by Matt James
It’s then that I decide to cut the guy some slack. It’s not like I was going to cause any problems, anyway. The only thing I might’ve done is made things uncomfortable for him and gotten us thrown out. It’s not my best plan, I know. I doubt they would’ve given our weapons back either.
Come to think of it, it’s probably my worst plan to date, and that’s saying something!
So, all we have to do is hang out for three days, get fed, maybe scrounge up some ammo and gear, and then get back on the road to Gatlinburg. I mentally shrug. Not that lousy of a prison sentence, if you ask me.
We get all kinds of looks as we’re marched through the foyer. Every gender, race, and age group are present. Young, old. Rich, underprivileged. They’re all huddled together, watching as Tyson leads us through a door in the rear of the lobby.
Once the door is shut, I’m forced to my knees and secured to a enormous, metal filing cabinet. Jill and my parents are too, one next to the other. Hope is the only one of us left standing.
“Well,” Dad mumbles, “this is just wonderful.”
Hope turns toward him. “It is?”
With only one hand secure, Dad rubs the frustration away from his face with his free hand. After pacing the smallish room a few times, Hope and her stuffed animal plop down between Jill and me. I’m not happy about being delayed, but at least we’re all together, and with no means of escaping, now, we can only sit and wait.
“No one was bitten by some strange Unseen, were they?”
Four sets of eyes turn toward me and stare, nonverbally giving me the finger. I knew the answer to the question, but it was a question that had to be asked. We’ve been through a lot since crossing into Tennessee. I needed to be sure that no one was infected by a burner.
The file room is quiet and terrible—as in there isn’t much going on. I’ve been so used to action that sitting around and waiting isn’t easy. Then again, this might be the perfect time for us to catch up on some sleep. We do have an armed force protecting us after all.
I relay the thought to everyone and get a series of nods and shrugs. Regrettably, I can’t get comfortable enough to actually fall asleep. I’m tired enough for sure, but too much has happened within the last hour for me to just turn it off and pass out.
Hope and my parents? Not so much. They’re all snoring like steroid injected chainsaws within minutes.
Man, what I would give to fall asleep that easily.
Instead, I find Jill’s eyes and break into song and sing, “Just the two of us. We can make it if we try…”
Jill rolls her eyes and leans into me, careful not to wake Hope, and kisses me. Playfully, I bite her lower lip and smile. She softly laughs and looks deeply into my eyes. I must stare for a little too long because she leans away and raises an eyebrow.
“What?”
“What what?” I ask back.
“That look.”
“You mean the look after a beautiful woman kisses me? That look?”
Jill shakes her head and smacks it loudly against the metal filing cabinet. She and I hold in our laughs, praying that we don’t wake the others. Mom and Dad need their rest, and so does Hope. Jill and I can make do for the most part, but we’ll eventually need to get some sleep ourselves. For now, we lay down and stare at one another, peeking between the top of Hope’s head and the feet of the filing cabinet.
I think about digging around for Hope’s pocketknife, but who am I kidding, I ain’t no MacGyver. If I were, I would’ve ended this conflict a while ago with nothing more than happy thoughts and a fucking paperclip.
We reach our cuffed hands under the cabinet and find each other’s fingers. Then, it’s Jill’s turn to sing.
“Shiny happy people holding hands…”
I quickly echo the words, just as the song does.
“Shiny happy people holding hands…”
Hope snorts a sleepy laugh. “You guys…” she yawns, “are so weird.”
Then, she’s snoring again.
Chainsaws are roaring once more.
7
Just as I’m about to close my eyes, the door squeaks open, awakening me from my almost slumber. Whoever it is, he/she just stands there and stares. I can’t see who it is, exactly. The person's identity is obscured by a backlit halo. The room beyond them is too bright to make out a face.
“You're shitting me, right?” I grumble, annoyed to all hell.
The visitor quickly steps into the room and shuts the door, bathing us in darkness, once more. The only light is that of a battery-powered lantern in the rear corner of the room. Tyson was kind enough to leave us with that.
The jerk could’ve at least given us pillows.
“Who—”
“Shhh…” she says—and it’s most definitely a she. The woman is only a couple of feet away from me now, kneeling at my side. She has strawberry-red hair and a face full of perfectly placed freckles. If anyone ever looked like the country girl next door, it’s this lady.
“I need your help, Detective Moon.”
“Uh… Okay?” I honestly don’t know what else to say. “And you are?”
She puts a finger to her mouth as Jill begins to stir. The redhead cringes when Jill’s eyes snap open, immediately turning into a venomous glare.
“Jill,” I whisper. “It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry for Tyson’s treatment of you. I’m sure you can understand his suspicion.”
“You mean…his paranoia,” Jill mutters, yawning, none-too-pleased.
“Yes, that.”
“Back up a sec,” I say, “you said you need my help? For what?”
“Who are you?” Jill asks.
“My name is Andrea Daniel. I’m Tyson’s sister.” Andrea is dressed like her brother. She’s a cop like him, part of the CPD. “I need Frank’s help with something.”
Jill and I just lay there in silence and wait for Andrea to explain. Before she does, she scurries over to the door to check that no one is coming. Satisfied that we won’t be interrupted, she rejoins us at the rear of the room and gets into a catcher’s squat.
“I need your help to find my nephew.”
“Nephew?” I ask, stunned at the request. “So, it’s not just his wife and daughter that he lost, is it?”
Andrea’s face falls, stung by what I said.
“Ty is a rookie with the department,” she explains, “and he was helping me with a recon mission not too far from here. We were ambushed a few days ago, and I lost him near the city zoo.”
“Ambushed?” I ask.
“Zoo?” Jill asks.
Both questions are answered quickly.
“Yes,” she replies, “we were making our rounds, looking for survivors, checking off places one by one. The zoo was supposed to be an easy assignment for us until the Unseen showed up.”
“Been talking to your brother, have you?” It’s the only way she would know to call them that, and the only reason she’d be here asking me for help.
“Everything he told me about you was, frankly, impressive. We’ve lost a lot of good people to these things.” She grinned. “The fact that you survived New York and are now here is incredible.”
“We stopped in Florida, you know?”
Andrea’s eyes light up. “Really?”
Jill nudges me, knowing that I love the attention.
“Anyway,” I say, “back to your nephew.”
“Right,” she says, “I believe he’s still alive, or at least, I need to confirm whether he is or not. Tyson has already buried two members of his family, I don’t want him to prematurely bury Ty too. If I can bring him back—”
“You can right your wrong,” I finish. It’s not that I think Andrea is wrong at all, but it’s what she thinks.
And what Tyson probably thinks too.
“And if I help you?”
Her eyes harden. “I’ll get you all out of here ASAP.”
I glance over to Jill, who is burning holes into the redhead. I can tell she’s thinking de
eply, but I also know that she’d beat the shit out of “Raggedy Ann” if she could get loose.
“You don’t think we’re infected?”
Andrea snorts a laugh. “No. You’d be showing signs of it if you were. My brother has always been—”
“Crazy?” Jill asks. I don’t think she’s blinked yet.
That can’t be healthy.
“Extremely thorough,” Andrea finishes, clearing her throat. “But yes, he’s been a bit off lately.”
She looks uncomfortable with Jill, and honestly, I can’t blame her. Andrea’s brother is the reason we aren’t on our way to Gatlinburg. Jill can’t take it out on Tyson, so, instead, she’s decided to take it out on his sister.
“If I help you, son or no son, we’re as good as ghosts?”
Andrea stands. “As long as you bring your ‘A’ game, yes.”
“What are you implying?” Jill asks, sounding mightily pissed off. She leans forward as much as she can. “Do you have any idea what we’ve been through? We’d all be dead if it wasn’t for Frank sacrificing himself countless times.” Jill sits back. “I doubt your brother can say the same for himself.”
Andrea turns and sniffs.
“Look…” I start to say but get cut off.
“No,” she holds up a hand, “she’s right. Tyson gave up on his own son.” She turns. “But I won’t.”
Seeing the determination in her eyes makes my decision easier, and knowing how Jill knows me, she already knows what I’m going to say.
“I’m in.”
Andrea rushes forward and unlocks my cuffs. I lean over and gave Jill a hard kiss on the lips. We stare into one another’s eyes before I get up to leave.
“Don’t come back without him,” Jill warns. Andrea stops from turning away and looks down at my wife instead. “I’ll kill you myself if you don’t.”
Andrea can only nod, eyes wide. If I’m not mistaken, Jill may have made the woman piss her pants. While dedicated to her cause in her own right, Andrea has nothing on Jill. In a savage world, Jill is becoming more and more comfortable going the extra mile to protect those she cares about.
I can’t imagine what she’d do to Andrea if I don’t make it back. If I don’t, I hope my spirit gets a front row seat for that slobber knocker!
It’s late, or really early, depending on the way you look at it. The lobby of the hospital is still, and we have to tiptoe through the tiled room as if we’re walking on broken glass. Halfway across the space, my shoe squeaks. While not loud in the usual sense of the word, the quiet around us makes it seem ten times louder.
Off to my left, someone in a sleeping bag snorts in their sleep, startled but not fully roused by the noise. Then, another person incoherently mumbles something on the other side of the room. Andrea looks at me and together, we speed up our steps and quickly shuffle through the front doors. They’re of the automatic sliding variety and need to be pulled apart manually.
Once on the other side of them, I’m assaulted by a crisp breeze. It’s the coldest I’ve felt so far, and without the added layer of my Kevlar vest, it’s one of the first times I’ve genuinely felt cold. Chilled, yes. Uncomfortably cold, no.
The parking lot is as quiet and as motionless as the lobby, minus the gusts, and occasional shrieks somewhere off in the distance. Occasionally, a piece of garbage swirls by us, including someone’s bloodstained, orange University of Tennessee cap. It reminds me of my cousin, Bill. He graduated a Vol twenty-plus years ago, and he’s just one of many extended family members that I haven’t had time to think about.
Andrea guides me to a blacked-out GMC SUV and remotely unlocks the doors. Softly, we pop them open, climb in, and breathe. Just getting to the vehicle was hard work. The only positive thing about what happens next is that we won't be around any humans, so we don't have to worry about who we shoot.
Besides Ty, of course.
“Backseat,” she says.
I turn and smile wide. There, in the backseat of the SUV are my bow and quiver, a combat knife of some sort, and my pistol and shoulder holster—the holster has two fully loaded magazines too. I reach for the gun and confirm that there’s a full one inside—only—it’s not my gun. Andrea seems to have replaced it with something much nicer.
“Glock 17?” I ask, inspecting the pristine weapon. It looks brand-spanking-new! Seriously, I feel like it’s Christmas, and I’m eight-years-old.
Not that I would’ve wanted a G17 when I was eight… You know what I mean. This is one of the best feelings I’ve had in a long time, and something breaks loose inside of me as we pull out of the hospital parking lot.
There, in the front seat of a car, sitting beside someone I’ve just met, with a handgun wrapped tightly in my hands, I weep. It’s not an ugly cry, by any means, but it honestly feels terrific to get it out of my system. I've been scared to death for weeks now, and it's hasn’t just been for my own life. Luckily, my breakdown is here and now and not in the middle of some terrible conflict where people are relying on me to survive.
For her part, Andrea does nothing except quietly sits there until I finish and take a deep breath.
“Sorry about that,” I say, feeling very embarrassed now.
She shrugs. “I’m guessing you haven’t had a lot of alone time lately.”
I shake my head. “Between Jill and Hope—and my parents… Well, it’s been hard, you know?”
“I do.”
I smile. “Thanks, Andrea, for everything.”
“It’s Andy, and I haven’t done anything.”
I look out my window. “You’ve done more than you know.”
“Like?”
I face her. “Confidence? Optimism? Peace?” I don’t know what it is. But this,” I hold up the gun, “makes me feel like I’ve got the edge to get my family where we’re going.”
Andy softly laughs. “You’d make a great spokesperson for the NRA.”
I grin. “Usually, I wouldn’t think so, but now—in this world?”
She nods. “Things have definitely changed.” She nods her chin at the pistol. “I guess that’s like good insurance around here.”
I smile. “If you get hurt and miss work, it won’t hurt to miss work.”
Andy immediately adds, “And they give you cash, which is just as good as money.”
We laugh at the memory of the old Yogi Berra-starred Aflac commercial. Seriously, it was a classic. Look it up if you don’t believe me.
The drive down East 3rd Street is uneventful. Basically, it’s the best thing we could’ve asked for. I’m stunned at the lack of movement within the city as a whole. No people at all—both kinds.
I really need to stop calling the Unseen ‘people.’
Andy and I hold our breath when we skirt by the Confederate Cemetery. There have been no signs of an Unseen-zombie variety to date, but if there ever were one, a Civil War-era cemetery would be the perfect origin story for them. I take my eyes off the spooky plot of land and readjust myself.
My nervousness doesn’t go unnoticed.
“You always this jumpy?”
“No, but with every mile traveled, something new and horrifying usually rears its ugly mug.”
“Burners?”
I nod. “First I’ve heard of them—and I’ve seen a lot.”
Andy glances back and forth between the road and me. “You’re saying that the creatures are regional?”
“Some of the rarer sub-species are, yes, but there are some usual suspects everywhere.”
“Tell me about them.”
“Why do you want to know so badly?”
She shrugs. “In case I decide to leave. I’d like to be prepared for that day. I’d like to know what I’ll be up against.”
“You’d leave Chattanooga?”
Her eyes shift from me to the road. “If I have to, yes.”
With nothing else to do, and not really wanting to sit in silence, I give Andy a quick overview of the Unseen. She doesn’t say a word. Like a good student, she just sit
s there and takes it all in, soaking up every little tidbit I can remember. Regrettably, with as tired as I am, and with as much as I have banging around in my skull, I know I’m leaving something out.
She’s smart, I think. She’ll figure it out.
A bevy of train cars passes beneath us as we go over a large overpass. There are so many tracks that I can’t count them all. Not that I can see them all. I’ve seen similar rail hubs around the country, but this one is imposing. It’s huge!
“We’re almost there,” Andy says as we descend the other side.
Moments later, we turn off 3rd Street and hang a quick right, and pull into a parking lot, passing a tall sign that reads: Chattanooga Zoo.
I step out of the car and nock an arrow, opting for the quiet approach first. If everything goes south, I’ll be more than happy to shoot my way out of trouble.
I groan.
“What’s wrong?” Andy asks.
“That,” I say, pointing to the word ZOO, “that’s what’s wrong.”
8
The front gates are wide open and deserted, not that I expected there to be anyone here to greet us. Even the most fanatic of animal lovers wouldn’t be stupid enough to be guarding this place right now. Most, if not all, of the zoo’s residents, are either long dead or on the prowl for their next meal. I’ve personally seen what an Unseen-animal can do.
The polar bear back in Manhattan was one of the first nonhuman versions I ever laid eyes on. What sucks the most, is that the meteors did all of their damage during the day, when the animals would’ve been outside in their habitats. The only ones not affected, and therefore normal, are the ones housed in indoor enclosures.
Those would’ve been the first to starve or have been easy prey for something that changed. The front gates being open also tells me that a lot of the creatures, the ones that once called the zoo home, are probably out in the world somewhere, freely hunting whoever and whatever they want.
Yikes.
The first animal I see advertised is the Chattanooga Zoo’s leopard. I don’t like house cats, let alone genetically altered predatory ones. My gun sounds like a better alternative already.
