by Kirk Allmond
"I don't know, son,” Victor replied. He then shook his head and added, “God help us if we meet it."
Marshall stepped up into the gun placement nearest him. He checked the gun over, but it was badly jammed, and the barrel looked warped. There were less than fifty rounds hanging on the belt. Looking down, Marshall saw the former gunner lying on his side with his Beretta M9 still in his mouth. Marshall closed his eyes and turned away from the body.
Victor, with Harley right by his side, had done the same to the other gun placement. It was opposite the road, just inside the gate. The weapons had been designed to fire outward to protect the base from invaders, and the huge sandbag walls were meant to protect the men operating the machine guns. Victor couldn't imagine they ever thought they would be firing those weapons inward. Instead of using the sandbags for protection, they'd been fighting with their back to those walls. They were protecting themselves from the terror from within. It was horrifying.
"I don't want to go inside there," said Victor, looking up at the doorway of the huge fort. The concrete and stone inner walls of the ancient fort were still standing, but there was a line carved three inches deep at head height by the bullets these men had fired.
"Vic said there was something here we'd need. I don't know what he was after, though. We need to find the train. I don't think you and I should hang around here much longer." The two of them were already walking back towards the truck. Everything about the fort made Marshall and Victor uneasy. The two men were silent as they walked back to the Hummer and got inside the vehicle.
They drove around the destroyed streets of the south side of Atlanta looking for train tracks. Marshall used the powerful truck to push wreck after wreck out of the way. These cars hadn't just crashed; they were crushed. Many of the cars were flipped over. Some of them had been smashed so hard the wheels were bent outward. Marshall wasn't sure he could do that to a car, and he hadn't met anyone stronger than he was.
After several hours of navigating the streets in a widening pattern, Marshall found a set of train tracks. He turned the truck off and got out. When he got to the train tracks, he bent down and put his ear directly on the steel rail. He heard a faint rumble in the steel. "There's a train moving on these tracks. It’s got to be them," he called.
Once back in the truck, Marshall pulled the huge Hummer onto the gravel rail-bed and started north. They drove about fifteen minutes, bouncing along the railroad ties, when they first caught sight of the train moving slowly towards them. The front of the train was smashed in, and Marshall noticed the Track Clearing Device he was so proud of had been ripped violently off. A sheared, twisted metal stump was all that was left mounted to the roof of the train. "That's it!" said Marshall. He looked over at his father, who'd been oddly silent since they left the military base. His eyes were filled with tears, and he had a solemn look on his face.
"I never thought I'd see any of you again, Marshall. I'm so happy that you're all alive." His voice was oddly restrained and heavy. "My Max is alive."
Marshall pulled the truck off to the side of the tracks and put it in park. He left the keys on the driver’s seat as he exited the vehicle. "Let's go," he said to Harley in the back as he opened the door. The dog jumped out of the tall truck and barked at the oncoming train, his tail wagging. Marshall waved his arms at the train and smiled when Shelton stuck his head out the window. The brakes on the train screeched along the tracks as it came to a halt a few feet past them.
"Corbin! I'm glad you made it! How is everyone?"
"Marshall, it’s been a rough day since we saw you. We ran into some trouble,” Corbin said. “Kris is missing; Vic and Leo went looking for her. Max is inside with Mr. Walton. John and Renee are here. We didn't lose anyone, but the team is spread pretty thin.” The man paused and then added, “I’m glad to have you back." Shelton looked at the older man standing beside Marshall and smiled as recognition spread across his face. "Is this your father? He looks just like you."
Shelton smiled for the first time that day as Marshall made the introduction. "Corbin, this is my father, Victor Tookes, Senior. And his dog Harley."
"Nice to meet you, Corbin," said Victor. Harley barked his hello. Victor started towards the stair that led to the first passenger car. Before he got there, Max bound off the train and ran as fast as his four-year-old legs would carry him.
"Poppy!" Max yelled. "I knew you were here!"
Reggie Walton appeared at the top of the ladder and, upon seeing Marshall, visibly relaxed. "Max," he called out. "Your father would be mad at me if I let anything happen to you! You can't just run off like that!"
Max didn’t even look back as he ran into the outstretched arms of his Poppy, who had knelt down in the large gravel of the rail-bed to give his grandson a hug. Victor knelt there holding Max for nearly two minutes with tears running silently down his cheeks. When he'd recovered a bit, he said, "How's Poppy's boy?" His voice was husky with emotion. Max’s little voice filled the air as he went into detail about his day.
Watching the two of them, Marshall realized just how close they were. His father had never been an overly emotional man, but Max was his only grandchild, and there was a bond there that he didn't even begin to understand.
Victor Senior was a man that thrived on family ties and took his job as a father very seriously. There had never been any question as to who came first in his life. Victor had spent a good portion of his adult life with the impression that he would never be blessed with a grandchild. Marshall lived a very busy life that hardly included enough time to breathe, let alone take the time that was required to raise a child. Victor’s eldest was a smart man that loved kids, but having a child of his own was never a priority. Victor Junior, however, had never shown any interest in having children. Vic and Candi spent years saying they were happy where they were and that their lives were full enough without adding a third member to their little family.
Although their choices were not what he would have liked, Victor Senior trusted his sons to know what was best for them. His sons were his world, and Victor didn’t believe it was possible to love anyone more than he loved his boys. Then Max was born.
Holding the small boy in his arms brought tears to his eyes. He marveled that little Max had the same bright eyes as his father. The same eyes as him. Another man to carry on the family name, but the little baby was so much more than a name. Looking into his small eyes, Victor could see that his grandson was unique. He had spent a long time debating if the sense of pride he felt was normal. Victor found himself not caring about what was “normal” and made the decision that day to ensure Max always knew how loved he was and that he would have given his life to save him. Max adored his grandfather as much as a small child could. To him, his grandfather was an indestructible force that could never be stopped.
Renee and John were the next off the train, coming from one of the rear cars. "Victor! It's good to see you," Renee exclaimed, trotting up to him with near super-human speed. Victor was not her father. Their mother had remarried a short time after Victor and Sharon divorced, but she had always been close to him, as the father of her two big brothers. Victor loved Renee as he would his own daughter, even though he was no blood relation to her.
"I hate to interrupt," said Marshall, "but can we move this on-board the train?"
The family members and John climbed the ladder up into the dining car. Shelton released the brakes, and the huge battered train rolled forward towards John's family.
Chapter 34
The Beach
“Miss Kris?” asked Max. “Are you still there?”
“I'm here, Max. I'm sorry you had to hear that. I don't know how, but I have to get out of here.”
Vic looked at Max. "Max, these words are important that you get them right. Tell her, 'Everything has a resonating frequency. Find the tone and use her shield to amplify it.’"
Max spoke slowly aloud and to Kris at the same time. "Daddy says all the things have a reasonable frequency.
Find the tone and use your shield to amplify it."
"Resonating, Max."
"Resonating," Max said again.
"I'll try that, but what if I can't make the right sound?" asked Kris.
"Then we'll try something else, but you can do this, Kris. When you get out, find out where you are and tell Max. I'm going to go get Leo, and we're coming to find you." He stood up in the small train car and said, "Max, I'm going to go find Miss Leo, and we're going to go get Kris. I'll ask Mr. Walton to keep an eye on you while we're gone and make sure you get supper, okay, buddy? I may be back after sleeping time, but I'll wake you up when I get here. I'll be back before morning. I love you, Max."
"I love you too, Daddy," said Max, holding up his hand.
Victor took the small boy's hand and kissed him on the top of the head before stepping out into the hallway. “Leo, I need you, outside my sleeping car,” he sent directly to Leo. "Mister Walton, can you keep an eye on Max? I have to go look for Kris. I'll be back tonight, but can you make sure he gets some dinner?"
"Oh yes sir, Mister Tookes, Sir. Young Master Max is a delightful little boy. If it’s not too personal of me to say, you are a very good father."
"Thank you, Mister Walton. I appreciate your care of Max."
Reggie stepped into the train car with Max and said, "Would you like to hear a story I heard from my father, Max?"
"Yes Mister Walton! I love stories," said Max.
Leo appeared in a swirl of blackness and said, “You summoned me?"
"Can you get us to the coast south west of here?"
"I've never been there before, so it’s going to be a lot of short hops. Are you ready to go?" she said. Her face was stone, and she looked upset.
I don't know what she's mad about, but I don't have time to deal with it right now, thought Vic. I'll talk it out with her when we get back. "I'm ready," he said.
"Take a deep breath then. Try to breathe when you feel warmth," she said, grabbing his arm, and they disappeared.
When the two of them reappeared, they were several hundred feet above the ground, which was rushing up to meet them at an alarming rate. It took Victor a second to realize the screams he heard were coming from his own mouth. They disappeared again, only to reappear fifty or so miles south. They repeated this half a dozen times before they finally reappeared standing on the ground.
"Vic, you have to breathe," Leo said impatiently. "Breathe in when you feel warm air, breathe out in the cold."
"Okay, but I..." His voice was cut off by the coldness of travel sending daggers down his back, which was still missing large patches of skin. When he felt warm air, he forced himself to breathe in. In just a few minutes, they were standing on the beach, looking out at the surf. The water looked cold. The waves steadily crashed on the shore. The beach hadn't been combed in months; they were standing just a foot above the line of debris that marked the high tide line.
"Victor, I'm not your fucking taxi. Why are we even looking for her? She left us. She made a choice," Leo said.
"She saved us all back at the park. She warned me about the bombs and helped me find Laura, and she erected a dome to contain and amplify the blast. That effort knocked her out, and she was taken because she knows us. I can't leave her out there, Leo. It’s not right." Victor scrubbed his hands through his messy short hair and looked around to make sure they were still alone on the beach.
The tide was coming in. In just a few minutes, the surf had moved a foot up the beach. The waves had increased in both size and frequency. The sea was angry, being pushed ahead of a storm. The clouds were darkening as the pair stood there on that desolate stretch of beach.
"What's right is going to find John's family. What's right is focusing on your mission, not splitting us all up, not making side trips, and certainly not attempting to get us all killed while you save the world to feed your own fucking ego." Leo stepped towards him as he spoke, pointing her finger at his chest.
Victor shook his head sadly. "It's not about my ego, Leo. I feel like I've said this a dozen times in the last two days. I'm just trying to make things right. No one else is going to do it. Everyone else we've run into has been so worried about trying to squeak out a living or how to make their lives easier. They've had no thoughts about how to take our world back. We have a unique group of talent. If anyone in this world can do it, we can."
"You use us like we're tools, not people." Leo crossed her arms over her chest, still holding back.
It had grown noticeably darker on the beach. Storm clouds were quickly filling the sky, and for the first time that day, Victor noticed that he could see his breath. It was getting cold.
Victor's face sank as he said, "I ask nothing of my friends that I wouldn't and haven't done." He shifted his gun on his belt around towards his back and stuck his hands in his pockets.
"We're not all you, Victor Tookes. We're not machines. It's like you're made of ice. The only time you thaw is around Max."
Victor's face scrunched, and his anger erupted. "What the fuck do you want from me, Leo?" Victor yelled. “I have a fucking job I have to do, and I'm doing the best I can. I can't do it without you, but it’s all I have time for. Do you think for a fucking second that I haven't considered what it would do to me if you or John or Marshall or Renee or even Kris were killed?" Victor had just cracked the lid on what was boiling beneath the surface. "What do you fucking want?"
Lightning crashed in the distance, followed by a peal of thunder less than a second later. The wind picked up, blowing stinging bits of sand onto Victor's raw back.
"I want you to pay some attention to me. I want you to treat John with some respect. You say he's your best mate, but you treat him like a tool just like you treat me."
"Pay some attention to you? Are you fucking serious? I think of nothing but you and John. All day long every fucking day I think about how to make this world a better place for the people I care about." Victor removed his hands from his pocket as he spoke, emphasizing his words with gestures.
"How would any of us know you care about us? All day long every day all we do is try and keep up with you. Occasionally, we could stop and look at the scenery. Every once in a while, you could stop and be a human for a day," Leo responded. Her face was getting flushed, and she pulled at her ponytail.
"Last time I stopped to smell the roses, remember what happened? You almost were killed. I ended up almost dead with Kris holding my arteries together with her fingers. Every time we stop, every day we delay, more humans die and the zombies get stronger. Every fucking one of us that dies and becomes one of them is another one we have to kill."
"We can't go on like this, Vic." Leo's voice had gone from angry to sad, all at once. "You're changing. You were a vibrant, exciting, fun man just a month ago. I want that Vic back. That was the Victor Tookes I fell in love with."
Victor paused for a second, considering what she said. He felt a tinge of doubt as the words formed, knowing that they shouldn't be said. "Leo, we're both human beings in a shitty world. We fucked a couple times, and it felt good. It was a connection to something human. It wasn't love; it was sex."
"Fuck you," Leo said, and then she was gone.
Victor instantly regretted not following his instinct to hold that in, but he was angry. How could she claim to be in love with him and not understand the complexities he was trying to deal with? How could she let herself get that angry with him and not say a word to him about it before this? How could she not even try to see things from his perspective? How could she just leave him here miles away from anything?
Victor did what he had to do. He shoved it all down inside and focused on the task at hand. "Well fuck," Victor said aloud. "Now I need a car." He'd deal with this when there was time.
The clouds opened up, and it started raining. The rain was cold, whipped almost sideways by the wind. Victor stood there for a moment before walking slowly up the beach, the sting of the icy rain on the fresh thin skin on his back. At the top of the beach, t
he solitary man became engulfed in a blue glow as he drew his weapons. "Time to make the doughnuts," he said.
Visit the author's web site at www.kirkallmond.com or on Facebook at facebook.com/whatzombiesfear
