“I haven’t felt my baby kick all day. She’s dead, isn’t she? Oh God, I know I crushed her when I fell down last night.” Casandra was near a panic as she waited for her turn with the medics. She paced toward the side of the caravan before leaning against a car to steady herself while attempting to sit. As she made her way slowly to the ground her sundress bunched up behind her. Faster than she could react, the pile of cloth slipped, sending her fast to the pavement. Her ass slapped against the wet road, and her head bounced off the body of the car. “Oh God.” She said, defeated. She slumped forward, her head hiding in her hands, knees framing her huge belly. The fall pushed her dress up, collecting the pile of fabric just below her shoulder blades.
Aiko offered an understanding smile. “Come on. Let’s get you straightened up.” She pulled Casandra’s dress back down where it belonged.
The soon-to-be new mother didn’t offer much in the way of help, other than muttering “my baby” a few times between sobs. Aiko was still able to get a good portion of Casandra’s dress back under the girl, slight barrier that it was between her skin and the grimy pavement.
“What’s your name again, sweetheart?” Aiko asked.
“Casandra,” the pregnant girl squeaked.
“Nice to meet you, Casandra. I’m Corpsman Aiko Taniguchi, United States Navy. I’m here to help you.”
“Hello,” Casandra managed.
“You didn’t crush your baby, Casandra. She’s going to be just fine, but you need to calm down. The stress isn’t good for either of you. Here, feel this.” She guided Casandra’s hand up under her dress and onto the girl’s bare stomach. “See, can you feel that?”
“Is that…?” Casandra’s eyes went wide, and she allowed herself a smile. “Is that my baby?”
“It sure is, kiddo. A minor fall or two is nothing to get yourself too worked up over. These little suckers are tough, though I’d stay away from stairs if I were you.”
Casandra bit her lip, trying to keep quiet, her excitement palpable.
“You want to know a secret?” Aiko asked.
Casandra nodded, careful not to draw any more attention to the pair than she already had. Aiko guided the girl’s hand to her own stomach. Even through the medic’s combat shirt, her own slight belly bump was unmistakable. Aiko raised a finger to her lips and offered only a quiet “shh.” Once more, Casandra nodded in a quick, silent agreement.
Bernie had laid Dana out in the bed of his pickup, a pillow behind her head and an old blanket pulled up to her neck. She was one of the survivors he picked up on his way out of Pepperbush. Once everyone started stretching out and moving away from the vehicles to converse, he thought it best to give the sick woman some fresh air.
She can’t be past her late thirties. Pretty little thing, he thought as he wiped sweat from her forehead.
She was burning up one minute and freezing cold the next. The cool rag he fetched from his ice chest seemed to soothe her, at least until her chills returned. Bernie’s truck was always packed and ready for a road trip. Clean rags were only a part of it. He kept plenty of supplies on hand: food and water and even ice. Bernie was always prepared. Even in the midst of a ragtag caravan, the man had ice water.
Dana coughed hard this time. If Bernie didn’t know any better, he would have sworn she tore something loose in the back of her throat. She tried to get her trembling hand up to her mouth to catch any spittle but didn’t make it. Tiny dots of fresh blood sprayed her chin and even came down on her cheeks and forehead. Unbeknownst to her, a large dribble of blood poured from the side of her mouth when she turned to talk with Bernie.
“I think I’m sick,” she said, trying to hold back a laugh.
As she smiled, the red bordered every one of her perfectly white teeth. A constant stream of bodily fluids made their way into her mouth, causing little bubbles to form and pop as she spoke.
“Oh, you’re fine,” he said. “This ain’t nothing a few Band-Aids and a shot or two won’t clear up,” Bernie offered.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive, darling. Just you wait and see. This time next week, I’ll have you up and dancing.”
“You’re going to take me dancing?” she asked, her milky eyes widening.
“I promise.” Bernie held her hand tight as he continued wiping sweat from her brow.
“You promise?” she said as she drifted off to sleep, a blood-drenched smile etched upon her face.
“Hi, Sam.” Vanessa stood just off to the side of the caravan.
Sam turned and dropped his rifle to the ground. At the sight of her, his knees buckled, almost sending the man to the pavement beside his gun. “Vanessa!” he shouted. “Oh, thank God.”
Vanessa rushed over to him. He did his best to meet her halfway. She leaped into his arms, nearly knocking the older man down.
“Goddamn, it’s good to see you, girl!” he said.
“I know, I know,” she replied, tears flowing.
“What happened to you? When I heard about the church, I thought I’d lost you.”
“Never made it. I was on my way there, almost done boarding up my house, when Jim…” She paused. Her lip quivered for a moment before she righted herself. “I won’t cry over that piece of shit.”
“It’s okay, darling. You don’t have to say another word.” Sam pulled her in for another hug.
Her battered body and bloody, torn-up hands told him all he needed to know.
CHAPTER THREE
Acceptance
As the afternoon wore on, relief morphed into frustration for some. For others, it was a time to contemplate in silence, to reflect. Radzinski, on the other hand, had questions.
“Anyone mind telling me just what the fuck happened back there? How the hell did we get surrounded like that?” he asked no one in particular.
“I’ve been contemplating that all day myself, John,” Jeremiah said. “As it turns out, the explanation is rather simple—the cause of our predicament, that is.”
“Well, by all means, let’s have it,” Radzinski asked, wide-eyed and flush.
“As I was saying, the timing and placement of the separate attacks suggest the initial group that followed us out of Philadelphia must have split into two separate entities in the time they were pursuing us.”
“And how exactly does that profound statement answer my question, Doc?” Radzinski’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head.
“Simple,” Jeremiah continued. “The time difference explains everything. Roughly two hours passed from the time you first encountered infected by the southern defenses to when I first saw them in the north, my particular pack obviously coming from the west. During the roughly thirty-two hours it took for them to catch up with us, the two subsequent factions picked up stragglers along the way, thus increasing their numbers exponentially. By the time the two groups inevitably merged back into one solid mass, inside the town’s perimeter no less, the battle was lost.”
“I thought you said your group of carriers came from the north.” Radzinski’s face contorted in frustration.
“Yes, north of your position. Still west from mine.”
“Whatever you say, man. You lost me at ‘entities.’ Sorry I even asked.”
“The logistics of the attack are so simple a child could grasp the concept. Last night’s defeat was simply the result of poor planning,” said Jeremiah. “We should have anticipated this.”
“You know what, Jerry? Anyone ever tell you you’re a fucking weirdo?”
“Belittle me all you like, John. Our current circumstance is a testament to my conclusions.” Jeremiah continued sorting medical supplies with barely an eye offered for the frustrated Marine.
“Give it a rest, Jerry. We get it. Radzinski does, too. He’s just fried. We all are,” Miller interjected. “I need you people to stay sharp. We’ve got wounded and scared civilians here that need our attention.”
“You keep saying that, Miller, but these people are a liability. They’re not e
ven prepared for whatever the fuck’s going on, much less combat-ready.” Radzinski shook his head.
“That may be the case, but they’re our responsibility now. We’re all they’ve got.”
“Yeah, tell that to Takashi and the others. If you ask me, losing three of ours for these civilians ain’t worth it. Never will be.” Radzinski spat in the direction of a huddled group of survivors ten or so meters away.
“I didn’t ask, and haven’t we been over this once today already? I get that you’re pissed. Duly noted. Now go siphon the fuel from that van over there. We don’t need this many vehicles, and I don’t need your bullshit.”
“On it.”
Dana was wrapped in a blanket and locked in the back of an abandoned van, safely away from the group. Over the course of the day, while everyone else was licking their wounds or taking inventory, she had grown pale and was shivering violently. Her lips had gone blue, ears and fingertips blackening in what looked like frostbite. Occasionally, she would vomit, spewing bile and blood on her face and blanket. It had been hours since she was even responsive, longer since Miller made the call to quarantine her in the stuffy van. Every so often, Dana would manage to moan. Some—the naïve ones—would claim she was trying to speak and could even make out words.
Samantha’s growing concern over Dana’s failing health caught the attention of members of the group who weren’t otherwise preoccupied.
“We can’t just shoot her,” Samantha pleaded.
“Put the gun away, man.” Markus stepped between Damon and Samantha. He knew Damon was probably right, but as usual, his friend’s methods left much to be desired.
“It’s either put her down or leave her on the side of the road. Which would you prefer?” Damon motioned to a roadside ditch. His gun emphasized moving the girl from the van to the dirt.
“Put her down, huh, like an animal?” Samantha turned from Damon, focusing on Markus. “What do you think we should do with her?”
Markus lowered his head; he had no intention of being responsible for this decision. “I don’t know.”
“Thanks for the support,” she added before storming off.
“Samantha, wait. It’s not that simple.” Markus begrudgingly chased after her.
Damon burst out laughing at his friend’s expense. “You gotta be fucking kidding me,” he snickered.
“I’m with that guy. I say we leave her.” Radzinski pointed to an eager Damon.
Damon slapped his palm down on the roof of a nearby car. “That’s what I’m talking about,” he shouted, pointing back at Radzinski, who offered a grin in return.
“Of course you are, you inconsiderate prick.” Rachel leered at the pair of them.
“Yeah, my heart bleeds for her. Maybe you forgot, but we left a whole fucking town behind this morning. One more makes absolutely no difference,” Radzinski said.
“Last night we had no choice,” said Rachel.
“And suddenly now we do, right? Please.” Radzinski turned and waved her off. “Whatever.”
The crack from a single gunshot echoed down the deserted highway. The sound brought the soldiers to attention, thrusting them from their differences to draw their weapons down on an assumed threat.
Conversations paused. Others around the caravan sprang into readiness, half-expecting another wave of infected to have appeared along the tree line in the distance. Mayor Lancaster locked himself inside Marisol’s SUV, ignoring the pleas of some of the others to let them in.
Rachel was the first to make her way to the gunshot’s source at the far end of the caravan. Off to the side of the road, away from prying eyes, Isabelle stood above Dana, a pistol at her side. At her feet, Dana lay unmoving.
“While all of you argue, she was suffering. If that ever happens to me, I hope one of you has the balls to put me out of my misery,” Isabelle said as she tucked the gun safely away inside a nearby duffel.
Blood pooled on the cool asphalt beneath Dana’s head. A small hole below her right eye leaked more of the same. Isabelle folded Dana’s arms across her chest and tucked a makeshift bouquet in one of the dead woman’s hands. She had picked them from the side of the road. Weeds, mostly. Isabelle pulled Dana’s blanket up to hide her face. The covering was small. No more than a large bath towel, really. The sheet wouldn’t cover the woman completely, even if Isabelle had bothered to try. Dana’s feet peeked out from beneath the small sheet. She was missing a shoe. Her other foot wore a filthy white sock. Dana most likely lost her other shoe in the mad scramble to escape Pepperbush.
“Poor thing,” said Rachel, eyes heavy.
Wearing a smirk as if his point had been made for him by one of the very citizens he repeatedly derided, Radzinski slung his rifle across his back. Satisfied with Isabelle’s actions, he no longer felt the need to argue. “Well that’s that.”
“You son of a bitch,” Rachel snapped while walking in the opposite direction, toward Isabelle.
Mercy killing or not, Isabelle was a civilian. She shouldn’t have had to shoulder that burden on her own, especially not with a group of trained military and police only steps away.
Bernie stood motionless, just out of sight. He slapped his hat against his leg as he turned to head back for his truck. “Ah shit, goddammit.”
Miller was at a loss. In his hesitation to do what everyone knew needed to be done, a civilian, a mother of two from a town that barely registered on the map, did what he couldn’t. She made the hard decision for everyone. Perhaps Radzinski was right, he thought. There really are no set rules anymore. All that matters is survival, and keeping Dana alive was a burden no one needed to bear, not to mention the danger she represented.
“Soraya, get her out of sight. These people are shaken enough as it is. They don’t need to see one of their own like this,” Miller said. “Marisol, Aiko, calm these people down. Let them know everything is alright. We don’t need them doing anything stupid like taking off with half of our supplies.”
“Yes, sir.” Soraya holstered her weapon and put on a pair of gloves.
Miller stopped her as she approached Dana’s corpse. “Hey, wait a second.”
The young Israeli’s eyes went wide at her commander’s change in tone.
“I haven’t had a chance to ask yet, but are you okay?” He placed his hand on her shoulder.
“Sir?” she responded timidly.
“It was a mess back there. When I lost communication with you and the others, I thought… Well, I’m just happy you made it out in one piece.”
“I am happy you made it as well, Miller. Now please, I must dispose of body.” She smiled as best as she could in light of their situation and continued on with her task.
“Smooth, ace,” Radzinski added as he came around the van.
“Been standing there long?”
“Long enough. What’s the move here, Captain?”
“I see no reason to deviate from Tobias’s plan. Not too far, anyway. Only difference is we head south toward the Outer Banks.”
Radzinski gestured to the five still functional civilian-class vehicles lined up behind them. “This could be a problem. We just bugged the fuck out. We’ve got squat for supplies, and you can hardly call these pieces of shit reliable transport.”
“No argument there. Our first priority is going to have to be a gas station or convenience store of some sort.”
“You honestly think those places won’t be picked clean by now?”
“Probably, but there’s always going to be something useful overlooked by your average terrified scavenger. Not to mention, most of these people only brought the clothes on their backs. That girl doesn’t even have shoes.” Miller singled out Vanessa.
Radzinski’s sudden attempt at camaraderie took Miller by surprise, though he wouldn’t show it. He needed the Marine, and if a little gentle ribbing was all it took to get Radzinski on board, then so be it.
Hidden from sight, away from the group and behind the abandoned van, Seth propped up Dana’s body as Soraya w
rapped her with a sheet. Neither said a word as they prepared the woman’s corpse. The wrap was tightly wound around the woman’s body. The upper half of the wrap was soaked in crimson. Her bare feet poked out from beneath the sheet. Some thought it wise to keep her one shoe and socks just in case. Had Dana not soiled herself during her death throws they would have claimed her pants as well. The task complete, the two carried her off the road and down into a ditch.
“This should be far enough. I can’t even see the tops of the trucks anymore.” Seth cupped a hand over his forehead. The midday sun blurred his vision.
“Thank you for helping, Seth. I am sorry for your friend,” Soraya offered.
“Appreciate the sentiment, Soraya, but I didn’t know her. I don’t think anyone did, really. She came in with a group of refugees a few weeks ago. I’d seen her around town here and there, but that’s about it.”
“This is a sad thing.” Soraya knelt beside the wrapped body, touching its forehead through the sheet. “I think of her family waiting for her to come home.”
“It is. The whole situation is sad. Fucked up, really. Do you have any idea how many people died last night?” Seth asked, more rhetorically than anything else.
“Many. Let’s not speak of this. Come.” Soraya led the way back out of the ditch. Dew from the waist-high grass soaked their clothes. Dried blood and grime from the previous night’s encounter became liquefied and sticky once more.
The Roaming (Book 2): The Toll Page 3
