The Great Wreck

by Stewart, Jack

  At the top of the onramp, I looked around as the sun drifted below the horizon. I’d have another half an hour of good light, maybe more, then I’d have to pull on my goggles. They were fully charged and I had several spare sets of batteries ready to swap out if needed. I had a brief image of me standing alone out in the desert in the complete darkness with a dead set of goggles in my hands, the dead closing in unseen from every direction.

  I shrugged of that vision with the thought that, if the goggles died in the night, I’d whole up in the nearest abandoned car until the sun came up. It might not be the best plan, but it was good enough so I pushed off and peddled east.

  I made good time in the fading light. My packs were slung over the rear of the bike like two oversized saddle bags, another small pack was strapped over the bike trailer that was filled with water. My rifle and shotgun were strapped to the sides of the trailer making a neatly secured and balanced load.

  I sped along easily riding through the wrecked cars that became fewer and fewer as I moved away from the metropolitan area. The wind was still warm but I was only wearing a pair of cargo shorts, tennis shoes, and a light tee shirt with one pistol hanging from my belt so the sweat dried quickly and cooled me down. After a half an hour of riding I began to feel more confident and a little while after that the light had faded to the point where I needed to put on my goggles.

  I strapped them onto my head and pressed the power button. For a moment nothing happened and the thought of dead goggles returned but then the world lit up in a comforting green glow and I let out my breath. I could see for miles down the road. It was clear and unobstructed of cars or dead so I got moving again.

  I rode for nearly three hours without talking a break. The night was cooling down and I fell into a steady rhythm not thinking of anything at all just reacting to an occasional car or two that I needed to avoid and searching for anything that might be moving towards me. When I finally stopped for a break, I drank water, ate a light snack, and flipped the goggles over to infrared. I scanned the desert around me and could see nothing. This filled me with a sense of relief knowing that no one was following me.

  I couldn’t shake the feeling that James was going to pop up and yell out, “Hidee ho, mother fucker!” and I’d be stuck traveling with the madman again. But the desert around me was clear of any heat signature at all so I flipped back to the night vision setting then checked the battery indicator. I had used nearly half of the battery meaning I could travel something less than six hours on one battery, then turned them off. Six hours of battery life would easily get me to Eloy. I looked around and could see pretty clearly anyways by the light of the stars. That gave me a little more confidence that, should the goggles fail, I’d be OK. I climbed onto the bike and pushed on.

  The road slide by noiselessly and the breeze kept me cool as I peddled across the empty desert. I’d been watching the mile marker as I speed along the highway and figured I had a little over an hour to go before I hit Eloy. That was good because, even with all the walking I’d done, riding a bike used a different set of muscles and my legs were getting sore. That and I’d have to change out the seat. It was killing my ass. And probably my balls too while inflicting nerve damage to my penis. It would go numb and be paralyzed for life. I shivered at the thought and vowed to get a new seat at the very next bike shop, one that would let the boys and all those nerves hang free and uncompressed. I laughed and pulled over to the side of the road to stretch and look around.

  After a twenty minute break, I got back up on the bike, turned on my goggles, and was off. I reached Eloy in just over an hour. I knew I was close when more and more abandoned cars and trucks began to appear on the road. I slowed down and stuck to the breakdown lane as much as I could. A few dead wandered in and out of the wrecks but I could easily spot and avoid them.

  When I finally reached the city limits of Eloy, I knew before even seeing the airport that I would not be staying here for the night. The dead were out in force, jamming up the streets, walking over the highway, and spilling out into the desert.

  Motherfuckers. Why didn’t they just go sit down and rot somewhere?

  My legs were tired and I had a headache from looking through the goggles for hours but I had to push on past Eloy. There was no way I was going to try to ride through the crowds of dead in the dark and try to reach the airport. So I pushed on.

  Thankfully Eloy was a small city and I made it through the traffic jams, wrecked cars, and wandering dead without any trouble. I cleared the east side of the city and was back onto open highway.

  By the time I reached the Pinal Airport sometime after midnight, I was trashed. My legs were burning and shaking from over use and my head blasting from looking too long through the night vision goggles.

  The airport was completely abandoned. It looked like it had been shut down early in the event and was too small and remote even for the military to use. That was good. I did a quick scan of the area and spotted no dead so I found the first building I could with a flat roof, climbed up hauling my gear up after me, and fell asleep without even setting up the canopy.

  I slept until nearly mid-morning. I awoke with the sun burning into my eyes and quickly looked around. I hardly remembered getting up on the roof the night before and it made me nervous that I had fallen asleep without checking the roof for dead stragglers, a doorway access, or any of the dozens of things that can get you killed if you didn’t pay attention. But I was alone.

  I crouched up and looked around the deserted airport and saw no one, not even a single dead person. I looked down and saw my bike propped against the wall then felt all the aches in my body from my nearly six hour ride during the night.

  My legs ached, my back ached, my arms ached. Even my eyes ached. I walked around the roof working out the kinks and warming my legs up before attempting the climb down to the ground to stash my bike. Then I’d climb back up and finish setting up my camp.

  I finally warmed up enough to trust my arms and legs and shimmed down to the ground. I rolled my bike inside the office building I’d chosen for my camp, pulled out the tarp I had taken from Gila, and covered it up. Then it was back up to the roof and setting up the rest of my camp. When I was done I was hot and sweaty and a mass of aches and pains. Maybe I’d take the night off and ride again tomorrow. After all, I wasn’t on a schedule. Sandia would either be there or it wouldn’t so I had all the time in the world to get there.

  I felt better at the thought of getting plenty of rest, so I settled back on my sleeping back and dozed in and out of the day awaking only to eat and relive myself over the edge of the building away from my little camp. When I was awake, I’d scan the highway looking for other people, look around the empty desert to see if the dead had wandered out into the waste, and check the perimeter of the airport for any immediate threat. Nothing moved in the dead heat and I felt completely alone.

  For most people, this might freak them out, for me, I felt safe in that vast silence. Silence meant there were no dead nearby. Silence meant there were no people nearby. Silence meant that James was not nearby. For a brief moment I entertained the idea of just staying here. Sealing up the gate and making raids for supplies when I needed them from the nearby towns. But somehow I knew I’d eventually get lonely. And what if I got hurt, broke an arm or a leg? Then what would I do? Why, I’d die a slow and painful death, of course! So I’d keep going. And if Sandia was empty or a myth? Then I’d keep on going from there until I found a place where people had survived and were starting over again.

  At last the night fell and the temperature along with it. I climbed up another radio tower and hooked my small hand held to a jack and turned on the radio. On channel seven I heard the automated voice telling me the temperature of the various cities in Arizona and New Mexico. Here outside of Tucson it was a chilly 80(F). I listened to some folks speaking in Spanish and figured I was picking up something from across the border in Mexico maybe. Again I tried each of the twenty channels to see if somewhere
along the California boarder, Kailee might be listening.

  I tried for the better part of an hour and didn’t hear Kailee, but did find that someone else was listening when a voice broke in through the static, “To the individual currently located outside of Tucson. Please respond. Over”

  The voice was so clear and strong it shocked me. Could they actually be speaking to me? I didn’t think so. How could they know I was here? Unless they were watching and were close by. The thought nearly sent me down the tower to pack up camp and get moving but the voice came on again, “To the individual currently located outside of Tucson, please respond. We are not a threat to you. Over.”

  I pushed the send button and replied, “This is Thomas,” then a little hesitantly, “Over.”

  “Thomas, my name is Captain Martin Dunst formerly of the U.S. Army and I want you to listen very carefully because you are in great danger. Are you listening?”

  My blood froze in my veins listening to the bodiless voice telling me I was in danger. I snapped on my goggles and looked around the airport. Nothing moved not even the wind. I replied, “Yes, I’m listening but I don’t see anything.”

  “You won’t. The people who are following you are many miles behind you but are probably listening to this transition so do not reveal your location.”

  People? Following me? That didn’t make any sense. James might follow me, but a bunch of people? Maybe it was Kailee and her family?

  “Is it a father and three women? Or is it a single man?” I asked hopeful that maybe they had turned around and were headed towards Sandia.

  “No women,” Martin said and my heart sunk, “Not a single individual either. It appears to be five men. They picked up your trial somewhere just outside of Phoenix and have been following you ever since.”

  “What could they want?” I asked, then another voice broke in.

  “You’ve been poachen’ boy. Taking my stuff, messing with my dead, cavorting with my women!” said the gruff dry voice, “I warned ya but you didn’t listen and now we are going to have words.”

  King Ahg or whoever the mad man was behind the voice. I sat there looking at the radio wondering how close King Ahg and his men might be. Eloy? At the off-ramp to this airport? Closer. I scanned the perimeter fence and still saw nothing move. Where they in the buildings beneath me?

  “Thomas, this is Martin. They men tracking you are outside of Eloy camped for the night. They do not know where you are and you need to keep it that way.”

  Ahg’s voice broke in, “But we’ll find ya boy and we’ll have our words. You might be hidden now, but there aren’t many heat signatures moving around at night, don’t ya think?”

  The radio popped and hissed in my hand. Then Captain Dunst spoke again, “Don’t listen to him Thomas. Keep moving just as you are and you’ll be beyond their reach soon enough. We are familiar with this crew and they won’t venture past Tucson. You hit the city limits and you’ll be clear of them.”

  “Why don’t you go fuck yourself, Dunst and stay out of my business!” Ahg yelled into the radio.

  “Killing you is my business, Johnson,” Dunst replied, “And keeping your from doing the same to others.”

  “Aw, why don’t you go fuck some cows or something and leave me to my work!”

  “Watch your back, Thomas,” Dunst instead replied to me.

  “Why can’t I come to you?” I asked wondering where they might be.

  “Where too far away. I can’t tell you where but you’d never make it to us before, well, before the dead got to you.”

  “I’ve handled the dead before. I could make it,” I replied.

  “Not like these dead, Thomas. You’ve got to keep moving until you are out of Tucson and out into the desert. The dead here are…different. I can’t really describe it any better than that but they are far more dangerous than those you found in Phoenix and they are not as active during the night. You’ll understand when you see them but get out of Tucson as fast as you can.”

  “I will,” I said and put my hand on the off switch when I heard Dunst speak again.

  “And Johnson, if you get near that boy, I’ll come for you.”

  “Well boo, hoo, hoo and fuck you,” Johnston, aka King Ahg replied before going silent.

  I climbed down and thought about what Captain Dunst had said to me. The five men were in Eloy. I pulled out my map, put a red cover on my flashlight and found Eloy. They were over fifty miles behind me. According to my watch it was nearly eleven and Dunst said they had camped for the night. If they got up at first light, they could be near here by maybe ten o’clock at the earliest. If I got up just before dawn, I could be on the other side of Tucson by midafternoon. Or I could stay here and wait and hope Johnston and his men figured I was long gone, then keep to my plan of riding at night. But staying here meant that Johnston could get ahead of me. If I tried to leave at night, they might be waiting, might be watching the roads for me. What was to Johnston had said? Not many heat signature in the night? They must have night goggles.

  So many ifs, so many variables. What to do? The thought of the men having night goggles settled it for me. I’d get up just before dawn and try to get out of Tucson as fast as I could.

  * * *

  Johnston frowned as he listened to the silence on the radio and turned the thing off. Dunst and his group of fucking do-gooders. He spat out into the darkness as though trying to rid himself of their foul taste. But then he smiled. Dunst had fucked up, oh, yes Dunst had given him just the information he need to find the boy, the one who had stolen from him.

  Dunst had said the boy was outside of Tucson. Johnston and his men were in Eloy so that meant he was, oh fuck, he thought looking at a map. Nearly fifty miles ahead of them. How could that be? They had spotted the brat leaving the police warehouse loaded for bear but lost him outside of Phoenix. Then the little dipshit started blasting away on his radio that night and Johnston figured he was still nearby and heading east. He gathered up a few of his best trackers and started east and thought for sure they were closing in on him, that they spot him walking along the highway. They’d catch him there with nowhere to hide and then they’d…well…have words just as he had warned the bugger.

  But how the fuck did he get all the way outside of Tucson? Bastard must have been running the entire way or…a bike! The little fucker was on a bike. And that means he could get outside of Tucson before Johnston and his men reached him. And there was no fucking way he was going to let that little squirt get away from him.

  “Dan,” Johnston called out in to the darkness of the camp.

  “Yeah, boss?” came a groggy voice behind him.

  “Were close to the safe house, right?”

  “Yep. Couple miles, no more.”

  “Then get off your fucking lazy ass, take Cracker, and go get the bikes.”

  “What? The ten speeds?” Dan said slowly coming awake.

  “No, not the ten speeds you dumb goat-fucker. The motor bikes.”

  Dan had come fully awake then and shivered with fear. They only used motor bikes under extreme emergencies, not for chasing someone down. Motor bikes were loud. Motor bikes could be heard for miles. Motor bikes attracted attention from the dead, “You sure about that, boss? We’ll probably catch up to him tomorrow on foot…”

  “He’s got a bicycle, you dumb cunt. We’ll never catch him.”

  Dan sat there silently thinking they would be smart just to let the little punk go. So what if he’d snatched a few things and boogied. More power to him. There was plenty of shit left just lying around. He’d never say such a thing out loud of course, he saw what Johnston had done to the last person would tried to change his mind.

  Dan shuddered and started grabbing up his gear. He’d get the bikes, he’d follow Johnston out after the kid, but if things got the least bit harry, Johnston was on his own. Dan would just turn his bike around and head west back home leaving Johnston to whatever his fate was.

  * * *

  My watch al
arm went off at 5:00 AM. The pre-dawn light was just beginning to wash out the stars as I packed my gear up and shimmied down to the ground. I pulled out my bike, loaded up, and then waited with the building between me and anyone who might be to the west of me. I waited an hour until the sun peeked over the horizon, then waited a bit linger until the entire sun was up. That should blind anyone’s infrared or night vision goggles and at least partially blind anyone with binoculars who might be to the west of me.

  I pulled out my radio and clicked it on to Channel five hoping if Johnston and his men got close enough, Dunst could warn me. I started peddling. My muscles were still sore but after a half an hour I was warmed up and riding smoothly. I hit the I-10 freeway and turned right heading into Tucson. I rode harder than usual hoping to put as much distance between Johnston and him men as I could and get through Tucson before mid-day. I thought I could outrun Johnston. I thought I could avoid the strange dead. I was wrong on both counts.

  Two hours later I was deep into Tucson when I saw the dead that Captain Dunst spoke about and he was right they were far different than any I had seen before. First, like every city I had been through, there were thousands of them. Maybe tens of thousands. Many of them were partially eaten but the vast majority had not decayed in the intense heat like the others in places like Blyth and Phoenix had. These all seemed relatively intact.

  And even stranger, they were all standing still. Every last single one was standing stock still in the streets of Tucson. Standing still and facing to the northeast almost directly at a range of mountains that circled Tucson to the north. They didn’t move. They didn’t make any noise. I was so shocked I rolled to a stop and looked at them in all their silent masses.

  I didn’t look for long. I didn’t really care what the dead were doing so long as they left me alone. I peddled along and not one turned to look at my way. That was just fine by me. But ten minutes later, I heard them. Not the dead, but the sound of motorcycles. Coming from the east and coming fast.