by Jeannie Rae
“Randy,” the bottomless voice answered.
“Hi Randy, it’s Amy. I just wanted to make sure that the scientists and experiments on the ninth floor are set up to be the first ones evacuated. The helicopters should be landing anytime now,” Amy said.
“Yeah, they’re all set. I’ve got Junior buttoning it all up.”
“That sounds great, thanks for your help,” Amy said with a smile.
Hanging up the phone, she checked her makeup with a compact mirror from her top drawer, when her phone lit up, ringing softly.
“James Meadows emergency line, this is Amy how can I help you?” She asked cheerfully.
“Yeah, Amy this is dispatch at Heluva Time Helicopter Company, we’ve got a problem.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
As Joe opened his eyes, blurry mixtures of shadowy objects were all that his sight would reveal. He felt as if he were waking from a dream. His throat felt dry and scratchy, as though he’d been eating sand or dirt. As things began to come into focus, Shotgun materialized close to his face. Upside-down, he said something, but Joe could only hear a high pitched ringing. While trying to make out what Shotgun said, he noticed the broken windshield. Everything was upside-down. He came to the realization that he was the one upside-down. He could hear Shotgun’s voice now, but it sounded distorted. The words all seemed to run into one another, like watching a movie in a foreign language. He focused on Shotgun, in an attempt to force away the dreamy sensation that clung tightly to his head.
“Come on Joe,” Shotgun whispered, his voice stricken with panic.
Joe could hear Kate sobbing as all of the blurriness faded. “What's happening?” Joe said feeling disoriented, peeking over his shoulders for Kate.
“We just wrecked man. Remember the heli? Now we got no wheels and roamers are all around us. We got to move, fast, before the runners find us,” Shotgun said unbuckling the safety belt strapping Joe to his seat.
Joe slammed to the roof of the overturned Expedition, giving little thought to the pet names Shotgun had given the infected. Quickly crawling out and regaining his bearings, he discovered Kate near the back door and wrapped his arms around her.
“It's okay sweetie. You have to be quiet, and we’ll make it out of this,” he looked into her tearful eyes. She nodded her head, wiping her face with both hands, smearing dirt down her cheeks.
Shotgun crawled into the SUV retrieving a canvas bag. Dropping the bag near Joe, he opened it up and pulled out two submachine guns.
“This is a Heckler & Koch MP-Five. You know how to use this baby?”
“No. I have this, though,” Joe pulled out the revolver passed to him by that Hank after Jake’s burial.
“Keep that one in your belt. You never know when it will come in handy, but use this one for now. That gun only holds six rounds, this one holds thirty. You’re going to need it with so many of these roamers out here,” Shotgun smiled as he handed the gun to Joe, along with two clips.
Reluctantly, Joe took the hefty weapon from Shotgun, draping the nylon strap over his shoulder and listened to him explain how to use it. He tucked the weighty, oversized clips in the pockets of his jeans, the clips barely fitting and feeling awkward.
Joe and Shotgun poked their heads up from behind the tires of the upside down SUV that rested in the front yard of a nearby house. Mayhem ruled the area. The helicopter was ablaze—with flames darting up—in front of and behind the heap of metal. Joe could feel the immense heat blanketing the area as he saw more flames stabbing out of the broken glass that had once been home to the cockpit. A small number of infected began gathering at the crash site. In his eyes, he couldn't locate a clear path. Everywhere he looked, all he could see were paths that they couldn’t take. Looking back at Shotgun helplessly, he shrugged. Shotgun nodded and pointed to head in the direction that the rear of the vehicle faced. East.
Shotgun led the way, creeping in a kneeling position past the end of the truck, looking like a police officer sneaking out to find the enemy. He signaled for Kate to follow. Joe let her go with little reluctance as he followed her closely. They hunkered down behind some overgrown bushes at a nearby house, before continuing. Using front yards and shrubbery to cloak their presence, they rhythmically made their way down the block, remaining unseen.
Nearly a dozen newer model vehicles were parked up ahead, curbside and in driveways. Newer track homes lined the area ahead, towering multi-family four and five bedroom homes with little to no back yards and separated by a mere ten feet from one another. The trees in the meager front yards were young, likely planted within the last decade, offering little shade from the blistering sun.
Approaching the end of the block, Joe realized that they would need to cross the street. A looming feeling of anxiety fell over him, as he looked around. Now, there were infected flocking toward the downed chopper, some running full speed toward it, and others shuffling along. There were dozens of them, in the street, coming out of yards and emerging from open doors of homes. Chaos spread like a cancer infecting the neighborhood. Infected converged on the scene to investigate the commotion surrounding the helicopter crash. Joe’s hope began diminishing. Crossing the street seemed like an impossible task, there were just too many infected to chance it.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Mattie and Lynn sat on one of the cots playing War, with a deck of cards that a polite receptionist, who had stopped in to check on them, left behind. Roxy had just awakened from her nap after her afternoon of blood giving, and Dave had gone to the men's room, down the hall. The door to the room opened slowly and quietly, and Randy poked his head in the room. The dogs’ heads perking up, they both raced for the door barking mercilessly.
“Ladies!” Roxy shouted. She sat up on her cot. “Come!”
The dogs obediently stopped, turned around and sauntered back toward Roxy. Rogue, still eyeing Randy, let out a few, small barks under her breath, stealing a couple glances back as she made her way to Roxy.
“Randy, come in. You're freaking them out—standing half way behind the door. Just come in, so they can see that you aren't hiding anything,” Roxy said impatiently.
Randy walked in and closed the door behind him. He looked at the ladies and put his open palms in front of his chest. Smiling, he slowly turned around while advancing toward Roxy.
“How you doing? The doc said that you weren't feeling so well after she took the blood samples,” Randy flashed a small grin.
“I feel better. I just don't like blood,” Roxy said, “Sorry, if I sounded rude as you came in. I just woke up, and uh, there's no excuse, I'm sorry. I know that your lab is trying to figure all this out, and I appreciate that they’re letting us stay here. Have you heard anything on my family?”
“Yes. One of my best team members is with them now, and they are making their way back to the lab. The city is swarming with infected, so they are taking it slower than expected, but they’re safe. Should be here in about an hour,” he said studying her face.
Roxy gasped, revealing an immense smile, “Thank you so much,” tears lubricated her eyes, as she cupped a hand over her mouth.
“I actually came here to tell you that, and that the doc is going to need a little more blood,” he cringed as he said the words, his sharp features seeming to soften.
“Okay, um, I thought she wouldn't be able to take anymore until tomorrow,” Roxy said lightly. While the idea of giving more blood sounded appalling, her exhilaration at the news of her family on the way brought on an energizing positivity.
He nodded his head in agreement, "She just needs a little more. I guess some of the samples were contaminated. She needs you to meet her in a clean room. That means no dogs. I could come with you and wait outside the room with your dogs. I know that you don't go anywhere without them," he offered quickly.
A broad smile extended across her face as she looked into his electric blue eyes. After the way they met at Lynn’s house, and the creepy staring in the visor mirror the entire ride here, t
he reservations she had about this man were melting away. He seemed genuinely thoughtful about her needing to have more blood drawn and about her closeness with her dogs. And after delivering the news of her family’s expected arrival, she felt quite grateful of this awkwardly mannered man.
“It's okay. They can stay here this time,” she leaned to the side, “Mattie, Lynn would you be okay keeping an eye on the ladies for a few minutes?”
“No problem, darlin,” Mattie said, as Lynn smiled softly and nodded.
“Okay, let's go,” she said as she slid off the cot.
Gently, Roxy wiped the sleep from her eyes as she walked down the bright hallway. Half asleep and half awake, she felt as if she were in a daydream. The florescent lighting and stark white walls radiated brightness. She walked in silence beside Randy. The muted walk became excruciating, feeling painfully uncomfortable, her eyes swept in Randy's direction. A surprised expression lifted her face to see that he wasn't ignoring her at all. Quite to the contrary, he stared in her direction. His gaze portrayed a primal expression, one of…hunger. The same way he stared at her back in the SUV.
“Do you have the time?” Roxy asked cutting into the silence.
“It's a little past two,” Randy said pointing to a clock on the hallway wall. He paused at the elevator, pushing the up button on the panel.
“Up? I thought Mara's lab was in the basement,” Roxy inquired, popping her neck.
“It is. She needs to take samples in a clean room. Mara doesn't have a suitable clean room in her lab. She said she’s taken a lot of blood from you already. Because she can only take a little more, she wants to make sure that it is sterile, so she can run her tests.”
Roxy nodded her head and stepped into the elevator.
Gazing at herself in the mirrored, top-half wall in the elevator, she took notice that her eyes seemed to be changing even more. They were now a vivid green with blue specks around the outside. Wondering when her eyes would go back to normal, she kept the thought to herself.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Dave’s makeshift sponge bath in the men’s room using hand soap and paper towels left him feeling somewhat refreshed. As he entered the conference room, he turned his head toward Roxy's cot, noticing it empty. Lynn played cards with Mattie, while clutching an overly used tissue in her fist. Her eyes were swollen, from her sorrow-filled sobs about Edgar’s death. Dave casually looked around the room, but Roxy was gone. The dogs encircled Dave as he sluggishly shuffled along. He felt drained. She’s probably in the washroom, he thought, heading over to his cot and laying down.
A few moments later, Dave could feel himself on the brink of sleep, when he thought of Roxy. With a sense of concern suddenly pulsing through his body, he opened his eyes, looking feverishly around the room. Rogue and Gypsy napped in front of the door, as if they were waiting for Roxy to return. Something didn’t feel right. Why didn’t she take the dogs? Where did she go and how long has she been gone?
“Hey guys, where's Roxy?” Dave tried to sound calm, but for some reason, he felt quite the opposite.
“She needed to give some more blood,” Mattie said, scooping up the cards on the table grinning at Lynn.
“Uh, I don't think so. Dr. Brandenburg told us that she couldn't have any more blood taken today. And why are the dogs still here?”
“I dunno Dave. He said that the blood was dirtied up by the dogs last time and that she had to go to a clean area or something. He offered to take the dogs, but Roxy said that they could stay. She asked us to keep an eye on 'em,” Mattie shrugged.
“Who is he?” Dave asked, as a storm of anger swelled up inside him. He already knew the answer.
“Oh, uh, that boss guy. Was it Ryan?” Mattie looked to Lynn.
“Randy,” Lynn shook her head at her brother.
“Tell me exactly what happened,” Dave sprang from the bed, striding powerfully toward them.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
In a residential area, on the southwest outskirts of downtown, Joe’s nose still burned as the smoke particles filling air floated through his nostrils. He approached the corner of the block and looked to the right, a dead end. As he had suspected—they were going to need to cross. It was tough for him to believe that this was a neighborhood in his town, with rampaging deviants taking to the streets amidst random paper bits, and plastic bags drifting in the slow-moving, ash-filled air. His eyes fell back on the helicopter crash site, consumed with flames, twisted metal and propellers branching out of the scorching wreckage.
Joe looked to Shotgun with urgency, "Now what?"
“Now, we need to cross the street,” Shotgun said, matter of factly.
“You're kidding me, right? There is no way we'll make it across without those things seeing us,” Joe shook his head.
“Listen Joe, it's the only option we have. We'll cross one by one. There’ll be less of a chance of us being spotted, if one of us cross at a time, instead of a whole group. Keep your gun ready,” Shotgun said.
Shotgun left little time for protest against this act of lunacy, before putting his palm up to Kate an indication for her to stay put. He swept his head back and forth, and then he ran across the street in a bent over, squat-like position. He traveled swiftly as if he were as light as the air around him.
A glimmer of hope rose within Joe. This may work. Shotgun had made it across without incident. They hadn't even noticed his presence. Joe and Kate watched as Shotgun surveyed the area at his new post across the street, behind a sphere shaped shrub. He waved his hand.
“Kate, be careful. Cross just like he did and go fast,” Joe whispered. His hands clutched tightly to her boney shoulders.
“Okay Dad. I'll do good. But you have to let go,” she whispered.
Reluctantly, Joe released his hold and breathlessly observed as Kate darted across the street much in the same style as Shotgun. Making it to the other side without being detected, she ducked down behind the corner bush next to Shotgun.
Shotgun raised his palm up to Joe. They watched as one of the infected began to wander onto the dead end street. A woman. Her once tan shirt and khaki skirt were caked in dried blood. The thick, darkened substance appeared more like tar, than blood, almost seeming as if tar had been spilled all over her face and clothes. She moved without a purpose, meandering down the street.
Silently fixated on the woman, Joe hoped that she would move on quick enough. Her pace slowed even further, as if she’d heard his thought and was taunting him. Joe tightened his fists, his patience eroding with each passing second. He wanted to cross now and get out of this area. Shotgun nodded and put his palm up again. Joe questioned if his impatience were that transparent, that Shotgun, a man that barely knew him, could recognize it from across the street.
The woman moved along slower than ever, then a man converged on to the same path as her. Joe could feel his blood boil. Soon there would be masses of them just walking through the street here, and he would never be able to cross, or worse, the infected would realize that their next meal hid nearby.
Joe could see Shotgun nabbing an object from his bag, and seemed to be explaining something to Kate, as she eagerly nodded her head. Shotgun flashed three fingers across the way. Kate looked her father in the eyes and put up her index finger. He carefully watched as she lifted the middle finger, two. One, two. Shotgun stood and threw spherical device across the street—opposite of the dead end. In a matter of seconds, an earthshaking explosion discharged, carrying a thundering blast that made Joe instinctively cover his ears. To Joe’s left, an abandoned pick-up across the street had erupted in flames, and a car alarm from a nearby vehicle trumpeted in defiance. The infected close by, neared the flames as if they were curious animals seeing fire for the first time. Looking back at Kate, she lifted third finger, three.
Joe began to cross as soon as the infected man and woman sprinted toward the explosion. He stayed low and raced across the street. Nearly to the curb, Joe found himself caught in a devilish gaze. He met eyes w
ith a small boy in the street, who inquisitively, cocked his head to the side. The boy of eight or nine began to walk purposefully toward the corner, watching as Joe cleared the curb and disappeared behind the shrub.
“He saw me, and he's coming,” Joe said anxiously.
“Who saw you?” Shotgun asked.
“The kid, the pale one in the khakis and white shirt,” Joe pointed out toward the burning vehicle, but the child had disappeared. “A kid with black hair—he was there a second ago. He looked right at me.”
“Okay, let’s get going before he comes back. There aren't many shrubs and fences on this block. So we are going to have to travel up near the houses,” Shotgun nodded, gliding his palm over the blonde spikes atop his head.
“But they will see us up there!” Kate urged.
“I think that if we’re careful, we'll have a better chance up there. If one sees us, we'll freeze. I don't think that their sight is that good and we'll just blend in with the house,” Shotgun said, checking his weapon and wiping his hands on his black, security shirt.
“Is there another option?” Joe looked back in the direction of where the boy had been.
“Not really. If we jog like we did on the last block, there’s no shrubbery to cloak our movements. We’ll be right out in the open, with nothing to blend into. We might as well just stand up and walk down the street,” Shotgun appeared to be losing his patience. “Let's go.”
Shotgun took a hasty peek around the bush, and then snuck to the face of the mint green, corner house. Soon joined by Kate, then Joe, they all stood still at the face of the house for a moment surveying the area, looking to see if anyone had detected them. Much to Joe's amazement, they seemed to go unnoticed. Between the helicopter and truck fires, the attention of infected was focused elsewhere.
