by Caleb Cleek
"She does look good," I agreed, irritated at being harassed so soon after waking up. "But you’re looking pretty good yourself in that apron you're wearing. And you can cook, too. You’ll make someone a good wife one day," I added, hoping that a quick insult would quiet him down until I could wake up fully.
"You don't know the half of it," Eve said, jumping in. "You should see him vacuum."
Matt could dish it out a lot better than he could take it. When Eve and I tag teamed him, he quickly quit his insults and focused on the bacon, which was fine by me.
After my belly was full of eggs, bacon, and coffee, I was ready to address the multitude of problems left over from the previous day. It seemed like a hearty breakfast was one of the best morale boosters there was.
"What’s our plan of attack going to be?" Matt asked without offering any suggestions.
"We should try to get everyone concentrated in a smaller area so they are more defensible," I said, thinking out loud.
“I would advise against that,” Dr Kemp interrupted. “It only takes one infected person in the group and the infection will spread unchecked in close confines.”
“You’re right,” I said, rubbing sleep from my eyes. “Keeping people separated protects them from the disease. The problem is it leaves them open to attack by the infected. If the infected pack up like they did last night, people will be helpless in small groups. There’s no way to protect them from both facets of the infection. We can protect from disease or the infected, but not both."
"I agree," Matt said, vigorously shaking his head up and down. "We need to decide what we feel is going to constitute the biggest threat: the infection or the infected?"
"While I agree with what you're saying, I just can't take you seriously while you're wearing that ridiculous apron," I said, pleased that I got it out without cracking a smile. "Would you mind taking it off so I can talk to you like a man?"
He sheepishly pulled the snap in the back which released the tension holding the apron tight around his waist and allowed the sides to fall freely in front of him. He lifted the narrow strap from around his neck and crumpled the piece of material into a grapefruit sized ball and hurled it at me. I ducked and it sailed harmlessly over my head. The wadded ball of material had no mass so it quickly lost its momentum and fell to the floor.
"Thank you," I said with a huge smile that I couldn't contain. "Now we can talk like men. I think the infection itself is our worst threat. As bad as it sounds, from a tactical standpoint, it is better for the infected to kill a person than for that person to catch the disease. If they catch the infection and turn, we end up having one more infected that we have to protect everyone else from. If they are eaten, they aren't going to infect or turn on anyone else. What do you think?" I asked, genuinely wanting their input.
"Those were my thoughts too,” Matt agreed. “There's another upside to keeping people isolated: we don't have to do anything. People are already at home for the most part. We can focus our energy elsewhere. I say we go hunting."
"What is your proposed quarry?" I questioned, suspecting I already knew his answer.
"Any infected that shows its face is fair game and after last night, I’m declaring an open season on Curtis. He has evaded justice for too long. If he is the killer from the pharmacy, he needs to be dealt with. If the murder goes unpunished, it won't be long before anarchy reigns. There isn't much that we can control today. One of the few things we can control is whether or not Curtis is left free to rampage and kill again. If we come down hard, it will set an example and people will pay attention."
One of Matt's more endearing qualities was that there was never a question of where he stood. If you asked, he would tell you. He was normally right, too.
"Sounds good to me,” I said. “Help me board up the upstairs windows in my room and the guest room. If they make their way out here, I’d rather not take any chances on whether or not those things can climb.”
It took twenty minutes to cover the windows with leftover plywood. Once it was done, we gathered our guns and ammo and packed them into my truck, which seemed better suited to the day’s tasks than the underpowered, two wheel drive van.
We went back inside to make sure everything was taken care of before we left. Dr. Kemp was finishing an examination of Katie's injury. "How does it look?" I asked as I approached him from behind.
He must not have heard me walking behind him because he jumped when I spoke. "Everything looks good," he said, quickly regaining his composure. "I'm not seeing any signs of infection, which is positive. I keep telling her she should be taking it easy, but she is determined to ignore my advice," he added as he looked in her direction and shook his head. "I can tell her what she needs to do, but I can't make her do it."
"I know exactly what you mean. She can be pretty hard headed," I grumbled as I watched her walk into the kitchen and begin cleaning up the breakfast dishes. "Is she going to do more damage by being active?" I asked, turning my attention back to Dr. Kemp.
"That's a good question," he said as he scratched the day old grey stubble on his chin. "I'll let you know in a couple days. I honestly don't know the answer right now."
I walked into the kitchen, mulling over the best approach to convincing Katie to take it easy for a few days. I quickly came to the conclusion that the best route was to be straight forward. She was at the sink with her back turned to me. I placed my arms around her waist and gently pulled her back into myself, careful to avoid the tube in her side.
I placed my mouth near her ear and softly whispered, “I was just talking with Dr. Kemp. He's concerned that you're going to overdo it. He said you need to rest." I pulled back as a stray hair tickled my nose.
She twisted around within my embrace and looked up into my eyes. "I'm fine. I need to keep my mind busy or I start thinking about the men I killed yesterday," she said softly as she placed her right hand on my chest. Her index finger began to lightly trace around my pectoralis muscle as she spoke.
I placed my hand on hers and stopped the movement. "Stop trying to distract me. It isn't going to work. I know you’re having a hard time, but you need to find something that will occupy your mind while you are laying in bed letting your body heal. Find a book to read or something." I could see the mental anguish in her eyes as she replayed yesterday’s shootings in her head. It hurt me to see her pain.
"Will you at least stay off your feet for today? We can reevaluate things tomorrow. And for the record, I'm phrasing this as question only to be polite. If you won't do it willingly, I'm going to have to handcuff you to the bed," I said, only half teasing.
"Handcuff me to the bed?" she asked, pulling her hand out of mine and placing it back on my chest as she stood up on her tiptoes and kissed my lips softly. "That doesn't sound very restful," she said, smiling at me. "I'll take it easy today. No promises for tomorrow, but for today I'll take it easy. I expect you to do the same. Don't take any stupid risks. We need you back here tonight."
"Agreed," I said, kissing her one more time before I pulled away and walked to the truck.
Chapter 21
As I pulled onto the highway, it was easy to forget what was going on. Nature took no notice of the cataclysmic events taking place in town, a short distance away. Out in the country, the deer were still grazing in the alfalfa fields, squirrels were still darting from one side of the road to the other in search of the elusive greener pasture and birds were still flitting from tree to tree in search of breakfast. The sun had risen in the east and was slowing traversing its arc toward the west at an imperceptibly slow rate.
And then there was Matt and me.
We were still trying to figure out how to keep the people of the city of Lost Hills and Vista County safe just as we did every day, granted the situation this morning was more dire than any other morning.
As The Preacher truly said, "There is nothing new under the sun."
"What is the biggest problem you foresee in the immediate future?" I asked Matt a
s the truck's off-road tires whined across the asphalt surface of the highway.
"Food is number one and electricity follows closely behind in second place,” he responded without taking time to consider the question. He had obviously given it thought already.
"Yesterday was likely the last food shipment Lost Hills will ever receive. People will have enough food for a week. Some will have food for a couple weeks. After that, it's going to be every man for himself. There's a lot of wildlife, but once people start hunting it for sustenance, it will quickly disappear. From the way those two infected were tearing into the deer last night, I imagine it won't take them long to start going after the cattle. Unless we can protect the cattle, I doubt they will last long as a food source.” He paused for a few seconds to collect his thoughts, then began speaking again.
"Last summer, Eve and I took Luke on a tour of a dam and its hydroelectric plant. Eve’s cousin is one of the engineers who works there and he took us on a behind-the-scenes tour and showed us a bunch of the stuff that they don't show on the regular tour. Everything is computer controlled. The only reason they have people there is to perform maintenance and to monitor in case something goes wrong, but nothing ever goes wrong. They told us that the computer could keep things going indefinitely. The problem is the maintenance. There are a lot of parts that are constantly moving. If they aren't lubed on a regular basis, metal wears on metal. Parts quickly wear out or seize up. He said that without somebody there to maintain the generators, everything would go smoothly for a week, two at most. Then things would catastrophically fail. That’s just at the generation site. You also have the distribution lines and sub stations that need to be maintained and repaired. This is just a guess, but I figure we won't have power longer than a week."
"Well, you have obviously given this a good deal more thought that I have,” I said, picturing what it was going to look like when the power went out.
The food supply would diminish quickly without refrigeration to preserve it. Fresh water would be a problem, too. The water in wells would be inaccessible without electricity to power the pumps and surface water would likely end up contaminated quickly when indoor plumbing ceased to function. "We're in serious trouble," I muttered, the ramifications setting in. I had considered the problems already, but I hadn't fully grasped the consequences until now.
We rode in silence for several miles as the hard facts of our situation began to sink in. Realistically speaking, life, as we were accustomed to it, was over. Five minutes ago, we were facing a serious problem of protecting people from the infected and the infection. Now, I was becoming aware of a new and equally daunting set of problems. Even if people could survive the infected, they still needed food and water to stay alive. Our society had forgotten how to obtain those two necessities decades ago. There were a handful of people who would manage fine. The majority of the population, on the other hand, would starve to death in the span of weeks at most. Those in the cities would fare even worse.
"Have you seen the county's emergency plan?" I asked.
"I read it cover to cover about a year ago. It’s pretty good for natural disasters, but nothing goes out much past seventy-two hours. At that point, it assumes that the federal government will have stepped in with supplies and equipment. I just don't see that happening. We're on our own," he said, pounding his fist on the arm rest to drive his point home.
“We need to look into getting some manual pumps set up in town to keep fresh water available and see if we can come up with some solar panels. If we could get a solar array set up at the grocery store, we could use the freezers and refrigerators to keep food fresh. I hate even suggesting it, but if the town is going to survive, we’re going to have to set up a communal system. If people aren't willing to share resources as a community, the majority of people who survive the infection will starve. They don't know how to live off the land."
"I think you’re on the right track," Matt said, "but we don't have time to deal with it. We need to delegate. I recommend putting Marty Cummings in charge of it. As mayor, it falls under his purview. The fact that his brother owns Northern Pump means he will have an in to getting the water problem fixed, too."
That was all Matt was able to say. We rounded a bend in the road and could go no further. Two Humvees painted in a green camouflage scheme were parked nose to nose across the road. The turrets in the roof of both vehicles were occupied and the menacing fifty caliber machine guns were looking us in the eye like twin cobras, barring their deadly fangs at us, daring us to advance further.
It seemed prudent to stop the truck. The brakes terminated our forward roll one hundred feet short of the road block. I clacked the gear shift lever up two slots into park, opened the door, and stepped out onto the asphalt road surface which was already heating up under the unrelenting energy of the sun. I could feel the heat radiating off the road and into the soles of my boots. It was going to be a hot one. Matt pulled his gas mask over his face, opened his door, and also stepped out onto the hot roadway.
Chapter 22
"You're going to have to turn back," a soldier yelled, holding his hand up in the universal stop signal. He was standing in the middle of the road between the front bumpers of the Humvees. "The town is quarantined."
He was wearing a camouflage uniform with differing shades of green mixed with tan arranged in pixilated patterns. It was too far to see the rank insignia on his uniform. From the way he carried himself, I assumed he was in charge of the five other men I could see.
"I'm the sheriff. I need to get back to town," I yelled across the distance. I sincerely hoped this was going to turn out better than yesterday's interactions with the federal government.
"Why aren't you in a patrol car?" he called back suspiciously.
"It's a long story," I replied. "You can see that I'm in uniform though, and I have an ID card in my wallet if you want to inspect it.” I wasn’t happy about how the morning was shaping up.
"Leave your gun and bring your ID to me. Tell your partner to wait in the truck." He wasn't taking any chances. I didn't blame him for being cautious.
"Wait in the truck. I'll be back,” I said to Matt.
I slowly crossed the distance, keeping my hands away from my body with my palms facing forward. I didn't want to give any of them a reason to shoot me. I stopped a couple feet short of the soldier, who appeared to be a sergeant from his insignia.
“My wallet is in my back pocket. I'm going to take it out now.” I introduced myself as I withdrew the wallet from my pocket, opened it, and pulled my sheriff department ID out and handed it to the soldier, whose name tag read Martinez. He looked at the ID, looked at me, and then looked back at the ID, presumably at the picture. After a couple seconds he turned it over, looked at the back and handed it back to me.
"It says you’re a deputy, not the sheriff," he said. The accusation that I was lying was clear.
"That's right. It says I'm a deputy. The sheriff is on vacation in Spain and isn't likely to come back anytime soon. That makes me the sheriff today. Regardless of whether you want to call me deputy or sheriff, I need to get into town so that I can do my job."
"Like I said earlier, the town is quarantined," he said, unwilling to budge from his stated position.
"I understand that. I’m also aware that the quarantine is useless at this point. It was breached yesterday afternoon and the infection has already spread out of town.”
"I am aware," he said, his demeanor softening. "I still have my orders."
"What would you say if I told you that I spent most of yesterday in town around the infected?"
His face hardened and he stepped back, raising his gun as he did.
I realized I said the wrong thing and was about to get shot. "Hold on a minute. Let me explain. I'm immune to the disease. How much did they tell you before they sent you out here?"
His face softened a little, but he was still wound way too tight for my liking. "They told us to maintain the perimeter and not to let
anyone from town get close to us. How do you know you are immune to the disease?"
I quickly explained the high points of what had transpired yesterday, starting with the arrival of the bus, the onset of the sickness at Mary's, the deaths and resurrections followed by my conversation with Doc Baker. I then ran him through the Homeland Security contractors and the hospital. I watched his face as I was talking and at different points I could see that things I was telling him were clicking with pieces of information he already knew. Changes in his facial expression showed when I filled in a piece that was missing from a part of the puzzle with which he was still grappling.
"Now things are starting to make sense," he sighed. "We were given a vaccination late last night that was supposed to prevent us from getting the infection. The rumor was that it came from the Chinese embassy in Washington. I heard they sent the vaccinations across the country in fighter jets so they could get the National Guard and reserve units vaccinated before we were deployed out here. I didn't know why the Chinese would have vaccines until I heard your side of the story. Now it makes sense, but I still don't know why the Chinese would give it to us if they intentionally released the infection?"
"You were vaccinated?" I asked, surprised. Shannon hadn't said anything about the possibility of an available vaccine when I talked to him yesterday. "The Chinese probably gave it to us to keep us from wiping out their major cities in nuclear strikes." Then I was interrupted.
"Halt! Halt! Stop where you are! Don't come any closer!" The soldier in the turret of the Humvee on the right had pivoted his gun toward town and was yelling in that direction. The sergeant and I moved to the hood so we could see who he was yelling at. I saw three individuals in the road walking with a stiff gait about one hundred yards away.
"Shoot them!” I yelled urgently. “Don't let them get any closer!" He gave another warning and one of the approaching infected broke into a run. His gait was stiff; even so, he was moving faster than any sprinter I had seen run the hundred. "He's infected! Shoot him!" My gun was still back in the truck so all I could do was yell.
