There was a line of five holes near the back on the driver’s side. They were much larger than the other bullet holes, as were the matching set of exit holes on the passenger side. I remembered the truck shuddering as we were escaping the checkpoint, and my mind flashed to the turret mounted weapon on the personnel carrier.
Luke told me that the weapon it had mounted was most likely a 25 millimeter auto-cannon, firing armor-piercing rounds. Luckily the sides of our truck would have been like paper to those puppies and they passed right through it. We were very lucky to have made it out of there with the truck intact.
Luke and I moved quickly to join Indigo at the back of the truck. Luke banged on the door with his fist.
“Is everybody all right in there?” he called. “I’m going to open it up.”
There was no response, not that we could hear anyway, and I moved to stand next to him as he readied himself to push up the roller door. He looked pale. I didn’t blame him. I was even more afraid of what we might find when we opened the door now that I’d seen the damage to the truck.
Luke undid the latch and pulled the door up.
It clattered noisily upward and revealed the cargo bay of the truck. It was a mess. Supplies had tipped around and now lay strewn across the floor. Our people looked dazed as they struggled to move boxes and rise off the floor. Everyone I could see was shielding their eyes in the sudden light. Some were moaning and I could see everybody except Karen, John, Mark, and Brooke.
The ride must have been hell on four wheels for those in the back, what with crashing through the barrier and into the armored personnel carrier, not to mention auto-cannon fire ripping through it.
“Are you all okay?” I asked, looking around and desperately trying to spot the missing.
“Most of us are just a bit bruised and battered,” Sonny said. “I think,” he winced as he shoved a box containing extra bedding off of his legs. Sonny still looked weak but, miraculously, much better than he had been the last time I’d seen him early that morning.
“Where’s Brooke?” Ben’s voice caused me to glance in his direction. “She was standing right next to me.”
“Let’s get this stuff moved and look for anybody who is missing,” I said. “Just pile it all out and to the side of the truck. We can repack it later.”
I motioned for Luke to join me and we climbed up into the back of the truck to help people out. Ben stayed inside to help while the others limped down from the truck.
Ben found Brooke quickly. Her hand emerged from a pile of debris and she waved quite calmly, leading him to her. She was fine apart from a twisted ankle and a sore knee. Relieved, I continued pulling stuff away from the front left corner of the truck and came across another hand.
It was a girl’s hand, pale and limp.
As I pulled away tins and boxes, I saw blood. Lots of it. I knew Karen was dead when I gently revealed her face. Thankfully, her eyes were closed. I felt sure they would have stared at me accusingly if they had been open. There was a bullet wound in her chest and it was obvious she had been killed instantly. I finished uncovering her, tears of rage stinging my eyes and then turned to help Luke. We had to make the living a priority and it was possible that Mark and John were still alive.
They were. I think Mark had been hit by a round from the personnel carrier’s cannon. He was gravely injured and his left arm was barely hanging on by a few threads of tendon and skin. He was unconscious, but the bleeding wasn't as bad as I would have thought. Both Luke and Sonny explained that the auto-cannon probably had tracer rounds mixed in, which may have partially cauterized Mark’s wound on its way through.
John had not been hit by gunfire, but was in a bad way, as well. The falling supplies had crashed right on top of him and his leg was caught under a large bin of canned food. It was clear the shin bone in his right leg was broken. I’m no doctor, but even I know that a person’s leg is not supposed to have an extra bend between the knee and the ankle.
We laid John and Mark out on a training mat that we pulled from the truck. Brooke and Samara tended to them while Luke and I climbed into the truck and covered Karen with a sheet we had found in the garage. We gently lifted her up and out of the truck, and I heard the other girls crying as they watched us carrying her. Sonny walked with us as we carried Karen out through the side door of the garage and to a small stand of trees behind the gas station. When we got to the trees, we paused.
“There,” Sonny said, nodding his head toward an oak tree on our left. The earth had eroded away from the base of the trunk, leaving a cavity underneath framed by exposed roots. “That'll make a good resting place for poor Karen.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
We carried her over and placed her inside. It was tight and it took us a long time to maneuver her into the cavity, but we finally managed to arrange her body in a halfway respectable fashion. When we were done, both Luke and I sat back on our heels, catching our breath.
“She’s with Arthur again,” Sonny said. “Hopefully, both of them will be happier for it.”
I grunted a non-committal reply. My doubts about the existence of God had also led me to question the notion of an afterlife.
Death is strange in this new world. Before the Flu, we had such a fear of it. It was always hidden and behind the scenes. We talked about it only in neutral terms, ‘he passed away’ or she had ‘gone to a better place.’ We sent our dead away to be prettied up, made to look better than they had when they were alive, just so when the funeral came around, everybody could remember a perfect image of their loved one.
Then we locked them away in a box underground or burned them to a small pile of ashes and hid them away, where they would be forgotten most of the time, only to be remembered on rare occasions or special dates. But now, in this new world, death is ever present, and it is everywhere. The reminders of death are impossible to avoid, just like death itself.
The thing that surprises me is how quickly we all became used to it. Even then, while Sonny, Luke, and I laid Karen to rest beneath the oak tree, I knew I had become numb to the idea of death. It was simply a fact of life and would continue to be so. I had no illusions that it would ever be otherwise again ... at least not for a long time and I was suddenly angry again. I didn’t want to be used to death, didn’t want to get to the point where it meant nothing.
“We should get back to the others…” Sonny said.
“No, wait ... can you go and get the others, Luke. I think we should stop to say a few words for Karen.”
The day was still gray, and the temperature seemed to be hovering just above freezing. Even though there was no sign of the thick fog which had made the morning’s drive such a chore, the clouds looked ready to begin dumping more snow on us at any moment. Within a few minutes, we were all gathered around the makeshift grave. The girls were weeping before I even began to speak.
“We’re here to say goodbye to Karen, and also Arthur, who we weren’t able to bring with us. They were both ... great. And I can say personally, and I think also on behalf of Brooke, Ben, and Luke, that they both made us feel welcome at the academy. I don’t know what waits for them on their final journey, but I hope they find peace wherever it is ... that’s all, I guess. Thanks.”
We started to shuffle away and I saw Indigo suddenly dash off toward a patch of scrappy looking yellow flowers that were growing through the cracked pavement. I waited while the others went into the garage.
She retrieved a handful and went back to Karen’s resting place, gently placing them on the blanket. She gave me a sad smile as she stood and came toward me. We didn’t say anything; both of us knew there was nothing to say. We walked a few feet in silence, and then her hand found mine. My heart nearly stopped, but I told myself it was just one human comforting another, even as I hoped it was a sign of something more.
After the injured and dead had been removed from the truck, we re-entered the garage, pulled the doors closed and started repacking it again. When we
were nearly done, I walked out through a side door a little way into the overgrown yard and examined the gray sky, listening for the sounds of helicopters or vehicles. Sonny emerged from the garage, joining me. He was looking better, and I marveled at his powers of recovery. It had been less than 24 hours since he’d been shot.
“That could be trouble,” I said to Sonny, looking at the overcast sky. “If it snows and the Chinese Army is looking for us, it’ll be easy to follow our trail in fresh snow.”
“Yeah, it could create a problem,” Sonny replied. “And they will be after us for sure, but there’s no reason to worry about it. We’ve got enough things to worry about that we can control, or at least influence. Weather isn’t one of them – nor are the Chinese.”
“I guess that makes sense,” I said.
We headed back into the garage in silence, lost in our thoughts. I can’t speak for Sonny, but I was thinking about what he’d said, about only worrying over the things we could control, and my mind had gone straight to the problem of who would be coming with us.
Mark was in a bad way, and it wasn’t a stretch to think we might be bringing him out to lie next to Karen before the day was through. He was still unconscious when we got back inside but Samara reported his heartbeat was strong. Still, he was in no condition to travel. Nor was John.
I knew I was soon going to have to make a decision, one way or another. It was one I didn't want to make. The thought of leaving anyone behind killed me. I had all afternoon to think it over, so I decided I would put it off as long as possible. Why was it my decision anyway? Yes, I had been voted leader, but how long did I have to be the one making all the decisions?
Sonny was back on his feet now, albeit sore and limited physically, but it seemed even he was deferring to me. I decided not to think too deeply about it, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to continue making the big decisions.
“We got everything back in place and shifted it around a bit so maybe it’ll be harder to shake loose next time, Boss,” Luke said, coming up to me. “Indigo brushed all the broken glass out of the cab, too.”
“Good,” I replied. “I'm hoping Sonny can drive so I can ride in the back for a while.”
“You and me both, bro,” Luke said, following me to the main doors.
I pulled them open just an inch or so and peered at the gas station through the narrow gap.
Glancing at him, I could see he looked just as exhausted as I felt. It was the stress and the constant stream of adrenalin, I think, leaving us feeling drained. He also looked dirty and scrappy, his patchy, ginger-colored adolescent beard adding to the look.
“Man, you need a shave and a shower...” I joked.
“Stuff that, when we leave this place I plan on curling up in a sleeping bag on a mat in the back of the truck and sleeping. Just sleeping. And you oughtta talk, by the way!”
My hands went to my own face and felt the light fuzz of my own boy beard before lightly running my fingers over the wound on my cheek. It had crusted over and thankfully didn’t hurt apart from a faint throb. I must have looked a sight, but what can I say? Priorities tend to change when you are in the middle of an apocalypse, running for your life.
“You can get some sleep now, if you want,” I told him. “I was going to see if you wanted to come with me to check out the gas station for any supplies, but I can take Ben or Indigo with me instead.”
“I doubt that we’ll find much there,” he said, eyeing the station. “That place looks like it has been closed since long before the current mess started, but I’ll go with you. Ben is busy worrying about his sister’s ankle and Indigo is already sleeping in the back of the truck.”
“Alright, you and me then,” I said, rising to my feet. I patted the pocket with the revolver in it, feeling its welcome weight. “You might want to grab a gun ... just in case ...”
“Nah, I have sworn off firearms, I’ll get my crossbow. Be right back,” he said, and headed to the truck.
I fought the urge to argue with him, knowing if it came to a confrontation with military, the crossbow would be of limited value. He returned a moment later holding the weapon loosely in his hand. The way he carried it called up images in my mind of old time movies like Robin Hood, except in those, it always seemed to be the bad guys who had the crossbows. This time, they would be carrying semi-automatics.
“Let's go, man,” Luke said, pushing the door open and breezing past me with a self-confident air about him. I shook my head and smiled to myself. My friend would have fit right in with a group of medieval outlaws. I pulled the door closed and followed him across the gravel expanse between the garage and the station, maybe ten yards across at most. With every step, I worried a Chinese patrol would come rolling down the road.
8
We made it to the back of the cinderblock building without incident. The window was boarded over and the door was locked with a chain and padlock.
“Let’s try the front,” said Luke.
There was another door about halfway down the side wall, this one unchained, with a faded picture of male and female stick figures stenciled on the outside. It was locked too, but Luke put his shoulder against it and with a hard bump, it popped right open.
Inside was a simple bathroom with a single toilet and a cracked porcelain sink beneath a grimy stainless-steel mirror. There was no door leading further into the station.
“I always hated gas stations where the bathrooms were on the outside, they were always filthy like this,” Luke said, turning away with his face etched with disgust. “But you know what I hated more than that?”
“What?” I asked, as we continued along the wall to the front.
“When fast food restaurants did the same thing. You remember the Hefty Burger back in Fort Carter? They were set up that way.”
“Yeah,” I said, with a nod of my head. “A real pain in the ass.”
If only little things like that were all we had to worry about.
The glass doors at the front were also chained and clasped with a padlock.
“We need something to cut the padlock,” I said, grasping the chains.
“Yep,” Luke said. “Sonny brought some bolt cutters, I helped him pack them up. Be back in a flash.”
He ran off toward the garage before I could answer. I heard the faint hum of a helicopter in the distance, back in the direction of the bridge where we had encountered the Chinese, but I couldn’t see it and it didn’t seem to get any closer. Still, I was glad I thought of checking for the bolt cutters rather than trying to shoot the lock which was the first idea that popped into my head; if they were searching for us in this direction and were close enough, a gunshot might lead them right to us.
When Luke returned with the heavy bolt cutters, he cut through the padlock and I yanked the chain out from between the pull handles. Other than the padlock and chain, the front door was unlocked.
I took another glance up and down the road in both directions. It was still clear, but I wondered how much longer before we saw some sign of the Chinese. I pulled the door open and we slipped inside. It was dark. The boarded over windows only allowed narrow cracks of light to seep in around the edges. Luke pulled a small LED flashlight from his coat pocket and tossed it to me before pulling another out for himself.
“I hope we’re not draining the batteries down for nothing,” he said, shining his little light along the counter to the right of the door.
“What size do they take?” I asked him.
“What?”
“What size batteries do they use?”
“Double-A, I think,” he replied. “Why?”
“Here,” I reached down and picked up the unopened pack of double-A batteries by my foot and tossed it over to him. “Now we don't have to worry about it.”
“How long do you think those have been lying there?” he asked.
“Don't know, at least a year, maybe longer,” I said, as I shone my flashlight around the station’s interior. The place had been abandoned, but you
could tell that when it closed down the owner hadn’t gotten quite everything out. Various convenience store-style sundries still sat on their racks. Most of the bags of chips and nuts had been gnawed into by rats or mice.
“Hey, look, they have a fishing section,” Luke said, walking over to where lures and bobbers were hanging. He grabbed a couple rolls of fine fishing line, and several packs of small hooks, shoving them all in his pocket.
“What are those for?” I asked.
“Medical supplies,” he responded. “I grabbed barbless hooks. Those and the line together will allow us to stitch people up if we need to.”
“Good idea,” I said, while grabbing a few small bottles of aspirin from the shelf near me. We were low on pain killers of any sort and I figured something was better than nothing. Mark was going to need them, if he ever woke up, and John could probably already use some. He’d been awake and in agony when Luke and I had left.
“Too bad they don’t have anything stronger than aspirin here,” I said, looking over to see what Luke was doing.
“Yeah, we’ll have to be careful giving those out though. Aspirin is a blood thinner, so we won’t be able to give them to the wounded. I got three unopened cases of soda here,” he said. “I take back what I said about this place not being worth checking. It’s a gold mine.”
I went behind the counter to see what I could find. There were dozens of packs of cigarettes, and a few full cartons as well, but none of us smoked and this didn’t seem like the ideal time to take up the habit, so I ignored them. The till on the register was open and was empty of everything but a handful of pennies, which I left there. Coins were almost as useless as cigarettes. In a cupboard under the register I found a stack of porno magazines, which would have left me giddy six months before, but now were just junk to be tossed out of the way. Under them, I found something much more valuable to us. A revolver. I whispered a triumphant, “Yes!”
“What did you find?” Luke asked.
I picked up the revolver from under the counter, stood up and placed it on the countertop to show Luke.
America Falls (Book 2): On The Run Page 5
