The Roaming

by W J Hegarty

  Sam’s radios had battery backup, so his men staying in contact wouldn’t be an issue. His radio buzzed with static before revealing Bernie’s voice from the other end.

  “Hey, Sam, everything went dark up here by the gate. How’s it look on your end?”

  “We lost power, Bernie. That’s all. The whole town did by the looks of it. We knew this was coming sooner or later. Nothing to get too excited over.”

  “Roger that. I’ll get back to my rounds then. If you need me, just holler.” Bernie tucked his radio away. His trek’s halfway point, the gate, was within sight.

  4:40 am - Burke Residence

  At the northernmost section of Pepperbush, the Burke residence and its entire street were just as dark as the rest of town.

  Isabelle was awake when the power failed; it put a smile on her face. Tobias would wake and leave, thinking he was some kind of hero of the people if he ran around town barking orders and looking concerned. Fine, they can have him, she thought. I prefer to be alone, anyway. Spiteful, she lay there unmoving for close to a half an hour before waking her husband to inform him of current events. The idea of him having to play catch-up when the situation was already under control was amusing. “Tobias, wake up. The power’s out! I’ve been trying to wake you for ten minutes, but you wouldn’t budge.”

  Tobias leaped to his feet. He pulled aside a curtain and peered out into the darkness.

  “The whole street’s out. Stay calm, Izzy. We knew this was coming! Check on the kids. I’ll find candles and make sure everything’s fine outside.” Tobias hastily dressed and disappeared out of the room.

  She wouldn’t see him again for hours. With any luck, he’d pass out sometime around noon at Sam’s ridiculous security shack. Thank Christ, she thought. Isabelle threw the covers off and felt her way down the hallway to the kids’ rooms. For Tobias to assume that she was worried or scared just increased her annoyance. Treat me like I’m your fucking equal, you prick. You wouldn’t talk to Sam like that.

  Lillian’s room was the first in line. Isabelle palmed the door’s handle and paused. Their daughter hated being barged in on. Privacy was a big deal for her, and being twenty-two years old, she didn’t want to live with her parents, anyway.

  A part of Isabelle wished Lillian never even came back from school. Had she not been home on holiday when the crisis hit, she would have been stuck on campus. It might have been safer than Pepperbush. If the girl wants her privacy, she can have it. Isabelle released the doorknob and moved on to her son’s room. Tommy was only six years old, young enough that he shouldn’t be left alone these days but old enough to know that something was wrong. People weren’t acting the same anymore; he took notice early. Isabelle quietly crept into his room where he was already awake and staring intently at his door.

  “Those bad men are here, Mommy.” Tommy was almost in tears. He sat alone on his bed, wrapped in a sheet. A tiny flashlight inside illuminated his makeshift tent.

  “No, they’re not, honey. Daddy and his friends chased them all away. The lights went out. That’s all.” Isabelle crouched down to better see into the tent.

  “They’re not coming?” he asked while rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

  “Not tonight. I promise. There’s nothing to be afraid of, sweetie.” She attempted to reassure the child.

  “Don’t leave, Mommy. Sleep in here tonight,” Tommy pleaded.

  “Okay, sweetheart, I will. Scoot over.” Isabelle squeezed into the tiny bed.

  Snuggled up tightly next to his mother, Tommy wrapped his little arms around her waist. With his mother inside the tent along with the flashlight, Tommy felt a little more at ease, and as soon as his dad returned home, he knew he would be safe again.

  4:54 am - The Gate

  At nearly five in the morning, Bernie was halfway through his shift patrolling the berm. Bernie was tall, lanky, and maybe a little disheveled. He had the look of clumsiness about him but wasn’t usually. No one wanted to pull graveyard shift, but he would much rather sleep during the relative safety of daytime hours, anyway. His motives for seeking the overnight shift weren’t wholly selfish, though, as he realized that most others who saw to this aspect of town security had families to look after. Spending as much time as possible with loved ones was more important now than ever, he believed. He came upon the berm’s sole gate. It was nothing more than a school bus reinforced with corrugated metal that blocked a ten-foot-wide gap in the berm. The edges of the earthen fortification were held in place at either end of the exit with lines of six-by-six timbers cemented into the ground.

  “Now’s a good a time as any to take a leak.” Bernie made sure the shoulder strap on his rifle was securely in place before undoing his pants.

  The zipper on his favorite pair of jeans was always getting stuck. It was a pain in the ass to deal with, but he’d never throw these things out, as worn-in and comfortable as they were. At last, he was free, and not a moment too soon, he let his stream go on the bus’s tire not half a second after getting it out of his pants. Relaxed for a moment, he took a second to stretch his neck, rolling the back of his head across his shoulder blades from one side of his back to the other, joints cracking along the way. He opened his eyes for a quick look at the stars. They seemed to shine a little brighter these days, or maybe he just never took the time to look at them before. Movement caught his eye, and he dared not breathe. Standing on top of the bus, directly above him, a blackened figure stared back, it too frozen in place.

  “Oh shit,” he shouted on reflex and cursed himself for the mistake. Bernie fell back on his ass, his stream arcing in the air with him. He was up quickly and darting toward an adjacent alley, one hand fumbling to pull his wet pants up, the other haphazardly aiming his rifle. A single shot rang out from his weapon. The round deflected harmlessly off the side of the bus, missing its intended target by at least a car length. A second shadowy figure rose in the darkness, followed by another. Within seconds, as far as he could tell, half a dozen more were on top of the bus.

  Bernie tripped over a trash can as he dove into the alley. His bare thighs scraped against the pavement. At that point, he had forgotten about his pants entirely and was busy fumbling with his gun. He took a second to catch his breath and calm his trembling hands. Peeking around the corner, he saw that a sizable group now stood motionless atop the bus. The frightened man whispered into his radio. “Sam, are you there?” Bernie stammered.

  “Right here, son. How does it look out there tonight? It’s pretty dark, I reckon?”

  “Goddammit, Sam! I need backup at the gate right fucking now!”

  “Easy now, Bernie. What do you see?” Sam snapped his fingers for Ron’s attention.

  “They’re getting over the gate, man! They’re getting over the goddamn gate!” Bernie bellowed.

  Sam turned to Ron, who was already peering through binoculars out into the darkness. “Where is he? Can you see him from here?”

  “Too dark, Sam. I can’t even make out Mother Leeds, much less the gate.”

  “Bernie, you still there? Answer me dammit!”

  Tobias slammed the door to the security building shut behind him. “Sorry about that, Sam. The wind caught it. I thought I’d swing by and see what’s going on. The power is out up at the north end. The whole town’s out, I take it?”

  Ron answered for Sam. “Yeah, that’s what it looks like. Other than that, it was quiet until a minute ago.”

  “What’s going on?” Tobias removed his jacket and placed his rifle on the rack with the others.

  “Bernie just called in. Says he sees something out by the gate. It’s probably just his nerves, power out and all,” Ron suggested.

  Tobias reclaimed his rifle as fast as he had set it down. Sam took notice while again trying to raise Bernie over the radio.

  Bernie remained backed against the nearest wall, lying in the muck and filth of the alley. He finally managed to pull his pants mostly back up. Not an easy task with only one soaked hand as he held his r
ifle in a death grip with the other. All the while he never took his eyes off the shadows on the bus. He peered through his scope, but it was too dark to make out anything more than the stirring of vague shapes in the darkness.

  “Sam, I’ve got five—no, no, no, make that seven. I’ve got seven carriers climbing over the bus,” Bernie sputtered into his radio.

  “Do not shoot them, Bernie! Do you hear me? Do not fire your weapon!” Sam ordered.

  “They’re climbing down! Sam, they’re getting in. I gotta do something!” Bernie’s radio turned on and off repeatedly as he struggled between his rifle and communicating with Sam.

  Sam was exasperated at Bernie’s apparent lack of reasoning. He holstered a sidearm and slung a rifle over his shoulder as he headed for the door. “Is that guy fucking kidding me, Ron? Infected can’t climb the side of a goddamn bus!” Sam yelled, his radio still open for Bernie’s benefit.

  Bernie was confused as he listened to Sam over on his end. Bernie was cognizant enough to realize that, yes, he was panicking, but he must have heard Sam wrong.

  “Hold your goddamn fire, Bernie! I’m coming down there. Do not shoot anything! Do you copy?”

  “But, Sam…” Bernie whimpered after dropping his radio in the muck, frozen.

  Ten yards from Bernie, the dark figures began dropping from the top of the bus and spreading out.

  Rifle in hand, Sam darted out of the security office in a mad dash for the gate, yelling into his radio the whole time. Tobias and Ron followed. They checked their weapons and made for the gate as well.

  “Hold your position, Bernie! Don’t do anything until I get there. I’m on my way!” Sam shouted.

  “I know I can hit one of them from here. I can maybe get two more before I gotta make a run for it,” Bernie whispered.

  “Those aren’t carriers down there, man!” Sam screamed into his radio.

  Bernie squinted hard, trying to better see into the shadows as the dark figures quickly closed in on his position.

  “Are you listening to me, Bernie? For God’s sake, man, you’re looking at survivors!”

  The shadowy, dark shapes dropped one by one from the top of the bus and formed up defensive positions in the vicinity of the gate. Nine battle-worn soldiers trained their weapons on the terrified man. Bernie climbed to his feet out of the filth with his hands raised in surrender. His rifle fell to the ground along with his pants, exposing his shriveled manhood again to the cold night air.

  The lead soldier moved forward, his AR-15 trained squarely on Bernie, inches from the man’s forehead. “Who’s in charge here?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Reality

  Just before sunrise, the soldiers were being treated to a warm meal courtesy of Grace. The dining room of her bed-and-breakfast was devoid of customers this early in the morning. Mayor Lancaster, Tobias, and Marisol had relentlessly questioned them since their arrival in town less than two hours prior, Sam silently observed. The soldiers were ragged and worn out. Weeks of fighting this unconventional enemy had taken its toll on them, and it showed. What remained of their gear after the long trek to Pepperbush was in shambles. None of them were kitted-out by that point. Only three tactical vests made it this far: they had abandoned most of their gear along the way.

  “Could I top off your coffee, Mr. Takashi?” Grace asked.

  “Please, ma’am.” Takashi held his empty mug out for the old woman with a slight nod. For a moment, the older soldier closed his eyes. “Thank you, Grace.”

  His gesture didn’t go unnoticed to the old woman; she smiled back and poured the cup. Her coffee pot clinked against his ceramic mug. It took both of her hands and most of her concentration to pour the hot liquid without spilling any.

  Takashi steadied her shaking hands with his. “Don’t worry, ma’am. Everything will be fine.” He limped back toward his unit. His fatigues were torn open at the knee, and bloody bandages showed through. They were wrapped around the majority of his lower thigh.

  Takashi’s unit consisted of a ragtag group of nine soldiers culled from the remnants of various branches of the United States military and even a lone member of the IDF. This unlikely group was forced together in a mad dash to flee the overwhelmed and overrun city of Philadelphia. All of their dress and gear—what was left of it—looked like it had been through the wringer. The lot of them were filthy from combat and living off of the land or out of abandoned structures. Those who could all sported new beards of varying lengths and thickness.

  Radzinski was the lone Marine of the group. He was tall, broad, and muscular. Gruff in appearance with the bad attitude to match. “The reality of your situation is that you people think you’re safe, but you’re not.” He leaned over his plate like a bear, shoveling more food into his mouth as he continued his criticism of Pepperbush’s defenses. “Let me ask you something, Sheriff. How many of those things have you had to put down at once? Three, six, a dozen? Wow, try liberating a stadium full of refugees just to find out they’ve all been dead for a week.”

  “That’s one of the perks of living in a small town,” Marisol added.

  “And what’s that, sweetheart?” Radzinski didn’t bother to look at the woman as he spoke. Instead, he continued to gorge himself as fast as Grace could offer more food.

  “One upside is that we don’t have to deal with strange assholes very often.”

  Radzinski raised his head from his plate and smiled wide. A small sliver of bacon hung from his lips. “Hey, hey, check it out. I like this one. You got a little fire in you, huh, senorita?” He nudged Garrett, who chuckled at the exchange.

  Sam crossed his arms in quiet contemplation.

  Visibly shaken by Radzinski’s comments, Grace nervously offered the soldiers more breakfast. “Would… Would anyone care for some more eggs or bacon?”

  Takashi spoke for the group. “No, thank you, ma’am. This was more than enough.”

  Most of Takashi’s unit acknowledged the hint and rose from the table without hesitation, though a couple were slower on the uptake. One in particular had a few more thoughts he needed to get off his chest.

  Still not finished his rant, Radzinski shoved his plate away. His utensils tumbled to the floor. “Thousands of those things came pouring out of that fucking stadium. They’re slow, sure, but you get enough of those bastards piling up and your fucked. When we opened that door, six men got swallowed up before we could even get a single shot off.”

  By then, the rest of the soldiers had finished eating. A couple of them had already left the establishment.

  Radzinski poured himself a cup of coffee and lit up a cigarette before continuing. “By the time we got reorganized, five more of us were down or compromised.”

  Tobias interrupted. “Compromised?”

  Miller spoke up. He was unkempt from weeks in the field and on the run. His fatigues were singed. The burns stopped just below a blood-spattered brown T-shirt. “Yeah, compromised. That’s what we call it when someone gets bitten.”

  “I hate that fucking term,” Radzinski said. “You get bit, I’m putting a fucking bullet in your head. End of discussion.”

  Garrett gave a somewhat approving shrug and a nod in Radzinski’s general direction on his way out the door. Garrett was a peer of Takashi’s who was working as an instructor prior to the crisis. Now he was only one of a handful of beat-up soldiers who were lucky enough to make it out of Philadelphia alive, and he had the road-wear to prove it.

  “See, I’m not alone in this, Miller.” Radzinski felt vindicated by the older soldier’s silent approval. “If it comes to it and I have to put you down, no hard feelings.”

  “No one’s saying you are alone. I just think these people have heard enough for now, Radzinski.”

  “Well, I don’t think they have,” Radzinski fired back. “What do you think’s gonna happen when they get a few hundred of those dead motherfuckers piling up on that pathetic dirt pile out there, huh?”

  “I don’t know, but right now’s not the ti
me to discuss this.”

  Everyone else in the room went quiet. Tobias and his fellow Pepperbush natives were curious as to where the two soldiers’ conversation was heading.

  Takashi could sense that some of their hosts were anxious, even frightened. Grace appeared on the verge of a nervous breakdown and was barely holding it together. “That’s enough, Marine. Everyone, fall out. Get some rest. God knows you’ve earned it.”

  “Yes, sir,” the Marine and the Army captain responded in unison.

  Miller and Radzinski collected their belongings and headed for the exit. Miller shook his head in disgust at Radzinski’s outburst.

  Radzinski insisted on having the last word. “What? Do something.”

  Jeremiah remained quiet throughout the meal, silently assessing their situation all while rubbing a crucifix between his fingers. He was brought up in a very religious town in the south. He was raised the son a preacher of a Gospel Church, so faith had always played a significant role in the medic’s life, though the hell he’d experienced over the last few weeks had shaken that faith to the core. On his way out of the bed-and-breakfast, Jeremiah yanked his crucifix from his neck. “Why have you forsaken us?” he whispered, the words barely audible as he hung his grandmother’s crucifix on a cross by the door.

  One by one, the soldiers filed out of Grace’s place while expressing their gratitude for the meal and hospitality.

  Before Takashi could leave, Sam pulled him aside. “A minute of your time, Colonel?”

  “What can I do for you, sir? Sam, right?”

  “How long?” Sam asked sternly.

  “I’m not sure I understand your meaning.” Takashi’s response was not very convincing.

  “How long did it take you and your men to get here?”

  “You have to understand, sir, we were moving at a pretty good pace and those things tend to be slow, very slow.”

  Sam stopped the colonel mid-sentence. “How long?” he insisted.