The Survivalist (National Treasure)

by Arthur T. Bradley

  He pointed to a large brick building off to their right. A sign out front read “Skate-O-Rama.”

  “You ever been roller skating?”

  Samantha shook her head. “My mom said it was too dangerous.” She giggled. “It’s funny, isn’t it? Here I am riding a horse on my way to get a dead body guarded by who knows what kind of monsters, and she thought skating was dangerous!”

  “Different times.”

  “Yeah,” she said, never losing the smile, “different times.”

  They continued past the skating rink and approached a turnoff marked with a bright red sign that read “Freedom Elementary.” A banner hung below it: “Temporary Morgue. Official drop-off only. No dumping of bodies!” Ironically, just past the turnoff was a sprawling cemetery dotted with thousands of headstones.

  Tanner brought Major to a stop, and Samantha inched Dusty up beside him. Looking down the three-lane drive, they saw a large Y-shaped school in the distance. Arrows had been painted on the road to indicate which lanes were for buses and which were for cars.

  “It’s weird that they used a school for something like this.”

  He gestured toward the graveyard. “Close to prime real estate. Besides, with the outbreak, people had bigger worries than learning their ABCs.”

  An uneasy look came over Samantha’s face as she studied the cemetery.

  “Promise me we’re not going to poke around some spooky old graveyard.”

  “That much I can promise. If Gran’s husband is in the ground, that’s where he’ll stay.” Tanner urged Major ahead, and Dusty quickly followed after him.

  As they approached the entrance to the school, they came upon a bright yellow hazmat truck parked out front. The back door sat open.

  “Any chance they’re still here?” she asked, gesturing toward the truck.

  “Nah. This thing’s been over for quite a while.”

  He dismounted and tied Major’s reins to a thick metal grab bar. Samantha did the same, proud of not having to ask how to tie a simple reefer’s knot.

  Tanner stepped up into the back of the truck and took a look around.

  A narrow corridor ran all the way up to the cab. On either side were stainless-steel cabinets as well as a collection of pressurized bottles, breathing masks, and hazmat suits. A small lab and communications center had been covered with clear plastic sheeting to keep them from becoming contaminated. Portable radios, a flashlight, and a first aid kit could be seen in one of the open bays.

  Tanner poked around in the first aid kit, finding a collection of adhesive bandages, some individually packaged disinfectant wipes, sutures with threaded needles, a small burn gel cloth, and a tube of antibiotic ointment. He took all of it.

  A quick examination of the self-contained breathing units showed that the tanks were empty. Too bad, he thought. Sorting through rotting bodies was going to be smelly business. He settled for retrieving the flashlight and two of the white hazmat suits before hopping down from the truck.

  He tossed one of the suits to Samantha.

  “Better slip this on. No telling what it’s going to be like inside.”

  “I know exactly what it’s going to be like.”

  “Oh?”

  “Did you forget Union Station?”

  “I remember,” he said. It had been more than six months, but Tanner would never forget the long rows of body bags filled with human goop.

  “Shouldn’t we get a mask or something?” she asked as she unfolded the Tyvek jumpsuit and slipped it over her feet.

  “Can’t. All out of air.”

  “Figures.”

  As Tanner pulled the suit up over his shoulders, they heard a loud rip.

  A worried look came over Samantha’s face.

  “You should really get another one.”

  “Won’t help. These things are made for lab nerds, not—”

  “Rock Trolls?”

  “I was going to say real men.”

  She moved her arms around. “They seem fine to me.”

  “My point exactly.”

  After Tanner zipped up what was left of his suit, he led them to the front doors of the school. The doors remained intact, which was unusual in itself. The outbreak and subsequent scavenging activities had left most buildings looted or vandalized. Apparently, the good folks of Hebron Estates, Kentucky, were either more civilized or simply worried about getting too close to a place filled with infected corpses.

  “I don’t suppose I could just wait outside and keep an eye on the horses,” she said.

  “Sure you can.”

  “But?”

  “But I have one question for you. Is that what Kitty McBride would do?”

  She growled. “I should have known you were going to use that against me.”

  “Count on it, darlin’.”

  Tanner tugged the door handle.

  Locked.

  He tried the other two doors.

  Also locked, and thanks to an insane rash of mass shootings, doors on schools now rivaled those of courthouses.

  “There’s probably another way in, around back,” she offered.

  They turned and started around the school, cutting between it and a large gymnasium to their left. As they stepped clear of the back corner of the building, they came upon what looked like a construction site. Dump trucks and backhoes sat beside a huge mound of dirt, a sprawling trench directly in front of it.

  Even Samantha had seen enough movies to recognize a mass grave when she saw one.

  “Not good,” she muttered.

  “Nope.”

  They continued ahead, and with every step they took, the foul stench grew stronger and stronger. By the time they reached the edge of the pit, their eyes were watering and their stomachs threatening to return Gran’s canned beef.

  The pit had been hastily dug, sloping down ten feet to a wide trench. Hundreds of body bags lay haphazardly scattered along its dirt floor. Some of them had been torn open to spill their grisly contents, but thankfully, most still remained intact. Those that had ruptured looked like sacks of maggot-infused vegetable soup, dark clouds of hungry blowflies buzzing around them.

  “They dumped them in there like garbage,” Samantha said, holding her nose.

  “Smelly garbage.”

  “They should have at least covered them up.”

  Tanner eyed the heavy equipment. “I think this thing got away from them, just like it did everyone else. In the end, folks went home to take care of their families.”

  She pointed to animal tracks running up and down the edge of the pit.

  “Something got to them.”

  “Dogs, most likely.”

  “I’m not going down there. No way, no how. I have enough nightmares already.”

  “I wouldn’t ask that of anyone.”

  “Do you think Carl’s down there?”

  “Don’t know. It looks like a job half-finished, which means there are likely more bodies around here somewhere.” Tanner turned and studied the back of the school. The doors and windows were all closed. It seemed unlikely that bodies would have been stored in tightly sealed classrooms. He turned his attention to the gymnasium. A set of double doors at the back of the building sat open. “Maybe the rest of them are in there.”

  They started toward the gymnasium, their walk halfway between a skip and a jog. Thankfully, the odor subsided as they moved away from the trench.

  As they drew closer to the gymnasium, they saw that the doors had been propped open with thick stacks of algebra textbooks, swollen and stained from being out in the weather.

  “I never did like algebra,” said Samantha.

  “Too hard?”

  “Too math-y.” She poked her head through the open door and sniffed. “It stinks, but not as bad as the pit.”

  “Nothing smells that bad,” he said, stepping inside.

  Without overhead lighting, he could only make out the general layout of the room. The gymnasium looked like any other that had been prepared
for summer break, basketball goals safely folded up into the ceiling, bleachers collapsed to form thick wooden barriers along both walls. The only difference was that the polished wooden floor lay covered in hundreds of thick, black body bags, all neatly laid out in tight rows.

  Samantha inched up beside him. “Told you.”

  Tanner stepped over to the closest bag and squatted down to read a label stuck to the front. Francine Harrison, age 33, 121 Bernard Dr., Bullitt Co.

  “At least they’re marked,” he said. “That’s something.”

  “It’s sad though. The names make them seem like real people.” She paused. “You know what I mean.”

  “I do.” He stood up, clicked on the flashlight, and shined it around the room. Body bags stretched from corner to corner.

  “There must be several hundred,” she said. “How are we ever going to find Gran’s husband, assuming he’s even here?”

  “Same way we do everything. One body at a time.”

  The gymnasium was a dark, humid space filled with the annoying hum of blowflies and the sour stench of human decay. Sharing the flashlight made it possible to read the victims’ identification tags, but it did little to cut the gloomy darkness of the room.

  Tanner and Samantha made their way down a long row of bodies, him reading the tags on one side, and her the other. Each time, they read a tag, they would call it out so as not to let the monotony of the exercise cause them to miss their find.

  Forty bodies each, and still no Carl Campbell.

  “What are we going to do if he’s not here?” Samantha said over her shoulder.

  Tanner moved on to the next body.

  “We said we’d look, and that’s what we’ll do.”

  “Yuck!” she squealed. “This one’s open.” She high-stepped away from it, doing her best to avoid stepping in any of the slimy goo.

  “Did you read the tag?” he said, shining the light in her direction.

  Samantha carefully tiptoed between puddles to get a better look.

  “Tanner, it’s him! It’s Gran’s husband!”

  “Of course it is,” he grumbled. “The one bag torn open has to be—”

  Tanner was interrupted by a loud growl coming from the doorway.

  They both spun to see an enormous shape blocking the sunlight. At first glance, it looked like Cerberus, the mythical three-headed Hound of Hades. But as the creature moved, it separated into three large wolf-like canines. Each stood waist high and was covered in a coat of thick black fur pocked with patches of exposed flesh.

  The lead animal tipped his nose into the air and let out another deep growl. The other two quickly joined in, the ominous sound reverberating throughout the gymnasium like the rumblings of an earthquake.

  Tanner reached for Samantha’s arm, pulling her down into a crouch.

  “What are they?” she whispered.

  “Just dogs.”

  She watched as they slowly entered the building, sniffing the very path that she and Tanner had taken.

  “They don’t look like normal dogs. Do you think they have rabies?”

  “They have something, all right.”

  Samantha drew the derringer from its holster and held it out to Tanner.

  “It only has two shots, and I don’t have any more ammo.”

  “Keep it.”

  She pushed it toward him. “I have my knife. Besides,” she said, forcing a nervous smile, “they’re bound to come for you first on account of you tasting so good.”

  He looked down at the gun. If he picked his shots carefully, he could take down two of the dogs before they got within biting range. Unfortunately, that would still leave one very wild animal with which to contend. While he had little doubt that he could kill the beast, he didn’t want to risk infection from its bite.

  He took the derringer and clicked off the safety.

  “All right, but this is my fight. Stay out of it unless they come for you.”

  “Okay,” she said with a nod. “But try not to get bit.”

  “Believe me, that’s the plan.”

  Still crouching, they watched as the three dogs made their way along the long row of bodies. Despite being surrounded by bags of rotting human meat, they seemed intent on partaking of something a little fresher.

  The lead animal stopped briefly to lick something off the floor, and the other two proceeded without him.

  Tanner handed Samantha the flashlight and whispered, “When I say go, shine it in their eyes.”

  Samantha readied the flashlight in one hand and held her trusty knife in the other.

  “Just say when.”

  As the first two dogs drew closer, they sensed their prey was mere steps away. Both growled and started forward, teeth bared.

  Tanner stood up and shouted, “Now!”

  Samantha clicked on the flashlight, flooding the animals with light. They were even more hideous than she had first imagined. Their faces were stained with blood and bits of dried flesh, and their hides were splotched with festering sores. They looked like creatures halfway between this world and the next.

  Both dogs came for Tanner at once. Like a big game hunter, he forced himself to move with calm precision in the face of the charging beasts. He pulled the derringer’s hammer back and fired directly into the throat of the first animal. The .45 Long Colt slug punched through bone and tissue, dropping the creature where it stood.

  By the time Tanner had the derringer ready to fire a second time, the next one was nearly upon him. He squeezed the trigger, and the gun bucked again. The bullet tore through the dog’s left eye, and it stumbled toward him, howling in pain.

  Tanner dropped the derringer and kicked the dog under the chin. The beast’s head whipped back, its neck making a sickening crack. It teetered for a moment and then fell, blood seeping out through the hole in its eye. Tanner hurried forward and stomped on its neck until he felt the vertebrae give way.

  “Look out!” shouted Samantha.

  He looked up in time to see the remaining animal lunging toward him, mouth open, fangs eager to rip flesh from bone.

  Despite his size, Tanner was deceptively fleet of foot, and he managed to twist at the waist far enough to send the dog flying past him. Quickly regaining its footing, the beast began to circle him, content to wait for an opening.

  Tanner was faced with a dilemma. The creature weighed a good hundred and fifty pounds, and there was no way to kill it without first becoming its chew toy. He needed a weapon, preferably one long enough to keep it at bay. Samantha stood ready to one side, her knife cupped tightly in one hand, but she too understood that fighting with such a short weapon all but ensured a good mauling.

  Tanner scanned left and right. There was nothing around but body bags. His eyes settled on the spilt mess that used to be Carl Campbell.

  Sometimes, you just have to make do.

  He inched closer and squatted, never taking his eyes off the beast. Shoving his hand down into the bag, he began rifling through the wet slop of organs, intestines, and brains. As he forced himself to dig deeper, his face twisted into a scowl.

  “What are you doing!” cried Samantha.

  Tanner said nothing as he continued his macabre search. Rib cage, spine, testicles… got it! He tugged violently at something until it finally pulled free. When he turned, Samantha saw that he was holding a milky-yellow bone, blood and waste smeared all the way up to the elbow of his protective suit.

  Samantha stood wide-eyed, words failing her.

  He rapped the bone on the floor to knock off some of the muck and then turned to face the beast.

  “Ready when you are, sunshine.”

  The animal came for him, strong and confident, its mouth open and teeth glistening with slobber.

  Tanner swung the bone from right to left, catching the beast on the side of its mouth. Teeth broke, and its head snapped sideways. The blow was so powerful that it sent the dog tumbling over one of the body bags. It scrambled back to its feet and shook its head, flingi
ng blood into the air from its battered mouth. Once it steadied itself, it took a short hop and leaped for him again.

  Not having enough time to wind up for the swing, Tanner held the bone out in front of him with both hands, baiting the creature to take it. The beast was heavy and strong, and as it clamped down on the bone, it knocked Tanner onto his back. With the bone stuck in its mouth, the dog shook its head from side to side, trying to free itself.

  No luck.

  Tanner forced it deeper, pressing open the animal’s jaws. The beast could easily have escaped by retreating, but that was not in its nature. Instead, it drove ahead, harder and harder.

  “You’re strong,” he snarled, “but I’m stronger.”

  Tanner threw his legs up around the animal’s back and shoved the bone into its mouth with all his strength. The dog’s head bent back until its neck finally broke with a muffled thwop. It toppled to the floor, its lifeless head sliding off the bone to settle onto Tanner’s chest.

  He shoved the dog away and got to his feet. His hands ached, and his legs trembled from the sudden rush of adrenalin as he walked over and stuffed the bone back into the body bag.

  Samantha stared at him, her mouth hanging open.

  “What?”

  “You do realize you just beat an animal to death with Carl’s leg bone.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “So, that’s not normal.”

  “I’ll take alive over normal any day.” He grabbed one end of the body bag and began dragging it toward the open doorway, a trail of brown slime leaking out like ectoplasm. “Come on. I think I saw some tape on that hazmat truck that we can use to zip up this bad boy.”

  As Samantha reached down to pick up the fallen derringer, she glanced over at the dog Tanner had killed with the bone. A swollen red and black tongue hung from its open mouth, its eyes bulging like someone had pumped air in through its matted ears.

  She looked away and tried to shake the terrible image from her mind. But when Samantha turned and saw Tanner dragging the bag of decaying flesh through the gymnasium as calmly as if he were pulling a stretcher, it occurred to her that perhaps he was not so different from the beasts he had just killed.