by David Peters
Niccole was clinging to Dylan, “I want to leave, and I want to wake up, make this stop Dylan. Make this stop; I can’t deal with this anymore, this is too much.”
“Bill, what about the bus?” Dylan said flatly, “we know there are others in there.”
“I wish we could just burn it.” Bill sighed heavily and moved to the door of the bus. Taking a quick look into the door, he verified no more standing Corrupted were there and then disappeared into the blackness of the windowless, darkened Motor Coach without another word. Four shots rang out in quick succession, breaking the still afternoon heat. The parking lot fell quiet again as the echoes of the gun shots faded.
Dylan wanted to call out, but the deafening silence caused by the day’s events wouldn’t allow it. After another few minutes, a final shot was heard. The remaining passengers stood nervously by, a few of them sobbing quietly. After several minutes, Dylan couldn’t remain quiet any longer.
“Bill?” Dylan called into the bus but there was no answer. “Bill, you ok? You need me to come in?”
“No, I’m good, just sittin’ here for a minute. I’m coming out. The bus is clear.” Bill stepped out of the bus and onto the hot afternoon pavement. “Five of them in there, smells like a week of condensed death. That didn’t go as well as I would have liked though.” Pulling up his pant leg, a bloody bite mark was visible on his leg. “Bastard was hiding under the bunk bed in back.”
“Bill? You feel ok?” Dylan began to raise his rifle not knowing what to do, and certainly not able to shoot Bill, he had known the man his entire life.
“JJ was not kidding about the burning. Man, I’m on fire, feel like I have fire for blood. Hope you fair better Dylan. Take care of Niccole. It has been good knowing you two.” Bill painfully lowered himself to a sit and lean against the bus. “I will miss this life. See you on the other side.”
“Bill…”
Bill looked at Dylan, then to the sky as he pulled the trigger on his service revolver. The boom echoed down the small valley as his body fell lifelessly to the ground. After the echoes of the gun shot faded a shroud of silence fell over the parking lot.
Dylan and Niccole stared in disbelief. Life had changed too much in the last thirty minutes for Niccole to cope with.
Leaning into Dylan she mumbled “Dylan, I need to sit.” And with that, her eyes rolled back and she passed out.
Dylan didn’t let her fall far, sweeping her up like a child and placing her in the passenger side of the truck. Looking at the dazed survivors of the tour bus, “you folks are on your own. You may want to take the weapons off of my friends there, I have a feeling you will need them.” Dylan wanted to walk over to Bill, somehow pay his respects, say or do something, anything. But the other part of him wanted to be as far away as he could get him and his wife from the infection that had been so quickly overtaking his friend.
Dylan turned the truck around in the lot but was at a loss as to where to go. Slowly driving down Main Street he unconsciously made his way to the police station. Pulling into the lot to park, he still made a point of not taking one of the disabled parking spots, silently laughing at himself when it finally dawned on him how pointless that was anymore.
Niccole sat upright and looked around the parking lot getting her bearings. She looked into Dylan’s eyes for a long moment then nodded as if she had just come to some decision. Dylan knew this look well. This was the look she had when she had been pushed too far.
Dylan stepped out of the truck and met Niccole at the entrance to the station. She put her hand on Dylan’s shoulder and apologized. “I’m sorry about that back there. That was a little much for me to deal with. I’m back now. I’m good.”
He met her eyes and nodded slowly “Never doubted it for a minute Coco.” He held the door open and waved her in like she was entering some swanky hotel.
Niccole rubbed her temples, “On the doorstep of the apocalypse and still the gentleman,” she smiled as she walked into the lobby.
“I was thinking we should grab some supplies. I don’t think Bill would mind the pilferage.” Dylan followed Niccole back into the radio room. Inspecting the same cabinet that Bill had been in only a short while ago Dylan liberated another Mini-14, and two Berettas. Handing one of the pistols to Niccole and placing the other in his waist band, he began hunting around the office for a bag. Finding a backpack next to Bill’s desk, he emptied the contents and began to fill it up with spare magazines and boxes of ammunition for both guns.
“You don’t plan on shooting the family jewels off do you?” Niccole was holding a police issue holster and belt.
“I guess the gangster look isn’t working for me, is it? It seemed so cool at the time, you know, kind of tough and all. Like a modern cowboy, don’t you think?”
“Not so much.” Niccole smiled as she mockingly shook her head. Niccole took a long look out the front doors. “Are you done with your shopping? We should probably head out.”
“I don’t even know if we should leave yet. In the very least we should probably wait to see if your parents make it.” Dylan realized it sounded cold, but the words had already been spoken and he couldn’t pull them back.
Niccole stared blankly out the front glass doors. Her mind was somewhere else when she spoke. “I know we weren’t close, my parents I mean, not you and I. I probably could have tried harder.” Niccole was struggling for something to say, “I hope they are ok, I hope they get here.”
“You couldn’t have tried any harder at all, your father is about as unreachable emotionally as a person can be, and your mom, what can I say. Your mom was one of the first Super Heroes, SuperBitch.”
Niccole laughed as Dylan opened the door for her, “You’re right, I know it, and what can I say? I don’t wish them harm though. We may not have been close but I love them.”
“I hope they make it too but we need to be realistic. What are our options to keep us safe? I’m starting to think Bill might have been right, Daniel’s little town may be what we are looking for. It was certainly remote enough, self sufficient. To be perfectly honest it was a pretty nice little, well, village? I’m not sure what to call it.”
The drive home was quiet and uneventful. Neither had yet come to terms with everything that had happened today and wasn’t willing to go there yet.
--8--
They arrived home for dinner. Food was prepared more out of a necessity than hunger. Dylan found it extremely difficult to not continually stare outside. He was really wishing they had an alarm system or a dog. A grumpy cat would be better than nothing, he thought. He couldn’t help but think about what was just slightly over two miles away. Although the smoke was no longer visible he knew a friend of his was laying there dead. He continued to berate himself for not doing more. Knowing what he did now he felt obligated to bury Randy.
At some point during the day the power had died, probably around the same time they noticed it was dead in town. Their generator would run the well pump for several weeks to a month or more if they conserved, but fuel would be an issue eventually. Knowing that, they didn’t want to run it for lights. They knew from past experience the deep freeze would keep things frozen for several days, even in the heat wave they were having. So all things considered, they were good for at least a month, if not more, and it would be at least a few months before they had eaten the last bit of canned food and would have to turn to the livestock.
Dylan and Niccole sat on their front porch. The house had been built around 1910, and had all the charm and warmth of a home of that era. A large covered porch ran the length of two sides of the house, with a swinging two seat bench on the front. The porch was home to their dog Rocky until a few years ago when he was hit by a grain truck out front. They hadn’t had the heart to bring another dog home, he and the horses were the closest thing to a child they would ever have, and he couldn’t cope with the loss again. Although they both wanted children, according to the doctor in Pullman, it wasn’t in the cards for them.
Dy
lan was nursing his beer as he gazed out over the road and fields, “I have lived in this house since I was four, I don’t want to have to leave. I can’t imagine ever calling anywhere else home.”
“I’ve been coming to play at this house since I was what, seven, maybe eight? I can’t see myself anywhere else.” There was a deep sadness in her voice. “What do we do Dylan, where do we go?”
“We are good here for a while, I feel fairly safe, good visibility. At some point we will have to either move or go into town for food. We have food for the animals until mid fall, maybe even early winter. Water should hold out. We could get it from the creek if need be. If we stay, I will have to go back to Randy’s place and burn those bodies. I hope the coyotes haven’t gotten to them. I really wish I could reach my brother in some way, see if they are safe and if we would be welcome there.”
Dylan’s brother Daniel had convinced himself about nineteen years ago that society was on the verge of total collapse. He converted every dollar he had to gold and moved to Paradise Falls, Oregon. Paradise Falls didn’t actually exist on any map and was most often referred to as ‘that hippy town up in the hills’. Dylan had visited twice in the last decade or so and found the place to be quite welcoming and extremely self sufficient. They had been into the green movement when the rest of the country was trying to find out exactly how large an SUV could be and still fit on the road.
“I don’t know Coco. I just don’t know what to do.” Dylan rubbed his eyes and realized he was completely exhausted. “Think I am running on empty. My batteries are nearly dead.”
“I’m bone weary, can’t stop thinking about my parents, Bill, Randy. JJ was an ass, but no one deserves to go like that. The thought of going back to Randy’s place makes me want to throw-up. It will be a crap trip either way, either we bury a friend and his sister, or there is nothing there and I give up sleep for the rest of my life.” Niccole had laid her head on Dylan’s shoulder and closed her eyes as she spoke. Her voice trailed off into nonsense as she yawned, then she dozed off into sleep.
Dylan continued to watch the surrounding area. The night didn’t look any different than any of the other nights they had spent lounging on this porch. He had gotten his hunting rifle, an old lever action 444 that he had used his entire life. Mostly to shoot cans across the road from his porch, but when he finally splurged and bought a scope, he was consistently hitting coke bottles at over two hundred yards. Of course that was a decade and several pounds ago.
He sure missed those days of shooting cans with his brother. They would spend hours out on the front porch shooting out to the far hillside. He could almost hear Daniel laughing and patting him on the back for a particularly good shot. He could feel the heat from those long summer days when they didn’t have a care in the world. The breeze moving warmly through the wheat fields, waves of grain showed it’s passing. The light sound of the birds chattering in the trees down by the creak.
Something was watching him.
Dylan awoke with a start. He had been so into his thoughts of the old times that he had dozed off and slipped directly into a dream. He could feel the eyes on him. As he looked around in the moonlit darkness movement caught his eye towards the roadway. Standing in the driveway staring intently at him was a coyote. Their eyes locked, the coyote tilting his head in the questioning manner canines do. Dylan smiled to himself, usually he would greet this stranger with a yelled curse at the animal or a rock thrown in its general direction but tonight the coyote no longer felt like a threat. He watched the animal move down the driveway and across the dark road. With one final look over its shoulder the animal slipped into the shadows.
--9--
Dylan woke up to the usual smell of coffee, bacon and eggs. Dylan skipped the robe and put on his jeans and t-shirt. He looked at the holster and pistol hanging on the bed post. With a sigh he tightened the belt around his waist. He was realizing the gun may be a common wardrobe addition and he frowned as he headed down the stairs. He thought it would probably be a good idea to keep the rifle with him also.
Breakfast was on the kitchen table and Niccole was just walking in from the porch with another plate of bacon.
“Murder by bacon grease? Finally, a way of departing this world that agrees with me.” Dylan smiled.
“This is what is left in the fridge, eat it or toss it out are our only options, and seeing as you seem to think bacon is the one true sign of God, throwing it out isn’t a choice.” She placed the large plate of bacon in front of him bowed and slowly backed away.
“I do like my bacon.” Dylan grabbed his cup of coffee and stepped out on the porch. Niccole had set up the camp stove and was starting in on the hamburger that was rapidly thawing out. Her rifle was leaned against the wall near the stove. At first it disturbed him, but then he realized it was the proper thing to do and that she had actually been prepared if anything happened. He was unconsciously resting his hand on his pistol.
“Seen anything this morning?” Dylan said as he looked out over the fields.
“I saw the Johnson’s mini-van go by. It looked like they had everything they owned strapped to the roof. They were heading south.”
“They didn’t even wave?” Dylan looked surprised.
“It looked like they were trying to set a new land speed record, so, no, they didn’t chat much” she said.
Dylan sat down at the table and looked out the open front door, “I did some thinking last night, and I just can’t see any reason to leave right now. We have lots of food and water. Enough fuel for quite some time and I think we are remote enough that we simply don’t have to worry about anything.”
Niccole was nodding her head in agreement, “I had kind of come to the same conclusion. I want to wait for my parents to show if there isn’t any rush to get out of here. I can’t imagine anything making its way out here. Besides, my father can barely get around anymore and Mom wouldn’t eat anything that isn’t served on imported china and covered in a swirly sauce, so they have nowhere to go but here.” Niccole looked into her coffee cup, wanting to say more, but held back.
“So I guess the question is, and we have time to think about it, when we do leave where are we going?” Dylan asked sincerely.
“I just can’t see any reason to leave right now so I can’t say.” Niccole said with concern.
“Ok, we agree then. This is still our home.” Dylan put his arm around Niccole and pulled her close. On a more dark note, I really think we should head out to Randy’s and give him a proper burial and burn that thing that used to be his sister.”
“As much as I don’t want to, I agree. Although the thought alone makes my stomach turn” Niccole said.
“Ok, after breakfast let’s finish our chores here and go pay our respects to Randy.”
“Sounds good, I would like to check on the Williams, it’s only two more miles past Randy’s place. Esther is getting on in years, and Ernest is getting more stubborn by the day” added Niccole.
They continued about their morning rituals as if nothing had truly changed. Animals were fed and watered, stalls cleaned, all of the duties that came with farm life. Dylan had their small tractor loaded on a trailer and attached to his truck. He had also loaded various tarps, gloves, and two painter’s overalls to cover their clothes when it came time to move the bodies.
He pulled around the front of the house and Niccole came down off the porch with her rifle and a picnic basket.
“That has to be one of the oddest images I have ever seen, look like some bad ass chic from an action movie meets that cartoon bear.”
They made small talk as they headed down the road to Randy’s house. Anything to keep their minds off of the gruesome task that lay ahead.
As they rounded the final bend, they could see Randy’s house had burned completely to the foundation. The only thing left was the car in the ditch and the burned out hulk that used to be Randy’s truck. Even the tool shed behind his house had burned to nothing but a black smudge on the ground.
“Man, that place looks like a meteor hit it, nothing left but ash” Dylan said quietly.
“Dylan, where are the bodies?”
He had been so preoccupied looking at the damage that he failed to notice that he couldn’t see either body. “If I had to guess, I say they burned, they certainly didn’t walk away.” He was trying to be funny but it merely made the situation more uncomfortable for them.
He pulled past where they had parked the day before and both stepped down from the truck. Neither body was there. In fact, the only sign of Randy having been there was the small amount of entrails left behind. The Hunters body left no sign at all beyond the blood stains.
Niccole was standing over the spot where the Hunter had died, “Dylan, what kind of foot print is this?”
Dylan knelt down and looked at it. It was similar in size to an average person but the toes were longer, “Never seen anything like it, kind of looks human, but the toes are all wrong.”
