The Great Wreck

by Stewart, Jack

  “Fuck you and fuck them!” he screamed.

  I laughed out load. I actually laughed in his face, “Enjoy the quiet time while you can James. We might be here a while.”

  Turns out “a while” was nearly a full day. I didn’t care. I had food, water, a toilet, and a bed. I was snug as a bug in a rug as my Dad used to say. James finally wore down and collapsed on his bed. I thought I’d heard him whimpering maybe even crying. I think if they’d kept him in here too much longer, he’d have broken and gone over the edge but the next morning one of the men came down escorting and older man, a little on the heavy side and looking exactly like each and every survivor in this world looked: dirty, half crazed, and low on sleep.

  He pulled up a chair in front of my cell and sat down. The other man stood behind him with his fully automatic rifle.

  “Have you been bit?” he said without so much as an introduction but I knew he was the Doc, the man the others had talked about, “Come in contact with the dead’s bodily fluids? Blood saliva, stuff like that?”

  “No,” I said simply as I sat up on the edge of the bed, “Thanks for the food and water. And really, really thank you for the toilet. I haven’t felt this close to normal since Los Angeles.”

  Doc laughed a bit, “Toilets are what separated man from beast,” he said, then shifted subject, “So you did come from LA?” Doc said, “Marti told us that’s what you said but I thought maybe she meant Los Alamos. Marti also says she thinks was can trust you,” he said looking at me through his round glasses.

  “I guess so,” I replied. I really didn’t care either way.

  “I have to assume that, if you’d walk across the entire southwest to get away from Los Angles that there’s nothing left there.”

  I nodded my head, “We did meet some folks headed west. They said they had heard of a safe haven called Burbank. We didn’t hear about it when we were in the city so it might just be a rumor.”

  Doc nodded, “It makes sense. Burbank was set up as a Green Zone. Remember those?”

  I did. A few years ago, a group calling themselves La Raza started driving trucks full of explosive into government buildings all across the southwest. Said they were protesting the U.S. government’s treatment of illegal immigrants. It got so bad that city and state governments in Californian, Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas started walling off hospitals, police and fire stations, and government civic centers to keep them from being blown up by the truck bombs. Modeled them after the Green Zone areas the army had built during the Iraqi Wars. Eventually, the groups were hunted down and either killed or jailed but the governments kept building green zones.

  “So we’re in a green zone then?” I asked.

  Doc nodded, “Yep. A small one. Didn’t help very much though. There were so many dead that they actually broke down the south wall. After the initial outbreak and everyone was either dead or gone, we found this place and got that wall back up, cleared out the compound, and set up shop. We help anyone coming through, keep anyone who wants to stay. Not many do though, they want to head north and get to Sandia or east to Dallas Green Zone. A few are heading west to see what’s there. Us, we’re waiting for the winter before heading up to Sandia. Is that where you’re headed?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, OK then young man, I am Dennis Hark but the folks here call me Doc,” he said and signaled to the man standing behind him, “And this is Birch.”

  “I’m Thomas Greenly,” I said getting to my feet, “How come you locked us up?”

  “People are strange, Thomas. They want to survive. They think that even though they’ve been bit, and even though the infection is one hundred percent fatal in every case we’ve seen, that they might be immune. They are not, son, so if you’ve been bit, just show me and we’ll take care of you. Now, have you been bit?”

  “No, sir. Sometimes I wish I’d been bit early on and not had to go through what I’ve been through since this whole thing started. Maybe I should tell you I’ve been bit so you can take care of me and I can get out of this mess for good.”

  Doc nodded, “I’ve heard that so many times from so many different people that I wonder if we are all in hell and this is our everlasting punishment. When a person would rather be put down than survive…well, that’s pretty much the end of the world right?” he said then continued, “We keep folks here for twenty four hours when they come in. The symptoms of the infection usually show up by then, but we’ve had cases…” he trailed off and said no more about whatever cases he’d seen, “So, I don’t think you’re infected. Let this one out Birch,” he said and moved his chair down to James’s cell.

  “Now this one, well, I don’t care if he is infected or not. I think we should just keep him locked up good and tight. What do you think there, cowboy?” Doc said sitting down in front of James.

  James rolled up and out of his bunk lightning fast and was on his feet with his arm reaching between the bars but neither Doc or Birch jumped back and were well out of his reach, “I think you all ought to lock up your women and little girls because when I get out of here, I am going to fuck them all, then slowly cut them into pieces, and feed them to the dead outside. I’ll record their screams for you to listen too after I’m done with them.”

  Doc and Birch just looked at James until he dropped his arm and stood back from the bars, “OK, then. That answers that question. How about this one: have you been bit?”

  “You’re wife bit my dick. How’s that for an answer?” James said.

  “Hmm,” Doc replied unfazed, “You don’t look so sharp there, son. You have a spot of the flu?”

  “Well, Dad,” James replied sarcastically, “I’ve been out on the fucking road for months running from the dead. I haven’t showered since god knows when, and I’ve been eating food from a fucking can with my filthy fucking fingers! So, yes I might have picked up a little bug along the way.”

  “I don’t think he’s gonna behave, Doc,” Birch said, “We either should keep him locked up, put him down, or toss him over the wall.”

  “You don’t have enough hair on your sack, you skinny ass flap, to come in here and get me.”

  “I don’t need to go in there, partner. I’ll just shoot your legs from right here and after you’ve bleed out a bit, then I’ll come in, drag you out, and toss you over the wall where you can join your friends out there. I’m sure they will be glad to see you.”

  That shut James up.

  “Well, I’m not for shooting a caged man, so we’ll just leave you locked up here for a bit, young man. You have enough food and water for a day or two while we figure out what to do with you.”

  “Just let me out, then. We’ll go over the wall and you’ll never have to us again,” he said sullenly.

  Doc and Birched looked at me and were about to say something when Birch’s radio squawked to life, “Birch, Doc. You need to come up here.”

  Doc looked at Birch, “Will it ever stop?”

  “When our hearts do if we’re lucky,” Birch replied then looked at me, “Come on kid. Follow us up and after we see what’s going on, I’ll have Marti get you some clean close and let you shower.”

  I didn’t even look at James as I walked by his cell. They wouldn’t kill James but they weren’t going to let him stay. But he’d try to come back if I stayed with them. So I’d have to go a few more miles with him. But when we were far enough away, I’d slip off into the vast open spaces of the desert and leave him far behind.

  We moved quickly up to the third floor of the county building and into a large conference room. Marti was there with at least six other people all crowded around a series of computer screens that had been bolted to the wall. Each screen showed a section of the Green Zone walls that surrounded the government center. Most just showed empty streets but the ones pointing south, well…

  “My god where are they all coming from?” a woman in her late thirties asked, “Doc, are they all coming from Mexico?

  Doc walked up to the bank of screens and s
tarted flipping switches and moving a series of joysticks until all the cameras that could look south were pointed at what everyone was looking at.

  I don’t know. El Paso? Juarez? Austin maybe? I guess it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that if there are enough of them, the south wall won’t hold.”

  I looked at the monitors and saw, far off on the horizon a tiny moving black line distorted by the heat waves. The tiny figures that made up that black line stretched from east to west all wobbled and blurred together.

  I didn’t have to ask what it was. I knew: the dead. A vast wall of dead were moving our direction. They would swamp the compound, knock down the walls, and break into the buildings where we were hiding. I remember reading a story when I was younger of a south African farm that was overrun by ants. The farmers had seen the ants come over the horizon in a black line just like this. Or was it locus? Maybe vacuum cleaner sales men? I couldn’t remember. Probably not salesmen though.

  So much for a safe haven.

  The woman, whose name was Harriet, was petite and athletic with short brown hair and dressed in SWAT coveralls, military boots, and a vest stuffed with ammunition. She wrapped her arms around herself in fear and asked, “Maybe if we shut down the generator? Kept inside and quiet? Maybe they’ll just go around.” Looking around at the faces of those near her, I could see that no one actually believed that.

  “Maybe,” another man named Cartwright said, “But with that many, they’ll start bumping up against that south wall until the ones behind them bump into them, and so on until the pressure takes the gate down. Then they do the same to the doors around the buildings or one of those freaky fast dead would catch wind of us if we were to hunker down inside.”

  Doc nodded as did the others and said, “We’ll need to get to the warehouse.”

  “When do we leave?”

  Doc looked at the screen again, “It’ll take them a day or two to get here, I think. Let’s get all the extra vehicles, especially the armored police carriers up against the southern gate. See if that won’t hold them or at least keep as many out as we can. That way we can clear out the compound again when we come back.

  “Pack up all the food and water we can carry, shut down the generator, and get ready to leave in the morning.”

  The adults all moved quickly out of the conference room to the their assigned duties leaving Marti and I alone, “Don’t worry,” she said, “We’ll get out in plenty of time. We set up a completely sealed off police armory and warehouse about ten miles from here. The doors are made of thick concrete and every window has been sealed. We’ve stockpiled food and water there as well. It’s not as nice as this place but it’s safe. No way the dead can get in.”

  I thought about the warehouse I had raided outside of Phoenix and knew what she was talking about, “I’ve seen this all across the desert,” I said pointing to the screens, “Thousands upon thousands of dead moving north. Where are they going?”

  Marti shrugged, “Marti Gras? Heading north for the summer? Brotherhood of the Dead convention? March of Dimes? Who knows. I don’t think the dead even know,” then turned to me, “You want a shower? A change of clothes? We won’t be leaving until the morning, so I can show you where the showers are and get you a room for tonight.”

  A shower. Those were like magic words to me, “Oh my god, yes!” I said feeling like it was Christmas, “I haven’t showered since…I can’t even remember how long it’s been since I’ve showered!”

  Marti smiled and led me down to the second floor where there was a locker room, “Leave you dirty clothes in this bag and I’ll…well…I’ll probably burn them. I’ll leave you some clean cloths outside where you can get them,” she said eyeing me critically, “I’d say a medium shirt and, say, a size 29 waist. What size shoes do you wear or do you want to keep those?” she said pointing to my tattered boots.

  “Size nine,” I said and walked into the brightly lit locker room. There was a stack of towels on a nearby shelf and rows of lockers. I started to peel off my filthy cloths then turned to see Marti still standing there with a sly smile on her face, “Do you need to inspect me for bite marks?” I asked.

  “Maybe. Maybe I just want to see you naked,” she replied then turned slowly to leave the locker room as I blushed furiously.

  Marti left giving me another one of her feral little smiles and I finished undressing. I tossed my filthy cloths outside the locker room door hoping Marti didn’t inspect them too closely when she threw them away. They were covered with all manner of filthy, gore, blood, and gunk better left undescribed. I walked to the first shower stall and flipped on the water. It shot out in a strong stream and I wondered where they got the water pressure form. A few seconds later the water heated up and I stepped into the luxurious spray.

  Ahhh! Hot water! I thought as I let the spray and heat soak into my muscles and bones. Toilets and showers. I could see why Doc wanted to reclaim this place after the wave of dead passed through.

  The shower had an old, dried bar of soap in the soap dish. I grabbed it and lathered up marveling as the water turned brown with all the dirt and grime washing off of me. I lathered up over and over again scrubbing every crack and crevice until I felt raw and my skin began to prune up. I wondered if Sandia had this. I wondered if it might be best to stay. I knew I couldn’t, not with James but maybe I could ditch James and come back.

  I finished rinsing myself for the third time and turned the water off. I reached for the towel and dried myself seeing that Marti had retuned and left a large piled of new cloths on a bench. Had she stopped to watch me shower? I thought so as I grabbed a pair of boxer-briefs and slipped them on. Oh the feel of clean underwear!

  I spotted a bar of deodorant, a tooth brush, and toothpaste next to the cloths. I had almost forgotten about deodorant. God how I must have stunk! I slapped the bar into my armpits, then pulled on a long sleeve shirt, cargo pants, and then the boots. I felt human again! I then went and brushed my teeth, then made my way out of the locker room.

  Marti was at the door leaning against the wall, smiling, “I’ll show you to your room,” she said. We went up to the third floor where most of the offices had been converted into bedrooms. I liked that. I don’t think I could have slept on the first floor, walls or no without bars on the windows or something else to convince me the dead couldn’t get in.

  “This is your room,” she said, “We have dinner in the kitchen on the second floor around six. Doc kills the lights at nine or so and shuts down the generator. Most of us go to bed then,” she said leaning against the door frame, “I might be awake, though.”

  I turned around the small room with the tiny desk and singled bed, “I will probably be up,” I replied, “It might be a bit tight in here though,” I said as I sat down on the edge of the bed.

  “I can make it work,” she said and slipped out of the room. I felt a little burst of heat as she spun and left the room.

  A few minutes later, Birch dropped by and knocked, “Here’s your gear,” he said and dropped my pack at the door, “Marti tell you dinner at six?”

  I nodded.

  “Good. Harriet is a mean cook but watch out for her salsa, it’s as spicy as fuck and will hurt you badly in the morning, if you know what I mean,” he said with a smile and left.

  I grabbed my pack and went through the things that had survived my trip across the dessert. I carefully cleaned my guns, found a sink in a small kitchen nearby and topped off my water pack and bottles. Later, I’d see if I could scavenge some food and another set of clean cloths. Then I’d be set to start heading head north again.

  I packed up all my gear, then found Birch sitting at the bank of monitors, “Hi. Can I get a few cans of food from your stock? And another set of cloths?”

  Birch nodded absently watching the dead slowly filling up the streets and pouring onto the highway many miles to the south, “Sure thing, kiddo. Ask Harriet, she’s in the kitchen now.”

  I made my way down to the second floor ki
tchen marveling at the lights, feeling as close to normal as I had since the outbreak began. I popped my head into the kitchen area and saw Harriet working over an amazing array of pots and pans. The smell was intoxicating. I had been eating out of a can and hadn’t had cooked food for months.

  “Hi Harriet, I’m Thomas,” I said sticking out my hand.

  Harriet wiped her hands off on a kitchen towel and tossed it over her shoulder, then took my hand and pumped it up and down, “Hello Thomas. Welcome! Dinner will be ready in a bit. Do you want a snack?”

  My stomach roared so loud that the dead must have heard it and I said, “Oh, yes, ma’am,” I replied.

  “Handsome and so polite! I can see why Marti likes you,” she said with a smile and whipped up a sandwich. The bread was a bit stale but the tuna salad was just fine. She handed me a bag of chips and a Coke to go with it. The chips were a stale but my body craved the salt so I ate two bags. I washed it all down with a Coke that was like a bubbly ambrosia. I had forgotten how much I missed the little things we had lost.

  Harriet watched me devour my small lunch and nodded seeing the look on my face, “I know how you feel. All the things we took for granted, gone. But things will get better, Thomas. Trust me.”

  “Because they can’t get any worse?” I asked looked forlornly at my empty can of Coke.

  “Yes and no,” she said stirred a huge pot of beans then dumped in a can of tomatoes, “Things can always get worse but the people up in the Sandia mountains are doing more than just surviving, they are rebuilding. And someday we’ll reclaim the things we have lost.”