“Captain?” Emily said.
It caught me by surprise. “Yes?”
“Never mind,” she said.
“You sure?”
She nodded.
“Anyone else?” I said. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”
Charlie and California shook their heads.
“Good. Let’s go,” I said.
They all started to pile into the APC when California walked up to me.
“Shouldn’t we have given them the map?” he asked.
“Keep it to yourself for now. I won’t let us get lost, but if that is indeed Camp Bravo marked on there, I don’t want to give any reason to panic.”
He nodded and then entered the APC. I followed.
We cruised along for a while. These APC’s were meant to travel over anything and everything, and we barely felt anything as we moved through the terrain along the highway. We had to double back some and I had made the order to stay in the brush as long as possible to avoid any possible confrontation.
“So, who are you guys?” Emily asked.
I was watching the trees pass by through one of the four small windows that lined the side of the APC. Her question pulled me out of my daydream state.
“Huh?” I said.
“I said, who are you guys?”
I looked to California and he returned the same look to me. Neither of us really knew how to answer the question.
“Um, we are, or were, a search and rescue team,” I said.
“Search and rescue of what?” she said.
“Of people like you,” California jumped in.
“Of people like you,” I concurred.
Emily moved her eyes over our combat gear and weapons. “You need guns to rescue people?”
“In case you’ve been sleeping for the past ten years, the world isn’t what it used to be,” I said. “It’s not a safe place. You have the walking dead roaming around and to make things even harder you psychopaths like the scavengers attacking and killing anything they come across.”
The scavenger had regained consciousness by now, looking between all three of us and listening intently on our conversation.
She looked at us dubiously. Before any more awkward questions could be asked the APC came to a stop. The partition opened.
“Come take a look at this,” Charlie said.
I opened the back door and hopped out.
Declan had brought us to a small private, possibly municipal, airport. Half of the runway was submerged in water and there was a tail end of a small aircraft sticking out of the water, just like in San Francisco. The windows on the terminal were broken, but they looked to have been broken naturally, caused by birds or flying debris most likely. Finally, I saw the reason why we stopped; a fuel truck was parked next to the fuel station.
“Maybe it’s got some fuel left,” Charlie said. He headed toward the terminal.
“Stay in shouting distance,” I told him.
He raised his hand to confirm he had heard and continued toward the terminal. Emily got up and headed toward the back door of the APC to join us. I put my hand up and stopped her.
“You stay here,” I said.
“I want to come,” she said.
“It’s too dangerous. Stay in the truck.”
“With him?” she said, referring to the scavenger.
I looked at him. He raised his hands and the handcuffs pulled tight, indicating he couldn’t do anything even if he wanted to.
“Stay in the truck,” I reiterated.
She flopped back down in her seat with an angry sigh. I then shut the back door.
Mother Nature had reclaimed most of the airport. Roots were protruding through the cement and asphalt, windows were green, and foliage covered most of everything. It barely resembled an airport at all. No one had been here in years.
“Captain,” California said from behind me. I turned and he nodded in the distance. I turned back and saw something across the runway. Two shapes were stumbling along the tree line.
“Save your ammo,” I told him. “They’re rotters.”
“What are rotters?” a familiar female asked from behind us.
“I thought I told you to stay in the truck,” I said.
“While you guys get to have all the fun? Fat chance. So, what are rotters?” Emily said again.
I could tell there wasn’t much I could do to get her to listen to me. “Rotters are infected people that are completely decomposed and don’t pose any danger.”
“So long as you stay away from them,” California added.
“And you wanted me to stay in the truck?”
“Captain, over here,” Declan yelled. I started in his direction, California and Emily followed me.
“Are they people?”
“Yes,” California said.
“I’ve never seen one up close,” she said. “They showed them on the news, but they were always grainy, shaky shots. So, they have been infected for a long time?”
California just nodded.
Declan had found a small personal airplane. It was surprisingly intact.
“Maybe we can use it to get out of here,” Declan said.
“Can you get it running?” I asked.
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” he said.
Declan fidgeted with knobs and meters on the plane’s dashboard that I would never understand. He flipped switches and turned knobs, but nothing seemed to be working. He got out of the cockpit and walked to the opposite side of the airplane and lifted a side panel. I heard things being turned and switched in there as well.
I took a moment to scan my surroundings and noticed Emily duck under the tail on her way to Declan. Curiously I walked around the nose to see what she was doing. Declan had both arms deep inside the small hatch. Bundles of wires were hanging out from all sides. Emily was on her tip toes trying to look over his shoulders. I watched her with interest.
“Damn it,” Declan finally said.
“What?” I asked.
“Flight computer is fried,” he said pulling his arms out and bumping into Emily. He didn’t know she was there.
“Sorry,” she said backing up.
Declan glared at her then quickly stuck his hands in his pockets.
“There’s nothing you can do?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Not without a new computer.”
Emily opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by Charlie yelling across the tarmac. “Hey!”
“What?” I yelled back.
“Fuel!” Charlie shouted and I completely forgot about the whole incident.
Charlie was standing on top of the fuel truck and the fueling lid was wide open.
“Is it diesel?” I asked.
“Smells like it,” Charlie said.
“He can smell the difference?” I heard Emily say behind me.
“Him and his brothers grew up around cars,” California told her.
I turned to Declan. “Go get the APC.”
He took off at a jog.
The fuel truck was about ten feet high with a ladder on the back so you could access the hatch. Two hoses on either side allowed for the fueling of planes, helicopters, and other aircraft.
“How much is in there?” I asked.
“A lot,” Charlie said. “At least half.”
“Good.”
The APC’s engine started. Declan pulled as close as he could to the fueling hose then shut the engine off. Charlie jumped down from the fueling truck and grabbed one of the hoses. Declan and Charlie looked at each other.
“How do we do this?” Charlie asked.
I was watching the two infected people across the runway. “I don’t know, but make it fast. These two are on their way and who knows how many others have heard us.”
“Can I have one of those?” Emily asked pointing to the pistol strapped to California’s leg.
“Why would you want one of those?” California asked her.
“You guys
all have them,” she said.
“We know how to use them,” I told her.
“You don’t know how to fuel the truck, but you’re still doing it.” She pointed to Charlie and Declan who were fumbling around like Dumb and Dumber trying to figure out how to fit the fuel nozzle into the APC.
California looked at me and shrugged. I nodded reluctantly.
“All right, but you teach her how to use it,” I said.
Emily jumped up and clapped in excitement. California pulled the pistol out of its holster and held it in his hand. “We’re going to start with the basics,” he said.
I sat down on the tarmac and leaned up against the rear tire of the fuel truck.
“This is the magazine,” California said. “You eject it by pushing this little button on the side.” He pushed it and the magazine slid out of the grip and into his hand. “It has a fifteen-round capacity. Shoots nine-millimeter bullets.” He held the gun and magazine up in front of her. “Is it loaded?”
She took a moment to examine both the gun and the magazine then shook her head.
“Hold your hands out,” he said.
She extended her arms out in front of her. California held the magazine over her hands. He slid his thumb over the bullets, and they popped out of the magazine one by one until the magazine was empty.
“How many are there?” he asked her.
She counted the bullets in her hand.
“Fourteen,” she said.
California nodded.
“Where’s the other one?” she asked.
California pulled the slide back and the final bullet flew out of the ejection port. He caught it in his hand and held it in in between his thumb and index finger in front of him.
“The gun is always loaded.” he said. “When you want to load it, just press the rounds into the magazine.” He loaded a few of the shells into the magazine. “Now you try it.”
He handed her the magazine. She pressed one round in with difficulty.
“It’s pretty hard,” she said.
“It’ll get tighter the more rounds you put in.”
She finished putting the rounds in.
“You ready?” California asked her. She nodded and he handed her the pistol. “Now slap the magazine in there.”
She put the magazine into the grip of the pistol and slapped the bottom of it with her palm.
“Now pull the slide back.”
She struggled to pull it back.
“Hard,” he said.
Her hands shook as she pulled it back. Her fingers slipped off the slide, but it was far enough back to engage a round.
“Now,” California said pointing toward the infected people.
She turned. He stood behind her and helped her raise her arms. I couldn’t see her face, but I knew she was smiling and not just from the excitement of getting to shoot a gun.
“To aim you’re going to line up these two dots on the back with one in the front.” He pointed to the two sets of dots. “The safety is engaged right now, but if you move this lever down it’ll be ready to fire.”
He moved his hands over hers and they slid the safety off in tandem. “Just remember that red is dead,” he said.
“Got it,” she said.
“Now aim for one of them and pull the trigger,” he said, taking a step back.
“Are you sure they’re dead?” she asked.
“Very.”
She aimed the pistol across the runway and pulled the trigger. The gun went off. A mound of dirt exploded about fifteen feet in front of the nearest infected person.
“Wow,” she said.
“Not bad,” California said. “Try again. Exhale when you pull the trigger this time.”
She shot again and this time the bullet struck the infected person in the right knee. The infected person fell to the ground. She screamed in surprise. She turned her head to look at him for reassurance. He nodded with a smile on his face. She shot at the other one a few times before she hit it in the shoulder. It spun and fell into the reeds.
“Wow,” she said again.
“All right kids, if this little training session is over, we’re ready to go,” Charlie said.
Charlie threw the hose onto the tarmac.
“Make sure you put the safety back on,” California said.
Emily pushed the safety up. “I want to shoot it again.”
“You’ll get to. Let’s go,” California said.
She turned and ran for the truck. I slowly started to get up off the ground. Charlie walked up to me and held his hand out to help me up.
“Thanks,” I said grabbing it.
“Someone has to help your old ass,” he said.
“Shut up.”
“What’s with lover boy?”
“He’s young at heart,” I said painfully getting up. “Unlike us.”
Declan closed up the fuel tank and headed up to the cab, Charlie followed him. California and I got in the back and we left that airport behind.
That night we stopped just outside of Big Sur State Park. When everyone was fleeing the initial wave of the virus they headed inland, leaving Highway 1 pretty empty.
Declan found a small property that offered plenty of tree coverage. We were camouflaged for the most part and relatively safe.
The small fire we had started popped and crackled in the nighttime silence.
Charlie had pulled out some of the MREs that were stashed in the APC and passed them around to all of us. Even though the world had gone to shit it had been years since I had actually eaten one of these things. Considering the alternative, they weren’t that bad. I took one of the packs and tossed it into the back of the APC. A pair of handcuffed arms, belonging to our captured scavenger, appeared out of the shadows and grabbed the packet then, just as quickly, disappeared.
“What’s wrong with them?” Emily asked.
“He’s dirty, he’s a scumbag, and a murderer,” I answered trying to be funny.
“I meant the infected.”
It had been a long time since I had heard that question, but it was always in the same tone, concern mixed with curiosity. Emily’s tone, however, was something different. Why she was going this route I didn’t quite know yet.
“We’ll,” California said, unaware of the trap he was about to walk into.
“Have you been living under a rock?” Charlie asked, trying to get a rise out of her, also unaware of the trap.
“I’ve been living in a college dorm room for almost ten years, so basically, yes,” she shot back, effectively shutting him down.
“They’re infected,” California said.
“Infected? With what?” Emily said.
“You didn’t watch the news at all?” California returned.
“When you were going through as much school as I was you don’t have much time for anything, let alone TV or the news.”
“Well, I think you better handle this one,” I told California.
“It’s kind of like a virus,” he said.
“What kind of a virus?”
“Well, the reports that were coming in, before they stopped coming in, said it attacked your central nervous system. Motor functions are affected first, then cognitive abilities, until it finally takes the brain,” California said.
“Is there a cure?”
“No.”
“But they’re still alive right?”
“Not exactly,” I said.
“So how are they able to walk around?” Emily asked.
“The virus takes over the person’s body,” I said.
“So, they’re zombies?”
“No one has ever referred to them as that, but I guess so.”
“You should just call them that. It’s a lot easier and everyone knows what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“I mean, you keep referring to them as people when you clearly said earlier that they were dead. Even though they walk around like they’re not.”
“Well we’ve learned that it doesn’t exactly bring them back to life, it more so uses them,” California said.
“Uses?” Emily said dubiously.
California nodded. “The virus kills the host then takes over the body. Those people you see out there are all dead, it’s the virus that moves them around.”
“It’s more of a parasite,” Emily said. “It explains why they move all clunky.”
California was dumb founded. I had a small smirk on my face.
“What’s the matter?” she said. “I actually get to explain something to you?” He answered yes with his expression and she chuckled. “Imagine if your mind was suddenly thrust into that of a dog’s body.”
“Okay,” he said.
“Would you know how to walk or use anything?”
“I suppose I could get by,” I said.
“You could get by, but you wouldn’t win any awards at the Westminster Dog Show.”
“You would eventually get smart and learn how to use things,” California said. “Why don’t we ever see any smart zombie?”
“Because the point of the parasite is not to get smart.”
“Ok,” I said. “Where did they really find you?”
“In my lab.”
“Your lab?” California asked.
“When I said I was living in a college dorm room I wasn’t lying, but I wasn’t a college student. I was a principle researcher for a new lab center at UC Berkeley.”
Everyone sat in silence.
“Why the deception?” I asked.
“I wanted to make sure you were the good guys.”
“Satisfied?” California asked.
“For the most part,” she said smiling.
“I take it you were researching the virus?”
“Was. Yes. And like I said it’s more of a parasite, not a virus. I never finished, but its structure was very similar to that of Leucochloridium. You ever heard of that? It’s a parasitic worm that will invade a snail’s eye stalks and then pulsate, which mimics the movements of caterpillar. It will then, in essence, mind control the snail out into the open where birds would eat it. There, the worm breeds in the bird’s intestines. The bird would then poop out the eggs which are then eaten by other snails and the process continues. It’s one gruesome circle.”
“So, what’s the purpose of these things then?” Charlie asked.
“Like I said, I didn’t get to finish my research so I’m not quite sure, but most likely they’re not trying to eat your brains so much as propagate their species.”
Wanderer (Book 2): Hunters Page 8
