by Gwynn White
Victoria leaned in. Marty wore a conspiratorial smile on her face as if she were enjoying the moment.
“The other day, Liam was getting beat up by a bad man trying to rob us. Liam and his impatience to save me led him to a bad decision. The man pulled Liam out of our car and was getting ready to hurt him. Kill him, I think.”
“He told me something about that. He said some good Samaritan must have come along just in time, shot the man who was assaulting the two of you and then left while Liam was still unconscious.”
She laughed. “Well, I didn't tell him what really happened. I used his other gun—the one you have now—to shoot that man. I fired three times. The robber never knew what hit him. It was the first time I ever murdered someone—” She knew that wasn't an accurate statement. She smacked her lips as she thought of the right phrase. It wasn't murder to kill in self-defense. “It was the first time I killed someone. It was very disturbing to take a life.”
Forgive me Lord. I was happy to save Liam, not happy to kill that man.
Victoria let out a quiet whistle; she was impressed.
“I don't have much strength left in me, but Liam's dad fixed those guns so even a weakling like me could fire them. I just set the barrel on the frame of the car door, aimed, and let 'er rip. It wasn't hard at all.”
Her voice turned serious. “The crook fell down but crawled behind the car. Even with the gun, I was scared. The hardest part was that I had no strength to get out and tend to Liam. I let him lay there on the ground. Out cold. Time went by and I couldn't hold the gun anymore, and I figured the crook was dead, so I put it back in the backpack, and fell asleep. I have no idea how long we were both out. He came to at some point. Climbed back in. And away we went. Liam was none the wiser about what I'd done.”
“Why didn't you tell him? Wouldn't he be proud of you?”
“I go back and forth. I guess I feel, at this point, I'm old enough I don't want him to get ideas about doing crazy things to save me because he sees me as some heroic granny.”
“Well, you are pretty heroic!”
“This,” she swept her arms to signify she was talking about the world at large, “isn't about heroics. It's about carefully thinking how to survive. Nothing is going to be easy ever again. Security. Food. Shelter. You can't just run around the world shooting guns and being heroic. Eventually, it's going to catch you. They,” she pointed off into the distance behind the train, “will catch you.”
She waited a long time again before sharing her last piece of advice. “I didn't tell him I shot that man because Liam won't survive this world if he thinks there will always be someone there to take care of him.” She said it in a most serious tone but ended on a lighter note. “Even if there is.” She turned and gave Victoria her trademark wink.
As the train continued along the tracks, the sun started to make its presence known, though it was still below the horizon. They were able to see the graffiti-covered factories and industrial barge facilities on the right-of-way down the west bank of the Mississippi River.
They could both see Liam sitting at the very back of the platform, looking back toward downtown.
“I hope this isn't too forward to say, but I'm old and don't have time for subtlety anymore.” She chuckled at that.
“Liam is quite taken with you. I imagine you’ve figured that out. You are very pretty, of course, and you have a good heart. I have my reasons for liking you.” She reached out and touched Victoria’s arm. “Any boy his age would find you quite the catch. Usually, I wouldn't even think of saying this, but times are not normal by any stretch of the imagination.”
“Amen.”
“I sincerely hope you and Liam become good friends, and that you'll be in his life a long time. But, while I'm still around, please know that if Liam is ever forced to make a choice between saving you or saving me, I'm going to make sure he picks you. Do you understand what I'm saying, my dear?”
Victoria paused, slowly nodded, then added, “Thank you. Truly. We have been through so much already. Romance isn't really on my mind right now. Maybe if we get somewhere safe where I can think about more than zombies, looters, or the plague, we can talk about the future. We just have to make sure Liam never gets put into that position where he has to choose. I want us all to survive and be happy.”
“So do I, dear. So do I.”
But she had laid it down. And now that she had, she couldn't help but wonder if she had the strength to make good on the implications of her statement. She always came back to suicide. Her religion forbade killing oneself; it was considered a major sin. But if the choice came down to saving herself or saving Liam and Victoria by sacrificing herself, she believed God would understand her motives.
Dear Lord. Please help Liam and Victoria survive this plague.
She studied Liam, wondering what he was thinking.
Will the zombies follow us?
Sunrise on Day Four was minutes away.
16
The Tenth Circle
Liam sat and stared behind the train as he sensed it decelerate. The light of the morning was growing as the sun edged up to the horizon. He hoped to enjoy the sunrise while riding the train to safety, but it didn't look like that was going to happen.
They'd been moving at ten or fifteen miles per hour, still pushing the dead engine in front, but thankfully much too fast for the zombies to keep up. He could see them here or there come stumbling out of the buildings on his left. They tried to reach the train, but they fell behind, screaming when they missed the rolling stock of humans rumbling by.
I wonder if they'll follow us, even if they can't see us?
Another mystery of the Zombie Apocalypse.
He stood up and moved around the tractor-trailer so he could see why the train was stopping. It was slowing down as it approached the underside of the Jefferson Barracks Bridge, which carried a major interstate across the Mississippi River. It was also the most southern bridge in the St. Louis area. The last bridge over the river for many miles, as far as he could recall. No cars were crossing it now, though some soldiers were sitting on the span; a few looked over the side down to him. Not too far above the bridge were two small, thin aircraft—drones?—flying in circles.
He walked over to Victoria and Grandma, both still sitting near the wheels of the front trailer.
The early morning ambient light put Victoria in a soft glow that was almost magical. Sure, she was pretty in any light, but right now, covered in lots of dust and dirt from yesterday’s ordeals, she made Liam's heart level up. The light even took the harsh swelling of her lip and cheek and evened them out.
He wondered if she liked him, or merely tolerated him because she had no better prospects in this catastrophe. The insecure side of his heart said she wouldn't have given him the time of day in any other situation, but the pragmatist in him said she's had plenty of opportunities to ditch him and Grandma and traipse off with people and groups more prepared than him.
On balance, he accepted that she probably stuck with him because she liked him, at least as a friend. A “fall-of-civilization friend.” He hadn't had time to contemplate more.
They made a good team so far, and there was no reason to doubt she was going to stick with him for as long as it took to reach a safe destination—assuming one could ever be found. What would she do if they never found a respite? What if they had to be together for much longer?
All right, Liam. Stay focused on the here and now.
He finished his thought by agreeing with himself that indeed, she was pretty.
“You two look like you're conspiring,” he said as he approached Victoria and Grandma.
They had been conversing in low tones, but he was unable to glean any sense of what they were saying. They clammed up before he was close enough.
“Hey, Liam. Grandma and I were just talking about when you were a little baby. How you'd wear your diapers. That sort of thing.” She gave Grandma a smile and turned and gave Liam a smile and a wink.
H
e was near to feigning embarrassment when he saw her face had become black and blue in many spots. She had two black eyes to go with her cheek and swollen lips.
He still thought she was beautiful, but he was serious when he knelt down to look at her. “My god, your face. Are you doing OK?”
“Thanks. Yeah, I'm fine. It still hurts a bunch, but I have both my eyes, and my face will return to normal soon enough. I'll take it if it's the worst that happens to me this trip.”
He had a dark vision of that man punching this girl's face, and a wave of violent rage swept over him, a burning desire to track the man down and … When he realized that man was probably dead, the violence ebbed. A little.
“I don't have any serious meds to help you. Just some ibuprofen. Can't hurt, right?” He dug in his pack, pulled out some rust-colored caplets and passed them to her. She put them in her mouth one at a time, building up enough saliva to swallow each one.
“Do you know why they're stopping the train?” she asked after downing the last one.
“I think the Army is stopping us. I can see them up on the bridge. What would they want with a train full of refugees?”
Victoria looked at Grandma and made sure she was comfortable, then stood next to him so she could see too. She gave him a friendly tap on the shoulder. “Let's go check it out.”
There were no undead in the immediate area. This piece of railroad throughway was mostly empty riverbank on the left side, and a steep escarpment covered in trees on the other. He knew, by the location of the bridge, the area up the hill was the massive Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery. As a fan of zombie books and movies, he noted the irony that the one place you don't find them in real life is the cemetery. Zombies don't rise from the dead, nor do they find living people hanging out there. Maybe that's where they should hide?
There were a few walkers well behind the train, but otherwise, it looked pretty safe to step off. A few men and women ran back to provide security for everyone.
Victoria climbed off first, with him close behind.
Jones called down to the pair to ask where they were going, but once they told him, he laughed. “I'll stay back here. Someone has to keep your Grandma from running off!”
“Nobody's tossing Grandma,” she said from behind the tire with a good deal of humor.
Many people up the line of train cars had the same idea. They took the opportunity to stretch their legs and get out of the cramped cars. Many had climbed into empty coal cars for last night’s escape and were now trying to find better options with more room. A good number found the middle flatcar.
Liam and Victoria noticed one man drift further outside the orbit of the crowd, then continue into the woods. He was apparently going to climb the escarpment to gain access to the bridge above them.
“Was that your friend Hayes?” Victoria asked.
“Let's go find out.”
They walked up to the front of the train, where the passengers were thickest—most of the coal cars were toward the front. They noticed a small trail leading to the hillside. Whoever they’d spotted going up this hill would be easy to follow on such an obvious pathway. The man was already very near the top.
“That's got to be Hayes.” He was sure of it now that he could see the man's clothing. The same suit pants and shirt. He couldn't see it from this direction, but he could visualize his ugly tie.
“Do you think he stopped the train?”
“I don't know, but we need to find out. Maybe he knows how we can get out of the city.”
You read my mind.
As they reached the top of the hillside, level with the decking of the bridge, they moved cautiously so as not to be seen by the military. Liam didn't think Hayes ever turned around to check if anyone was following, but they couldn't make any assumptions.
“I guess we can't hide from them,” Liam pointed to the drones above. They shared a nervous laugh.
Hayes had walked about 100 yards onto the northern span of the bridge. This put him about a quarter of the way over the river. The near side of the bridge roadway was completely empty, so there was no possible way to avoid detection if they tried to pursue him.
They crouched at the very end of the decking, partially behind the concrete side railing. Unable to follow Hayes onto the bridge, he examined the highway as it approached the bridge complex. To their right, a massive barricade was set up with tractor-trailers, concrete road barriers, orange construction barrels, and some shipping containers tossed off to the sides of each lane and median to prevent cars from having any approach to the bridge. Cars were parked on the highway as far as he could see back into this part of St. Louis.
“Odd that there aren't people swarming this bridge.”
Victoria looked around before replying. “Maybe the zombies swarmed through here and chased them all off?”
“If the people were run off because of the zombies, where'd they go?”
They both turned their attention back to the man they were following.
Hayes was in front of a line of Army Humvees, though even from here, he could see they were not letting him get very close. A lone person had come out to meet him, and he or she was wearing a yellow biohazard suit.
“It doesn't look like they want to get close to him. Does that mean they think he has the plague? He didn't look sick.”
“If he has it, we all have it. He's been with us for two whole days now,” Victoria suggested in a reverent tone.
Victoria's answer troubled Liam in a myriad of ways. The most tragic was the thought of his friend having the plague. Someone so vibrant and young should never have to suffer from this disease. He thought back to his very first encounter with the yoga lady. She also typified the young and the vibrant, and it still took her. That event had horrified him, but it would pale immediately if Victoria got it. Could he … kill … his new friend?
He wasn't willing to even entertain the notion.
He consoled himself by noting he barely felt anything at the thought he could have it.
They watched as Hayes discussed something with the roadblock representative. He was very animated in his gestures, and paced back and forth while he spoke. They could hear fragments of what he was saying, even at this distance, because he was often yelling in anger.
He couldn't make out anything useful.
After about five minutes, Hayes got super agitated.
In the midst of his ranting and gesticulations, he moved around the person with the hazmat suit and made as if he was going to walk up to the checkpoint in the middle of the bridge. Immediately, the soldiers leveled their rifles at him. He was maybe ten yards from the soldiers, and over 100 yards from him and Victoria—and he clearly heard the rounds being loaded into the chambers of weapons. He also heard one of the soldiers shout, “STAND DOWN, SIR, OR WE WILL KILL YOU.”
Victoria let out a little whistle. “I guess they think he's a serious threat.”
“Yeah, if they won't let him over, they'll never allow the rest of us.”
For a few tense moments, he didn't know if Hayes was going to back down. Any normal person would immediately back off, but Hayes seemed to stand there for a very long time thinking about it.
“Is he trying to kill himself?” Liam wondered. Everyone handled the stress of the Z-poc differently. His books reinforced that.
Hayes started to slowly back away.
Victoria had been leaning forward as if willing herself to see and hear what was taking place so far away, but now she leaned back. Liam also let out a little extra breath he'd been holding. The action seemed to have died down. Hayes was now talking again to the person in the hazmat get-up, though if he had to assign a look to his posture from 100 yards away, it would be crestfallen.
They chatted for a few more minutes until Hayes started walking back toward the end of the bridge where he and Victoria were holed up.
“Do we stay here or try to get back to the train?”
Is everything we do life or death now?
/> He looked at Hayes walking back, head down with a brisk stride. He looked at the soldiers at the roadblock. They still hadn't moved from their menacing positions. He surveyed the train down below the bridge and judged whether they could make it back without being seen. “I don't think we can avoid him at this point. We might as well force his hand and see what he'll tell us.”
“Sounds good. But let's meet up with him over on the hill so that the train passengers can see us. We don't want to meet him by ourselves. Remember … dark and scary night,” she said, ending in her spooky voice from her earlier tall tale.
“You win Ms. Scary. Just go!”
They got away from the end of the bridge and sat out in the open so Hayes wouldn't be surprised. He felt the best approach was to be friendly, even if he didn't feel friendly toward this man who was clearly lying to them about who he was and what he knew.
He was hoping to change that.
It wasn't long before Hayes came around the corner. “You dumb kids almost got me killed,” he said without preamble.
Neither he nor Victoria had any response.
“Ah, cat got your tongues?”
He came over and got directly in front of him, though he was looking back and forth at both of them as he spoke. “I knew you guys had followed me, but I thought you'd have better sense than to be seen by the Army up on the bridge. Especially you,” he pointed to Victoria, “since you seem to have the brains in this outfit.”
“You guys might not have realized this, but while you were out on your nature walk, you were under the watchful eye of snipers. See the drones up there? These people are deadly serious about not letting anyone, and I mean anyone, cross this river.”
“Is that why they threatened to shoot you?” he pushed back.
Hayes looked at him and seemed to rethink his whole approach. He sighed heavily and sat down next to them on the rocks, with the train below partially obscured by the trees on the hillside.
“I can't help but respect you kids. You've done a better job than most in staying alive. That's the only benchmark that matters anymore. Believe me, I know. But you have to realize this is much bigger than you are. I'm not the enemy here. These Army boys are under orders—very stupid orders if you ask me—but orders nonetheless. You can't just go sneaking around under the watchful eye of those people like you're on some kind of high school field trip. They will shoot you, shoot me, shoot your Grandma, shoot the smallest babe on that train—just on the off chance they can stop the disease from crossing this river.”
