We were making okay progress given the circumstances. Using back roads and the navigation system to move south through Jersey, we were able to avoid most of the congested roads.
A few creatures popped up from time to time, but they were easy to take care of. We noticed on the third day that most of the zombies were quite slow. Kyle and I agreed that it was probably because the bodies were dead, like in the movies, and that they had gone through rigor mortis, causing all the limbs to tighten up and keeping them from being able to do much more than hobble around.
A fact that, I would learn later on, was correct.
In small numbers, this was a big help. However, we knew we needed to avoid swarms of these things. No matter how slow they were, they were still lethal.
With much of the morning eaten up, we were able to make approximately fifty miles south that day.
In the evening, Kyle and I found what looked like an old lumber warehouse. Upon first glance, it was clearly abandoned, but then I noticed a creature that had its brains bashed in, laying near one of the machines.
It was wearing blue jeans and a white button up shirt that was covered in dirt and blood. It was a few days ripe. After I parked the Hummer in the building, we immediately threw it outside before closing up the sliding doors.
The warehouse was relatively open, with a high ceiling that appeared to have a series of railed bridges running through it. We spent the next hour exploring the place to make sure that we were able to “secure our position,” as Kyle put it. In other words, we were double checking to make sure that none of the roaming zombies outside would stumble across us by walking through an open door in the back of the building.
Luckily, in the guard shack, we did happen across a refrigerator, to which electricity no longer ran.
“Looks like the place had a night security watch,” Kyle said.
He walked up to the fridge holding both hands up in the air with his fingers crossed. He told me that he had heard stories from others that were part of the same security company he had worked for, about the guys who were lucky enough to get this type of gig, and how they usually sat around and drank beer all night.
He opened the refrigerator, and yelled, “Eureka!” as he pulled out a twelve pack.
“We’re drinking like kings tonight!” he exclaimed, as he held up a bottle of warm Miller High Life.
A smile came to my face, as I shared his excitement. Even warm beer was welcome. Besides, High Life instantly reminded me of the good times I’d had drinking with some of my old buddies in college.
Back at the Hummer, which I had parked squarely in the middle of the place, we checked on the wounded man, who was now tossing and turning a bit. His bandage was fresh, but already showing signs of blood soaking into it. His skin was a tone too pale, and I noticed that he felt a bit feverish. Reaching down to reassure myself that my hammer was still resting securely in my belt, I decided to keep a watchful eye on him. We had done what we could at that point, and I needed to make sure that we’d be ready for a sudden turn for the worse.
During the course of the day, my cell phone had charged up to two full power bars. However, we hadn’t had any luck finding a cell phone tower that worked.
I later learned that most of the power grids in the US wouldn’t last more than three to four days without anyone operating them. In rare cases, there were wind and hydro-powered generators that could power small rural areas for longer, but after a few days, everything else went dark.
We were on day three.
As Kyle and I started to pull out some of the camping gear we had stowed in the trunk of the Hummer, our patient woke up.
He slowly opened his eyes, and in a daze, asked where he was. Sitting in the vehicle with him, Kyle and I walked the old man through the course of events that had taken place since his crash.
By the end of the story, he was regaining his wits, and he began to sit up. He clutched his stomach and asked, “What the hell hit me?”
Kyle reached into the glove compartment and pulled out the small metal shard. Handing it to him, he explained that it looked like it was part of the rotor blade from the back of the helicopter.
The gentleman held it up in front of his face, and then thanked us for pulling him out and stitching him up.
“That damn metal beast,” the old man murmured out loud. “I knew we should have never gotten in that thing. We were assured safe passage out of the city. My people paid off some pretty high level officials to get me that ride.”
“What happened? I mean, what happened in the helicopter?” I asked.
He took a deep breath, obviously thinking back to the event. He sat up, holding his side with a grimace.
“The chopper took off with five people in it. The pilot, a copilot, my assistant and I, and an army sergeant who thought he was lucky enough to catch a ride. The copilot took a liking to my assistant immediately, and invited her up to show off the control panel. None of us could have known that the pilot had been bit.”
I looked at Kyle. We knew where this story was heading.
“He turned mid-flight, and took a quarter sized bite out of Judy, my assistant, as she leaned forward. She took two steps back and fell to the metal floor, holding her neck. Blood was squirting in short bursts across the window and wall to her right.”
He stopped for a moment, panting shallowly as he wiped his eyes. Blood from his own wound streaked across his cheek.
“As she sat there slowly dying, the pilot turned his sights on the copilot. I could hear so much screaming, and watched the infected man waving his hands while blood shot all over the front windshield. That’s when I looked over at the sergeant. He had strapped on a parachute and was pulling the door of the chopper open, which opened sideways just as Judy started to…re-animate.”
He stopped again, catching his breath. There was much sadness in his voice as he continued.
“Judy started to walk towards me. I was frozen with fear. In that instant, the sergeant jumped out the door. Having caught Judy’s attention, and without hesitation, she ran over to the opening and leaped after him. In some ways, I believe that sergeant saved my life, but I recognize he was just trying to save his own ass.”
Thinking back to the figures we watched plummet to the earth, I didn’t think it was necessary to tell him how it ended for the sergeant and his assistant, Judy.
“I watched the head of the copilot rolling around in the belly of the chopper as we started spinning in the air just before the crash. I had no idea what the hell hit me in the stomach, but I knew it was bad.”
He coughed, and I noticed some blood dribbled out of his mouth. He went on to tell us that his name was Michael Hoskins, a high-powered CEO of a technology company headquartered in New York. He held out a weak hand, which I grasped and shook.
The handshake is a funny thing. No matter how utterly screwed up things have gotten, it still seems cordial to shake someone’s hand when meeting. I read somewhere that the handshake actually started out in ancient Greece as a sign of peace, and a way for strangers to prove to each other that they were unarmed. Seemed like we may be reverting to those times quickly.
Kyle and I cracked open a few beers. We offered one to Michael to be polite, but we all knew it was best that he stuck to water for the time being.
The three of us exchanged stories about where we were heading and about the circumstances that brought us together. Kyle talked about his army buddies down at Fort Gordon. I mentioned my wife and that Kyle and I were both heading to Georgia.
At the mention of our destination, Michael perked up. That’s when he told us where he was heading. According to him, a group of people in West Virginia had reacted with amazing speed to this catastrophe. Evidently, some very deep pockets were involved.
They had created an end of the world facility that was designed to be a Utopia for anybody who could afford a ticket to enter, should there ever be any sort of global event. From a nuclear strike to a meteor impact, the designers of this place had though
t of everything.
It reminded me of the group from the boat.
Dug into the mountains, parts of it were completely underground, and the whole thing was run on its own separate nuclear power grid. Between the walls that surrounded the place in a secluded mountainside of the West Virginia wilderness, and its own private army, this place was well positioned to be where anybody with status would be heading.
Kyle took the last sip of his third beer, and laughed out loud. “Sounds like the perfect place for me!” he spoke sarcastically.
I joined in his laughter, but Michael didn’t even hesitate before saying, “I can make sure I get us all in. Once we get there, we’ll have the resources to help find your family and get you to your buddies in Augusta, if that’s where you want to go. All you have to do is get me there.”
Kyle and I glanced at each other. He had sobered some from his humor.
“Sounds a little far fetched,” he replied mildly, warily eyeing Michael.
I didn’t say anything. The prospect of getting some help to find my wife was too appealing to dismiss immediately. On the other hand, I was quickly learning to trust Kyle’s instincts.
Michael accepted Kyle’s reservation graciously. “Call it what you will. The fact remains that Avalon exists.”
“Avalon?” I questioned with a scowl.
“Named after the island where King Arthur was taken after he died.”
“So, a place where the kings of our modern age head after the world dies, huh?” Kyle said with an odd smile.
“I guess that could be one way to interpret it.” Michael returned a faint grin, his eyelids heavy. He soon fell back to sleep.
Kyle and I stayed up finishing off the beers we had found, talking over what Michael had said. We agreed that Avalon sounded like a bit of a pipe dream. How could we really be assured that this guy could, or would, get us in when the time came, even if it was real?
“Didn’t sound like the tickets ran cheap,” Kyle pointed out with a huff.
I shifted my legs to get comfortable, and then shrugged my shoulders. “If it’s not real, the only motivation behind him telling us this tale could just be to ensure we don’t ditch him out here.”
“Yep. Not a lot of trust running around these days,” Kyle said, rolling his eyes.
Looking down at the metal case clutched in the old man’s arms, I asked, “What the hell do you think is in it? He wouldn’t let that damn thing go.”
Kyle lifted his beer, and took a swig, thinking about it. “Probably full of nothing, and the guy is probably full of shit, too.”
“Yeah, but what if he isn’t? What if it’s full of money and a golden ticket to Avalon?”
Rolling his eyes again, Kyle snarked, “He can wipe his ass with the money, and the only golden ticket I’ve ever seen, got Charlie chased by a bunch of crazed Umpa-Lumpas.”
Looking down, I grinned at the visual, and realized that Kyle had one thing right. I got the sense that money, and people who had it, didn’t mean jack to him in the old world. It sure as shit didn’t mean anything in this new one. Reaching my hands up to rub my eyes, I realized that I’d spent most of my life chasing those green pictures of dead people. So much wasted time.
Looking back up I asked, “So what do you think? About him riding along I mean. We can’t just leave him out here to die.” In the back of my mind, I was thinking that we weren’t savages yet…were we?
Glancing down at the guy, Kyle crossed his arms. His High Life was sitting crooked across his shoulder and he was really pondering the thought. “You’re right. We can’t leave him here. Besides, he’ll be one more person to help fend off the creatures roaming around outside once he gets better.”
“If he gets better...” I said, shifting my weight again, feeling a little uneasy at the idea of the guy suddenly waking up and having turned full zombie. “Besides, I can’t completely dismiss the hope that someplace like Avalon really exists out there, and we’ll be driving through West Virginia anyway.”
Kyle shrugged. I could tell he didn’t believe in the place or the guy’s story, but he appeared to be willing to go along with it…for now.
Looking towards me with a more grim face, Kyle said sharply, “We just gotta watch him. I don’t want him turning out to be another Chauffer!”
Trying to lighten the mood, I nodding my head in agreement, “I know. That bald son –of –a bitch! I hope I come across the zombie version of him. I’d love to smash my hammer through that cul-de-sac forehead of his,” I snapped, actually relishing the thought.
I took a sip of beer and glanced over at Kyle, trying to look serious. There was a pause, and then we both chuckled out loud at the thought.
We were down to our last few beers, and without much food in my system, my face was flushed, and I was starting to feel a slight buzz building in the back of my head.
Taking the moment of silence to look out around the interior of the warehouse, I realized how exposed we actually were. I couldn’t see a thing, and there wasn’t a sound to be heard outside of our voices, which even as we whispered, seemed to echo throughout the building.
Seeing the look of concern on my face, Kyle changed the subject, “So tell me about your wife.”
“My wife. My wife. Let me tell you about my wife.” I said with a smirk growing across my face. “She’s a phenomenal woman. We actually met in business school. Well, I was in business school; she was an art major. I remember we flirted around for a year before I got the balls to ask her out. We got married soon after school, and we’ve been together ever since...obviously. She’s a feisty one though.” I chuckled at that. “Doesn’t take my shit, that’s for sure. She’s got to be the most stubborn person I know. If she wants it, she’s going to get it.”
“Wow, that’s what I need, someone to keep me in line,” Kyle said, nodding appreciatively.
“Yep. I can’t fight back. She’s quick to remind me that her dad is armed and dangerous. You see, he’s a diehard deer hunter. The guy’s got more firearms than I do years in my life. She’s his only baby girl. Good thing he tried to make her into his little hunting buddy as a kid. She’s not too squeamish, and doesn’t usually freak at the sight of blood. Hopefully that helps her now.”
We both paused at that thought. It was sobering. Thinking about my wife and possibly newborn child out there, trying to make it through all this shit. I knew the odds were against her, but that wasn’t going to stop me from getting to them.
Tipping back my last beer, I looked at Kyle and asked, “What about you? Why aren’t you married?”
He laughed out loud at the notion, and I watched him shift his weight from one foot to the other, looking out beyond me into the darkness.
“There was one girl actually.” He said, still looking out beyond the Hummer.
“She was a real she-bitch when she wanted to be. Powerful, and proud. She had tan skin, and long dark hair, which she never wore down. Too afraid of looking like a woman. We were stationed together, and I spent months trying to crack that exterior.” He laughed a bit, as if thinking of a joke he’d told her a long time ago.
“I had one hell of a time getting her to believe that I wasn’t just another dumb GI trying to get into her panties…I don’t know, maybe I was at first.” He smirked at the thought.
“She finally broke down though, and let me in…through the exterior I mean,” he said with a sly smile.
“We spent a number of great nights together.” He said trailing off.
“So what happened to her?” I finally asked, interrupting his thoughts.
He laughed, and casually shrugged, “Well, she got shipped off to Iran shortly after. We tried to keep together, but in the end, it was all just an in the heat of the desert sort of thing. Wasn’t ever going to work…the long distance thing I mean.”
Kyle tipped back his bottle, holding it upright and waiting for the final drop, then turned around and launched it out into the darkness. We heard it hit the ground and roll until it finally
broke against something that sounded metal.
We closed and locked the doors to the Hummer shortly after. I checked my phone one last time before reclining my seat in hopes of falling asleep. Still no signal.
Chapter 11
Silence is Golden.
Sleep eluded me. Lying there in the Hummer, my mind was racing. How I could possibly find a working cell tower, or some sort of way to communicate with Jenn?
First, I thought of Walkie-Talkies and CB radios, like you’d find in an eighteen wheeler. However, I came to the conclusion that their reception wouldn’t reach that far to Atlanta.
The Pakers on the ferry had a Ham radio. My brief understanding of the Ham radio system was that one could communicate around the world by using various methods, including bouncing signals off the moon or relaying from operator to operator until they got to the intended receiver.
There used to be thousands of Ham radio operators out there, I had once read. However, I had no idea how many of those would be connected to generators, to keep them up and running.
The more I thought about it; the real problem would be that Jenn would literally have to know to be listening for me on a certain signal for it to work anyway.
Unless… unless, I could get a message to her with where and when to meet me. If I could just get one call or even a text to her, I would be able to set a date, time and frequency for us to meet. This assumed of course, that we could both find a radio, and a way to connect them.
That left me with finding an operational cell tower. The only way to find one of those would be to find a working power station. It was a long shot, but the world was full of long shots at the moment.
With the bit of liquid courage that I still had coursing through my veins; I stepped out of the car, and started up a metal staircase on the inside of the wall of the warehouse. I tripped over a few steps, but with the moon still almost full, there was enough light coming through the widows on the opposite side of the building to enable me to see.
Once at the top, I had to navigate across a bridge that shared space with the rafters. The Hummer looked very small, and I was beginning to regret making the climb when I reached a hatch that looked like it would allow me access to the rooftop.
900 Miles: A Zombie Novel Page 7
