on the mountains in the distance. Clouds hung above the peaks and shadows cast across their rugged terrain.

  “What if they’re infected?” he said.

  “Then presumably we’d get infected,” said Sean.

  “This kind of cuts down our opportunities for defending ourselves, doesn’t it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, if we can’t let them get close to us, they’ll always have that to hold over our heads. You know what I mean?

  “Not really,” said Sean. “We’ll just shoot them if they get too close.”

  Joe let out a little laugh, realizing that was the answer. And that the answer was simple.

  “Let’s approach in the truck,” said Joe, his hand on the door handle, but thinking better of it before he opened it. “We’ll drive up to them. Keep our distance. Shout at them to leave and then just shoot at them if they don’t.”

  “We already told them to leave,” said Sean. “And they didn’t. Don’t you think we should just shoot at them first?”

  “There’s a lot more of them than there are of us,” said Joe. “Plus, they’re up to something. And I want to know what it is.”