by Justin Clay
“Agreed,” Doc replies, “they will be back soon no less.”
“Do you know where they are now?” Terek asks him.
“I hear something about them meeting up at the North Point?”
“Where is that? Is it far from here?”
“About five minutes or so,” he says.
“Then we better hurry,” Kage prompts. “Do you know of the best way out of here…besides the gates?”
“No,” Doc says shaking his head. “That’s the only way, I’m afraid…They have unfortunately made sure of that.”
“Then we must go to the gates.”
“They’ll see you for sure.”
“We’ll take our chances,” Eli says, and turns his attention to Kage. “You know the way.”
“Yes, but we’ll need a way of escaping once we’re clear of the gates,” Kage says. He looks to Doc. “Do you know if they have any vehicles here that work?”
Doc nods emphatically. “Yes, but their patrollers are nowhere near the gates…”
“Very well,” Kage says, thinking intensely for a moment, his brow furrowed. “Then someone will have to go with you to get at least one of them, while we deal with opening the gate.”
“I’ll go,” Lena says and Eli gives her a look; she ignores him.
“I will too,” Terek says determinedly, sitting Maia down. His wife takes her hand, remaining quiet. “Lead the way.
We heard the screaming before we even left the Ravagers’ warehouse. But this was no ordinary screaming of terrified humans. This was the screaming of the Frothers. The explosion must have awakened hundreds of them, by the sound of them.
“They’re distant enough…for now,” Eli says to me when I ask him about them.
Once we step out in the dark open, I feel the rain begin drizzling against my skin, cool and damp. Above, the sky has changed; it’s brooding, becoming overspread with ominous clouds. A breeze flutters through.
Kage tells us the gate isn’t far from here. We pick up the pace, jogging; I hold my sister’s hand as we do so. In a matter of minutes, our small group reaches the South Gate, finding it empty of Ravagers. The wall above where the searchlight rests is cleared out, as expected. The gate consists of a rusted, shoddy patchwork of aluminum siding, ripped from various sheds and warehouses, like the one we just left. The center of the gate is barricaded by a wooden rafter about as long as five men lying down. Judging by its looks, moving it wouldn’t be the easiest course of action, given the short amount of time we have remaining.
But we have no other choice.
Eli, Kage, and another of the trailer hostages (a tall, lanky man with a shaggy mane of black hair) position themselves before the massive plank.
“On three,” Kage says, and the others nod.
The chaotic din of screams — now met with rapid, blasting gunfire — is swiftly approaching. Turning, I can see figures now, a mob of figures, and a strange glowing light — fire burning. Some of the figures are on fire, but they’re still moving.
What is happening!? Could it be the Infected? It has to be. They’ll be on us in a matter of what? Minutes? That’s all we have. Oh God...
“They’re coming!” I belt. I feel my sister’s hand tighten around mine and the hair on the back of my neck is rising.
“THREE!” Kage suddenly shouts and all three of the men grab the bottom of the plank, grunting as they pull upward. There’s a distinct cracking — a melancholic groan, before the makeshift barricade is dislodged and hits the cemented ground with a resounding thump. The rest of us wait as the men, now assisted by Terek’s wife, attempt to open the gate’s twelve-foot doors. The doors are attached to chains made of links the size of my hand. They’re heaving with all they got, and the doors are only just barely inching forward. My stomach lurches, and I realize — we’re not going to make it through in time.
We will have to fight our way through.
“PULL!” Kage bellows at different intervals. The doors respond with low, echoing moans of movement. I turn around, shielding my sister, and take out my bow, stringing it with an arrow. Mikael watches me, and when I nod, he understands. He lifts his handgun, and I notice his arm is shaking so badly, he can barely keep the aim stable as the violent mob encroaches upon us. I can make out definite forms of Ravagers fighting off the rampant Frothers — and yes, some of them are on fire, most likely from the tank’s explosion. That’s what caused the pandemonium. Some of the Ravagers are successful in their fending, others…not so much.
But the Infected’s ubiquitous moaning is no longer just coming from the mob ahead, but from all around. And there they are spilling from the dark depths of the center, emerging from hidden alleyways, flooding toward us at all directions. My heart stops as the impact of the Frothers against us is too much to take in — they’re sweeping in numbers I have never seen before.
“MIKAEL!” I scream. I release my first arrow that catches its target through mouth, sending a spray of gore across Mikael’s face. The Frother collapses beneath the one behind it and then so many of them are tumbling, knocking dumbly against each other, clawing at the ground. Mikael stands petrified, unable to move whatsoever.
I hear that the gate’s doors have been abandoned as more gunfire erupts in the air. What I can see in the dimness is nothing but masses of Infected, their bursting heads, broken bodies careening into the street, pools of spreading blood. It’s everywhere.
I release one arrow after another, each managing to kill off a Frother. It’s keeping the Infected around me tentatively at bay. But I don’t know how long I can keep it up. I only have so many arrows. I want to tell June to run away, run to safety. There is no safety here — now. It’s useless to do so. Instead, I do the best I can in protecting her, firing my arrows. My fingers are blistering and my heart’s pulse is slamming into my head. I don’t think…I just react, shooting constantly. The Frothers’ stench is becoming more and more evident, their dead bodies’ aroma mingling in with the sourness of the living’s sallow flesh.
The fattest Frother I’ve ever seen comes barreling at me, his eyes glowing with madness. I grab another and shoot. The arrow catches him in the shoulder and the abomination keeps going, relentless.
“Shit,” I curse underneath my breath, and when I reach for another arrow, my fingers grab nothing.
I suck in air, terrified. My body grows coldly numb. What am I to do? He’s going to trample me and rip me apart. Just seconds before the wrecking ball of a Frother collides, I see a blinding wave of headlights, hear a blaring horn and watch stunned as a vehicle plows into the man’s body at unprecedented speed. There’s an immediate hissing of brakes, and shaking my head, I come to, moving my eyes away from the mutilated body of the Infected that had nearly ended my life to the driver of the crudely armored pick-up truck in front of me. It’s none other than Lena, and she’s smiling, making a gesture with her head.
“Get in Rian…Your sister first.”
Nodding, I swoop June up into my arms and boost her up and over into the bed of the truck. Lurching myself upward, I grab onto the edge of the truck, and June screams, horrified. I look down and see that a Frother is grabbing my leg, opening her mouth to bite.
I shake my leg vigorously, but it’s no use. There’s a sickening squish of ripped flesh and crackling of bone as out of nowhere, the blade of machete decapitates her, and I see Eli standing there wild-eyed swinging it. He doesn’t talk; he only shoves me the rest of the way to safety, and quickly runs around hoping into the passenger seat.
“I’ve never been so happy to see you!” I shout at Lena; she remains stone-faced, looking back. I notice my sister and I aren’t alone in the bed of the truck. The strange man calling himself Doc is there too, and he sits in the corner to the back, his legs curled up into his cradling arms. He’s absolutely mortified by the hell going on around us.
“We’re not out of this yet,” Lena warns rigidly through the truck’s opened back window. “Hang on!”
I survey the area aroun
d us before Lena takes off, looking and looking and — I see him! It’s Mikael, and he’s with Kage, who’s just saved him from having his other arm chomped; they’re cornered against a bulky trash dump. Someone is firing at the encroaching Infected, allowing them a much needed reprieve.
I yell for Lena to not go yet, then I cry, “Mikael!”
He looks up, seeing me. Kage is waving him to go, and they’re both running. I lose track of where Kage is at but Mikael is headed directly for me. “Mikael, over here! Grab my hand!”
He’s moving as fast as he can — but Mikael’s limping. He’s been severely hurt. He needs my help! But what about my sister? I can’t leave her here just after what we’ve been through. I’m torn.
I extend my hand; Mikael is only feet away, and he’s reaching out too. Just then, he’s cut off as I see there are multiple Infected grappling at him and the last image I see of him is his eyes, glinting with knowing tears before he’s instantly gone and there’s nothing I can do.
Lena sends the truck lurching forward, and I’m doubled over, heaving, my stomach on fire. I can’t breathe. I can’t see for the tears and I’m sobbing maniacally when I feel the vomit leave me, splashing over the side of the truck, speeding forward. I feel my sister’s warm embrace as she leans me back over the truck, and my back slides against the bed, and I slump over as she holds me close. June’s head is pressed against my chest as I feel my throat tingle, burning from the puke, lost somewhere behind us.
He was just there. Right there. Only a few feet from grabbing my hand. And now…
“HANG ONTO SOMETHING!” Lena cries vehemently. “We’re going through!”
I clasp onto my sister with one arm and tightly fix myself against the bed of the truck with the other. Even through all of the murkiness, I could see the South Gate had fortunately and unintentionally been fully opened by the amount of Infected, which had pushed through from the other side, but they were all now behind us, or dead. I hear the rumbling of another truck and glimpse the burly figure of Terek steering it alongside what looks like — Kage! He made it into that one, and they are gaining on us, following our path. There seem to be others sitting in the bed, their shadows wavering along the blurred asphalt.
Does he know? Most likely not.
And that is all I can think about as we depart from the fiery bowels of the overrun city and further into another darkness beyond us. It’s all I can see. Mikael’s last face. The last glimpse of his eyes into mine. Knowing. Knowing it had been his end. And I couldn’t save him. No matter what I could have done that I…didn’t, because I knew too.
I couldn’t save him.
PART 2 THE ROAD
14
100 Days
IT HAS BEEN ALMOST a full week since our chaotic departure from the heart of Cheyenne. Six days have past. Six days of remembering Mikael’s last face while I am awake and reliving in my nightmares while I sleep. Six days of those desperate, pleading eyes haunting me.
I cannot forgive myself. I should have helped him. But I didn’t. I stayed for my sister. She needs me too.
June knows I am troubled. I see it in the way she looks at me off and on, in those intuitive blue eyes of hers. But she remains intentionally silent…for now. I know that she will eventually say something, and I will find myself shattered in sobs. I know it’s coming.
When I feel like I am too scarred by what happened to Mikael, I think of Terek — who was the only one of his family to survive that night’s onslaught. His wife and daughter could still be alive, considering no one remembers them being overtaken by Infected, but no one remembers that they escaped them either. Most likely they’re dead, but no one wants to dwell on that or tell Terek for that matter. He has been broken. You can easily see it in his eyes. His erratic movements. A deep, dark hollowness has consumed him. You can just feel it whenever you’re near him. The tension is suffocating. I feel like he’s just one breath away from completely snapping and destroying everything in sight. And that’s a scary notion, considering his daunting size and muscular capability.
He’s kept to himself, even more than he did before, not uttering one word about the incident. Even when Lena had offered her condolences, he had told her he’d appreciate it if no one would bring it up ever. He thanked her, but told her and everyone else that he didn’t need our pity or thoughts for had happened. And that was all he said of it.
It happened, and there’s no going back.
And part of me — most of who I am believes he is right. There truly is no going back when events like that happen. When you lose the ones you care about more than anything. But after enough time has passed and healing has taken place, you have to remember them.
They deserve that much. Always.
...
We have finally made it…Made it to where Eli and Lena had been trekking all this time: a remote countryside a little more than forty miles outside of Helena, Montana. At least that’s what the map, which I picked up from a travel station while in city, had said. The dam supposedly rested alongside Holter Lake, fed by the undulating Missouri river. Seeing it, though, was another story. The land here is vast, yawning into massive foothills and stretching into forested outcroppings against crystal blue skies. The cold winds have picked up and the trees are losing their leaves. I watched them float, relentlessly pushed and pulled by the force of the Missouri, going which ever it decided until completely decimated. Winter is coming, and soon.
The dam is nestled within a massive opening in the river, guarded by rocky, grassy terrain on either side, pouring out its waterfalls from over a hundred feet tall. The running water allows for a nearly endless supply of electricity for the dam’s center of operations-slash-living quarters for its sixty-something residents. And it is one of those residents who stops the guns aimed at us, ready to fire from makeshift patrol towers upon our arrival. Her name is Cari and apparently Eli and her have quite the history, or so Lena tells me after we had been shown our incredibly cramped room. Both of them were out of earshot — talking of urgent matters.
The room, much like the rest of the rectangular building, is gray, boring, and practically empty, save for a few thin mattresses pushed against the sides of the four walls, dressed with yellowed pillows and blue woolen blankets. It isn’t much — but it’s certainly better than anything we have had in quite a while. A roof over our heads, surrounded by sturdy walls within a place that is more secure than we could have hoped for, truly. A place that also has steady rations to keep us from starving. And because of that, (for the first time in a while?) I am happy. Who wouldn’t be?
Our first night here had been last night, and surprisingly nothing went wrong. A sweet-faced elderly lady, one of the members we briefly met while Cari gave us a whiplash of a tour, brought to us trays of piping-hot food consisting of steaming bowls of their specialty brew — I didn’t ask what was in it, didn’t want to know — accompanied with butter bread, vegetables, most likely grown in the fenced-off orchid they have here outside and for dessert something I hadn’t had in a long time — chocolate pudding.
Before all of this craziness happened I wouldn’t necessarily describe chocolate pudding as being succulent, but damn was it ever when we dug in — after saying thanks to the older lady, of course. June shared a similar reaction to the dessert.
The elderly lady’s name is Millian Briggins but people around here call her Milly. While I ate the impressively tasty meaty stew, closing my eyes and savoring the warmth of flavor, I thought of what Cari (or Sergeant Cari, as everyone calls her here) told us after a formal greeting.
“You should know, for starters,” Cari began upon our arrival, composing her posture, which is intensely upright, even for military standards, “that there are a few ground rules we — and you too — will have to abide by here at the dam while you are our guests…I’m assuming you’ll eventually move on at some point…” There had been something odd in the way she said that, some dark inflection that told me she wanted us to eventually move onward a
t any regard. I guess I couldn’t fault her. I’m sure they have enough mouths here to feed already. But something about that just didn’t sit right with me.
I remember watching her as she moved stiffly, standing before us clothed in a green military uniform, complete with a perfectly straight hat and impossibly shiny black boots. I thought I even saw my reflection in them upon peering down. Her slender, toned body moved as if she had been statue suddenly brought to life, her stare at us indifferently cold. I’m not sure how Eli could have ever been involved with someone like her, so brutally sharp. She brushed a stray black hair back over her ear, regaining a perfectly neat ponytail once more before continuing.
“But while you are here…Our first and foremost rule is as long as you are here, you are kept safe by our walls and fed from by our harvested bounty, which is limited and therefore precious…You are in our debt, and so you must fulfill daily duties to keep us going. To keep this machine well-oiled and running. That’s what we are here. A functioning society with everyone doing what they can in order for the greater good, our greater good. Which is living. And we all want that, right? Our home is the way it is because of how we endured…
