by Bob Howard
The Chief left Mark where he was and went back to the open car door. He leaned in and reconnected the ignition wires then tested it by turning the key. It immediately started, and we got back in.
“You can’t leave us here with nothing,” yelled Mark. “We helped you.”
Jean lowered her window further and said to them both, “We would have gotten out of that house without your help, you ass.”
The Chief added, “A favor is only as good as what you have done for us lately, man, and what you’ve done lately really stinks. You two are on your own.”
We drove away with Mark half-heartedly running behind us and Becky on her knees in the grass. She looked like she was praying, but I think she was still begging. I don’t think either of them were aware of the two or three dozen infected dead that were emerging from the trees. We could have saved them in time, but I looked around at the faces of my companions, and I wasn’t seeing mercy.
My moment of guilt was more for the realization that Jean and I had the whole back seat to ourselves than for leaving them behind to die, and I had no doubt they were going to die. We didn’t waste any time getting comfortable, and for at least a while, the world felt right again.
*******
We drove without another incident for a long time. There were plenty of accidents and plenty of bodies, but nothing indicated any of the scenes had played out recently. Most of the time there were trees lining both sides of the road, and they weren’t just window dressing with communities hidden behind them. This part of South Carolina was mostly state parks, national forests, and flood plains.
The bridges over the South Santee River and the North Santee River were the biggest concern for the Chief. He asked me to show Kathy and Jean on the map.
“It’s the one place I would put a trap if I had a need to do so,” said the Chief.
Both bridges were long enough to defend, and there was a straight stretch of marshland and woods between the two rivers. There was nowhere to go if you were trapped in between. We approached the first bridge at about fifty miles per hour, and all four of us were nervous but ready. Three of us had windows down and weapons in position.
We crested the highest point on the bridge and saw nothing but clear road ahead. The Chief put his foot down on the gas and we rocketed up to eighty. I think he wanted to put this part of the trip behind us as quickly as possible.
We made it over the first bridge and rapidly covered the distance between the two bridges. It looked like we were going to rocket over the second bridge, but the Chief slammed on the brakes so hard that we almost fell off the back seat. Chief Barnes turned the wheel and eased us over to the center and then he brought us to a stop just below the top of the bridge.
He leaned over the center console and said to the rest of us, “I would make someone believe they were home free by not having anyone on the first bridge, but I would have a spotter way off to the left or right side of the second bridge. Right now, if someone is on the other side, they’re wondering where we went because they can’t see the center of the bridge.”
“We can’t just sit here,” said Kathy.
“I know, but we can get a look at what’s over there first. If it’s a small enough group, we probably have enough firepower to handle them,” he answered.
We all got out and ran crouched over until we were close to the top the bridge, then we crawled the rest of the way. The Chief signaled for the rest of us to wait while he eased himself the last couple of feet. He held out a hand with two fingers up, and crawled backward toward us.
“These guys are stupid,” he said. “They’re actually walking up the bridge. They’re already within range for me to drop them, but there’s no way a sniper could be in position to hit us because we’re so high.”
Kathy said, “Take them out or let them walk all the way first?”
Chief Barnes smiled. “I’m thinking we let them walk all the way and then disarm them and see what we can learn. They’re either totally dumb, or they have an army so big that we’re not getting through unless they let us.”
“How are we going to know which it is even if we capture them,” asked Jean? “They could lie.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” said the Chief.
Kathy, Jean, and I let out a collective groan at the bad pun because he said it with such a straight face.
“What?” He asked.There was that innocent look again.
None of us dignified him with an answer, so he gave us a look that said, “Whatever,” and crawled back to the crest of the bridge.
Even though we were below the Chief and flat to the ground, we could tell how it played out. The Chief eased his M-16 to his shoulder and said to the approaching men, “Put your weapons on the ground, your hands on your heads, and come on up.”
One of them answered loud enough for us to hear, “There are over a hundred of us at the bottom of the bridge.”
The Chief answered them, “And you were expendable? Now, I told you what to do, and I expect you to do it.”
Within about a minute the two men came into view of the rest of us. They paused when they saw three more M-16’s aimed at them, but the Chief said, “Keep walking until you’re all the way over the top.”
We kept our guns on them until they were well past us and out of view from the other side.
The Chief said, “Talk to them Kathy. I’ll keep watch for any friends they may have.”
Once again, the two men seemed surprised by the handoff of authority. Kathy told them to sit but to keep their hands on their heads. They did as they were told, and I circled around behind them. Jean moved to a position behind Kathy.
Both men were middle aged, somewhere around forty-five. The one to Kathy’s left spoke first and said, “You all seem to work well together. Want to join up with us?”
“No, but thanks for the offer,” said Kathy. “We’re just passing through.”
The one who had spoken first looked at the other. I was thinking they had seen their share of people drive over the bridge, but we were the first to stop. This was new behavior to them, and they were unsure of themselves.
Kathy said, “Here’s the deal, gentlemen. All we want is to be on our way. If we don’t leave soon, we’re spending the night on this bridge. If we spend the night here, I’m throwing you over the rail.”
I saw them exchanging looks again, and there seemed to be an unspoken decision. The one who had asked us to join them said, “Okay, we don’t have a hundred guns at the bottom of the bridge, but we have enough. What we want is to keep infected from coming into our area.”
“We’re not getting naked for you if that’s what you’re asking for,” said Kathy. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Officer McGinley from the Charleston PD. I know things have really changed in the last month, but you probably don’t know just how much. We just came from Goose Creek, and the Naval Weapons Station has been overrun. All we want is to pass through.”
“So,” said the man, “you’re Kathy McGinley?” He asked her as if he knew her name. “If you’re Kathy McGinley, how the hell did you get to Goose Creek. The last time we saw you, you were sailing away into the sunset on a cruise ship.”
It was our turn to be uncertain, but I knew what was going on since I saw the news broadcasts from a place not too far from here. I couldn’t have been the only survivor watching as the drama played out at the cruise terminal.
“Kathy,” I said. “They were watching the same channel I was. They saw you on TV.”
One turned halfway to me and asked, “What channel was that?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m not from this area, and the man doing the news didn’t give the station’s call letters. They were too busy trying to stay alive.”
He studied me for a moment and said, “One more question. What happened at the station?”
“No idea,” I answered. “I haven’t tuned in for a long time.” I wasn’t going to tell him about the last time I saw the stati
on on the air because I didn’t know if it was safe for them to know that I had been holed up somewhere in the area.
He turned back toward Kathy who asked him, “Satisfied?”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” he said. “Satisfied by what?”
“You know what happened in Charleston, and I think you know I’m telling you the truth, but I can’t really prove it,” she said.
The man who hadn’t spoken yet said, “You don’t look like the lady they interviewed on the ship.”
“And that would be because I wouldn’t give the reporter an interview,” said Kathy. “I could have known that from watching the broadcasts, but that lady right there was a nurse on that ship, and the big guy up there was a Chief on board, too.” She gestured toward Jean and the Chief.
The first guy asked again, “So, how did you wind up in Goose Creek, and then up here on this bridge? You never answered before.”
“It’s a long story, and there’s nothing in it that would prove to you who I am, so why bother?”
“What happened to the ship?” He asked.
“You know what happened,” she said. “The same thing happened that happens everywhere, but when it happens on a ship, things get bad in a hurry. We got off in time.” Kathy didn’t clarify how I fit into the picture. It was better to let them assume I was a passenger.
“If you know what happens,” said the spokesman, “then you know why we can’t just let you pass through.”
Kathy was smart, and she showed it with her next question. “If any of us in this little group has been bitten, would we let them tag along, or would we take care of the problem ourselves?”
The other guy asked, “Why does that prove anything, lady?”
“It doesn’t prove a thing,” she said. “It just shows that we understand your dilemma. Now, you have to decide if you’re going to let us pass through.”
They didn’t look like they were ready to make the hard decision, and the spokesman asked, “If we say we will, you’re just going to let us go?”
Jean answered before Kathy could, “What choice do we have? There are still good people alive in this world, and killing you wouldn’t be our first choice.”
Kathy moved up closer to them, probably so they could see her eyes when she spoke. “Put your hands down. You’re arms must be getting tired.”
They both gratefully brought their hands down. The man who had done most of the talking asked if he could reach into his pocket. With me still behind them and Jean keeping a close eye on them, Kathy just nodded.
He pulled out a small radio and slowly put it up to his face.
“Jason, this is Hampton. We’re going to be riding back. Tell everyone to stand down and let the vehicle pass. They’ll drop us off after we cross the Waccamaw River. Tell all check points it’s a green Suburban, and Kathy McGinley of the Charleston PD is with us.”
We were all caught off guard by the sudden generosity. An escort to the other side of the Waccamaw River meant we would be protected crossing three more bridges as well as going through a city without getting shot at. Georgetown wasn’t big, but there were plenty of guns. Hunting deer was a way of life here, so there would be scopes and good shooters.
We were also surprised at the extent of the recognition given to Kathy. The people of this area considered her to be a hero.
Kathy said, “You control Georgetown?”
“Yes,” said Hampton, “but only because we were lucky. The infected poured south from Surfside toward Pawley’s Island, and we retreated to the bridge over the Waccamaw River.”
“But how did you get control of a whole town?” I asked. “We all know what’s happening. People get bitten, and relatives don’t turn them in. Next thing you know, someone else gets bitten.”
“That’s what happened on the ship,” Kathy added.
Hampton lowered his eyes to his hands and then looked up at Kathy. “It’s what she said about there being good people left in the world. It’s only a matter of time before someone gets through with the infection, or there’s already someone inside our lines who has it but isn’t telling. That’s more likely the case, so to answer your question, I have no illusion that we have control over a whole town, but we can try. Right? Until that time, we need to remember to be good people.”
Kathy called out to the Chief that we were loading up, so he came back down to us. “Your people must want you to come back in one piece. Nothing has moved down there,” he said.
He held out his hand to Hampton and helped him from the pavement. “I’m Chief Joshua Barnes, that’s Jean and Ed’s behind you. It appears you know Kathy.”
“Only by reputation,” said Hampton. “That was one of the only broadcasts along the coast, and everyone saw what she did. It’s a shame that it didn’t turn out better. Any other survivors?”
“Not that we know of,” said Kathy. “When it went to hell, it went fast. If not for the Chief, I wouldn’t have made it out.”
“This is Ward,” said Hampton. “He’s been with me since this started. He may be more skeptical than I am, but he’s a good guy.” Ward grunted at the comment, but he gave everyone a half smile.
We shook hands all around and headed for the car. We weren’t far from Mud Island, but we all wanted to be back before the sun went down. It was hard to believe it had only been since that morning that we loaded up the seaplane and set out for the Naval Weapons Station.
There was plenty of room in the car, and I couldn’t sense any tension for the first time today. With escorts, we would be to the end of the road by Mud Island in no time.
******
When we passed the guards at the bottom of the bridge there were mostly friendly waves. Some of the people actually yelled at Kathy and asked for her to look their way so they could get a picture. Kathy looked at Hampton, and he shrugged his shoulders at her as if to say, “What did you expect?”
“Did you think I was the only one who saw the broadcasts, Officer McGinley? Hell, there’s more than one family going around telling people they had relatives on that ship. Fact is, we’ll never know, will we?”
Jean asked, “How many people do you figure you have in this town, Hampton?”
“Georgetown had a population of about nine thousand before that day when everything went crazy, but that includes everyone who was at work when it happened. A lot of people were at their jobs in Pawley’s Island, Surfside, and Myrtle Beach. Being a weekday meant people weren’t home when people started biting people, and people started trying to evacuate at the same time people started trying to get home from work,” said Hampton.
“When the infected started pouring down from Surfside, a lot of them were people who lived in Georgetown and got caught up in the traffic jams. Those who got out of their cars and started walking got into trouble when they couldn’t get away from the big herds of the infected,” he added.
I asked, “Hampton, where were these traffic jams?” I was secretly dreading that we were going to be blocked on Highway 17 and be forced to walk part of the way.
“We sent out some of our best people to have a look, and just shy of Simmonsville the road is pretty much blocked. They said too many people had tried to cross over to the North side of the highway, and that caused a traffic jam in the median and all of the lanes. We decided that the best thing to do was to leave it alone. It’s not a great barrier, but it will slow down trouble from that direction, living or dead,” he said.
I liked Hampton and trusted him, but I didn’t want to give away the fact that we weren’t going all the way to Simmonsville. He might be trustworthy, but if he said something to the wrong person, word might get around.
If Georgetown fell apart the same way everywhere else did, more than a few people might get the idea that we could take them in. If I was correct, our turn toward the island would be less than a mile before the traffic jam Hampton was talking about. That meant we also reaped the benefit of another barrier from the North.
We passed the small tow
n airport, took a small bridge over a smaller river that I didn’t see the name of, then reached downtown Georgetown. The road took a sharp turn toward the East and went straight at the ocean. Along both sides of the road we saw people boarding up homes and businesses. The population of this small town was preparing for a siege.
Word hadn’t spread this far, so people didn’t know there was a celebrity in the car. Most didn’t even look in our direction, and none bothered to wave. I figured we would find out soon enough what they were waiting for, but I was surprised that the hoards of infected dead hadn’t made it to this area yet.
Kathy asked Hampton, “Is that our bridge up ahead?”
He answered, “No, that’s the first bridge over the Great Pee Dee River, then we’ll come to the second bridge over the Waccamaw River. If we get a large hoard like the one you described at the Naval Weapons Station, we’re going to drop the Waccamaw bridge and fall back to the one over the Great Pee Dee. We already have the charges in place. Our scouts have told us there’s a real mess above the big traffic jam, but it hasn’t overflowed yet.”
Before we had completely crossed the bridge over the Great Pee Dee River, we could see the Waccamaw bridge. I think we were all just a bit excited to be getting so near to our home, but I felt bad for Hampton. While we would be safe in our shelter, this area was going to be the next to go. From what we had seen, dropping the first bridge would buy them some time, and dropping the second bridge was going to buy them even more, but the end result was inevitable. The infection was probably already on the wrong side of the bridges.
A couple of hundred yards past the end of the Waccamaw bridge was a solid line of trees, and the highway changed from being two lanes back to four with a wide grassy median.
Hampton motioned for the Chief to pull over to the side of the road where a group of men had set up a check point. They had hunting rifles with scopes aimed down the road, and a few of the men had set up deer stands to use as watch towers. It looked like a good set up because a horde in the numbers that had overrun the Weapons Station would be restricted to the road.
