Rise (Book 3): Dead Inside

by Gareth Wood

  "Five minutes, more or less," he said.

  "Five minutes. We're planning to follow the truck to see if it's Corrone. Over."

  "The Sheriff's Office has no jurisdiction beyond the Wall. However, word has spread. Some citizens are putting together a response team. They expect to leave the Safe Zone shortly. Over."

  I had to grab the handle above the passenger door when the truck hit a rock and slewed violently sideways. Shakey was determined to get us to the highway in those promised five minutes, it looked like. Robyn had her hands on the dash to balance herself. The scenery that we had taken our time appreciating on the way up was flying by in a blur. Trees and bushes all blended into a green and grey wall in my peripheral vision. We came around a corner and surprised a small herd of deer. They bolted into the trees in moments.

  "Understood, Deputy. Can you tell me the names of the deputies who died? Over."

  "Jenkins was shot by Corrone. McAunaul was bit by the women he had chained up. The Sheriff took care of her before she could turn. Over."

  "Thank you, Deputy Moreno. Our condolences. We'll let you know if we catch him. Over."

  "Acknowledged, Martin. Try to bring back an identifiable part. Good luck. Mission Sheriff's Office, out."

  I hung up the handset, then grimaced. "Well, fuck!"

  "You can say that again," Robyn said. "Did he say Deputy McAunaul was killed? She's the one we talked to the other night."

  We came down off the mountain and reached the highway a few minutes later. We turned to follow Corrone, and Shakey hit the gas. Soon we were speeding along Highway 7 at over a hundred KPH. I literally had not travelled this fast in years. Back in Alberta, and some parts of southern and central BC, the roads were clogged with abandoned vehicles, bones, broken glass, garbage and all kinds of debris. It made it hard to travel quickly. Here it was different. Over the years teams had come out from Mission with the express purpose of clearing most of the wrecks and debris off the roads. I couldn't recall how far they had made it, but it was quite a distance.

  "How far do we chase him?" Shakey asked.

  "How much gas do we have?" Robyn asked in turn.

  "About two-thirds of a tank. Canola oil, not gas." He pinched his nose briefly, then looked at us for a moment. "We've got four or five hours of daylight left."

  I started drumming with my fingers on my legs. My hands beat out a rhythm, and it took me a moment to realise it was Enter Sandman. Robyn and Shakey talked about fuel and speed and the vehicle’s range, but I really wasn't listening. I was trying to imagine scenarios, and what we might do to get him to pull over and surrender (unlikely), or how we might force him off the road (way more likely). I was certain that it was, in fact, Corrone in the truck ahead of us. I was also certain that we'd catch up to him somewhere, sometime.

  My fingers started in on Beyond Within of their own volition, tap-tap-tapping on my legs. Was shooting out his tires the best option? Letting him go wasn't in the cards, not knowing how many lives this man was responsible for ending. I just wouldn't feel right at all about giving him the chance to hurt anyone else. And as certain as I was that it was Corrone ahead of us, I was even more certain that if he got away, he would hurt others.

  As the trees and mountain slopes sped by I started checking our guns, all the while playing Uber Winter Hinaus in my head, wishing I had the CD with me. Soon Robyn was helping too, and while we had neither the room nor the time for a proper cleaning, we could check the ammunition, work the slides and do visual checks.

  "He's almost ten minutes ahead of us," Shakey said. "If we can catch up to him, what then?"

  "What are you saying?" I asked.

  "I mean, if we catch up to him, do we try to capture, or kill?"

  "Capture," said Robyn.

  "Kill," I said, at the same moment.

  "I think you two had better agree on one or the other," Shakey said. "I'll go along with whatever you decide."

  I turned so I was facing Robyn more directly. Alright, we had a difference of opinion. Wouldn't be the first time someone had disagreed with me. The thing was, for me the reasons to kill him were so obvious that I couldn't see why anyone would disagree. From the look in her eyes I think Robyn felt the same way about her reasons to capture him. I'd have to try to not be too hot-headed about this.

  "Go ahead," I said to her. See, I was being diplomatic.

  "Mission needs some closure on this. Whether people were directly affected by this or not, whether they knew one of the victims or not, it has affected everyone in the Safe Zone. Bringing him back for trial would give people a chance to deal with that. If we just killed him, the community wouldn't have a chance to heal. And on a personal level, I believe he's guilty of everything they said he did, but I'm still not comfortable with just executing a living human being."

  "If you think he's guilty," I said, "then why bring him back at all? You know what the punishment would be."

  "No, I don't! We've never had anything like this here, at least not since the dead rose up. There's no precedent in Mission. We have established punishment for thieves, and for assault, drunk and disorderly, things like that, but nothing for murder or serial killers."

  "Then what about the chance of him being found not guilty?"

  "Oh, there's no chance of that. He tried to kill the Sheriff. The dead women were in his house. He's definitely guilty. But I think it's important to bring him in alive so that a trial can be held. This isn't a frontier. We're a people desperately trying to hold onto the fragments of our society, and if we kill him out of hand then we're one step closer to barbarism."

  "So you don't want to kill him because it might not be civilised? You don't want to treat another human being like an animal?"

  "Yes," she said, nodding. "That's basically it."

  Huh. Robyn had hidden depths, I was learning. In a way, she had a point. How far down are we willing to sink and still call ourselves decent people? However, some things are unforgivable, especially in a 'civilised society'. And what Corrone had done was so far from civilised that you couldn't see the one point from the other.

  "Alrighty," I began, "I can see your point. I still disagree, but I understand what you mean. Rules are important when humans live together, try to exist in communities. But the rules don't apply out here in the wasteland. Corrone has separated himself through his actions from the rest of the human species, and I don't believe he's reformable. He's killed at least eight people, tried to kill more. He's s serial murderer in a time when every human life is precious, if only because there are so few of us left! I hate the idea of losing lives to the undead. Losing lives to a living person offends me so much that I can't even describe it. He's sunk lower than the undead, in my eyes, and I enjoy killing the fucking zombies! If I can get him in my sights I will shoot to kill. I will end the bastard with extreme prejudice not only for his crimes against innocent women in the Safe Zone, but because he's undeserving of the air he breathes, the water he drinks. Those things are reserved for people who work together to make things better. The people he killed, he did that to them for his own selfish reasons. If he's a sociopath then it's all about him. Nothing he ever does is wrong in his own mind, and everyone else is a mere puppet to be manipulated. And you know that if he's allowed to live, or escapes from us today, he'll find a way to kill again. I cannot allow that to happen."

  "I think I just still believe that people are decent at heart," Robyn said.

  "I've been around enough to know that's not true all the time. But I tell you what. If we can convince him to surrender, I'll take him back alive. I just don't think he'll give us any choice but to kill him."

  CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

  Outside the Wall, September 12, 2013

  Robyn, like both of her travelling companions, had anticipated that the driver of the other truck would turn east at the junction of Highway 9 and Highway 1. The Agassiz-Rosedale Highway, known as Highway 9 on the old BC road maps, met the Trans-Canada several kilometers south of the ruined to
wn of Agassiz, at the far eastern end of the Fraser Valley, nearly a hundred kilometers from the coast. From there the Trans-Canada climbed up into the mountains, beginning the long ascent toward the continental divide.

  They had caught sight of the other truck where the #7 had turned toward Agassiz, an empty ruin where no one lived. Even the undead had abandoned the town, for there was no food there. Shakey had slowed down and shadowed Corrone for a minute while they quickly decided what to do. Running him off the road by shooting out his tires seemed like the best idea, so as soon as they reached the #9 at an intersection in the middle of the town, Shakey gunned the engine. Ignoring speed limit signs and playgrounds long empty, they sped through the ruins hoping to catch up the rest of the way.

  Just south of the corporate limit there was a long bridge running north to south over the Fraser River, only two lanes spanning the water for over a kilometer. As they crested the center of the bridge the white truck was suddenly visible, a small regular shape in the distance.

  "He's seen us," Shakey said, and Robyn, watching through her binoculars, saw the distant truck begin to accelerate.

  "We'll catch up. He's got all that cargo," she said.

  Tall trees grew close to the road here, and as they sped along a figure emerged from those trees and staggered onto the pavement ahead of them.

  "Shakey!" Amanda cried out.

  "I see him! Hang on!" He pulled the wheel to the left smoothly, and the truck slipped past the dead man in mechanic’s coveralls, missing him except for the passenger mirror, which struck the zombie at over 80 KPH. The zombie's head knocked the mirror into the window and cracked the glass, and then was simply gone. Robyn turned to look, and the now headless body rolled along the pavement, then lay still. The head bounced into the brush at the side of the road.

  "Cool," said Amanda, "fifty points!"

  "That's really morbid," Robyn said, but she was shaking her head and suppressing a smile.

  "Where is he going?" Shakey wondered aloud. The white truck was turning west, back onto the Trans-Canada, but in the opposite direction from what they had guessed he would do.

  "Why is he going west?" Amanda asked. She grabbed a map from the glove box. "He can't avoid going through Chilliwack if he goes west."

  "Maybe he hopes to lose us in the city," Shakey said, almost to himself.

  "Maybe," Robyn said. She looked at Amanda. "Didn't we agree to avoid Chilliwack?"

  "I think we did, in fact, agree on that point. But given the circumstances, perhaps we should reconsider."

  "If we go in there," Shakey said, "we might not come out."

  "Then let's try to catch up to him before we get there."

  They were getting steadily closer, Robyn could see. The road was starting to be littered with dead vehicles, wind-blown debris, and a few more of the undead. The land flattened out as they travelled further west, settling into the farmland of the Fraser Valley. The white truck grew closer. Shakey had to avoid potholes and wrecks, but so did Corrone, and Shakey was more willing to take risks to catch the other truck.

  Clouds overhead broke up enough for sunlight to flood the cab. Mount Baker was visible directly to the south, capped by glaciers and rising high above the other nearby mountains. Its slopes gleamed in the sun, a blinding and immense presence looming over everything around it.

  "Gonna try a shot," Amanda said, rolling her window down. The two speeding vehicles were fifty meters apart and following a winding path between widely spaced abandoned cars as they approached the city limits of Chilliwack. "Keep her steady, Shakey!"

  "Will do! Be careful!"

  Robyn grabbed onto Amanda's hips to steady her as she leaned slightly out the window. Amanda pointed her gun at the white truck and pulled the trigger twice.

  "Whoo hoo!" Amanda yelled, "the Lord Humungus rules the wasteland!"

  Two more shots followed, neither appearing to have any effect. Amanda climbed back in, shaking her wind-blown head.

  "Fuck, that's harder than it looks."

  "Can you get alongside him?" Robyn asked.

  Ahead, the countryside was giving way to the urban limits of the city. Already there were more undead on and near the road. A faint hint of corruption and rancid flesh blew in the open window.

  "Working on it. There isn't a lot of room here." Shakey’s hands were tight on the wheel as he steered between a pair of wrecks. Potholes in the road were becoming an issue as well.

  Accelerating as much as he dared, Shakey started moving up toward the side of the Essential Supplies truck. The driver turned to look at them over his shoulder.

  "It's him! That's Corrone," Shakey said. "I'd know him anywhere."

  Corrone's truck swerved around a small cluster of the undead on the highway, and Shakey followed, twisting the wheel back and forth to avoid a direct impact. Robyn looked around at the fields and farms on either side of the road, all of them grown wild in the last nine years. The number of the undead was increasing steadily as they got closer and closer to Chilliwack.

  Just north of the highway was the long runway of the Chilliwack Airport, and the terminal and hangars that had served the region. It had never been reclaimed for use, mainly due to the huge number of zombies in the city itself. The very same huge number of zombies that they were speeding toward. Those numbers were starting to make Robyn nervous, and she did some math in her head as Amanda leaned out the window again, yelling obscenities at Corrone as Shakey tried to keep the truck steady.

  "Uh, guys?"

  Neither one appeared to hear her.

  "Hey, Shakey," she said more forcefully.

  "Yes?"

  "I just noticed that we've passed a few hundred of the dead now. We're basically surrounded."

  Shakey seemed to snap back to a realisation of where he was, what he was doing.

  "Shit, you're right! I think we'll be okay if we don't stop, though."

  Amanda leaned out and started shooting again. This time her aim was better. The rear passenger tire of Corrone's truck burst and shredded, leaving strips of black rubber all over the highway. The Essential Supplies vehicle lurched left, then right, as the driver corrected.

  "Yeah! Got the fucker!" Amanda crowed, sliding back into the cab.

  Corrone slewed to the right, hitting the brakes at the same time. His truck was suddenly alongside theirs, and Amanda found herself staring at the barrel of a large calibre handgun, pointed directly at her face.

  "Duck!" she had time to yell, grabbing Robyn to pull her down. The gun fired once and Corrone pulled off at a northbound exit.

  "Robyn, you okay!?" Amanda demanded.

  "I'm okay! Shakey?" Robyn had heard the bullet splitting the air just above her head. She sat up from where Amanda had pulled her down and turned to their driver.

  Blood splattered the inside of the driver’s window, and Shakey stared without sight at the road ahead. The bullet had entered just below his right ear, killing him instantly. The vehicle started to slow, but it was still moving at over 80 kilometers per hour.

  "Oh shit! Shakey!" Robyn cried out and grabbed at the steering wheel. The old man's hands were still holding it steady, but they slipped off as Robyn took control.

  "Hit the brakes!" Amanda yelled, unable to help from her seat on the passenger side.

  "Trying!" Robyn pushed her leg into the driver's foot well, pushing Shakey's lifeless foot aside. Blood from the entry wound flowed out, ran down his shoulder, and onto her arm. It was warm.

  "Oh God, he's dead, Amanda!" The truck was slowing, and Robyn was awkwardly steering them between the now abundant wrecks.

  "I am so going to kill that fucking asshole Corrone!" Amanda shook her head, hateful tears burning her eyes.

  Shakey's truck stopped, but not in a good or safe place at all. They had entered the city limits, and dozens of the hungry dead were converging from all sides. It would take only moments for the closest of them to reach the vehicle.

  "Help me," Robyn said, "I need to trade places with him." />
  Together they pulled Shakey into the middle seat, and Robyn climbed over his body. She tried not to touch too much blood, but it was everywhere. She gave up caring about that as she looked at the corpses coming toward them from all sides.

  Barking and growling from the bed of the vehicle alerted them to trouble. Robyn looked in the rear view to see two of the undead, both men wearing only the shreds of shirt collars and disintegrating pants, trying to pull the animal carrier apart to get at Feynman. The dog was barking and snapping, at the same time trying to shrink away.

  "I got it," Amanda said, sounding calmer. Possibly it was because she had targets.

  Pulling open the window panel between the seats she thrust her gun out and fired twice. The two undead fell away, no longer troubling the dog.

  "Drive!" she barked.

  "Reversing," Robyn replied, and the truck rolled backward. It bounced over one of the bodies, then collided with a small group of the undead who were closing fast. Animated corpses were tossed aside like chaff, yet from all sides they still came on, drawn by movement and warm flesh.

  Robyn spun the wheel and the truck turned. Shifting into drive she pressed the accelerator. Shakey's body flopped over Amanda, and she gently righted him into the middle seat.

  Now moving forward, Robyn steered them around another group of the undead, knocking down several more.

  "If we get stopped, we're dead," Robyn stated.

  "I know," Amanda said tightly. "He went up that exit." She pointed to the north.

  "Hang on." Robyn spun the wheel hard, bouncing over another body, across a divider overgrown with tall wild grass, and up onto the exit ramp. The undead thinned out as the vehicle sped up the ramp, allowing Robyn to accelerate even more.

  "Which way?" Residential streets spread out around them.

  "Straight ahead, I think. Just follow the bodies."

  Corrone had quite obviously battered his way through the crowd of undead. The numbers were thinner than on the highway, and he had knocked many of them over in his haste to escape. They were only now getting back to their feet. Robyn searched ahead, trying to spot him as she wove and battered her own way through the swarm of the dead through the constant sound of bodies impacting the front of the truck.