“If it's viral, he's got a decent chance. If it's bacterial, yeah, not good.”
“You know a bit about this stuff. I thought Blake was the first aid guy.”
“I don't know much, but I was in the Peace Corps for two years in Central Asia. Pneumonia was a major cause of death out there, so I'm familiar with it.”
Jesse nodded and walked deeper into the forest. She followed him. There was no rain that day. Sunbeams lit the space between the massive trunks.
“You've been distant, not exactly a quality most people want in a leader.”
“I like coming out here.”
“Why is that?”
“It reminds me that even when things around me die that some things survive us all. Long after we are all dead, these trees will still be here. All the humans in the world could die, and these trees would keep growing. They're safer now than they were before.”
“Well, we aren't any safer than we were before, Jesse, and Tim might die.”
Her words ground into him. He stopped and stood in place, still facing away from her.
“We are following you because we believe you are our best bet for survival, and right now you aren't doing a whole fuck of a lot to encourage that notion.”
“Get one thing straight,” Jesse said. He turned his neck enough that he could see her in his peripheral vision and continued, “This journey isn't about saving any of us. I want to find out what happened. I want to find out what this lady from my dreams knows. I want to find out who, or what, is responsible for the dead coming back to life. When I find out that information, I'm going to do my damnedest to pay back all that has been lost tenfold. This isn't about survival. It's about revenge, and it’s about justice for those that died.”
“Revenge? This is all about revenge for you?”
“Yes, there isn't much else to live for these days.”
He knelt down and sifted through the leaves on the ground looking for fallen nuts.
“You know what Confucius said?” Danielle asked.
“Dig two graves.”
“Yeah, that’s right. So, what's the point of revenge?”
“What's the point of sitting around waiting to die?” he shot back. Jesse stood up and faced her.
“Things aren't going to go back to the way they were before. The age of humans is over, as far as I can tell, but I refuse to let us go out like whipped dogs. Being a person means something to me, and it never did before. But now that we are going extinct, I'll be damned if we are going to go out like a bunch of punks. I've watched everyone I've ever loved die, and horribly at that. I'm going to pay that back, or I'm going to get ripped apart trying to. When all is said and done, it's not going to be two graves that get dug — it's going to be a fucking landfill. If you want to live a long and happy life, follow someone else.”
There was silence for a moment. Jesse saw tears well up in Danielle’s eyes. She bit her lip and swallowed hard.
“I can’t live a long and happy life, Jesse.”
“None of us can. Not anymore.”
“That’s not what I mean. I’ve got a ticking time bomb inside of me.”
“You’re pregnant?”
“No, the opposite actually. I have an IUD.”
“And?”
“And if you knew anything about them, you’d know they need to come out after a while. Mine’s overdue. I’m on borrowed time.”
“We’re all on borrowed time.”
“The others don’t have to be. You don’t have to be, you fucking asshole! We left everything we knew because you brought down — whatever those screaming things are — on our heads. We were safe before you came along. But that doesn’t make any difference now because we are here and we are following you. No one else has any idea what to do, not Nathan, not me, not anyone. It’s all up to you Jesse, so stop acting like a fucking dick and make it matter. Make what we threw away for you, or because of you, matter. Whatever is going on in that head of yours, sort it out. You have people depending on you now.”
Hot tears were streaming down her face and her hands were trembling.
“I’d punch you right now if I thought it would make me feel better,” she said.
He shook his head and left her standing there. He worked his way deeper into the forest. After a few seconds, Danielle screamed in frustration and went back to the others. When the sun began to set, Jesse came back to the camp carrying some fruits and nuts that he had foraged.
Danielle took what he offered. Her face was clear and she was calm again.
“Sit down,” she said. Jesse sat without a word.
“I’ve got to do something about that mop of hair,” she said.
“You don’t like my style?” he joked.
“You look like you’d be in your element pushing a shopping cart full of odds and ends on Burnside Avenue in Portland,” said Blake.
Tim laughed. His laugh turned into a wet, hard cough. At the sound, everyone’s faces went dour.
“I don’t like lice,” said Danielle.
“The beard stays,” said Jesse.
“Fine.”
She sat on a large stone beside him and used her knife to saw off the nasty, long strands of Jesse’s hair. When she finished, his head felt five pounds lighter and much colder.
…
Jesse was alone in blackness: a lost champion in the void. He felt eyes on him. They stared hard and tried to bore holes through him, but he saw nothing. Ahead, behind, around — nothing. He looked down. He was ankle deep in blood. The crimson surface rippled. A distant gong blast reverberated off the surface of the pool of blood. Ahead was a shifting white vision. He heard what sounded like wooden chimes. Splashes, hundreds of them. White dots in pairs stretched out for eternity. Milky eyes. She walked forward. Bones hung on sodden strings from her neck and shoulders. Her hair was clumped together and white. The crone. The others walked forward. The screaming creatures. The galla. Their mouths opened in unison and a powerful scream shook him.
“Die,” she said.
…
He shot up and scanned their camp. Nothing stirred. It was daylight. His shirt was soaked and his brow was moist. He wanted to wake them all and leave, but they needed their rest.
They stayed there for another two days until Tim was strong enough to stand and talk. Tim insisted that they start moving again, if only a few miles a day. He grew stronger after a week. They resumed their grueling pace, since it was obvious that Tim could handle it. Another week went by and they were several miles north of San Francisco.
“We've got to stop here,” Nathan yelled at Jesse. Jesse brought his bike to a stop and hopped onto the asphalt. His legs were stiff from the long ride. The others stopped in kind.
“You tired?” asked Jesse.
“Of course, but that's not why — the bridges are all out. That was one of the last moves the military tried to contain the problem. All the bridges going into San Francisco or to the East Bay are gone. Blown up.”
“Fuck!” Jesse yelled.
“If you really want to go that way, I guess we can swim,” said Blake, and he smirked.
“This isn't the time for jokes,” said Danielle.
“Sorry, gallows humor.”
“There's another way right?” asked Jesse.
“Sure,” said Nathan. He pointed to the east, “We can take the country roads through Sonoma, and then we can cut south once we get to Interstate 5.”
“Maybe we can find some wine that might lift our spirits a bit,” said Blake.
“I like how he thinks,” said Tim.
“I wish I could have seen San Francisco one more time,” said Jesse, “I loved that city.”
“All the more reason not to see it,” said Nathan. “It won't be the same.”
He patted Jesse on the shoulder.
“It's gone to shit, just like the rest of them.”
“Stockton might have improved though,” said Blake.
“It's certainly safer than it used to be,�
� joked Nathan.
“I can't say I've ever been there,” said Jesse.
They ate some food, took a nap, and started pedaling east. Their breaks were always short. When the breaks ran long, the journey became harder: legs would cramp and feet would stiffen and swell.
Jesse had never seen Napa before. It looked empty and wild now that no one was tending the vineyards and open fields. As they entered Napa, their hopes of finding a treasure trove of wine and food were dashed. The estates nearest the road were ransacked and left unguarded to the elements. They saw an estate up on a large hill with obvious fortifications. Jesse turned onto the gravel road. A rifle shot rang out and echoed throughout the valley.
“You just keep fucking moving,” a distant voice yelled. “If you come one more step — I'll send you all to the grave. I've got plenty of bullets and there're only five of you.”
When Jesse tried to convince the man, as he had done back in Eureka, a second shot rang out and Jesse felt the bullet whiz by his head. The message was clear, so they continued on down the road. The rest of that day no one spoke, except for essential communication. They pedaled for hours after the sun went down, and they woke up early the following day and rode hard. By noon, they were within a half-day’s ride of Lodi. The next day when they entered Lodi, Blake and Nathan scavenged for supplies while the others rested. They hobbled back at sunset with packs overfull and heavy.
“How’d it go?” asked Jesse.
“About thirty of them,” said Nathan. “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”
“Who wants preservatives and salty bosh?” asked Blake.
Tim raised his spindly arm.
“Catch,” said Blake and he tossed a can of soup underarm to Tim.
Tim caught it and read the label.
“Lukewarm clam chowder! You shouldn’t have,” he said.
Each day they took turns alternating who would scavenge and who would protect the bikes and rest. Tim was exempt and rested between rides. As for food, their supplies lasted them for the first week, but the sojourn in the redwood forest had cost them. They survived on what canned food and junk food they could find. None of the group knew much about the local flora, and no one wanted to risk getting ill. Their meager intake caused them to slim down further and the harsh California sun burned their skin. Jesse thought that the others were beginning to look like jerky: shriveled and tan. All except for Blake, his skin became red enough to match his fiery hair. Complaints were voiced often, but Jesse felt no sense of mutiny — even from Danielle. He knew that they believed in him and his goal, at least enough to follow him to San Diego.
They rode on the highway and they had a vantage point of what happened to Stockton. Much like the other cities, cars and trucks littered the road: some upturned and others destroyed or abandoned. Off-putting dark stains dotted the roads. Just like the other towns, there were no bodies — only reminders. No band of raiders tried to halt them and they saw no reanimates. Nathan pointed out a downed military helicopter east of the highway.
The military had never attempted to save Silverdale. By the time the reanimates had reached that part of America, the war was already lost. Most of the remaining military personnel had already abandoned their posts and gone home to protect their loved ones, not that they would have helped much. It was not the fighting that killed most people. It was the abrupt end of modern life. Supply lines were cut. The electric grid went down. So much of modern life was contingent on constant access to electricity and supplies and neither of those things were available when the shambling dead waged their war. The shipments of goods stopped, the power went out, medicine ran out or expired, and soon all the old, sick, and infirm were dead. Next went the young and weak. After that, anyone else that could not figure out a new way to live starved or killed themselves. That ended up being almost everyone. All the reanimates had to do was the clean-up work. They operated like bipedal coyotes picking the cities clean of all the dead meat.
“Shit shit shit!” Blake yelled. The brakes screamed as he came to an abrupt stop. Nathan swerved out of the way and almost dumped his bike.
“What the fuck, Blake?” Nathan said.
“We’ve got company,” Blake said and pointed at a shifting mass of reanimates a quarter-mile ahead on the interstate.
“Jesus, that’s a lot of them,” he said.
Jesse, Danielle, and Tim slid to a stop behind Blake.
“I’ll distract them, you all ride around,” said Jesse.
“So we just leave you here and then we fend for ourselves?” said Danielle.
“No, I’ll wait until you guys get past them and then I’ll catch up.”
“Come on, man,” Tim said. “That’s risky. Why don’t we just go around?”
“We need to make sure they don’t follow us. It’s getting close to dark,” said Jesse.
Blake, Danielle, and Tim looked at each other. They turned to Nathan. Nathan shrugged.
“Fine,” said Danielle.
Jesse rode up to the group of reanimates. When he was a few yards away, he stopped and hopped off his bike. He swung out the kickstand and let the bike rest. One of the creatures was a few feet away by the time he got his axe out of his belt. It lunged at him. He grabbed it by the neck and squeezed as hard as he could. Its bones crumpled and its throat collapsed in Jesse’s death grip. He lifted the frail thing up in the air and slammed it on the ground. Two others closed in and reached for him. His vision went red and his bottled up rage uncorked. Rotten bodies flew and reanimated limbs were disconnected from the source of their power. Jesse let into the crowd of undead like a tornado. He did not see the others as they rode through the mess.
…
“It’s been an hour. We should go get him,” said Danielle.
“He’ll be fine,” said Blake.
“I’m not so sure.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Maybe we’re better off on our own,” said Nathan.
Danielle walked up to him and delivered a left hook to his jaw. Nathan’s head moved but nothing else.
“I’m going back there. The rest of you pussies can do what you want,” Danielle said.
“Yeah, pussies,” said Tim. He ran to catch up with Danielle.
They all got on their bikes and headed north. The sun was setting and the last bit of light was shining in their eyes.
Ahead they saw two bodies standing. Danielle could not make out more than their outlines. One of the silhouettes fell over.
They rolled up on a nightmare scene. Bodies strewn about and limbs scattered in odd piles. Jesse stood alone clutching his axe. He looked up. Danielle could barely see his face through all the chunks and ropy strands of gore and smeared coagulated blood he wore like macabre makeup.
Her eyebrows raised and she opened her mouth. He locked eyes with her.
“I got carried away,” he said.
“You ain’t bullshitting,” she said.
“I’m ready to go now.”
“Uh huh. Yeah, let’s do that, but keep your distance until you get cleaned up,” she said.
…
In another week, they were near Coalinga.
“The smell is gone,” said Jesse.
“What do you mean?” What smell?” asked Danielle.
“The cows,” said Jesse.
“Is this the part where you go crazy and kill us all? What cows are you talking about?” asked Blake.
“You guys never drove down this way before?” asked Jesse.
“No,” said Blake. The others shook their heads.
“This was where one of the largest slaughterhouses in America was. You could smell it for miles. I used to roll up my windows and turn on the AC, just to filter the air enough to make it manageable. But now — no smell."
“That's because the cows are all dead,” said Nathan.
“How do you know that?” asked Tim.
“Those weren't wild cows, man. They were domesticated. There's no one left to feed them all, and proba
bly not enough grass for them anyways. I wouldn't be surprised if every last one of them is dead," said Nathan.
“Yeah, that's probably what happened, just a bunch of starved cows sitting around waiting for food,” said Jesse.
“That's more or less what happened in Eureka too,” said Danielle. “I was one of those cows until Nathan showed up with Blake. I'd say Tim was too, but he would have made a shitty cow.”
“Yeah all skin and bones. Remember that if we resort to cannibalism. I'll taste awful," said Tim.
"We all thought they were coming back. You know, the people in power. Congressmen. Mayors. Generals, et cetera,” said Blake.
“I did too, at least for a while. I expected to see some helicopters or soldiers, but they never came,” said Jesse.
The conversation died out, and they stood there with their mouths closed. Jesse got back on his bike and pedaled down the exit leading to Highway 33. They had debated about whether to take the easy and direct route, Interstate 5, or to take the more difficult and treacherous route, Highway 33. They had all chosen a rural mountain route, after the prospect of trying to bike through downtown Los Angeles was discussed. Both ways seemed likely to end in death, but traveling through the middle of a major metropolitan city was an unnecessary risk. So they progressed at a slow pace through the rural highway. It doubled their travel time, but the days went by without issue. They saw no one. When the road was too difficult to bike, they walked. When it was too cold, they made a fire and huddled together. After a week, they were staring at the ocean and the road that would take them down the coastline: Highway 1. They rested for a day on the beach. The frigid air made it hard to sleep, but the sight of the ocean lifted everyone’s spirits.
When the morning tide came in, the group mounted up and went southbound on Highway 1. After a few minutes of riding on the highway, a sign caught Jesse's eye — East Harbor Boulevard.
“Let's take this road!” Jesse yelled. “I have an idea.”
The others did not protest and followed his lead. Soon, an upper-class utopia appeared before their eyes. Hundreds of cookie-cutter suburban dwellings bordered a man-made river that dumped out into the ocean. Next to most of those dwellings were sailboats.
The Lost Gods Page 17
