Fallout

by Derek Shupert

  “It sounds horrible,” I say as smoke plumes out from under the hood.

  “Yeah. I’m going to need to pop the hood and see what the damage is like.” Tony kills the engine and hops out. He steps over the chaser and gets in front of the truck. He waves his hand in the air at the smoke filtering out through the grill. Popping the hood, the pent-up smoke belches out into his face.

  Choking, and waving his hands in front of him, Tony takes a step back. “Christ,”

  “What do you think?” I inch my way toward the engine.

  Loosely holding his hand over his nose and mouth, he points inside the truck. “I think the radiator is screwed among other things. It’s got a crack running right down the center.”

  “Just from that?” I respond, shocked by the thought. I’m no mechanic, but I figured it would take more to do that than what Dawson did. Then again, I’m just a kid.

  “It could’ve already had a hair line fracture in it. Who knows. Bottom line is, we’re not getting anywhere in this thing. It’s toast,” Tony flatly responds.

  Dawson gets to his feet and gingerly walks over. His head hangs low, and a look of embarrassment floods his face. He stands next to me, silently.

  “Sorry about the truck, dude,” Dawson finally says in a low mutter.

  “Don’t sweat it. You’re the one going to have to tell your dad that you messed up his truck. I don’t want to be around for that discussion.” I jab my elbow into his side, causing Dawson to grunt and step away.

  Tony grabs another cigarette, his second, third, I don’t know how many in the last couple of hours and lights it up. Taking a drag, he peers over at us.

  “Way I see it, boys, we’ve got two options here. We can go over each of these cars and hope that one starts, and we can back track and find another way around.”

  “Or?” I pose.

  “Or, we can grab what gear we can carry and head into the woods and find a place to cross. Probably will be much quicker, but we’ll be exposed. Maybe we’ll find an abandoned car on the other side.”

  “I’m leaning to find a car and back track. Being out in the woods with the chasers running around doesn’t sound too tempting,” Dawson says. “I think we’ll have a much better chance in a car.”

  “What do you want to do,” I ask, peering over at Tony.

  “Doesn’t matter to me either way. We just need to make up our minds and get moving before-” Tony pauses. He holds his right arm in the air and makes a fist.

  Snap!

  “Did you hear that?” My head pivots to the left as a rustling noise in the woods captures our attention.

  Duke instantly gets to his feet and starts walking to the edge of the road. His ears are perked, his body tense, and muscles tight in his chest and hind legs. He lifts his nose in the air and sniffs.

  “Can anyone see anything?” Dawson inquires as he narrows his eyes. He cranes his neck and strains to penetrate the dense tree line before us.

  “Yeah, I got two coming out over here.” Tony removes his sidearm and walks toward the grass. Taking aim, he fires two shots, nailing both chasers square in the head. They drop instantly, their bodies sliding over the tall verdure.

  Dawson fires five shots behind us, finally taking down a woman heading our way.

  “I don’t think we’re going to have time to mess with the cars, boys. Looks like option one is off the table now.” Tony moves back around the front of the truck to the driver’s side door. “We’re gonna have to double time it.”

  I look back to the woods and hear more rustling. There’s no telling how many are coming this way, and I really don’t want to find out.

  Digging the gear out from the back seat and tossing it at our feet, Tony slams the door and starts picking up what he can. “Grab what you can carry, but don’t overload yourself. We’re going to be moving quickly, so keep it as light as possible.”

  We grab what we can, trying to be conservative as the moans from the woods carry our way. Duke barks, staying at the edge of the road. He advances forward, but then stops. I have to yell at him a couple of times, trying to calm him down.

  “All right, that’s enough. We got to go.” Tony sternly orders.

  “But there’s still a lot here,” Dawson retorts, still rummaging through the pile.

  “Leave it,” Tony snaps, firing two more shots. His gun clicks empty with the sounds of the chasers still closing in. He reloads without hesitation, swiftly ejecting the spent magazine and slapping in a fresh one.

  “Forget it, Dawson! Come on!” I urge, standing next to him as my hands bat the air near him.

  “But-”

  “But nothing. We’ve got to move now, or we’re going to end up dead.” I grab Dawson by the scruff of his shirt and pull him away as Tony continues to fire.

  “Are we ready to move?” he calls out.

  “Yeah. Duke, come on, boy.”

  We turn to head in the opposite direction. A chaser emerges from the tall weeds at the end of the woods. It pauses for just a moment before sprinting toward us. I scramble for the Remington, trying to get the strap free of the extra gear I’m hauling, but it’s bound up. I franticly tug at the strap. Dawson takes it out.

  “Good shot, dude,” I praise.

  “Well, you were taking too long, as usual,” Dawson counters.

  “Come on,” Tony barks, backing up to the grass.

  We head for the woods, running hard and fast. Duke takes point while Tony brings up the rear. I don’t see any movement in the woods, but its dense foliage makes it hard to see in some areas.

  Tony stops and opens fire. “Keep moving and find a place to cross the river. I’ll be right behind you.”

  I stop briefly. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I got this. Now go.”

  Seeing the multitude of bodies heading our way sends a ripple of unease down my spine. My feet instinctively respond. I head down toward the bank where I find Dawson and Duke waiting.

  “Why the hell did you stop? Where’s Tony?” Dawson screams out as he waves me toward them.

  “Buying us some time. He’ll be along shortly,” I yell back.

  Maybe.

  The gunshots cease, and only the moans and snapping of limbs remain. I fear that Tony has met a gruesome end trying to save us. A moment later, he appears through the trees sprinting down the hill directly toward us.

  “Go, go!” Tony yells as he runs right into the river.

  The chasers emerge at the top of the hill and race toward the bank. Duke barks and growls, bearing his teeth. I grab him by the collar and drag him into the water.

  It’s pretty deep but not too bad. The added weight pulls me down as I tread water. Dawson’s nearly across, moving rapidly. He steps out of the river onto the bank and turns toward me. He waves his arms franticly at me, urging me to move faster.

  “Come on, James! They’re closing in,” he calls out, his voice thick with fear.

  The current moves swiftly, trying to carry me downstream, but I fight it with everything I’ve got. Man, this water is freaking cold. It sends chills to my core, but I press on.

  Duke makes it to the other side and shakes the water free from his coat. I hear multiple splashes behind me.

  My arms swing faster. My legs kick harder. I glance back and only see the tops of the chasers’ heads as they disappear below the water line.

  I take on a big gulp of water, choking as I hit the bank and grab hold of the thick grass. Tony and Dawson grab my arms and pull me out. I cough hard, water exiting my mouth as I glance back toward the river from the flat of my butt.

  “Hopefully, they’re not good swimmers,” Tony says winded.

  “There!” Dawson exclaims, pointing downriver.

  They appear, caught among the wreckage. The current keeps them pinned among the cars. Not sure how long they’ll stay put.

  “You okay?” Tony asks while helping me to my feet.

  I place my hands on my legs, trying to catch my breath. The wind brushes again
st my wet skin, making me shiver. Duke comes over and gives me some love, nudging his head against me.

  “I’m fine, just tired is all,” I sputter.

  “That was close, dude.” Dawson pats me on the back as he gulps for air.

  “Yeah, well, I’m not use to having to tread water with gear on my back,” I reply, standing up straight.

  “We probably need to get moving. It’ll be dark here after a while, and we need to find a good place to hole up. How are the both of you stocked for ammo?” Tony inquires with a tremor to his voice.

  “I’ve got maybe an extra magazine in my pack somewhere,” Dawson replies.

  “Not sure how much ammo I have left for the Remington,” I add.

  “We’ll need to use what we have sparingly until we can find some more.” Tony rubs his hand over his wet face, swiping the water from his skin.

  “Use it sparingly? So, are we not to shoot at those things?” Dawson blurts out in protest.

  “No, just make every shot count,” Tony clarifies.

  “Ok, Duke, that’s enough,” I say, patting his head and pushing him away. I’m cold and wet now and don’t feel like being licked to death.

  “Guys, I think we need to get going,” Dawson says flatly, pointing to the top of the hill on the other side of the river.

  We look back and find a chaser staring down at us. Out of the trees and bushes emerge two more, then four more.

  Dawson pulls his handgun up, but Tony grabs the barrel and pushes it back down.

  “Conserve your ammo. Besides, the noise might attract any on this side of the river,” Tony says.

  The chasers start moving down the hill to the bank as we run off into the woods. I give only a single glance back and watch as the bodies vanish under the current of the river.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Have you not found a spot yet?” Dawson whines. His upper body is hunched over, arm swinging lifelessly as he huffs and sighs. “I’ve seen a half dozen or more that look fine. My legs feel like they’re about to fall off, dude.”

  “I’m getting tired too, Tony,” I quickly add. “We haven’t seen any more of those things since the river, and it’s nearly nighttime.”

  Tony’s not as talkative now as he was before. He trudges through the woods ahead of us as puffs of smoke billow into the air in front of him. He’s acting weird. I can’t quite put my finger on it. It’s more of a hunch, I guess, since he’s not really acknowledging us at the moment. He’s more distant and colder now, like the wind blowing through the trees. Who knows what’s going on.

  “How you doing, boy?” I ask. Duke’s panting hard, his tongue reaching to the ground as his pace lessens. “I know, boy.”

  The sun dips down over the tree line, taking what little warmth it offered with it. Now, the bitter dark of the night air is able to take hold. Out of all the things I would love to have right now, a warm blanket and fire are at the top of my list. And perhaps one of Dad’s MREs. Can’t believe I just thought that.

  “There,” Tony says, pointing to a small patch of ground to our right. “That should do us for the night.”

  “Thank god.” Dawson nearly knocks me over as he rushes past us in pursuit of sitting down and taking a rest. Duke follows close behind.

  “Keep it down, just in case,” Tony calls out.

  Dawson falls to the grass in grand fashion. His pack bounces off the ground. The contents inside clatter against one another loudly. He can be a drama queen at times, that’s for sure. During athletics, he could run circles around most of the guys. I guess when there are no girls watching, he doesn’t have to try as hard.

  “Damn, man, I said keep it down,” Tony snaps. Dawson raises his thumb in the air with no words, his face still planted in the grass. “I’m going to check the perimeter out to make sure there aren’t any chasers lurking around.”

  “You want some company?” I ask tiredly. I don’t really want to go, but figure I should ask.

  Tony dismisses the offer with a wave of his hand. “Naw. Why don’t you three get some rest? Maybe get some wood close by so we can get a fire started. Feels like it might be a cold night.”

  “Isn’t it every night?” Dawson mutters through the blades of grass impairing his speech.

  Tony walks off, vanishing into the trees and thick brush directly behind us.

  “James, will you please tell Duke to stop licking my face. His breath smells like a combination of butt and feet,” Dawson pleads as he tries to fend off Duke’s affection.

  “He’s a dog, dude. That’s what it’s supposed to smell like.”

  Dawson covers his head, shooing away Duke with his hand, but he thinks it’s a game.

  “All right, boy, that’s enough,” I say, dropping my gear to the ground. “Ease up on Dawson. He’s not in the mood right now.”

  “Yeah, get butt-breath out of my face,” Dawson beseeches.

  I pull Duke away, patting him on his side. He gives a gentle shake of his coat and walks off. I plop down on the ground. My feet ache and my tense legs indulge in the relief.

  I lean back against a small plot of wood and ask, “So, what do you think is going on with Tony?”

  “What do you mean?” Dawson flips over onto his back.

  “I don’t know. He’s acting really weird now. Ever since we came across those cars on the road, he’s just been acting… strange.” I glance in the direction he walked off in, wondering what might be going on with his sudden shift in mood.

  “Dude, that guy is strange. No acting needed. I’ve been telling you that since we came across him.” Dawson settles in against a tree across from me.

  “It’s just when we noticed the cars with the bullet holes and the bridge being destroyed, his mood changed or something.” I scratch my head, my mind chewing on the puzzle before me.

  “Well, that right there seemed crazy. I mean, who the hell would blow up a bridge and then open fire on innocent people trying to cross it. Smells funny, dude,” Dawson adds.

  “I agree. Do you think it was the government trying to contain the virus or whatever this is?” I ask.

  “Probably. I read some stuff online saying that the government was involved in cleaning up and containing the biohazard, but nothing was confirmed,” Dawson says, partly confirming my suspicions.

  Although I take what he reads online with a grain of salt, the government would be the only logical solution. They would have the firepower and pull to keep these sorts of activities under wraps.

  “Biohazard is definitely the right term. And besides, I know what sites you frequent,” I say with a skeptical tone.

  Dawson crosses his arms. “Hey, there might be a lot of BS on those sites, but the video I sent you seems to be legit, huh?”

  I hate when Dawson makes a valid point. It irritates the crap out of me. “Well, if the government is out there killing innocent people then that’s pretty screwed up.” “It’s the government, dude. They’re all screwed up in a bad way. My dad complains about how shady they all are all the time,” Dawson says.

  “Who’s screwed up,” Tony asks. He drops some wood to the ground. Our bodies tense up and a frightful gasp escapes our lips.

  “We’re just talking about everything going on and how messed up it is,” I reply quickly.

  Tony says nothing at first, staring at us with a blank stare. “It’s extremely screwed up. Never thought anything like this would ever happen, much less here in the states.”

  “What I want to know is how did this get started?” Dawson asks while digging through his pack. “Is this like judgment day where we are being punished? Or is this some sort of alien invasion master plan to have us kill each other off so the little green men don’t have to?”

  “Dude, you have got to stop reading that stuff. You’re starting to sound like some of those nut jobs or religious freaks,” I jab as Duke walks over to me.

  “Too late,” Dawson replies with a mouth full of food that he had stuffed in his pack. If he doesn’t slow down
and conserve it, he’ll plow through it in no time.

  Duke nudges up against me, and rests his head on my legs. Tony digs out a small area of the ground. The chit chat has ceased. The sound of the wind blowing and the creatures of the woods chattering remain.

  “Need some help?” I start to stand up.

  Tony halts me with his hand once more, stopping me in place. “No. I got it.”

  Arranging the wood over the hole, and placing some tinder along the bottom, Tony ignites the pile with his lighter. It doesn’t appear to catch, with the wind picking up and trying to extinguish the flames, but it finally does.

  The wood crackles and pops. The warm orange glow of the fire illuminates our campsite. The smell takes me back to those times where we would be sitting in the living room around the fireplace, watching old movies. My mom loves those.

  I’d be near the fireplace, planted on the brick mantel with Duke right by my side. Mom would tell me not to get too close, but I loved to feel the heat on my face, especially on those cold winter nights.

  “Hey, you ok?” Tony asks, nudging my boot as I stare off into space.

  “Yeah, just drifting is all,” I solemnly respond.

  My eyes well up, vision cloudy and the sadness that I’ve managed to suppress creeps back. I brush my sleeve across my face and struggle to stay the hurt, but it’s extremely hard to do so.

  Tony scoots back and leans against a rock. He fires up another cigarette, tossing the empty pack onto the fire. He inhales deeply, slowly releasing the smoke into the air as he tilts his head back.

  “You missing your folks, huh?” he says.

  “Missing everything is more like it,” I answer.

  “War is a bitch, kid. No matter how you slice it, and regardless of the enemy, it makes it that much tougher when it’s going down in your own backyard.”

  Dawson’s obnoxious snoring gains strength in volume. It is getting on my nerves with every breath he takes. I don’t recall it ever being this bad. Perhaps it’s because he’s tired and not wearing one of those nose strips. He might not survive the night.

  “In some ways, this all seems like a bad dream. Like I wonder if I’m actually lying in my bed, Duke down by my feet, and the rest of my family is safe and sound in the house. I’m hoping to wake up anytime,” I say.