by A. R. Shaw
Once the sound had dissipated onto the late afternoon horizon, Macy put the drive stick back into R. Marcy then depressed the gas pedal, rolling backwards several car lengths. After applying gentle pressure to the brakes again, to keep herself and her sister from flopping around like ragdolls, Marcy came to a complete stop. Macy moved the drive stick to D again and Marcy rotated the steering wheel left and pressed the gas pedal a little to pass the parked car.
Slowing as they approached, Macy could see the driver slumped over the steering wheel. Though the girls could not see the face, they both knew what had happened and now the reality settled on them. This was not just their home, their neighborhood, their town. It was all of that.
“I hope Dad’s okay,” Macy said, never having thought of the possibility that he too could have become a victim of the virus as well.
Driving through the intersection that led to the highway entrance ramp, the girls noticed several cars in the way. As Marcy snaked the car through, its bright red paint scraped along a gunmetal gray Suburban, the horrible screeching sound continued as the car forced itself through the space between it and the guardrail.
Marcy continued to wind her way, having gotten the hang of the driving thing by now, she pulled between parked cars in every direction. Macy sat high in her seat to help navigate ahead until the cars became so crowded, they even filled the empty spaces in between.
Marcy, unsure of the next direction to take, killed the engine and after scouting around the area for dogs, Macy rolled down her window. She pulled herself through the narrow opening to stand on the windowsill, gaining a better view of what lay ahead. With wide-eyes, she returned to the cab and rolled up her window again.
“What? What’s out there?” asked Marcy.
“There’s a roadblock, so we can’t get through this way. We’re stuck, Marcy. We’ll have to walk from here,” Macy said.
“No! What about the dogs?” Marcy asked. How could Macy forget so quickly?
“That’s what I’m saying. We can’t stay in the car. There are big concrete bricks up ahead with police cars on the other side with their lights on. We’re not going to make it this way,” Macy said.
Sitting in silence, both girls tried to solve the dilemma, knowing they did not want to leave the safety of the car.
“I think we should take our stuff, leave the car here and walk over to the barricade. Climb over and see if there is a car on the other side that we can take. The road is clear over there,” Macy said.
Marcy’s jaw dropped. “We can’t steal a police car. Are you crazy? You can go to jail for that. The police are over there. Maybe they can take us the rest of the way.”
“Marce, things are different now. Look around you. We’ll leave a note or something to let the owner know that we’re borrowing it. This is an emergency and like you said, we have to make new rules now. They’ll understand. They’re probably dead by now anyway. In fact, we haven’t seen anyone alive since that guy ran from the dogs last night, remember? It’ll be okay. Dad can explain it to them if they turn us in. If they are alive, we’ll ask them to take us to Dad’s, okay?”
Pausing in the silence to give it a little more thought, Marcy conceded, “Well, I can’t think of anything else better, so let’s get started. The sooner we get to Dad’s, the better.”
The twins gathered their belongings and Marcy said, “We need something to fight with in case those dogs come at us again.”
Looking around in the car for potential weapons, they came up with an ice scraper on the floor in the back seat and Macy’s jewel -toned metal ruler. She’d been looking for it a while back. Obviously, it had dropped out of her backpack.
Then Macy lowered her window once again and scouted out the easiest path of escape through the cramped car spaces. She saw a few places they’d likely have to climb over, like bumpers while they wound their way to the concrete barrier.
Climbing back into the car, she said, “Okay, it should not be too hard. Just follow me and we’ll run as fast as we can. Stay close and don’t make any noise. We don’t want to attract the dogs’ attention.” She added a second thought. “You need to come out my side since you don’t have any room over there. Don’t slam the door, just push it in softly.”
“Okay, that sounds like a good plan. How far is it?” Marcy asked, scared.
Macy had thought about this before she jumped back into the car. “From our front door to Mr. Sanchez’s house,” she said. Explaining the distance in this way was an old habit, one that Marcy would accept and not be too afraid. Though Macy thought the distance was actually more like from their front door to the Christenson’s house, which was quite farther, but she did not want Marcy to know that or she might opt to stay in the car indefinitely.
Looking again to make sure there were no predators present, Macy opened her door and Marcy scooted over the center aisle controls to exit on that side. The area between the two cars was just barely enough for their petite frames to pass. Marcy closed the door with just a click.
Macy led them in a crouch as they scurried their way, armed with a metal ruler and a plastic ice scraper. With overnight bags flung over their left shoulders, they made their way through the tiny passages left open. They flitted their way up and over an Escort’s hood rammed against a 4Runner. Checking behind them for any threat, they stopped occasionally to just listen to the quiet before they began again in their escape to the manmade barrier.
Finally, within sight, Marcy pulled Macy’s short sleeve. “I thought you said to Mr. Sanchez’s,” she protested under her breath, “but this is way farther.”
“Come on, Marcy. It’s not much longer, look,” she said.
They both looked while squatted behind the rear bumper of a dirty white Impala. Standing up slightly, to get a better view, they were shocked to see several dead bodies. They looked like they’d been struck down in an attempt to confront the officers beyond. There were dark blood smears where animals must have fed on them. Their scattered remains were all over the highway surface.
“Oh God,” Marcy said, and covered her mouth before she bent to heave.
Macy just stared beyond the carnage, forcing herself to plan a route. Patting Marcy on the shoulder she said, “I know it’s bad but look over this way. We can make our way over to the edge where there’s a crack between the barrier and the railing. We can push back the barbed wire above it. I think we can squeeze through there to the other side.”
Marcy began to sob in fearful desperation. “It really smells bad with all these bodies. Let’s get out of here before the dogs come back.”
Macy realized this could be the beginning of one of Marcy’s famous breakdowns and pulled her behind her at a crouch through the exposed distance. “Come on, Marcy. We have to get through here,” she said.
Thankfully, Macy knew she and her twin were always on the too-thin side, which they were often teased about. This enabled them to make haste, squeezing in between and under the coiled barbed wire traversing the top. Holding their bags out to her side, Macy went through first. She pulled her bag and then reached for Marcy’s. She looked around at the scene before her on the police’s side. After Marcy had come through, they both stayed hunkered in their corner before coming up with the next plan of action.
At least the bodies were on the other side, though they could still smell their stench. Before them were four police cars, arrowed inward on each side with blue strobe lights working on one of them.
Waiting and listening, they remained in their spot to assess the situation. Finally, Macy said, “I don’t think there’s anyone here. We should go over there to the last car on our side and see if we can find the keys. Then we can back it up and take off from there.”
“You can’t steal a police car, Macy,” Marcy reminded her.
Ignoring her sister, Macy took off, scurrying to the end of the first car. Rather than be left behind, Marcy quickly followed.
Seeing no live souls nor roaming dogs in the vicinity, the twins
inched their way past the first car. They squatted down next to the one behind it on the passenger side. Then, they slowly stood and noticed a decaying form, lying back on the reclined driver’s seat. Macy declared this guy ‘way’ dead. With the driver’s door left opened he looked like he must have passed right there, on duty, days before.
She bent low and headed to the rear of the car, where they came abruptly face to face with a panting German Shepherd, scaring the hell out of them both. Panicked, Macy jumped backwards into Marcy, causing the two of them to scream out and land in a heap.
The dog regarded the two and spotted them long before they’d crossed the barrier. He had not seen humans without the smell of sickness in a long time, so he went over to check them out and left his guard post just around the corner.
To Macy’s astonishment, the dog simply sat there, head cocked to one side, regarding them as if they were an oddity. Then, he stood slowly and padded to them, sniffing them, but somehow without seeming to threaten them. Still, she remembered her defense weapon in her right hand and thrust her ruler out at the dog. He sat again on his haunches, panting and tilting his head.
“Get back!” Macy yelled.
Looking confused, the dog lowered his head down to the pavement, as if to show he meant no harm. Then he huffed and lay still, though he never took his gaze from them.
“Stay!” Macy yelled. She’d heard other people order their dogs to do that, and when she’d told the animal to stay back, he’d done so. She pushed herself up and off her sister as she stood. Her ruler shook with the adrenaline rush.
The dog rolled over to his side.
Totally bewildered by this reaction, Macy reached behind her to help Marcy up to her feet.
“I think it’s okay, Marcy,” she said, “He’s not trying to eat us.”
“Don’t trust him, Macy. He could just be playing and then turn on us,” Marcy warned.
As if she just remembered her ice scraper, she looked around where they’d fallen to find it. Seeing it several feet away, she watched the dog cautiously while she reached for it. He did not move a muscle, only watched her movements with his eyes.
Macy, seeing this, decided to take a chance and reached over with her left hand to let him smell her. Her dad taught her to do it this way, when approaching animals you did not know.
All the while, Marcy’s warnings, continued, “Don’t do it, Mace,” she said.
The German Shepherd merely studied her hand. He sniffed her, and then licked her. Macy began to pet his head and found that he had a black collar around his neck with a sheriff’s badge hanging down to his chest.
“Look, he’s a police dog,” she said, holding up a badge for Marcy to see, then continued to pet the dog.
“Maybe that’s why he has not turned mean,” Marcy said.
Macy noticed he had bite marks on his haunches and as she ran her hand over chest, his ribs stood out. “No wonder he’s panting a lot, he’s thirsty. Let’s see if we can find him some water,” Macy said.
“Come on, Sheriff, do you have water in the car?” she asked him as she got up. He rose from the pavement, trotted over to the open doorway of the car, and whined a little before the dead officer.
“Oh, sorry, Sheriff, is he your owner?” Macy asked.
The dog just sat down on his haunches as if hoping the girls could help his owner. Catching on first, Marcy said, “He wants us to help him.”
“Oh, so sorry, Sheriff, he’s gone. We can’t help him now,” Macy said. She looked into the back seat window and noticed a gray blanket on the seat. Slowly reaching in, she pulled it out, unfolded it and showed Sheriff as she draped the blanket over the decomposing body of his former owner. Then Sheriff lay down on the pavement in front of the doorway and rested his head on his paws again. Macy stroked his fur, because she knew his sadness and felt sorry for the dog.
Turning to Marcy, she said, “I think we should try to see if that car is available instead. If not, we’ll have to move this guy and I don’t think Sheriff would like that very much. What do you think?”
Macy agreed with a nod. It was stupid to take a chance of aggravating the dog. They walked over to the other car across the road. There were no occupants alive or otherwise. Quickly, they searched for the keys and found them on the passenger seat. Macy offered the keys to Marcy, who said, “Your turn. You’ll find out it’s not so easy.”
By this time, the sun began to go down. Marcy noticed it first and said, “It’s going to be dark soon, so we really need to hurry up.”
They opened the doors and the trunk to see if the owners left any water. Luckily, in the trunk they discovered a half empty flat of Kirkland brand water bottles. Macy took two out and walked over to the dog once more, opened one of them and offered it to him using the palm of her hand. It tickled her hand terribly with his rough tongue as he slurped it down easily, so she opened the next one to make sure he had enough before they left.
Shaking off her hand, she wiped it dry on her jeans. Macy walked back to the opened car to close it up, when Sheriff jumped into the backseat, surprising both of them. “Um, he wants to go with us?” Marcy asked.
“Well, it’s up to him I guess. I’m not going to tell a police dog what he can and cannot do, are you?”
Shutting the trunk and doors and seeing no protest from Sheriff, Macy started the ignition. Having had the benefit of watching her twin, she smoothly guided the car into reverse. She then applied the brakes carefully and stopped to adjust the seat in the closest position possible so that she would not compromise her vision. She began again and swung it around, heading towards Mountain View. Now that the road was wide open, they should be there in no time.
8 The Madman
Horacio Campos had just finished pounding the last sign into the persistently damp earth surrounding his domain. It read, NO TRESPASSING in big letters above Violators Will Be Shot, followed by, See Mayor Campos for Supplies.
Now that he’d posted it, everyone would know he owned this town, complete with all the homes and buildings, including their contents. No excuses would be accepted from any trespassers who ignored the rules, and failed to pay the toll he established. “No more, free rides, like those two bozos who thought they could just walk right through here without as much as paying a fee,” he grumbled aloud. There’d been rules even then before he’d posted the signs. There must always be rules.
Just because most folks were dead, didn’t mean the few that lived could run off with everything else. After all, he kept the wild animals out, including the wild dog packs. He also kept the electricity on and the water running. If they paid, he’d even sell them gasoline. He had homes ready; complete with cars, for those few he thought would be good citizens. They just had to pay in either work or trade. If they wanted supplies or a way through his town, they needed to prove they could pay.
Campos, having grown up here where his daddy was the town’s electrician, knew people often took advantage of you if you let them. He didn’t let them. Before Daddy’s time, his granddaddy owned this land, including a gas station where he worked.
The government stole it from their family after Granddaddy refused their first offer. Back in the seventies, they claimed the tract of land they held was required for ‘urban renewal’ or some such nonsense. What really happened, after they offered only half of the land value and Granddaddy refused, they stole it through Eminent Domain. That caused Granddaddy to get so upset after spending his entire life farming here that he up and died of a heart attack from the stress of it all. That had left his own daddy fatherless at the age of fifteen.
With bitter resentment, his daddy had told of holding his father, dying in his arms, and watching his momma cry her eyes out but not for long. Soon after, she went whoring around and she left his daddy alone to fend for himself. Campos remembered his daddy swearing that he’d get the land back someday.
After living well through most of his childhood, Daddy had to go into the navy. He learned to become an electrician an
d then came back to his childhood home. He resented providing service for those men that had once worked for his own daddy on the dairy farm.
So, when this virus struck and everyone began dying off, including his own father, Campos decided the time had come for payback. This land belonged to his family once again, and he wasn’t going to let anyone take it away. Daddy would be so proud of him now, if only he’d survived the virus to see what his son had done for him. He wouldn’t get mad at him anymore.
Night and day, he cleaned the place up. It took several days to round up all the dead bodies and burn them. He also killed all the family pets to keep them from becoming feral like the rest. He burned their bodies right along with their owners. Since he owned this place now, he wanted it to look nice. He wanted it to look like it was back in the old days, just as his daddy remembered it.
From sun-up to sundown, he worked to put things back in order. He’d even gone through all the homes and stripped the beds, washing sheets and blankets, vacuuming mattresses and flipping them before making them up again. In the same manner, he went from room to room tossing belongings, cleaning and renewing each home, so they could accommodate citizens once he approved of them.
His daddy hadn’t been one for charity so Campos wasn’t either, especially those last two who’d roamed into town. He offered them work, but no lazy asses were ever allowed in his town. He knew his daddy would not approve of them.
The one thing that troubled Campos since the virus struck and the groceries began to run out, so too did his medicine. He broke into the pharmacy lockup, but couldn’t find any of the bottles labeled Trilafon under T, like on his bottle. The good thing about not having the meds meant that his face didn’t twitch so much. So maybe he didn’t need them after all.
It was when things were real quiet and when he wasn’t so busy, he could hear the voices coming for him again. That’s why he kept really busy all the time, from morning to night. Mowing the lawns, cleaning the houses, power spraying the old blood off the sidewalks, the endless amount of work meant he could keep the voices away.
