A Good Distance From Dying_Book 2_Samantha's Song
Page 8
I had heard over and over during my life that the automobile was the embodiment of the American free spirit. If that’s the case, was the metal metaphor which lay before me correct? Was the American free spirit crushed, dented and dying on the road of life? Was that free spirit now no longer flying down the highway with the wind in its hair? Had it become nothing more than a dogged determination to survive?
What the scene really made me do was think about how hungry I was. To my left was a McDonalds, and if I am to be completely honest with you the promise of a butter and grape jelly biscuit was something I could almost kill for.
At the bottom of the hill, and across the road sat Subway, now empty and dark. There is no doubt that I could really go for a sausage, egg, and cheese on flatbread right now. What I had in my backpack was a granola bar and a pop-tart. That’s a long stretch of the imagination from McDonalds or Subway. Even so, I seriously thought about taking off my pack and digging the pop-tart out. After maybe a minute of mulling over this extremely important decision, which is actually longer than I mulled over the decision of whether to go after Samantha or not, I decided that I should save it and I tried to keep my attention away from the restaurants of yesterday.
As State of Franklin loomed closer and closer I found that I could see Big Lou cutting across the road, back and forth, on the prowl for danger. The world was getting less dark and I figured dawn could be no more than an hour or two away at this point. I had no clue what time the sun was supposed to rise but looking at my watch I could see that almost three hours had passed since I had first heard Fred screaming. Had we really wasted that much time already? If the kidnappers were on the move and determined not to let any more of their numbers get shot, they had to be at least half way back already and not even thinking about slowing down. That was okay. I needed time to think. I couldn’t see a way that we would be able to sneak into the Med Center and remove Fred’s daughter. We were going to be spotted and caught. There was no way around it. How was I going to do this? I needed to find that answer long before we made it to our destination. I did not want a repeat performance of the Gray fiasco, but it seemed as if I was marching my butt right into the same situation.
How on earth was I going to convince this woman that we were the good guys and that she and Fred needed to work this thing out? That was a good question, my mind told me. If you figure that one out, let me know.
“Where are all the dead guys?” Marky Mark asked.
“Yeah, I was kind of thinking the same thing.” Sass said.
I looked around and saw nothing but the abandoned cars. The portion of State of Franklin that I could see had no staggering bodies either. I began to study the parking lots to my right and left. The left side of the road was the gas station slash McDonalds and to the right was a long stretch of shops that ended into an Outback restaurant. Reading the Outback sign got me thinking about Australia. I wondered if they were still zombie free. I wondered if they had been quick enough to lock the dead down and force them to tread water for the next hundred years while looking for a week spot in order to invade the land down under. I would have liked to have been able to track that particular story but, as soon as the zombies showed up, our electricity was living on borrowed time.
We had been lucky that the power had remained on for eight days. I thought this was an incredible amount of time because all of my apocalyptic books and movies had taught me that the power should go out within hours of social order breaking down. Jack had explained to me that since our power was provided by a Hydro-electric power plant we could have retained power anywhere from seven to twenty-four days. He said that he was hoping to last at least ten to twelve days before the power went but eight was good enough.
I could see a few black spots moving in the darkened recesses of the parking lot to my right, but my eyes fell again to the Outback sign. My mind, fueled by that one word, began to go over the information we had collected in those eight days. We had used the laptop for as long as we could. We went to every website we could find collecting information about the zombie invasion. We printed out everything and still had it all in binders down inside the store to protect the pages from the weather. We had found a wealth of information but there was no way to know what was factual and what was people running their mouths about something they didn’t understand.
We had page after page of a preacher in Texas ranting about how the zombies were the product of gay marriage. Where this was pure gold for comedy purposes, it wasn’t worth our time otherwise.
There was an abundance of theories explaining how the zombies had happened. Space aliens trying to wipe us out topped most of the lists. Some people said that they were wanting us out of the way so they could harvest our planet's natural resources. Others said that they had turned the dead against us in order to create a hunting planet where the more adventure seeking aliens could go to put it all on the line in the attempt to bag a truly dangerous species. I guess the people behind this idea are the guys who write Predator fan fiction. Yet others said that the aliens did it for nothing more than entertainment. They turned the dead against us and were watching the fall of mankind on some galactic pay-per-view. Of all of the alien ideas, and I have only told you the top of the list, I think I liked this one the best. It was like we were gladiators now fighting for our freedom. Since reading this particular article I have had an almost unstoppable desire to look up into the sky after killing a zombie and screaming, “Is this not what you want?! Are you not entertained?!” The only thing that has stopped me so far is that I think if the aliens are truly up there watching us fight it out, and I do this, I may be suddenly and violently abducted into their vessel and forced to mate with some eight tentacle she beast alien in an attempt to produce a tentacled super soldier. As much as I would love to write down my account of that event, I have no desire to be the father of an eight tentacled Captain America.
The zombie presence was also blamed on Global Warming. Something about gasses or emissions or something messing with the fundamental building blocks of our bodies. It was WAY technical and I was like, “ummmm, no.” Jack read it and said that even though the article appeared on an actual news channel’s webpage that all their reporters must be “higher than a Georgia kite”.
And that was the thing about the whole situation. Some of these idiotic theories were by pure nutcases, like the guy down in Texas, but most of the stories were from honest to god journalists. We had Satan returning and claiming the sinners as his own undead army. We had outer, inner, or otherly dimensional events. We had parasites being to blame. We had a rare breed of African fungus being the cause and in an inspiring moment of pure bullshit, blame fell squarely on the backs of the Vampire Bats of the Norwegian coast. Which I should add, don’t exist.
Merfolk from Atlantis were preparing an invasion of the surface world and this was their first wave. Mole men from the center of the earth were coming up and the zombies were a planned part of their attack. There may have been gasses from deep in the earth which had caused the event. Earthquakes. Volcanoes. Hurricanes carrying poisoned sea foam in on the tides and even El Nino took their share of the blame.
Then, we finally got to the Nazi’s. We hadn’t been the only people to notice the connection between the initial sightings and the old military instillations from the Second World War. The theories flew from one corner of the globe to the other. The Nazi’s had brought a zombie Hitler back to lead their new, dead, army. The zombies were a project that a group of Nazi’s had been working on since before the Reich fell. This particular group had been hiding under the ice caps in a base that looked something like Bioshock’s city of Rapture. They were unaware that the war was over and were still carrying out their leader's orders.
Under the ice caps wasn’t the only hiding place for these time displaced Nazi soldiers either. They were hidden in the middle of some prehistoric jungle in the heart of Africa. They were in a huge cavern system that burrowed down into the earth. They were in a secret b
ase on the moon. They were everywhere; one could be beside you right now. Their brains had been locked down to where they didn’t know who they really were until some mysterious code activated them, and just like that, a new Reich clawed its way out of the masses like some half ass goose stepping phoenix looking to give birth to pure bloods.
I’m sure you’re getting the picture; reliable journalism really went out the window. Every news agency in the world suddenly became the Weekly World Sun. Honest to god, I was surprised Bat Boy didn’t get to take part of the blame and for all I know he did after we lost our power.
Through it all Australia stayed the same. As of day eight they were still reporting that they were zombie free. The wall that they were building around their island was nearing completion by the time we lost power. It wasn’t much of a barrier at first, I am sure. I can imagine it was nothing more than local residence using whatever materials they had on hand to build their section of the wall and then to guard it from any and all interlopers. The country was slowly building a larger, more secure, wall around the entirety of the industrialized portion of the island. I guess the natives were on their own. It still seemed like the plan had to be to get a boat and get to Australia. I have wanted to do this for months now, but Jack, Amanda, and Jane continue to tell me that it is a fool’s errand. They say that there is no way Australia is zombie free no matter what the web said. They are also quick to remind me that we are about three and a half months behind the curve, information wise, and we have no way of knowing how anything is anywhere else in the world. I guess with what we just learned this morning about the Head Hunter’s being just a few miles down the road and a crazy woman leading a group from the top of the Med Center, Jack and the others are right. We really don't have a clue how things are, but the idea still appeals to me. Australia, safely behind their wall. Not having to look over their shoulder. Not having to worry about what that sound was. Not having to run unless they want to. Sounds pretty good to me. Sounds like nothing we will ever experience again in our lifetime. Marky Mark had asked where the zombies were, the answer was everywhere. That was the cold, honest, truth. Amanda told him so, but with just a small twist.
“They are coming.” Amanda said and nodded towards the parking lot where McDonalds sat. On the edge of the parking lot stood six bodies slowly swaying in the cool morning air. The world was growing less dark by the minute, but it still wasn’t light enough to make out features. The dead were there, but they were not making a move to follow us. This surprised me. What were they waiting on? I wanted to try and analyze this behavior. We had been attempting to figure out what made them act the way they do for months now and were no closer to figuring them out then we were on day one. I just began to follow the others. Bringing up the rear, along side me was Sass. He looked over at the stationary zombies and smiled at me.
“Our reputation must be growing.” He said.
“They sure do look to be shaking in their boots.”
“No doubt. If I was them, there is no way I would want to pick a fight with us.”
“We truly are bad asses.” I confirmed. Marky Mark looked back at me saying, “Some of us are bad asses, but youse two? I’m thinking that you'se need to bake a bit longer.” Amanda laughed quietly at this and I punched Marky Mark in the back. This just made him laugh and say, “Yeah, see dat right der wasn’t a punch from a bad ass at all. You'se hit like a girl.”
As fun as our banter was it came to an end as Jane, who was leading our small party, stopped and knelt down to examine something on the road.
“Blood trail.” Jane said with no emotion at all in his voice.
“Fresh?” Amanda asked.
“Very. Bullet must have went through our guest back there and either into another or it grazed one of the others. Either way we have a trail to follow.”
Fred seemed concerned. He had been directly behind Jane in the line and he now hurried to where Jane was knelt down and pulled him to his feet. Jane had never liked Fred. I have no idea why. I attempted to talk to him about it several times and the only answer he would ever give me was “When the asshole radar goes off, I pay attention.” The look I saw in Jane’s eyes as Fred pulled him to his feet was something I can bet those idiot protestors saw in the airport right before Jane gave them the beating that defined the rest of their lives.
To his credit Jane took a moment to try to warn Fred off. He brushed Fred’s hands aside and said, “You ever lay your hands on me like that again and I will break them.” His voice never got any louder nor did his tone change. He was simply stating a fact, not making a threat. Fred looked Jane in the eyes and said. “How do you know that you didn’t get Samantha? How do we know that this isn’t her blood on the road?”
Jane looked up at the sky and seemed to try to compose himself. I could tell that Amanda knew what to say, but was making no move to do so.
“I know that blood isn’t Samantha’s blood because I am very good at what I do.” Jane said.
Fred’s eyes were wide, pleading with Jane, they said “convince me, make me believe you.” Out loud Fred said, “And what exactly does that mean?”
Jane sighed again and looked back to Amanda. She shrugged at him and made a gesture that seemed to say, tell him, we need to get moving.
“Samantha was in the front of the line with the two lead kidnappers as they marched her out of the parking lot. I shot the last guy in line. The bullet would have been nowhere near Samantha.”
“Is that why you shot the last guy in line? To make sure she was safe?” Sass asked.
“That was part of it. Mostly though I would have to say that I hit the last guy in line because I knew we needed somebody to interrogate. I wanted us a warm body on the ground and shooting the last guy in line is your best chance for that.”
“How’s that?” I asked, honestly curious about this.
“It’s simply the psychology of good Samaritans. They were in a hurry to get out of here. By the time they realized he was on the ground, he was laying at least ten feet behind the others. It’s not very likely that any of them would back track that distance to help him to his feet just so they can be slowed down due to his injury. They are wanting to get out of here and they are wanting to do it as quickly as possible, especially now since they know we will shoot them. They are already beyond the moral dilemma that is lying in our parking lot, so they can easily just keep on moving and leave him there. However, if they had to walk by our guy as he lay on the asphalt it would be an entirely different story. They know this guy; they are more than likely friends. Them having to look him in the eyes as they walk by, refusing to help. That is much harder than looking back and seeing somebody on the ground and doing nothing. Walking by him makes it much more personal. That’s where the good Samaritans will make an emotional decision instead of a rational decision and somebody will help him to his feet and shoulder part of his weight as they try to help him escape. It will slow them down and they may eventually ditch him when the rational decision overpowers their emotional attachment, but for now they will carry their friend. If that had happened, we would have had no body for Amanda to beat information out of.”
“Wow.” I said.
“Yeah, is this the kind of stuff they teach you in the military? You’re like one of those criminal minds people profiling the serial killer for us.” Sass said.
“Understanding your enemy makes it easier to dominate your enemy.” Amanda said, and Jane smiled at her. “Sergeant Miller.” He said which brought a smile to Amanda’s lips. “He taught me a lot.” Amanda said.
Jane nodded. “Me too.”
“Do we follow this trail, or do we go the way Fred was going to take us?” Sass asked.
“Most likely the trail is going to go the same way I was.” Fred said.
“Good point. You both originated from the same place and had the same destination. We will follow the trail and if its path differs from Fred’s at any point then we can discuss which path to follow.” Amanda said.
“The good Samaritan thing again.” Sass said.
“Exactly.” Jane said with a sigh. He stood up and looked around at me, giving me his, “we’re starting to get in deep here” look. When I said nothing, he began to proceed forward. "Time to move." He said as he went.
NINE
After turning onto State of Franklin from Browns Mill Road you can’t help but notice the Interstate and it’s massive on and off ramps. At the best of times, the flow of traffic through this intersection was chaos on the edge of terrible, bloody, screaming death. With everybody in panic mode as the dead began to swarm the city, munching on motorists and pedestrians alike, the traffic pattern around this particular exchange became something more attuned to high speed bumper cars, or a vehicular version of rock’em, sock’em, robots.
The wreckage was astounding. Cars were lying on their sides and tops and some were, not so neatly, cut in half. On top of the wreckage was the aftermath of the couple of explosions that had been set off down here, and on the overpass above. The most dangerous thing that I had done in a long while was making my way through the mangled metal forest of automotive excellence that was the State of Franklin, Interstate 26 exchange.
“Why have we not cleared this out by now?” Jane asked more to himself than anyone else.
“If I remember correctly, you, Amanda, and Jack thought it created a natural barrier to help slow any army advancing on our position from this direction.” I said trying to quote Jane’s exact words.
“Well, the good news is, I was right. The bad news is, this has the potential to be painful to get through in both the physical and mental sense of the word.” Jane gave a disgusting look at his options through the cars as he said this.