by Thomas Key
We eventually pulled to the side of the destroyed road, and it was not by my choice at all. Where the women had decided to pull over was the parking lot of the Route 66 diner. If you know anything about our previous experiences, you’d know that this was by no means a happy place. Rachel, Kenneth and I were extremely agitated, taking up guard duty like we were born for that sole purpose. The kids though couldn’t care less where we were and they ran and hugged each other. It would have been absolutely adorable I’m sure had my back not been to them all. This area was in our nightmares, and I just wanted to load up and GTFO (Get the fuck out). The two children that we rescued from the Sub wanted to sit in our Humvee. Yay, I thought as I once again took the driver seat before anyone else got in. The rear of our vehicle looked like we had decided to paint the back shades of red and black, it was so absolutely covered with blood. From the rear passenger door all around the rear was just disgusting. I think I might have seen at least two eyes stuck to the left side somehow, and one freaking hand was still grasping onto the gasoline storage bin. I wanted so desperately to start throwing out macabre jokes. I could go into more detail but right then, comedy was not something that I felt like at all. I sat there, peering out of the windshield and saw Kenneth staring across the street and straight at Presbyterian hospital, his gaze unwavering. Isabel came to him and wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. Only in an intense drinking session back at the base did Ken finally tell me what had happened that night at the hospital. I knew just how traumatic it had been for him, and the fact that Isabel had broken him into telling her was a testament to her character and to her feelings for him, and his for her. I watched the short exchange in front of my Humvee, and I began to cough, lightly at first, with it quickly turning into a full-blown fit. I felt for several moments as if my lungs were going to rupture out of my mouth. When the coughing was over, I looked down at my hand, which was previously covering my mouth. A splat of blood was centered almost perfectly on it. I stared at the blood, confused. What the shit? I asked myself as I just looked at it. The pain from the bite seemed to radiate from my wound to my brain, just in time to remind me just what the fuck was going on. Oh yeah, I’m dying, I thought as I continued to stare at the blood. I heard the door to my right open and immediately rubbed the blood against my pant leg. “Are you alright?” Rachel asked me as she got in and sat down. “Yeah, I might be catching a cold,” I told her. She glanced over at me, only paying a little bit of attention. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Really?!” I asked her, more than a little bit perturbed. I was literally fucking dying and that’s all that she had to say? She turned her focus right on me though, and her eyes locked on to mine, and I began to feel that very familiar feeling of my soul hanging above a fire pit that is an angry woman’s gaze. “What do you mean, really?” she asked, about ready to lay the smack down on me. It was then that I remembered that I had not told her that I was in fact bitten and a cold in this day and age was the least of our worries. Sharpest tool in the shed. “Sorry hun, I’m just tired,” I told her, trying to placate her. Her eyes turned soft in an instant and she reached out a hand to my forehead. “You are a bit warm,” she told me with a small hint of worry. “I'll be alright,” I told her. She turned her attention as the kids, Cara and Cayden, jumped into the seats in the back. They were obviously thrilled. I wished with all of my being that I could feel that same feeling again someday. Atencio filled in beside the kids. I gave her a questioning glance. “She’s going in the other one,” she responded, my unspoken question about Ashmore answered. “Alright, let’s get the hell out of here,” I said. “Language,” the young girl from the back seat spoke up. “That’s right,” Rachel piped in. “Are you guys serious right now?” I asked, as I pulled the vehicle into the center lane to retrace our steps back out of town. “There are children present,” Rachel replied. “Well, grab my ears,” I responded as we accelerated out of the area.
Chapter Fourteen
What appeared to be the storm to end all storms slammed into us just as we made our way out of Albuquerque. I use the term slammed literally. One moment, we had a light drizzle, the next, we moved into the sheet of rain like a creepy guy into a hot girl’s DMs. The wind and the rain shook our Humvee as we drove out of the city. I would have liked to look back and see my once home fade away into the distance, but that was certainly not in the cards. I couldn’t see shit out of the mirrors. We drove into the darkness and I felt the tires lose traction more than once. Rachel was hanging on for dear life, her fingernails turning white from where she had her hands bracing herself on the dashboard. As the driver, I had some modicum of control, so for me, it was just another drive in the rain. My passengers, and I’m sure those of the vehicle behind us, had absolutely no control and I’m sure they were screaming inside. I figured we’d burst through the wall of rain any moment and we’d be good to go. There’s a saying in New Mexico; if you don’t like the weather, cross the street. I’ve literally done just that, crossing the street and avoiding a nasty bit of hail. I’ve moved my parked car from one side to the other of a grocery store parking lot just to avoid a bit of rain after a recent car washing. Does this mean that it never rained on my freshly walked truck? Of course not. In fact, I believe washing my vehicle is my version of a white man’s rain dance. Almost without fail, less than two days pass before it would rain on my pickup truck. This was not the case this time though, obviously. No rain dance here, just unlucky timing. That or God, the Devil or some other deity had it out for us for some reason. The further that we went, the more intense the storm got. Anyone who has driven in tornado warning weather would know what I’m talking about. That once happened to me during a trip out to Texas. We could hear the sirens in the distance and it was raining hard. I turned to my companion, my now ex fiancé who was visibly frightened by the weather. We could barely see the tail lights of the vehicle in front of us. I had laughed off my nervousness and said, “Look, if there was a tornado nearby, I think it would be hailing.” That had seemed to calm her down until wouldn’t you know it? It started hailing. Luckily, nothing untoward became of us for that trip but this trip was feeling eerily similar. As we climbed out of the mountain pass following I40 East, I had just a moment to see a shape in front of us as we slammed into it. I heard and saw whatever it was being thrown onto the hood and over the roof of the vehicle as I stepped hard on the brakes, trying desperately to bring the skidding Humvee to an immediate stop. We came to a screeching halt with Kenneth’s Humvee coming to a rest right beside mine. I leapt out, nearly slipping on the wet surface of the road and rushed behind our truck. I was horrified as I looked down at a person on the roadway behind us. I hit a person. “Oh shit,” I said aloud as I turned the person over. A woman in maybe her mid-twenties was lying before me. I have no doubt she was previously incredibly attractive but her body was damn near destroyed by the impact. Yes, even in the direst of situations, men do, in fact, notice things like that. I didn’t see any signs of infection as I used my flashlight to check her. No throat torn out, no limbs missing or any of that crap. Besides the broken bones protruding out of her torn skin in different directions and the obvious road rash, nothing led me to believe that this was anything other than a living breathing person. As I opened her eyelids and saw them lock onto mine, I fell backwards, my ass hitting the ground hard, caught completely off guard. Kenneth had caught up to me and trained his rifle on her. I noted quickly that he was the only other one to have disembarked from the vehicles. Understandable considering the torrent of rain, but not good in a fight. Thankfully, there was only one. The woman on the wet asphalt growled at me as she stared hungrily at me, her tangled body attempting to move towards me. Kenneth didn’t hesitate and fired one round into her head. I immediately heard a chorus of moans, seemingly from everywhere around us. The wind again picked up, causing the rain to whip over us and limiting our visibility to mere feet. As lightning flashed through, I spotted the source of the moans. A group of infected was directly in front of the lead
Humvee. I had in my haste left the driver side door open. “No!” I shouted as I stood and ran for the opening. An infected had already attempted to climb in as I reached it, its body more than halfway inside. I pulled it backwards and slammed its head into the door jam. I heard a crack and let the limp infected fall to the pavement. The occupants inside had barely registered that it had been an unwelcome guest as the blood from the infected sprayed the driver seat as it was forcibly ejected from the vehicle. I felt hands on me as I leapt for the driver seat, trying to get into the damn truck with the hope of getting it secure. I tried pulling the door closed but several hands were still gripping it, holding it open. It was like the paparazzi trying to get one last shot at some A-list movie star. I changed gears to drive and slammed on the gas, hoping the forward movement would dislodge the icky fingers. The Humvee barreled into a half dozen infected as I tried to accelerate out of the area. A parked car leapt out of the darkness and I swerved to avoid it. Pulling the wheel to the right hard, I saw just a hint of the guard rail as we smashed through it and began tumbling down the bottom of the canyon. Try as I might, I could not regain control of the vehicle as we turned sideways and began barreling down towards a most likely fiery end. Everyone in the vehicle was thrown back and forth, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rachel become knocked unconscious from her head slamming repeatedly against the window. I wanted to reach out and help her but it was useless. Another roll crushed me against my own window. The children in the back seats were still screaming as the darkness reached out and punched me in the head.
When I finally awoke, I felt cold water on my face and my body was drenched. As I slowly came to consciousness, I began to shake, feeling the incredible cold of the world around me. I moved slowly, feeling part of my body partially submerged in a body of water. I was in an arroyo that had recently seen action. I was most likely some of that action. The concrete under me was not pleasant and I tasted blood in my mouth as I spat it out and began to stand up on shaking legs. My head felt like someone had taken a sledge hammer to it, and I could see a series of bruises forming on nearly every empty inch of visible skin. I could only imagine what my face looked like. For all I knew, I now resembled the hunchback of Notre Dame. When I was finally able to look at my surroundings, I noted there was nothing familiar at all. I had been washed downstream quite a ways by the looks of it. I could still see out of both of my eyes so I had that at least. As I began to come more and more into my own, I realized just how screwed that I was. Have you ever looked around and thought I’m in danger? This was my first thought as my mind finally began to catch up with the rest of me. My rifle was missing and the only weapon that I had left intact was a knife still secured to my chest rig. Even my side arm had been ripped away. I pulled the knife out of its metal sheath to confirm that it was in fact intact. The blade glinted in the morning light. Oh shit, it’s morning? I asked myself as I looked up into the slowly bluing sky. Sure enough, the previous day’s storm clouds were moving to the northwest and out of my general area. Movement caught my eye, and I glanced to my right. On one of the banks of the arroyo stood an infected. The skinny dipshit was just staring at me. This would have been creepy as hell had I not been through what I had in the past few days. I returned his stare with my own, not giving any fucks to how ridiculous the entire situation was. The thing took a step forward and fell face first into the concrete-lined arroyo. As it stood back up, its left side of its face had been sheared off almost to the bone from the concrete. It was like a horrific rendition of Gotham City’s two face. I about lost what little was in my stomach as I saw its tongue hanging out from where its cheek used to be. After my gag reflex finally settled down and after the zombie had made it about half of the distance in my direction, I began my trek towards it. I had no idea where I was, where my crew was, how the hell I even got to this spot as the last thing that I had remembered was sitting inside of a Humvee. Yet, now this asshole wants to try to make a meal out of me? Not today, Satan. I swung my knife-wielding right arm and the pointy end went straight through the soft spot in the skull and through its temple. It stood there, with its eyes rolling back into its head as I pulled the weapon out with a plop. It dropped and proceeded to spill what was left of its diseased brain onto the concrete at my feet. The blackened brain pieces wiggled and jiggled as they spread out onto the concrete as if they were made by Jell-O. That did it as I blew chunks as I tried to pull my eyes from the event.
I assumed that I was downstream from where I had not so gently left the Hummer. If only because it felt like I was on a never-ending hill with the ground literally feeling tilted. I didn’t see any other wreckage at all, no evidence to show how I had been deposited here. The only thing that I could think of to do was to begin my walk back up towards the top. Hopefully, I would find the crew and we could get back to base and everything would be dandy. My optimism made a teeny tiny appearance for just a few steps then quickly dissipated as I walked, and walked and yeah, walked some more. After what felt like an eternity, I finally began to see bits and pieces of metal along the arroyo. It was just a hint of a piece there, an ammo box here. The damage to my body was making every step forward excruciating. Each step seemed to cause pain to radiate from head to toe. As they say though, momma didn’t raise a quitter and I trucked along. As I looked up, trying to cover my eyes partly from the sun, I saw it, a large pile of debris. I rushed up another quarter of a mile and spotted the husk of the Humvee. It was damn near a crushed tuna can. A sick feeling gripped my gut with the force of a hulk-sized fist punching me, and I ran for it, or I suppose it would have been much closer to a limp had anyone been watching. Feeling despair fill my heart as I reached the vehicle, I peered in, expecting to see bodies and blood and everything you'd imagine of a destructive car wreck. There was indeed blood but no bodies. Oh no, I thought as I stared at the empty seats. Were my friends and those little kids now zombies, wondering the desert? Were they out there somewhere after suffering some horrible death because of me? I hit my knees, feeling the pain rush through me. Yeah, I’ll admit it. I cried like a baby. The feeling of failure, the pain of loss, and the all-encompassing feeling of loneliness rushed through me as I sobbed. The sobbing soon turned to anger as I placed my forehead to the dirt. I punched the sand around me as if that would somehow fix anything. Several minutes passed and I laid flat against the Earth, wishing for death to come and end all of these feelings of emptiness. My tear-laced right eye spotted something unusual. A voice in my head told me to shut the hell up, I did just that. Isn’t that a symptom of insanity? To have voices in your head? Or isn’t that just a sign of the human condition and something that we all have that most just ignore? I saw footprints in the dried mud. My inner feelings of overall feeling shitty came to an abrupt halt as I slowly stood back up, fixing my stare at the prints. Two larger sets of prints and two smaller sets. Granted, the larger sets weren’t much larger than the smaller two by much, but it was enough to be noticeable. They were okay, I thought as my eyes traced the path of the tracks as they appeared to head away from the crash. They had to be okay to walk away from that crash. That voice in my head shut that down with a Or they were all zombies when they walked away? I began to walk in the same direction as the tracks. In front of me and up a bit of a climb was the bent and destroyed guard rail. This was it, I thought as I rushed forward, keeping the foot prints ever in my view. I climbed and made it to the top to see…. Nothing. Okay, well, not nothing. Bodies littered the road, and spent bullet casings were everywhere. Tire tracks were left in blood which stopped parallel to the broken rail. The footprints in the dirt ended right at the start of the old asphalt. Burnt rubber marks were evident as whatever vehicle had been there had taken off with great haste back down the mountain pass, back to Albuquerque. I was alone. Maybe it was for the best? I thought as I put one foot in front of the other and began to walk again, following the pavement back down the pass. My goal was to make it back to the city to see if I could somehow signal my companions. Weaponless and wi
th no ride, it would be a hell of a trip. Like the soldier that I tried to be, I shrugged, and walked forward on the long road ahead.
Once again, I was by myself, I thought as I put one foot in front of the other and continued my trek. Just fricken dandy. As I trucked along, with only my mind to keep me company which probably was not healthy at all. When you are bored with the only entertainment a small rock that you’re kicking back and forth on a broken and uneven roadway, your mind tends to go all over the damn place. As the rock once again got stuck in a crevice, I bent down to unwedge it and I stopped. My ears perked up as if that was possible, and I heard a sound that I was all too familiar with. It was the sound of a helicopter. Holy fuck, I’m saved, I thought. I waved my arms, not even seeing the chopper yet. Like an angel riding the clouds, a jet black painted UH-60 black hawk rode over the mountain and into clear view. It apparently spotted me, as it rocked back and forth and then flew past, hopefully, to turn back around and head back to me. Finally, something went right! I thought as I fist pumped the air. It was then that a wave of nausea came over me. I gagged, throwing up nothing but saliva. My stomach cramped and my hand went to my midsection. It didn’t stop, if anything, it got worse. I felt a wave of heat radiate through my body, and sweat began to pour off of me in the roadway. I hit the ground hard, my hands instinctively staying at my gut, not helping at all. It was worse than any kind of pain I had previously felt. My heart continued to pound hard in my chest, and the impulse to throw up would not leave me. I screamed, letting the whole world in on my agony. The sound of the helicopter’s rotors were nearing as the pain washed over me like a tidal wave. With one last scream of pain, I passed out in the middle of Route 66.
