The Rotting Souls Series (Book 1): Charon's Blight [Day One]

by Ray, Timothy A.

  They didn’t have much in the way of water, so they drank sparingly. She hated to do it, but she had used most of it keeping Matt’s wound clean. Since they weren’t going anywhere, she had gotten him to maneuver enough to let her clean and dress it again. There was a nasty aroma emanating from it and she didn’t like how red the skin was getting around the wound. He would need antibiotics soon to keep the infection from getting worse.

  So far, it’s acting like a normal infection, her mind spoke hopefully.

  The human mouth was teeming with germs and she didn’t want to think of what might happen if they didn’t treat it in time. They would have to make the time to pull over. Not only to refill their water, but to find a pharmacy and make a non-prescription withdrawal. They hadn’t dared pull off while they were still in Vegas, they might have never made it back on the interstate afterwards. Even the frontage road had been swamped and the vehicles swarming it weren’t making much in the way of progress either.

  The other side of the highway had been empty. It wasn’t from the lack of people trying to come from that direction, but from the increased military presence dominating the roadway. No one had been brave enough to attempt it out of fear of an Abram Tank crushing them like Bigfoot at a Monster Truck Rally. Humvees were parked at intervals along the highway with their guns trained on the vehicles inching their way forward; hungry for action.

  She prayed it wouldn’t come until long after they were gone.

  The remaining windows shuddered with the constant barrage from the airplanes that roared overhead; a permanent fixture in the sky. They circled, let loose their ordinance and then disappeared only to be replaced by more. She recognized the Hornets and was surprised by the number of Warthogs flying overhead. Most of those were stationed in Arizona and had to have been in Nevada doing training exercises when the crisis hit. Explosions erupted in the distance and the dark cloud of smoke from the destruction of the city slowly drifted their way. Missiles streaked across the sky and the boom of tanks to the rear had shaken her so badly that she was about ready to just hop out of the car and make a run for it. It’d be a hell of a lot faster than their current pace.

  “There’s nothing I can do,” Matt had told her, as frustrated as she was at the situation.

  If only they had gotten out sooner. The explosion that had knocked her out back on Tropicana might end up costing them their lives.

  “I know,” she had replied, trying to reassure him. Regardless of the years of preparation, Death loomed over them, wanting to take them in his embrace. She could feel it edging ever closer and her mind was going stir crazy with the wait.

  She had put her hands on the dash and peered over the tops of the cars ahead, but she saw nothing that would calm her nerves. All they could do was wait. A flash had lit up their rear window and the rapid explosion that rocked their car made her realize that it was closing fast on their tail. Her hand had reached for the door handle, ready to jump out and start running when her phone had gone off, making her squeal with the sudden movement on her leg.

  Ben: clearing up, five mins

  A rush of relief flooded her. Even though her eye hadn’t caught it, they had begun to move at a faster rate; yards rather than feet. Matt had glanced her way and they shared a moment, they might just make it. Then she saw his eyes darken, his leg twitch, and the corner of his mouth firm up. She had constantly told him that he was going to be fine, but the look he was giving her said everything she needed to know; he didn’t believe her.

  Frustrated, she had clenched her hands and looked away.

  Ben had been right; the traffic had lightened up shortly thereafter and they had finally been able to get their acquired vehicle up to a normal pace. The number of onramps had decreased and the flow of traffic surged forward in an attempt to get clear of the city.

  The fact that Ben was still watching over them made her feel calmer. She felt reassured that if danger had come too close, that he would have warned them in an enough time to get away.

  As if on cue, her phone buzzed again:

  Ben: Take steps to avoid Flagstaff

  “We kind of need to get out of Nevada first, Ben,” she had muttered, shaking her head.

  “What?” Matt asked her, his eyes on the road and oblivious to the text she just got. He suddenly braked as an SUV cut in front of him. She was glad that he hadn’t checked his own phone or they would’ve ended up pancaked or pinballed across the interstate with the cars behind serving as flippers.

  She sighed, “he says to stay away from Flagstaff.”

  “How the hell are we going to do that?” he asked as expected and she didn’t have an answer yet.

  “Let me work on that. For now just keep your eyes on the road,” she ordered him. She reached for her map and unfolded it on her lap, eyes trying to trace roads and find a way east without using the I-40.

  “No shit,” he sneered. “Like I don’t know how to fucking drive.”

  Her hand slammed down on the map, impacting her sore legs. “Don’t you snap at me! I know you’re scared, but I’m not a fucking punching bag. Got it? We are doing everything we can. You can’t fall apart on me now.”

  He shook his head, his nose lifting as his brows drew together. “Always about you, isn’t it? You need to keep going. I need you to keep me alive,” he mocked in a bad imitation of her voice.

  It was the hurt talking, but it still stung.

  The moment he said it, he glanced her way and saw the pain that he had caused, the firm set of her mouth, and the way she was kneading her hands. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I know we need to keep moving. I just feel fucking stupid. Why didn’t I clear that car before trying to get in? I fucked it up. Even a rookie knows better than to pull that shit. It’s the first rule in the Survival 101 manual.”

  “I thought that was don’t die,” she muttered, her eyes threatening to tear under the onslaught, her mind needing to focus.

  He gave her an icy stair. “I’m not debating—”

  “It isn’t just on you. I didn’t check it either,” she said, cutting him off. “We are not perfect, we can’t be. There’s just no way to see every angle. That’s impossible.”

  “Bullshit,” he replied, but the anger had leaked a bit from his voice and her heart began to pump at a regular pace again. For a moment there, he looked ready to pull his pistol and end it. Her hands shook as they held the map tightly within their grasp.

  “We might have to go through Havasu. We’ll lose half a day, but there is just no other way without going through Flagstaff. Unless you want to hoof it.” She instantly regretted it the moment the words left her mouth. That was really out of the question and she wouldn’t consider it unless they were left with no other choice; he wouldn’t get very far. If the infection was spreading, the exertion would only make it worse. They’d have to stick to vehicles as long as they could.

  “Maybe they’ll pick us up,” her husband offered, letting hope show on his face for the first time in hours. It lightened the load on her mind and she welcomed it.

  She looked up to the sky once more, watching the planes scream by overhead. “I’m pretty sure the airspace is closed down in this part of the world. If they’re going to have any chance to come get us, we’re going to have to get a hell of a lot closer.”

  He listened but she doubted he absorbed it.

  Over the next two hours he had stayed hopeful and she let him; it was better than the dark brooding suicidal attitude he had been displaying all afternoon. If you believed you were going to die, you could sometimes manufacture the outcome you feared.

  The sky was darkening as night approached and the lights along the freeway told them ahead of time that it was going to be a long evening. Signs began to appear for the Hoover Dam and she knew that they were fast approaching the border. Traffic had begun to slow and she was glad that the new interstate bypass was built a few years before; it would help them get into Arizona faster than that slow winding road through the dam. She had been there
once or twice and after the initial awe, it had settled upon her that it was just a dam.

  Hours later, she would recall that stray thought and wonder at how naïve she had been.

  Chapter 23

  Hot LZ

  Todd

  Gila National Forest, AZ

  It took them twenty-five minutes to get airborne. It wasn’t just the trip back through the tunnel; the Huey hadn’t been flown in over a year. The area around it had to be cleared and the startup started from scratch; they couldn’t just hop in and go. There was no point in going out there if they were just going to end up dead themselves.

  Each of them had been taking lessons on flying; but some had shown more aptitude for it and had been certified by an instructor in Tucson. While he hadn’t gotten his yet, his daughter had. Surprisingly, she had taken to the stick like she had been born in a helicopter instead of a maternity ward. Neither parent had wanted to encourage her; even though she got certified they had no intention of ever letting her fly on her own.

  Using their GPS app as a guide, Rodger got the Huey off the ground and turned northeast. It wouldn’t take long to get there. The question that weighed heavily upon their minds was whether nor not they’d be under fire when they arrived.

  Monica was standing in the back, the door thrown wide on the Huey, her blond hair flapping with the wind. Her gear was fastened, her rifle held tightly with one hand, the other over her head gripping a bar to keep her balance. He was in the co-pilot seat next to Rodger during takeoff, but now he began to work his way to the back and went to his wife’s side.

  “I really wish you’d stayed behind,” he yelled over the roaring wind. He hated that she was putting her life at risk, this was his job; not hers. That age-old thinking was hard to shake at moments like this and he felt less of a man that she didn’t trust him to do it on his own.

  She shook her head slightly. “Wasn’t gonna happen.”

  It was over and done with, it was too late to change it, so he decided to push it aside and focused on what was coming. He hadn’t been able to convince her to stay but that didn’t mean he was going to let her throw herself in front of a bullet either. He stepped closer to the doorway, the wind buffeting his face as he looked upon the forest below.

  Apart from a clearing now and then, the unending pine trees gave them little intel on what lay below. Anything could be moving beneath that unending green canopy. His phone was vibrating and how long it had been doing so he had no clue. He’d never hear a ringer over the roar of the rotors and the vibration of the Huey offset what he’d feel in his pockets.

  Ben: Casey says he’s almost there, says all clear atm

  Well, that was somewhat comforting.

  The moonlight was bright tonight. Thank God for small favors, he hated going into this blind. Was there someone still chasing Casey? Were they waiting for the right moment to take their next shot? Would they land, see Casey for a brief moment, then watch him die right before their eyes? Were they aware of the pickup and just waiting to see who’d show so they could take a shot at them as well? Too many questions and no way to answer any of them.

  His arms were weary and his body felt drained after the day they’d been through. He hadn’t been in conflict at this point, but the constant stress and emotions that had raged through him had caused an exhaustion to settle over his worn-out frame. He had to fight to stay on his feet against the forces buffeting him from without; both physical and spiritual.

  He was badly in need of a nap. If all went well, he’d take one when they returned to the compound. He would need to be fresh tomorrow, more of their comrades might show up in need of their help. He couldn’t afford to feel this tired then either. He should consider sleeping with Sam tonight, she was probably shaken up by her new surroundings and would be badly in need of comfort.

  He glanced at his wife and saw the strain on her face, the worry lines furrowing her brow. She was just as tired as he was; maybe they could all nap together. After the day they had, cuddling in bed seemed a nice way to fall asleep.

  Though, he’d probably leave the light on. The images on those screens in the communication room had disturbed him on a deep level. He wasn’t sure that even if he tried, that sleep would come. Those images would haunt him for the weeks and he wondered at how many more would be added to that horrific display by then.

  His phone updated and a marker appeared on the map. Ben had found the fastest point for the two groups to meet. He noticed Rodger looking at the phone on the dash as well. The older man looked at him and nodded to the headset hanging on a hook by his head. He slid it over his ears, rocking slightly as turbulence shifted the Huey.

  “Get the ropes ready just in case,” Rodger suggested.

  He nodded and immediately motioned for Monica to help him, grabbing the hooks and clipping them in place. “Casey’s not a Seal, I’m not sure he can hold onto one of these. Ben said that he’s got an injured hand.”

  Rodger shook his head. “There may not be a choice. We have to be ready for anything.”

  His older friend was just as worried about their mission as he was. The lack of confidence was detrimental to what they were doing and he tried to flex his muscles, then relax them in an effort to ease the tension in his body. The map zoomed in as the two dots approached one another and he felt his anxiety increase at the size of the clearing they had to land in. Would they even fit or was the endless tree cover affecting his brain’s interpretation of the clearing’s size?

  It ended up being a moot point as he saw the clearing come into view through the cockpit windows. In the dim light, it appeared to be twenty yards across and there was a flash of white bouncing across the grass clearing; probably a deer. Monica was checking their clearance on the left as he checked the right. They both nodded to Rodger, who began their descent to the grass below.

  He was nervous about actually setting down; they didn’t know how flat the terrain was beneath that flowing grass. He didn’t envy the man’s nerves at the moment and sighed with relief as they touched down safely.

  His heart rose to his throat as he released his hand from the bar, grabbed the stock of his rifle, and jumped from the Huey to the ground below. His eyes scanned the tree cover, but the feeble light barely penetrated the dense forest surrounding them. He watched for any sign of movement and clicked on a flashlight, shining it in the direction Casey was supposed to be coming from. He hadn’t noticed that his wife had jumped down at his side and he shot her a worried glance.

  The Huey vibrated behind them, the speed of the rotors pushing them down, their bodies aching as they resisted. He checked his phone one last time and saw a red dot approaching their position. His grip tightened on his rife and he brought it up; prepared to fire.

  Their arrival hadn’t been covert; the beating of the rotors let anything within a two-mile radius know exactly where they were. If there was someone out there hunting their comrade, they had a definite idea of where to find them now. He hoped Casey got there quickly so they could get back in the air and headed south before the man hunting him closed the distance. He wished that they had gotten a stealthier helicopter; but it wasn’t as if there was access for civilians to buy modern technological crafts.

  As it was, there had been a lot of paperwork and red tape to get through on just purchasing the shell of a Huey from one of the bone yards in Tucson. They had ordered everything else they needed online and assembled it as a group; each wanting to know every part of the machine that might someday save their lives.

  The amount of noise they made when flying couldn’t be adjusted or helped. When dealing with an outbreak of this sort, silence was key, and they were a beacon to any zombie lurking in the area. At least, that’s what they were led to believe by decades of saturation from the movie industry. However, it had occurred to him that relying on that information could lead to disaster. They didn’t know what was real and what was fantasy. How could you react right when you didn’t know the difference?

  Hi
s phone vibrated again, alerting him that Casey was finally reaching their location. He was coming on the run.

  He couldn’t hear anything over the beating of the rotors, but he saw movement in the trees and his younger friend suddenly popped into view. He was winded and struggling to stay on his feet. The years of smoking was taking its toll as he stumbled and nearly fell over. Raising an arm against the beating wind, Casey gave him a pained look and Todd dashed forward to give him a hand.

  Shouldering his rifle, he reached out and took his friend by the arm. Monica was at their side, rifle in hand, and covered their flank as they made their way to the awaiting Huey. Casey threw his bag in, the handle covered in blood from his hand wound. He was having a hard time climbing after it. As he bent over to give his friend an assist, a shot rang out and Casey screamed in pain. Blood blossomed on his rear as he fell forward onto the chopper’s deck. Monica began to open fire.

  His rifle was set to semi-automatic and he blindly fired into the trees, trying to provide cover as his wife stopped long enough to jump into the Huey. She got on her knees and focused her rifle on the tree line, firing constantly as he stepped back, put his hand on a handle bar, and placed his feet on the landing struts.

  The speed of the rotors increased and the Huey began to lift. He tried to continue firing one handed, but the strain on his wrist was too much and the rifle fell to his side. Monica kept firing though, her aim shifting as she blanketed the trees.

  There were a few pops; barely audible, and the side of the Huey near his head erupted in small particles of torn metal. His face stung as a small piece sliced his cheek. Seeing two white holes on the dark green exterior, he realized that he had come within inches of getting his head blown off. He turned and dove into the rising Huey, his hand reaching. Monica grasped his hand and pulled, his dangling legs barely pulled in as more shots penetrated through the chopper’s other door. It shattered the bubbled window and sprayed glass everywhere.