“What are we doing?” she asked as a gust of wind whipped her gown around her legs.
“Bypassing some security checkpoints.”
“Got you.”
They crept along with Jessie’s head turning at every odd sound, her eyes cast down to keep from stirring up Asphyxia patches.
“Try not to step in it, Fiona.”
“Okay,” the girl said, her snack wrappers crinkling in her hand.
When they reached the terminal, Bryant led them to a tunnel running along the lower deck wall. He looked around before separating part of the tunnel wall and stepping through. A moment later, his hand emerged and waved them in.
Jessie stooped and helped Fiona through the flimsy gap. Then she followed, standing and looking both ways in the tunnel. She stared at him as he resealed the gap haphazardly. “Isn’t this dangerous for the people inside? I mean, aren’t we opening them up to infection?”
“No. This entire section is for quarantined people,” Bryant replied. He stood on one leg and grabbed his crutch where it leaned against the tunnel wall. “We store clothes here for people we quarantined who can work or otherwise need to leave the facility. I’ve got an order to go to Yellow Springs to pick up the supplies, but not to take you two with me. I didn’t want to raise any suspicions.”
“Hence our bypassing of security?”
“Exactly. Don’t worry, a quality tech will come around in the morning, notice some Asphyxia growth, and order the area scrubbed clean. The spores will never reach the general population.”
Jessie nodded.
“This way,” Bryant said, and he hobbled down the hall.
At the end was a wide square filled with benches. A dozen racks of clothing stretched around the outside of the room with shoe boxes stacked beneath them.
“Pick out some shoes and clothes from here,” Bryant gestured. “They don’t have blinds for you to change behind, but I’ll look the other way.”
Jessie picked through the slim selections, finding Fiona some pants, an over-sized T-shirt, and a pair of kid’s tennis shoes with stars on them. For herself, she found a pair of jeans and a Carhartt long sleeve shirt. They had underwear, too. A basic selection of black and white with the tags still on them.
She waved at Bryant, and the soldier gazed back down the hall to give them privacy. Jessie dressed herself and then helped Fiona with her shoes.
“Okay, we’re ready,” Jessie said.
He gave Jessie a second glance. “Are you okay? You look a little weak.”
“I feel pretty tired,” she replied. “I’m sure it’s the Asphyxia and going outside seems to make it worse.”
The soldier nodded. “We’ll try to find you a good respirator before we hit the road. They have a good supply in the motor pool.”
“Okay.”
They walked back to the gap, and Bryant handed Jessie his crutch while he squatted to unfasten it. He fussed with the zipper, cursing low under his breath.
A voice called out from the darkness. “What are you doing?”
Jessie spun as a soldier strolled down the hall toward them with her rifle pointed toward the ground. Her eyes dropped to Bryant where he squatted by the opening. The soldier stopped and raised her rifle with a tense expression on her face. “Identify yourself, soldier! Do it now!”
Bryant slowly got to his feet, taking his crutch from Jessie. He leaned forward to peer at the soldier’s name tag. “Nice reaction, Private…Williams.”
“Lieutenant Colonel Bryant!” Williams said, standing at attention. “I didn’t realize it was you.”
“That’s okay.” He put the crutch under his right arm and leaned his weight on it. Then he nodded at Jessie and Fiona. “I just finished dressing my two wards when I spotted a break in the tunnel. I tried to fix it myself, but I couldn’t get the seal tight. We’ll need Maintenance to do it.”
“I’ll see to it as soon as I’m done with my patrol,” Williams said, hurriedly. “I mean, I was just about finished with my patrol, so I’ll get on it right away.”
Bryant gave her a knowing smile. “Good, good. Now, if you don’t mind, we’ve got business.”
Jessie and Fiona followed him past Williams, though the soldier’s eyes followed them.
“I saw nothing filed in the order book for you, sir,” Williams said, caught somewhere between suspicion and fear that she’d missed something. “I check it every night before I start my shift.”
Bryant stopped hobbling and turned with a shake of his head. “I placed the order. It’s Supply Acquisition 853-O.”
“That’s a request for an off premises supply run,” Williams said with a sharp look. “I would have noticed that.”
“I’m telling you, it’s there.”
“What’s the business?” The soldier’s eyes moved back and forth between Bryant, Fiona, and Jessie.
“We’re picking up supplies at a location about seven and a half hours out, so I wanted to fit them with traveling clothes.”
Williams stared at him before she turned and moved down the hall at a brusque pace. “Why didn’t you say so, sir? If you follow me back to the security desk, I can check on that order.”
Bryant shot Jessie and Fiona a glance before falling in behind the private.
“Easy, soldier.” He hobbled along awkwardly on his crutch. “You’ve got a wounded officer here.”
“Yes, sorry sir,” Williams said, slowing down for the rest of them to catch up.
The soldier guided them to the end of the hall and took a hard right into the terminal’s belly. They moved across a carpeted area and down another hall.
She stared at a trio of soldiers coming in the opposite direction, all of them wearing air filtration masks and regarding Jessie and Fiona with lingering looks. She figured they didn’t get many infected on their way out of the facility, especially with a Lieutenant Colonel.
At the end of the hallway full of doors, they came to long desk occupied by two privates who stood at attention when they saw Bryant.
“Just one second, sir,” Williams said, grabbing a computer tablet from the table. She half-turned to him as she pressed her index finger against the screen, punching in the order number.
“Ah, here it is,” she said. “Supply Acquisition 853-O. I see it’s legit.”
“As I stated,” Bryant snapped as he moved past the guards. “We’ll head on to the motor pool now where I’ve got transportation waiting.”
“Sorry, sir,” Williams said. “I don’t see anything here for your guests.”
“Look, soldier,” Bryant turned back to her, giving a hard glare at the other two soldiers. “I’ve got all my people on other details, so I have to do this myself, and I’m at a disadvantage.” He held up his crutch. “Since I can’t lug everything on my own, I’m designating Jessie as my official assistant, and the girl won’t leave her mother. They tested positive for the fungus but aren’t showing any outward signs yet, and I promised them some fresh air before…” Bryant’s words trailed off and his look turned dark. “You know what I mean. They don’t have much time before things get tough for them.”
Williams regarded Jessie and Fiona with a hard stare that melted into an expression of pity. The soldier shook her head and waved them through. “Of course, sir. Go ahead.”
“Thank you.”
Bryant turned and hobbled down the hall with Jessie following behind, holding Fiona’s hand.
“Promised us some fresh air?” she quipped.
“Sorry, I had to think fast,” he shot over his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to infer you were dying.”
“It’s fine.” Jessie touched her fingers to her itching throat. “I was just kidding.”
Bryant guided them down a series of halls until the scent of machine oil and fuel touched Jessie’s nose. Soon, sounds of ratchets and hammering reached her ears, and she knew they must be near the motor pool. The lieutenant colonel stopped next to a door with a small square window where stark white light shined into the hall.
“Keep going straight to the end of this hall and out the exit. Wait for me outside until I drive away from the garage. When you see a vehicle blink twice, that’s me. Come on out to meet me, but don’t let anyone see you. You’re still not on the order, and I don’t want to have to talk my way through every time.
Jessie nodded as Bryant threw open the door and went into the motor pool, blaring them with the tool shop noise until the door slammed shut.
“Let’s go,” she told Fiona.
Jessie guided the girl to the end of the hall and pushed through the door at the end. They stepped into the cool night air with lights spilling from a pair of garage doors to illuminate two rows of broken vehicles. Bullet holes riddled the sides of jeeps, and Humvees suffered from flat tires or body damage. The sounds of motors revving and metal clanking reminded Jessie of a big mechanic shop she used to take her car to.
When the door shut behind her, Jessie leaned against it and pulled Fiona closer. She searched the darkness for patrols, though no one walked between the tents or out in the lot. She spotted lights up on the highway and a chopper in the sky. People moved inside the tents and tunnels, sometimes glimpsed as they moved past the plastic windows. But no one looked outside.
Jessie’s breathing seemed louder than the wind, and her heart pounded loudly in her chest. She squatted down and hugged Fiona. The girl looked around and crunched the snack wrappers in her hand.
An engine rumbled, and a faded beige Humvee cruised into view. It was a huge vehicle with a gun mounted in the turret. It moved to the edge of the motor pool lights and pulled in next to the last vehicle in the row. The headlamps blinked twice and remained on.
“That’s our cue,” Jessie whispered to Fiona. “Let’s go.”
She took the girl’s hand and led her around the edge of the motor pool light, finding a swath of darkness to stick to. Her long strides soon had her dragging Fiona behind her, so she stooped, picked up the girl, and half-jogged the rest of the way.
By the time she reached the end of the row, her lungs burned, and her head spun with dizziness. Bryant sat in the Humvee’s driver seat, grinning and waving them in.
Chapter 4
Randy and Jenny Tucker, Indianapolis, Indiana
Randy drove the lead SUV in a line of three along State Route 52 into Lafayette, Indiana.
It was himself and Jenny, and the two old men, Jones and Bickens in one vehicle. The library people, led by Mrs. Brody, rode in the last two. The insides of the vehicles were as clean as they would get them, and everyone wore an air filtration mask, even if some were made of 2-liter bottles, duct tape, and furnace air filter material. They’d covered all the vents, but he couldn’t imagine how much of the fungus was getting inside the trucks.
“It should only take us a couple hours to reach Indianapolis,” Randy said, glancing up into his rearview mirror at the two old men with the plastic “Coke” visors duct taped to their faces. “You won’t have to wear those masks for too much longer.”
Jones nodded and gave Randy a thumbs up, and he had to admit he was thankful to have the two older men along. After all, they’d helped take down Krumer and saved the twins’ lives.
After Randy and Jenny had returned home to find it ransacked by the guy in the Dickie’s shirt, he’d put a bullet in the man’s head. It wasn’t something he was proud of, but it was clear Dickie was the one who’d killed Ally, and he’d put their lives in danger twice.
After that, the twins had tried to salvage what they could of their small stockpile. In truth, Dickie hadn’t done a lot of damage, however, he’d dragged BD all over the house and downstairs to the basement. It would have taken Randy and Jenny hours to restore the area and make it livable again.
That’s when they’d decided to just pick up the people at the library and head straight to Indianapolis. And even with that early start, it had taken them several hours to get everyone together and get on the road.
They approached Lafayette, Indiana early Sunday morning just as light was breaking over the small college town, home of the Purdue University Boilermakers. Even from 2 miles out, Randy saw the smoke rising into the sky.
“Well, it’s worse here,” Jenny said with a shake of her head. “This town is burning. Think it’s from people looting?”
“Hard to tell,” he replied. “It could be people trying to burn the fungus, too. Either way, I don’t think I want to drive through downtown.” Randy got off State Route 52 at Sagamore Parkway, intending to skirt north around the city and hopping on I-65 south soon after.
“Would you look at that,” Jenny said, peering out her window. “There’s people.”
Randy glanced out the window at a sparse Walmart parking lot. He spotted a cluster of six cars with a dozen people gathered close around the vehicles. Some wore backpacks and held rifles. They were gathered so close together because they wore masks like Jones’s and Bicken’s; they’d have to stand on top of one another to communicate.
Their faces lifted as the three SUVs drove by, and Randy gave the truck a little more gas, kicking their speed up to fifty miles per hour. He had to be careful because trucks and cars were smashed against the median and each other, pieces of metal and fiberglass strewn across the road like a giant’s hand had combed down the entire expressway.
The drivers of the vehicles sat bloated and dead behind the steering wheels, their faces consumed by the crimson fungus which grew more around the ears, eyes, nose, and mouth. Randy was no doctor, but the fungus seemed to prefer the human respiratory system more than human skin. That meant skin was a barrier against the stuff, and they could possibly do without their heavy Tyvek coveralls or makeshift plastic ones, at least in the short term.
Still, Randy and Jenny always wiped their exposed skin with disinfectant wipes or bleach when necessary. After two days of that, both of the twins’ eyebrows had turned white. It would have been hilarious if they weren’t trying so hard to survive. When the disinfectant soap ran out, they’d have to use bleach on their hair, and he didn’t want to be the one to tell Jenny that. She was proud of her red locks, so going blonde had never been an option. But they’d cross that bridge when they got there.
“Should we stop and see if those people need help?” Jones was referring to the people in the Walmart parking lot, the old man yelling in his makeshift mask to be heard.
“I don’t think so.” Randy shook his head. “I don’t think we should stop until we reach the FEMA camp.”
“I agree with you a hundred percent, brother,” Jenny replied. “We definitely don’t want to run into another Krumer.”
They continued around the desolate city. The crimson fungus lay in stripes across the road and crawled up the sides of buildings with its slow, deliberate pace. He got off of Sagamore Parkway and turned left on Schuyler Avenue, jumping back onto I-65 two miles later.
He drove carefully along the expressway, avoiding wrecked vehicles and debris while trying to maintain a speed of at least thirty miles per hour.
They left Lafayette behind and continued south, never running into conflict or seeing anyone at all. They passed through the small town of Lebanon and entered the outskirts of Indianapolis. Subdivisions and buildings burned in spots, and everything stood in an eerie silence with hundreds of cars scattered along the roadway.
“There it is,” Jenny said, pointing to a sign for the Indianapolis International Airport. “Take I-465 south.”
“Got it.” Randy nodded, and he turned their SUV onto the exit ramp and swooped around a wide turn until they headed south.
“What do you think we’ll find in Indianapolis?”
“Beats the heck out of me,” he replied. “Hopefully, a clean place to sleep, some food, and a shower. I’d even settle for one of those camp showers that trickles water on your head.”
“Me, too,” Jenny said.
They drove through a sprawling suburban area choked with fungus and cars. Randy had to drive slow to squeeze through in some places, and he grew frust
rated with their progress. Getting out in a hurry would be tough, too.
He found a wide-open strip and pushed the SUV to a blazing forty miles per hour. The gray sky dumped its dismal light down on them, and when the sun came out, it gave the fungus a strange, velvet tint.
Jenny looked out of her window with a gasp.
“What is it, sis?”
“Dead people everywhere.” Jenny stared for another moment before straightening in her seat.
Randy risked a glance and saw what his sister saw: parking lots full of wrecks; bodies lying in streets and sidewalks like trash; dogs laying close to their owners, leashes still attached.
“Wow, that’s bad.” He shook his head.
“Watch out!” Jenny stretched her arms out and pointed straight ahead.
Randy slammed his foot on the brakes before he even looked, and the SUV skidded to a halt. The vehicle behind him, driven by Mrs. Brody, squealed its tires and banked to the left, just clipping the back corner of his truck.
A military Humvee sat in the middle of the road, turned sideways to block the only way through. A semi-trailer truck had crashed on the right, jackknifed against the guardrail. A few cars were piled up on the left.
Four soldiers were walking toward their SUV, heads covered in respiratory gear and rifle barrels pointed at the twins. The soldiers were shouting and waving their arms, and even though Randy couldn’t hear what they were saying, he knew they meant for everyone to get out of the truck.
“Let’s get out of here.” The pitch of Jenny’s voice rose on a wave of panic.
The men shouted louder and raised their rifles to their shoulders. They weren’t police officers or ROTC weekend warriors. They were full on Army or Marines, and they wore camouflage with military belts wrapped around their waists.
“We can’t turn around,” Randy said, then he shook his head. “Those guns will tear us up, Jenny.”
As if in response to his assumption, one soldier pointed his rifle skyward and fired off a burst.
Everyone in the car jumped, and Randy popped his door open and put his hands up where the soldiers could see. He kicked his door the rest of the way open shouting, “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!”
Spore Series | Book 2 | Choke Page 3
