by Jeannie Rae
“Is she?” Joe began, dropping lethargically to his knees. Reaching for Roxy, he pulled her into an embrace. His throat closed in on him and his eyes brimmed with tears. He couldn’t believe it. They had made it all this way…only to lose her when he was only a few feet from her.
Joe looked at feverishly at Dave, “Why? Why did they do this? They were dressed in the same uniform as Shotgun. Does he know who those guys are?” Joe blubbered.
“Is that who your friend in the truck is?” Dave’s expression looked of disgust, “More Angora security?”
Dave breathlessly moved over to the man and woman lying on the street in a pool of gathering water. His hands shook as he reached down, feeling each body for a pulse. Then he let his hand fall to Gypsy. Stoking her wet coat, droplets of water sparkled off her fur by the light of the street lights. He gently jostled her body, but Gypsy laid still. Dave wiped his face with his hand desperately trying to conceal his tears. He spun around looking at Joe. Dave’s face read like the morning newspaper—of regret and anguish. He knew those two and he knew my Roxy and her dog. He knows my misery. He shares my pain.
As Joe clung to Roxy, he could hear his heart breaking, it sounded like shattering glass. Joe squeezed his eyes closed, then suddenly realized, that he heard real glass breaking, from up the street. He looked up see to Dave was standing now, looking up the road in the direction of the sound. Hank looked to be in the same trance as Dave, looking at something. Joe peered around Dave’s legs and could see a wall of infected racing savagely down the street at them.
“Joe, let’s go. Now!” Dave said without moving.
Joe didn’t move. He couldn’t leave his daughter in the street like this—cold, wet and alone. Dave grabbed at him, but Joe shrugged off the grasp.
“Joe, we need to go. Those are runners coming and they’re getting closer. Must have heard the gunshots.” Hank shook his head.
“And you want me to leave her here, for them to get her?” Joe yelled in fury.
“Do you want to die here with her? Do you want to go out like Mary and Jake? Like that Joe? She’s already gone!” Hank urged.
“I won’t leave her behind. Not this time,” Joe maintained.
“What about Kate? You’ve lost this daughter, do you want to lose another? She needs you Joe. She lost her sister—you want her to lose her father?” Hank interrogated.
Joe released his tight embrace with Roxy’s body. Looking at her face, barely able to breathe, he knew that Hank was right. He had to leave his daughter. Kate was still alive, and he needed to protect her. That was his job. He couldn’t let his headache get in the way of keeping Kate alive. He gently placed Roxy’s head on the ground and stood, wicking away the water and tears from his face.
The vast sea of infected approached from only a block and a half down. Joe sprinted toward the alley with the others.
Like a cannonball fired from a pirate ship, Rogue darted out at them from the alley as they approached. She raced as fast as her little legs could carry her, barking and howling.
“Rogue, come,” Joe demanded as he bolted toward the alley. Why would she be out of the car? Unless Kate opened the door…
A crowd of at least sixty infected approached. The runners were out front, racing at a speed that no ordinary human could match. The roamers were not far behind, shuffling along with the occasional one stopping to wail out to the others. The runners were only a block away by the time that Joe reached the alley.
When he rounded the corner just behind the others, he felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. The Mini Cooper had vanished. All three men sprinted to the end of the alley with Rogue leading the way. Dave scooped up a board and some type of strapping from a pallet on his way.
Looking up Seventh Street, Joe could see Hank’s truck at the end with infected encircling it. Rogue’s uninterrupted barking at them continued from the street. Looking down the other way, toward Angora, Joe could see that the open gates to the great laboratory hospital were beginning to close. Just within the gates drove the black SUV, followed by a red and black Mini Cooper.
Joe pushed off, sprinting toward Angora, only to be headed off by Dave, followed by Hank.
“Joe, stop. We’ve got to go,” Dave said, putting his hands up to block Joe’s path.
“She has Kate—”
Joe couldn’t believe that Dave would try to stop him from getting Kate back. He thought Dave understood loss.
“I know. She’s not going to hurt her though. Mara’s not bad. Trust me, we’ll get her back. We are in real danger. We have to go,” Dave said, taking a lower tone.
“That is my daughter in there. You’re not going to stop me. Get out of my way,” Joe growled, charging forward.
Dave pushed him back, and Hank positioned himself shoulder to shoulder with Dave.
Hank is on his side? After all we’ve been through, he can’t even have my back?
“Man listen, they won’t let you in the gate. What, are you going to scale the walls? We have to go or we’re dead. You’re no good to her dead,” Dave yelled.
Joe frowned tightly, staring blankly at Dave, as echoes of the infected bounced off the walls in the alley. The familiar whoop, whoop of a helicopter overhead caught his attention. He watched the aircraft rise from the roof of Angora and told himself that Kate will be on one of them.
Hank and Dave are right to stop me. We have to get out of this to get her back. Whatever it takes, I’m going to get her back. I can’t lose them both. I just can’t.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
Reluctantly, Joe followed Hank and Dave back up Seventh Street toward Hank’s truck. Dave explained along the way that they would likely evacuate Kate on one of the many helicopters that continued landing on the rooftop, and that maybe Mara thought it could be her only hope of getting out of Port Steward.
Even though, it all didn’t make much sense to Joe, he still followed them. Shotgun might have some answers for him. He clung to that thought—that hope, that his only living daughter would be safe. It felt as if his whole life were slipping away from him. One daughter was dead, while the other had been whisked away to a place that was as mysterious, as it was strange.
Joe heard Hank’s gun fire off a few rounds. Dave had taken the submachine gun from Joe that Shotgun had given him. Dave fired the weapon with one hand. His other hand held his shotgun, a peg board and some plastic pallet straps.
Joe looked up to see that they were shooting at more than twenty infected near the pickup. Joe felt numb, as if this were all a dream. He knew what was happening around him, but the world didn’t seem as vivid as it had before. His mind felt as though it were being pulled in so many directions.
Then he felt the sharp claws digging in at his side. Rogue had jumped up on him. He looked down at her rusty colored fur and thought of how well behaved she was when she was around Roxy. Tears raced their way down his cheeks as he reached the truck. Hank and Dave had taken out nearly all of the nearby infected. But more of them were rounding the corner and even more had emerged from down the street through the alley, racing up behind them.
Joe slid into the back of the truck and patted his leg to call up the dog. Rogue gleefully rocketed into the back. The other two men moved Shotgun from the driver side to the passenger side. He yelled in pain as they slid him across the seat. Hank took the driver’s seat, and Dave leapt into the back, sitting near Joe. He dropped the shotgun, the holey peg board and box strapping in the truck bed.
“It’ll be fine Joe. We’ll get your daughter back. Shotgun said that they are evacuating to their headquarters in Blue Falls. But we have to get out of here first. You heard what they said didn’t you? That they’re going to destroy Port Steward at midnight,” Dave said solemnly, while clutching the MP-Five tightly.
“Yeah,” Joe felt that this was his only option at this point. “How did you know Roxy?”
“I just met her last night,” Dave paused. A look of sorrow fell over his face and tears lubricated his re
ddened eyes. “She was trying to help a neighbor that had been infected. When the neighbor turned, she wrecked her car. I met her in the park not far from the crash,” Dave said.
The sound of the truck’s engine roaring to life interrupted their exchange. Hank turned around the truck and sped down the street. As runners neared the truck, Dave readied his weapon, but none came close enough to cause him to fire it.
“Where are we going?” Hank yelled out the back window in suspense.
“Where did you say you ran into the military?” Dave asked.
“Over on Shoreline Road, near the bottleneck. They’ll kill us man, if we go back there,” Hank yelled.
“It’s alright, we won’t. There is an old building a few blocks from here. It used to be the old Post Office, you know the place?” Dave asked.
“Sure do, we’ll be there in a jiff,” Hank said, speeding up.
Dave studied the roads and the infected as they made their way toward the old Post Office.
“There’s access to the storm drain system at the back of the building. From there it’s a straight shot out of town. Exactly three miles will bring us up—in an irrigation tunnel, out in the orchards of Bayberry Hollow,” Dave explained.
“Bayberry Hollow is good—I know people there,” Shotgun said out the window. “But hang on a sec, you want me to walk three miles in the sewer?”
“Unless you have a better idea? You’re lucky we didn’t just leave your ass back there after what your boss and buddies pulled,” Dave exploded.
“Dave, I was with these guys. My team sent me out to get them. I didn’t know what they were doing. I never even met that girl with the immunity. I do know where they’re going. I really like Kate, she is a brave kid. I will take you to her. I give you my word,” Shotgun replied.
“Sure, the word of a traitor. You are telling me that you would turn your back on them, for us? I don’t think so. If you knew nothing about her, then how’d you know she was immune?” Dave seethed.
“Who was immune? Immune to what?” Joe looked up at Dave.
“Boots and I were in radio contact. I gave him status updates. He told me that the girl was immune and that she might be able to save Walker. He was one of ours that got bit, not that you give a shit. It’s not about turning my back on anyone. It’s about getting that kid back with her dad. So stop busting my balls about it. I’m trying to help,” Shotgun shifted in his seat, glaring out the back window at Dave.
So much had gone wrong at the hands of Randy and his goons, now, Dave had little faith in what Shotgun had to say. Only time now would tell if Shotgun would end up becoming an asset or an enemy, but for now, Dave knew that he needed to chill. Shotgun was their only link to Angora, where Kate is captive, and their only lead at the moment.
Although Dave made a solid attempt to calm himself, guilt crept through his mind, snaking its way through his entire body. I never should’ve left her on that roof. Deep down, Dave blamed himself for Roxy not being in the back of the truck with them. She had been the only reason that he stuck around, and didn’t bolt out of town as soon as the sun came up. With her, he felt like he belonged somewhere again, like his life had direction…purpose. To go through the hell we went through together, just to lose her… I will find her sister. Back at Lynn’s house, I gave Roxy my word that I would find her family. And now that they’re split up, I will reunite them…for Roxy.
“Roxy was immune to the infection—well not quite immune,” Dave began, turning his attention to Joe. “She was injected with the virus or whatever it’s called—at a flu shot clinic and then she was bitten by one of the infected. She didn’t change into one of them; instead it made her stronger. She could heal very quickly. Her hearing and eye sight were better…”
“Wait! Did you say she was immune even after a bite?” Joe inquired.
“Yeah,” Dave looked seriously at Joe. “I forgot what Mara called it back at the lab. Roxy isn’t immune, well—wasn’t immune. Instead, that shot made her stronger—which is what it was supposed to do.”
“You mean that flu shot she got yesterday—it caused all this?” Joe shook his head.
“Yeah, it did this to all the others that had the shot,” Dave said, waving his hand at the infected following the truck. “It’s an experimental performance enhancer, according to Mara. All signs pointed to it working like it was supposed to on Roxy.”
“You said healing faster, what did you mean by that?” Joe massaged his temple as though he were on information overload.
“Well, when she was bit, there was a big gash in her shoulder. After a few hours, there was barely a scab. It was really amazing,” Dave shook his head.
“So if she can heal that miraculously, how do we know for sure that she was really dead back there? Are you sure that she wouldn’t be able to heal from that?” Joe asked.
“Joe, I wish that Roxy was still alive too. I know I didn’t know her that long, but I really cared about her. There is just no coming back from the damage she took on. She wasn’t breathing and had no pulse. She’s gone,” Dave said, furrowing his brow and looking away.
Dave wished more than anything that Roxy could have survived the shooting. Four bullets to the chest and abdomen can’t compare to a bite on the shoulder. She was gone. The dead don’t just come back to life, well, not unless they are infected.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO
Feet shuffled across the wet asphalt, grimy sneakers, tattered loafers, bare feet, and one red pump hobbling alongside a filthy, shoeless foot. All appeared fuzzy at first, but there seemed like an endless army of them. Trying to get her bearings, Roxy blinked her eyes in an attempt to focus on the street beneath her. A shiver crept up her spine, as she laid soaked in water and blood on the ground. She lifted her head, pressing her palms to the cold, saturated pavement and pulling her knees in. As she did so, a clanking echoed on the ground beneath her. Her eyes were drawn to two expended bullets on the ground. They were smashed like they had hit something. Roxy cupped the bullets in her hands and remembered being shot. She pressed her hand to her torso frantically rubbing her chest, back and stomach in a circular motion. There was nothing, not even a scab. Finally, she let out a sigh of relief.
Cracking a slight grin, she raised her head. Her grin gave way to a look of horror. She found herself surrounded by infected, shuffling about aimlessly. Trying to stay as still as possible on her hands and knees, she dropped her head and watched as a couple of them passed by her. Their soiled and tattered clothing drifted by so closely that it nearly touched her face. The smell of their decomposing flesh invaded her senses as they shuffled by snorting and grumbling. Slowly reaching around her body, she realized that she had no gun or any other type of weapon. As seconds passed, she waited patiently, making her best attempt at remaining as still as possible. She saw an opening in the crowd. Figuring that she could use her strength to fight them off, she rose to her feet, poised to run.
To her surprise, none of them came at her. One looked at her then quickly looked away. Another headed straight for her. The aging man in caked coveralls looked at her and after looking away, he circled out—away from her. She stood there for a few moments in bewilderment. A surge of confidence or madness, she wasn’t sure which one really, charged through her. She walked toward another infected man dressed as a police officer, who reacted in the same manner, moving out of her path.
They can see me, but they keep turning away. It’s almost like…they’re afraid of me. Can they tell I am immune? No…It’s not that. I’m not immune. They know…I’m infected—a carrier.
With a renewed sense of strength, she gently pushed one of them. The man stumbled back, then changed direction. She tried twice more, with the same result. Feeling her fear of the crowd around her rinse away, Roxy spun around to get her bearings.
That’s when she found Gypsy. She looked down at her friend. The dog lay peacefully on the pavement with the street lamp’s glow casting a shimmer on the wet ground all around her. Her grey fur was soa
ked from the falling hydrant water. Roxy knelt down to her and stroked her chin a few times. Kissing her on the head, Roxy scooped up her beloved dog in her arms. Spotting a pile of infected, ravenously growling and grunting near the curb, Roxy knew what was obscured by the mound of monsters. They were dismantling Mattie and Lynn and devouring their flesh. Turning away from the gruesome attack, she shook the sight of the scene from her head. Quickly making her way through the crowd toward the alley, she found the car was gone. Junior’s body had been left on the ground, with a similar cluster of starved beasts surrounding his carcass.
Something on the ground caught her eye, a piece of cork, like from a bottle of wine. It had a three inch chain on one end like it had been attached to something and broke off. For some reason, it looked familiar to her. Carefully, she bent down with her pooch in her arms and fished it off the ground. She didn’t have time to take a good look at it right now, but something told her to take it.
Opening the alley entrance to the video store, she called out, but there was no answer. Hoisting Gypsy onto the counter, she immediately went to work, looking for something to wrap her Pit Bull in. Finding nothing usable in the lobby or office area, she moved on to the stock room. There, she discovered a thick, clear box liner contained inside an empty box and a backpack on the floor containing a black hoodie inside, probably left behind by one of the employees, she guessed.
She removed a red, heart-shaped, metal dog tag from Gypsy’s bloody collar. Looking at it for a moment in her hand, she could see GYSPY etched into the metal and her phone number below. Wiping away a droplet of blood that had splattered onto the surface, Roxy put the tag in her pocket, alongside the cork, before retying the tee shirt around the dog’s neck. Reaching for the hoodie, she pulled it onto the dog and tightened the hood strings. She slid Gypsy into the plastic liner and folded the end over. Roxy wiped the tears dripping down her nose and chin as she gently placed Gypsy into the backpack and zipped it up.
