Nurse Alissa vs. the Zombies | Book 3 | Firestorm

by Baker, Scott M.

Alissa crossed the room and slid open the door to the deck. Chris stood at the railing, studying the eastern horizon with a pair of binoculars.

  “Did you suddenly decide to take up bird watching?”

  “I wish.” Chris lowered the binoculars and pointed in the direction he had been studying. “I noticed that on the way over and wanted to check it out.”

  Alissa saw black smoke rising on the other side of the hills. She recognized the color and density as belonging to a multi-alarm fire. Only this smoke stretched for miles, blanketing the horizon.

  “Oh my God.”

  “That’s what I thought when I noticed it this morning.” Chris handed her the binoculars. “You can’t see much other than smoke.”

  Alissa examined the ridge. The flames came from the valley on the opposite side. Occasionally, a finger of fire would shoot up over the crest, staying in view for a few seconds before settling down.

  “Which direction is it heading?” Alissa asked.

  “I can’t tell. What’s on the other side?”

  “Not much.” Alissa handed back the binoculars. “Mostly a state forest that runs into Maine.”

  “Shit!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “We haven’t had any rain since we got here two months ago. There’s no moisture in the ground. If that fire is in the forest, there’ll be no stopping it.”

  “Should we be preparing to bug out?”

  Chris shook his head. “Not yet. It could be moving in the other direction. We should be okay as long as it doesn’t crest the ridge or follow the road around to where we are.”

  “Should we tell the others?”

  “Not yet. Let’s check it out first.” Chris ushered Alissa inside the cabin where the others waited.

  “What took you so long?” Nathan asked, a slight tinge of jealousy in his voice.

  “We were talking.” Alissa removed her weapons from the table, attaching the holster and knife belt around her waist. She then slung the backpack over one shoulder and her Mossberg shotgun over the other. “Are we ready?”

  The others responded in the affirmative.

  “Let’s go.”

  They followed her out, Shithead especially happy to be anywhere the cat was not. Miriam stopped Kiera long enough to give her a hug. Once outside, Chris and Alissa picked the Ram and Nathan and Kiera chose the Land Rover, loading their gear inside.

  Five minutes later, the two vehicles drove off the mountain road, turned right onto Route 302, and headed toward North Conway.

  Chapter Nine

  Dickson’s people hit the road an hour and a half after sunrise. Williamson rode with Stratman and Carter with Elaine. Before leaving, Dickson noted the junk yard’s location on the map and had Carter secure the front gate with a chain and lock. He wanted to keep this place for himself in case they needed it as a hiding place or to scavenge for spare parts. Dickson led the convoy northeast along Route 113.

  This time Rebecca held the map and navigated from the back seat because he needed someone with a good head on their shoulders who didn’t fold under pressure. She would warn him before the convoy reached populated areas or locales that could be possible hot spots so they didn’t have any unexpected and almost fatal incidents, like in New Hampton yesterday, and to be on the look out for places where they could attempt to resupply.

  After an hour on the road, Rebecca leaned forward, still clutching the map in her hand. “Be careful. We’ll be entering Conway in a few minutes. Beyond that is North Conway, the largest city in the area.”

  “Thanks.” Picking up the radio, Dickson relayed the information to the others.

  “How far are we from Maine?”

  “It’s a few miles from here if you stay on this road,” Rebecca responded.

  “Isn’t that where we want to go?” asked Nora.

  “It is.” Dickson thought for a moment. “Let’s check out this area first. We might be able to replenish what we lost.”

  * * *

  Chris headed along Route 302 East toward the northern approaches to North Conway, every once in awhile glancing over to the curtain of smoke rising from the other side of the ridge.

  “I’d pay more attention to the road,” warned Alissa.

  “There’s nobody out here.”

  “No, but there is wildlife. If you wind up hitting a moose, the kids are never going to let you live it down.”

  “You’re right.” Chris focused on the road. He hated the silence, especially because of that one issue that hung over their heads. Chris had been attracted to Alissa since he first met her and, if he picked up her vibes correctly, she liked him in return. He had ignored them these past few weeks. That wasn’t true. He had thought a lot about the two of them becoming involved but always avoided bringing it up, not wanting to stir the pot with Nathan, and not wanting to deal with the rejection, and embarrassment, if she said no. Playing out the scenario in his mind was more fulfilling than bringing it out into the open. That luxury ended yesterday when Kiera raised the subject.

  “So,” Chris began hesitantly. “Are you and Nathan… a thing?”

  Alissa stared at him like he had farted in church during a moment of silence. Chris instantly regretted opening his mouth.

  “A thing?”

  “Well… I meant—”

  “A thing? Are we sixteen?”

  “Sorry.” Chris wished they would run into a pack of deaders. “I was trying to make conversation.”

  “It sounds like you’re trying to ask me out.”

  Chris glanced over and fixed on her eyes, hoping to see some interest or humor in them. They displayed no emotion, except maybe frustration. Oh God, please let a moose be around the next corner.

  “I can’t believe you’re asking me out.”

  “I’m not asking you out,” he protested too quickly and forcefully.

  “Then why did you ask if Nathan and I were a thing?” The way Alissa emphasized the last two words made him want to shrink into the seat.

  “Let’s drop the subject.”

  “You brought it up.”

  “Please?”

  “No.” Alissa remained adamant.

  Luck favored Chris. As they approached North Conway, a road branched off to the north and into the valley where the fire raged. He stopped.

  “Where does that go?”

  “Route 16? It’ll take you to Berlin. Why?”

  “I think that’s the road the fire’s on. We should check that out while we’re here.”

  “Okay,” agreed Alissa. “But this is not—”

  Chris turned the vehicle north as he handed her the radio. “Let Nathan know what we’re up to.”

  Chris almost sighed with relief when Alissa dropped the conversation and called Nathan. He continued along Route 16, rolling down the driver’s window. The smell of burning wood grew overpowering with each mile they drove. Every few minutes, the tip of flames could be seen behind the tree line, illuminating the heavy black smoke that blocked out the sky above them. He heard the roar of the fire even at this distance, sounding like a nightmarish furnace.

  “We should turn around,” suggested Alissa. “I don’t like this.”

  “Neither do I, but we need to know what we’re… Jesus fucking Christ.”

  As they turned the bend near Wildcat Mountain the conflagration came into view less than a mile away. The forest on both sides of the road burned furiously, from the shoulder all the way up to the tops of the ridges. A wall of orange-yellow fire blocked the valley, flickering over a hundred feet in height. The local wildlife scurried to escape certain death. A black bear with its three cubs ran past the vehicle, ignoring the humans, concerned only with saving its young.

  The swarm of deaders made the scene even more surreal. Attracted by the noise and motion, nearly twenty of the living dead stumbled toward the inferno, oblivious to the fate that awaited them. Chris opened the door, stepped out, and raised the binoculars. The deader closest to the fire, a female State trooper with l
ong hair down its back, staggered toward the flames. Swirls of white smoke from the intense heat formed on its hair and clothes. The deader pressed ahead. It ignited as it crossed the fire line yet refused to turn around, its primordial brain convinced the roar of the conflagration meant food. Chris wondered if it was aware of the agony its body endured, the burning of flesh, the frying of organs, the searing away of muscles. The Trooper deader slowed and swayed, finally collapsing face first onto the softened pavement, and yet it still flayed its limbs, not yet completely charred. Despite witnessing the demise of one of their own, the others pushed ahead, one by one disappearing into the fire.

  Nathan stepped up beside Chris as Kiera joined Alissa.

  “Can I see?” he asked.

  Chris handed over the binoculars so Nathan could watch the deaders perform their walk of death.

  A large, smoking pine tree on the left side of the road suddenly caught fire, becoming completely engulfed within seconds.

  “Wait a minute,” said Kiera. “If the wind is blowing from behind us, why is the fire moving in our direction?”

  “That’s not wind,” answered Nathan, still watching the deaders. “The fire is consuming so much oxygen it’s sucking in the air around it.”

  “I don’t like it here,” said Alissa. “Let’s go.”

  Chris held up a finger. “One minute.”

  Nathan lowered the binoculars. “I wonder how many deaders have been sucked into that thing?”

  “Hopefully most of the deaders in North Conway have been drawn here, leaving the city open for us to scavenge.”

  “We should check it out.”

  Another pine tree smoked and ignited. Alissa banged the roof of the vehicle. “Can we go?”

  Chris waved his hand dismissively, thankfully not seeing the glare from Alissa. “Since you’re behind us, you lead and we’ll follow.”

  “Sounds good.” Nathan tapped the roof to get Kiera’s attention. “Come on, kid. We’re out of here.”

  “I’m not a kid,” she protested as she headed back to the vehicle.

  “Okay, young lady.”

  “You could call me by my name, you know.”

  Chris let the two of them banter and slid back into his vehicle. Alissa climbed in beside him.

  “It’s time we get out of here,” he said.

  Alissa leaned over and punched him in his upper right arm.

  Chris rubbed the spot. “What was that for?”

  Alissa said nothing and folded her arms across her chest.

  Chapter Ten

  As Dickson’s convoy approached North Conway, he came to a stop. A few dozen deaders were visible on the main road, the side streets, and parking lots, yet not in enough proximity or numbers to pose an immediate threat.

  “How big is this town?” he asked Rebecca.

  “It’s the largest in this part of the state. It’s a major tourist destination.”

  “Nervous?” asked Nora.

  “Cautious.” The venom with which he spoke the word caused Nora to shrink away. “I don’t want a repeat of yesterday’s clusterfuck.”

  “There’s a back road that parallels the main one. It’s up ahead. That one’s probably a safer bet than going straight through town. It also brings us close to the local hospital.”

  “You navigate.”

  Dickson drove on. A deader in military fatigues and with no lower jaw crossed the Hummer’s path. Dickson accelerated, knocking it over. The others behind him swerved around the body.

  Rebecca tapped the driver’s seat. “There’s the library. Turn left here.”

  Dickson veered the Hummer onto West Side Street. They followed that road until Rebecca told them to turn right on River Road. Half a mile later, Dickson pulled over to the shoulder.

  “Is everything okay?” asked Nora.

  “I don’t know.” Dickson pointed in front of them.

  A small two-lane bridge spanned the Saco River. A flock of crows sat on the cement railing along the left side, diving down beneath the bridge and flying back to their perch with meat dangling from their beaks. Every time the crows dropped down, they disturbed a swarm of flies and wasps that flew above the expanse before settling down again.

  “What the fuck is that?” asked Nora.

  “Only one way to find out.” Dickson picked up the radio. “Carter, grab your weapon and get up here. Everyone else, be ready to move in case we have to get out of here in a hurry.”

  Dickson climbed out of the Hummer and moved closer to the bridge, stopping fifty feet away. Carter joined him a few seconds later.

  “What’s up?”

  Dickson motioned to the bridge. “Any idea what that is?”

  “Not a fucking clue.”

  Raising their weapons, the two men closed in on the bridge, staying in the center of the road. Once on the span, they moved over to the railing. The crows flew off, squawking in protest. The two men leaned over the side.

  Carter whistled between his teeth. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding.”

  They stared down at an ungodly dam. At least one hundred bodies stacked up around the pilings and stretched underneath the span, their limbs entwined, broken tree branches serving as makeshift rebar to hold the corpses together. That was not correct. The dam did not consist of just corpses but also the living dead, their bodies still moving, unable to break free. A mass of smaller branches and litter covered the outer bodies.

  “What happened here?” asked Dickson.

  “A mass of them must have wandered out onto the ice, probably chasing a deer, and broke through. For some reason they all clogged up here and melded together.”

  “They weren’t chasing deer.” Dickson pointed to one of the motionless deaders resting on top of the heap. “That one has a bullet wound to the chest and half its head has been blown off. There’s a lot more like that.”

  “You’re saying someone else killed these things.”

  “More than likely several people. They may still be in the area, so let’s be on our guard.”

  “I’ll tell the others.” Carter motioned over the side of the bridge. “What should we do about them?”

  “Nothing. If they haven’t freed themselves by now, I doubt they ever will.” Dickson moved away from the guardrail. “Besides, this town is too big. I don’t plan on staying around, only long enough to get a new ride and some supplies. Come on.”

  Once back in the Hummer, Dickson explained what had happened. When Carter got back into the Chevy, Dickson drove off, leading the convoy to the hospital.

  * * *

  Alissa kept her Mossberg between her legs, the barrel pointing at the floorboard, ready to be used at a moment’s notice. Chris thought she seemed overly cautious, noting they would have enough time to get away or prepare to engage if they came across any deaders. Alissa didn’t care. After what she had experienced at Mass General and on the streets of Boston, she could not take enough precautions to make her feel secure.

  They entered Intervale, the town adjacent to North Conway, passing by the scenic vista and the Intervale Motel. A handful of deaders staggered north toward the conflagration, all of them crippled in one form or another, limping on bad legs or crawling along the pavement. One of the limpers had its abdomen ripped open, leaving a trail of congealed blood and gore that stretched for half a mile, and dragging its unraveled intestines behind it. The same situation greeted them as they entered North Conway. They drove for half a mile and spotted no more than twenty deaders.

  Chris stopped on a section of road surrounded by four hotels and stepped out.

  “What are you doing?” barked Alissa.

  “I want to check something.” Raising his weapon, he fired a three-round burst into the air.

  Alissa leaned over and yelled out the driver’s side. “Have you lost your mind?”

  Chris ignored her and scanned the area. After a few seconds, he fired three more rounds. Nathan pulled up alongside him. Kiera rolled down the window.

  “What are
you doing?” asked Nathan.

  “Experimenting. What do you see?”

  At one time, the area had been a war zone. The hotels were peppered with bullet holes and smeared with dry blood. The parking lots in front of each building had been killing fields. Scores of vehicles, including police cars and National Guard ordinance, littered the lots, some still pristine and neatly parked, others abandoned with their doors open, the interiors covered with blood and rotting body parts. Hundreds of corpses lay scattered across the pavement, a few of them belonging to deaders taken down in combat. Most had been victims of the outbreak, people overrun by the horde and devoured to such an extent none of them reanimated. Their bodies showed months of decay. Even the birds and insects did not bother feeding off them. The destruction spilled out onto the street.

  “It’s carnage,” said Alissa.

  The bloated corpse of a woman sat along the curb farther down the road, its face having been stripped clean of flesh, its extended stomach pushing through the soiled bathrobe it wore. Chris fired a single round into its abdomen. The body popped like a balloon, spilling its liquified interior onto the street, which poured into the nearby storm drain.

  Kiera leaned out the window and vomited.

  “Cut it out.” Nathan’s voice seethed with anger.

  The gunfire had attracted a score of deaders that stumbled toward them, hobbled like the others they had encountered. Others howled from inside closed rooms, scratching at the glass, having been trapped inside before turning.

  “Are you trying to get us killed?” demanded Alissa.

  “That’s my point.” Chris slung his weapon over his shoulder. “We should have a horde of them bearing down on us. We don’t.”

  Kiera wiped her mouth. “So?”

  “This place had been a major refugee point until the dead took over. Remember what happened a few weeks ago at the hospital? Rather than be swarmed by deaders, none are left. They all chased the forest fire.”

  How could Alissa forget. Her and Nathan had almost died there getting the supplies for Steve’s surgery. She climbed out of the vehicle and studied the area.