The Longest Road (Book 3): The Other Side

by A. S. Thompson

  "Would you stop with the soldier crap? I'm not a soldier! I never have been and never wanted to be!"

  Tight fisted, it looked as though Steve was going to strike his father. Tom, however, appeared calm despite the tension.

  "Steven, your goal is to locate the tallest building, correct? To figure it out, get to the top of a useable structure and scan the horizon. You can narrow down your search that way. For example, like the ladder leading to the top of this fire station."

  I didn't see any signs of infection, but that doesn't mean there aren't any. He’s right, you need a weapon, Steve thought.

  He clicked on the flashlight and looked around. Sticking halfway out from the garage was a fire truck.

  Gotta be something in there.

  Steve opened hatch after hatch until he found a suitable instrument: an axe.

  "Nice choice," Tom declared sitting on top of the hood of the truck.

  Steve rolled his eyes. “I know it was a nice choice,” he mumbled. His hand was on the first bar of the ladder when Tom finished his comment.

  "Although, if it were me, I would have gone for something smaller and blunter. Like the crowbar secured to the wall inside. It's multi-purposed, more compact, less splatter…but whatever you're more comfortable with."

  Steve spun around. "You always do that! Always build me up to break me down; give me a compliment only to criticize me for something else; always finding something wrong! You never did that shit to Mike, only me!"

  "Because I want you to be elite! I want you to be equipped and ready for any situation! To look beyond the present state and constantly calculate and criticize your own choices!"

  Steve dropped the axe, closed his eyes and plugged both ear holes. "What are you doing, Steve! He’s not here, he’s not here, he’s not here. You're just in my head. All in my head."

  Steve stopped rocking back and forth and opened his eyes. He looked around but Tom had disappeared. So, he snatched up the axe and climbed one bar at a time.

  On top of the fire station Steve could see the city in its entirety. Most buildings were the same height, but one in particular toward the north end of town stood sizably taller.

  "Gotcha.”

  Steve put himself on a direct path, passing by numerous commercial businesses.

  Phone first, then check the pharmacy and pet store on your way out, he thought, taking note of those stores in particular.

  One block from the target building, Steve heard the sounds of shuffling feet; they were soft, almost padded in nature.

  Move! There! he thought, ducking behind an abandoned truck.

  Again, he clicked off the light and waited, focusing on his hearing.

  The sounds trailed off fifty yards south of his position, into the creepy woods on the other side of the street.

  Give it another minute. Make sure the threat is gone then proceed.

  "Good job earlier," said Tom Brason, who was sitting on the steps leading up to the Donner Public Library. "You made one round count for two, eliminated the closest target, and then prepared for hand to hand combat. I would have expected a slightly faster reaction time, but the decision was correct. Always eliminate the most impending threat then prepare for secondary and tertiary threats."

  You're doing it again, Steve wanted to say but instead growled back, "You’re not here! There's no way! I'm just going crazy."

  "I'm not here? You sure about that? You are talking to me," Tom said, casually using his combat knife to carve wedges from an apple.

  "I saw you get bit back home! You're dead, I know you are! No one ever survives after being bit! This is just me, losing my fucking mind!"

  “At the risk of you crying, I’ll opt not to comment, respond to, or criticize your use of foul language.”

  Steve shined the light on a trashcan. "There, perfect place to stash the phone," he said out loud, mostly to wash out the sounds of Tom’s open-mouth chewing.

  Steve dug through the bin's contents but came up empty. He searched the entire building exterior, in dumpsters, parked cars, everywhere, but nothing was found. "Come on, Alex! I know you were here, I know you would have left it for me....right?"

  Leaning against the library sign, Tom said, "Steven, Steven, Steven…"

  He tossed the apple core behind him and wiped the blade on his pants.

  "You didn't expect Alex to leave a satellite phone out in the open with a bow on it did you? What if there were drifters? Other survivors? Storm? Any of a thousand possibilities that could damage or compromise the phone. Think about it."

  Steve didn't bother looking at his father. "You're not here! Get out of my head!"

  "I am here, son. I'm here because you wanted me to be," Tom stated matter-of-factly. "I'm here because you need me."

  "I DID NEED YOU!" Steve finally exclaimed, tear falling from his eye. "I needed you! Mike, needed you! Collin needed you! Billy needed you! Alex too! But you didn't make it because I couldn't save you, like I couldn't save Sarah! I fucking failed everyone! And everyone keeps dying around me, and I don't know what the fuck to do!"

  Steve found himself, knees buried into the grass, crying hysterically.

  "Can't waste time feeling sorry for yourself. You gotta soldier on, Steve. People are still counting on you. You gonna give up on them?"

  "I know that! I know they are!" Steve growled, wiping the snot from his nose. He picked up a rock from the planter and chucked it in Tom's direction. The stone flew through Tom’s chest and struck the side of the building.

  When Steve looked again, Tom vanished like an apparition.

  Steve pushed himself to his feet, to scream more, to let the anger drive him wherever it would, but the curses and fury never came to fruition. His heavy breathing carried on, but his eyes focused on his flashlight and the illuminated section of wall in front of the library's sign.

  Steve cocked his head to the side and read the spray painted words. "Tom Brason's favorite book." Next to the message was a crude picture of a penis and testicles.

  Steve looked to the library doors, then lowered his head, dejected. "Idiot, Steve. Of course Alex wouldn't leave it outside."

  Steve chuckled and took a step toward the library but the hairs on his neck stood up. He could feel that he wasn't alone, and this time it was not Tom.

  Steve listened to the quick steps, followed by the sounds of low growls. Slowly, he turned his head and the beam from his flashlight reflected off a dozen eyes.

  In a half-circle surrounding Steve was a pack of rabid dogs, tails lowered, snarling, and awaiting the signal of the leader: a brute Doberman pinscher with a muscular chest and clipped ears.

  "Oh shit,” Steve mumbled.

  ***

  Steve sprinted through the library entrance. He braced his body against the door just as the Doberman’s paws clawed the square glass portion. The other canines pushed against the door, but when Steve set the lock, the wild pack was not getting in.

  "Get up, Steve, get up.”

  With the only windows opposite the moon’s position, the library was consumed by darkness. From the checkout counter to as far as the light showed, the floor was a complete mess. Books were scattered about alongside paper cups with dried coffee. Then there were multiple stains, ones Steve was unable to determine if the substance was mud or dried blood.

  “What's Dad's favorite book? Art of War, right? Isn't that every hardcore military guy's book?” Steve mumbled, browsing the Military section. He followed the shelves, dragging his finger along the last names. “Sun Tzu, where are you? Come on...aha!”

  Fortunately, that particular book was on the shelf and not with the hundreds randomly knocked to the floor.

  “Here you are...wait, where’s the phone?”

  Steve looked above, below and all around the hardbound copy, tossing others off the shelf until there were none left. "Are you messing with me, Alex?" he said, sliding his back against the shelf until he was sitting on the floor.

  If that's not Dad's favorite book,
what is?

  Steve searched his brain for the answer, which in turn elicited feelings of sadness. As many times as he went to the shooting range, competitions, ruck marches, survival camping, military bases for informal introductions, as much time as he spent with his dad, he never really took an interest in Tom's life. He had never really asked what Tom’s favorite music or movies were nor favorite hobbies, besides shooting. And, naturally, never asked about his favorite literature.

  Then a memory played. It was from a long time ago, back when Steve was a child. He blinked and found himself in the nineteen-nineties inside his childhood home...

  Tom had his T-shirt tucked into athletic shorts. He was sitting on a chair in between both Mike and young Steve’s beds. He was reading to the two boys under lamplight.

  "Where did we leave off," Tom said, opening the pages of "My Side of the Mountain” by Jean Craighead George.

  "Sam just met Bando!” exclaimed Mike.

  "I love that part," a gentler Tom said. "I still remember when your Grampa Tom read this to me."

  Barbara had finished tucking Mike in and kissed him before making her way to Steve. "Not much longer, Tom. I want them going to sleep, not thinking about when they can run away and live in the forest."

  "One chapter. They’re short," Tom said, winking at the boys. When Barbara moved behind him, he mouthed, "Maybe two."

  Both boys giggled.

  "Fine," Barbara replied, as though she knew Tom’s intent. She pinched the sheets in tight to Steve’s body and kissed him on the lips. "Night little one, mama loves you."

  "Ugh, you know I’m too grown up for that,” Steve said, wiping his lips.

  “Never too grown up. You’ll always be my baby.”

  Steve smiled. “Night mama...”

  Inside Steve’s psyche, a hint of emotion broke through, sprouting a seed of feeling. Tears fell from his eyes, but it wasn't crying. It was an unconscious and uncontrollable emotional release; one a longtime coming.

  I miss you, Mom. I miss you, Dad. Mike you too, brother.

  "Children's section," Steve said wiping his cheeks.

  He noticed the sign marked “Children” pointing up the carpet stairs. He took the steps two at a time, and within seconds, locatedMy Side of the Mountain.

  Next to it was the black satellite phone in all its glory. He placed it in his backpack, then headed for the stairs, completely oblivious to his surroundings- a near fatal error.

  “Whoa!” he gasped, somehow dodging a surprise attack from a child.

  Steve’s flashlight, though, fell from his grasp and bounced and flipped down to the bottom floor.

  Backpedaling, Steve fully observed the boy. Crawling on the ground, it pulled itself forward with arms that bore distinct human bites. Its legs, however, were torn to literal shreds.

  Steve could only assume that the boy had been bitten by the infected, and then the dogs outside had done a number on him before he finally succumbed to Trinity.

  Then Steve heard a book drop from a shelf in the back corner near the restrooms. It was as though library was suddenly coming alive with the undead.

  Where the hell was everyone earlier? Move! Get your ass in gear!

  Steve hopped over the crawler and hustled down the stairs. He arrived at the entrance but did not turn the lock. On the other side were two dogs waiting out front like loitering bullies ready to beat up the nerds and tattle-tails.

  SitRep. Alternative exits?

  Steve hustled to the eastern and western windows, but frowned as he viewed the same result.Damn dogs got the place surrounded.

  Moans from the stairs recaptured Steve’s attention, and prompted him to hide behind the reception desk.

  Dragging itself down the stairs was Shredded Beef boy, while another child, spryer than its crawling friend stopped at the second floor landing. Dressed in a polka dot dress, the little girl sniffed the air and growled low, frustrated that she was unable to locate Steve.

  Check the north side. Move now while she has her back turned.

  Using the shelves and information kiosk to conceal his movements, Steve crawled to the back. Eyes still adjusting, he was able to make out a green sign, unlit, that read "emergency exit."

  There’s your out. Deal with the dogs when the time comes. Run now-

  Not a moment after passing the administrative offices, mere steps from freedom, it happened.

  A grey-haired woman with a vicious bite wound on her neck, intercepted Steve. Dressed in a long gown, she grabbed on to Steve’s shoulder and pulled him toward her snarling mouth.

  Surprised and off-balance, all Steve could do to avoid being bitten was stiffen his elbow and push toward her. Nightgown's body crashed against the office window; her head whipped back causing the glass to splinter.

  Had Steve not wedged the top of the axe upward against her throat, Nightgown’s snapping jaw would have pierced skin.

  Great, another one?

  In the reflection of the glass, Steve made out a second woman shambling on a pair of broken ankles.

  It was at that moment his situational awareness went into overdrive.

  There are at least four infected and most likely more inside.

  Dogs are outside, surrounding the place.

  Options?

  Fall back to the middle of the room and stand your ground? Maybe.

  Fall back upstairs and fight your way past the kids and take the high ground? Possibly.

  Then a third option came to him.

  No, Steve, really? Enemy of my enemy? he thought. Completely suicidal, Steve. No. Yes! It’ll work, have faith!

  Steve whipped the axe around in a clockwise motion, breaking the woman's grasp of him. Using the top of the blade he uppercut Nightgown, stunning her enough to enable an escape.

  Get to the entrance now!

  Shredded Beef boy was more than halfway down the stairs; Polka Dot girl was fully down. Nightgown was fresh on his tracks, and Broken-ankles was limping out of the other administrative office.

  This better work,Steve thought as the four infected descended upon him.

  ***

  Steve arrived at the entrance and could feel the infected all but on his back. He gulped saliva, thought a quick prayer, and then swung the front door open. He whistled as loudly as he could, then hid in the triangle space that formed as the door contacted the wall.

  The rabid dogs charged inside.

  Steve raised his head barely enough to see through the glass into the library.

  Polka Dot girl was taken down by a hard hit from the Doberman, who proceeded to attack the neck, thrashing from side to side without mercy.

  The rest of the pack found their targets and attacked just as ruthlessly.

  Shredded Beef boy didn't stand a chance. Same with Nightgown and Broken-ankles who did not get knocked down at first, but by the second and third attacks, the dogs had dragged their bodies to the ground.

  The dogs are busy eating, quietly make your move.

  Steve pushed open the door intent on a quick exit, but the hinges squeaked, giving away his position.

  Crap.

  The alpha Doberman looked up, eyes glimmering with vicious beauty. It released a low growl then took off.

  Steve swung his body around the frame just as the Doberman hit the glass portion.

  Damn that was close. I can’t believe it worked, he thought, chuckling.

  But after spinning around he froze.

  A thick-coated German Shepherd was late to the carnage. All by itself, the beast did not growl or wait for help. Instead, it pushed off and brazenly leapt toward Steve's midsection.

  Without fully realizing it, Steve had swung the axe. The defensive strike was timed perfectly. The blade penetrated in between the dog's ear and neck, splitting the spine but not separating it.

  The German Shepherd yelped, and then died immediately. Its momentum, however, continued forward and knocked Steve to the ground.

  Blood from arteries and veins alike soaked Steve�
�s clothing and drenched his face. Disgusted, Steve shoved the warm carcass off him and kicked backward. He attempted to wipe the slime from his neck and cheeks, but the action smeared the blood and made it worse.

  "Ugh gross," Steve said, spitting up a thick wad of saliva mixed with canine blood. He could almost hear Tom saying "Blunt instrument would be better," but Steve opted not to give credence to the "I told you so” moment.

  After making sure there were no additional stragglers, Steve inspected the phone to verify it was undamaged and working.

  “Three-quarters charge and full service.”

  Unable to wait, Steve dialed the preprogrammed number.

  “Come on, Charlie. Someone answer, we need help.”

  He could feel his heart beating faster with each ring, but as the call carried on without answer, Steve’s excitement diminished. He ended the call when the automated message service prompt initiated.

  Alright, nothing you can do right now. You still have people counting on you. Search for Eddy’s meds then get back to New Jerusalem.

  ***

  "Steve!"

  Jenny sprung up from the sheets. She flew across the floor and nearly tackled Steve against the door. She hugged tight and smiled even brighter when he reciprocated.

  "You're back!"

  "Ya, but shh, okay?"

  “You seem different.”

  Eddy had stirred awake to the uncomfortably painful reality of his leg. "Hey, Steve, how'd it go?"

  Steve frowned. "Sorry man. I tried every store I could find, but everything had been picked clean. Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out. I promise.”

  "Thanks for trying, I guess.”

  “But I do have some good news,” Steve said, reaching into his pocket. “I got the sat phone. Now we can call- wait, where’s Nick?”

  "We thought he just decided to go with you," Lisa answered, concerned.

  "No, he didn’t. You mean he hasn't been back yet?"

  “No.”

  "LT either?"

  "Just you."

  “I need to go look for them,” Steve said, making a move for the door handle.

  “Steve, do you think that's smart?” Lisa said, stopping him. “Maybe he just went back to LT's place? If you go outside, someone might question you. They might come back here and see that Nick isn't."