The rain was picking up, and Mike hunched against the drops as he stepped through the rain and found a side door into the closest hanger. He emerged a moment later and walked over to a longer hanger and entered the side door. A few minutes later, he called on the radio.
"This one is empty, but the doors are jammed. I'll need a little help," he said.
Ronnie and Tom both jumped down from their trucks and sprinted through the driving rain to the side door. One of the heavy steel doors had warped in the opening. It flexed as all three men threw their weight into it, but it held. Then suddenly it gave way and swung open with a loud bang. The other door quickly followed.
"Bring them in," Mike called over the radio.
Kate slid across the seat of the truck, flicked on the headlights, dropped the shift lever into drive and pulled slowly into the building. The interior was huge, looking even bigger on the inside than it had on the outside. There was absolutely nothing inside. She pulled towards the back, backed around and parked the big truck. She killed the lights, shut of the motor and stepped down from the cab. The other trucks drove in behind her.
~
Halfway back in the dim interior, a large wood stove set out from one wall. A pipe ran from the stove into the side wall and then to the outside. Janet opened it, blew at the dust and looked around for wood.
"We'll need wood," she said. She looked the stove over. "It's not made for cooking on, but the top's flat and we can make it work. Find me some wood, and I'll get everything else ready," she said.
~Bad Pennies Again~
Psycho arched her body above Shitty, moaned, peeked from one squinted eye and saw he was ready. She faked another moan, thrust her hips harder and then finished with a loud groan. She waited a half second, tensed her body, faked heavy breathing, then rolled off him.
"You're so good, Psycho," he said. There was no faking in the heavy breaths that he drew. "Was it good for you? Was it?" he asked.
"Like, how could it not be, Shitty. You take me all the way. Every time, Baby. Every time."
He smiled and laid back while she quickly cleaned up with some paper towels she had found in one of the rest rooms. Then she leaned back into him and let him talk. It was always the same. How tough he was. How well he could fuck. How big his cock was. And that was a joke, because... He interrupted her thoughts. "...You think?" He was asking.
She had no idea what he had said. "I don't know, Baby, explain it to me better. You know I don't always get things like you do. You're so smart." She kissed his cheek, rubbed her breasts against his arm - he liked that - then waited.
"I was saying," he said, clearly perturbed that all of her attentions had not been on him. She rubbed against him again, and he stopped and smiled.
"All I was saying, Psycho, is I think I've been showing Death that I'm a thinking dude. You know, not like Murder. You know, today? He couldn't even notice a gunshot wound, couldn't tell it from what the wolves ate. That will add up. He'll put me ahead of Murder. Soon, you'll see," he said. "And you'll be sleeping with number two," he finished.
I already am, she thought. “Oh, Shitty, that makes me so hot," she said. "Just thinking about it."
~
Shitty could never go more than once. He was nineteen years old and weighed two hundred and forty pounds. Five foot nine frame. Ate candy bars all day long, smoked like a chimney, and she was surprised he hadn't dropped dead or run out of breath when he had run across the field earlier in the day. Hopefully he would the next time, she thought.
He reached over, squeezed one breast and tugged at the piercing in the nipple. Something he thought turned her on, but actually hurt and scared her a bit too. He might be simple, but he was nuts. She always joked to herself that it should be him who was called Psycho. Only, really, when she thought about it, it was no joking matter.
He had been with an older woman, in her thirties when they had first picked her up. She was still Cindy then, only Shitty said it was spelled with an S. Sindy. He had his eyes on her, marked her out immediately. He was on her from the first day.
She had gotten really wasted drinking hard liquor with Johnny Red a few nights later and had gotten into a fight with Shitty's woman, Bitch. Shitty had named her himself. He had the idea that a woman was owned by the man, like a dog. And so the man chose the name, he had told them seriously.
She had flipped out on Bitch, bitten her face and broken her nose before Shitty had dragged her off her, and he had given her the name Psycho.
A few nights later, Shitty had taken her into one of the bedrooms in the house that they had been sharing. It was where he and Bitch had been sleeping. He had kicked her out of the bed and told her to get lost. She had come back at him, kicking and clawing, and he had simply pulled his gun and shot her.
She had seemed so surprised as her fingers came up and found the hole in her chest. She had raised her fingers up to her eyes to see the blood that was there. She had tried to breath for what seemed like minutes, but was surely less than a minute, making an awful clicking, swallowing sound. And then she had fallen down dead. And Shitty had taken Psycho right there on the bed while she had still lain dead upon the floor. After the sex, he had dozed off and he had awakened. He had dragged Bitch by one foot through the house and thrown her out on the front lawn.
Psycho could not forget that. Nor the way no one came running to find out what the shot was about, or said a word when Shitty had dragged her from the falling down house or when he had tossed her body into the river the next morning after leaving her in the yard overnight.
Shitty was simple, but he was crazy and she was taking no chances with him. She moved her body now, once he'd stopped pulling at her piercing, so it was slightly out of reach. No matter how the rest of her life went, she was looking for the end of it. She had no illusions about it; it was going to end up badly. She could feel it.
~
A heavy canvas tarp covered a neat stack of wood on the side of the hanger. The front had a small overhang above the doors, so they left the doors ajar and ran back and forth until most of the wood was piled by the stove. A couple of gas lanterns lit the inside up, and once the wood stove was fired up, it took the chill out of the air.
There were two doors, both of which had overhangs, and Ronnie and Mike drew the first watch. They helped to close up the main doors once more, and then each of them took a thermos of coffee with them for their post. They stood under the overhangs, trying to stay dry as the rain poured down.
~
Bob came up to Mike later on when he came back in. "Truck's odometer says only about a hundred and twenty miles today," he said.
"Yeah, well, the roads were worse, and... Jessica, and now this. We could've gone another couple hours," Mike said. “But I just didn't see it happening.”
"Yeah, except we couldn't see the road," Bob said.
"Yeah, there's that." He looked at Bob questioningly.
"Channel seventeen... On the C.B.?" he asked.
Mike nodded.
"Well, the thing is, there was some pretty regular talk earlier. Garbled, but regular. And it stopped, but, well... The last one's we heard about on seventeen were those nut jobs back in Watertown," Bob said.
"Couldn't be them, all this way, could it?" Mike asked.
"I wouldn't think so, unless, well, unless they were traveling," he said.
"No," Mike said.
"Yeah, I don't think so either. But channel seventeen, hell, it could be. Probably only skip. But, I thought I should tell you," Bob finished. He looked miserable.
"I think, just to be safe, I'll listen in hard on seventeen tomorrow while I'm driving." Mike said.
"My thoughts exactly," Bob said.
~Kate's journal~
I haven't written in three days. So much has happened. A man attacked me, tried to rape me. I didn't even know him, and I don't know what motivated him. I don't understand it at all.
Arlene shot and killed him. That was horrible also. So many people were affe
cted by it, not just me, and I can't see when it will ever really be over for any of us. Can anyone forget something like that? Not hardly, so I guess it will always be with me. But I didn't bury it. I have Patty, I have Mike, I have love to help me understand. Some women don't.
Today Jessica died. She had been feeling down, ill, but she insisted she was fine. Maybe the shock of the way the world is now, what happened to me even, but we won't know exactly what happened or made it happen. Sandy said she arrested, her heart stopped. We buried her beside the highway, somewhere here in West Virginia. Not far behind us.
Things we know:
We have a place to go, we're going to get there.
The days are still about 26 hours long. Maybe that is the new day.
The destruction is widespread and really bad. We ran into a lake the other day where there was not supposed to be one. We could easily tell that as the road ran right into the water.
There's a lot of skip on the C.B. That tells us there are other people scattered around the world, at least the United States. So we're not alone at all. Were just scattered.
Lilly is a big one for prayer. I'm not usually, but the last few days I've been praying God will get us through all of this.
~Nell's journal~
I have found myself more and more grateful for the people we have over the last couple of days. One of ours was nearly killed, and worse. She was only saved because another person happened along. She had to kill the man to stop him.
How does someone, that man, get so far away from reason?
We lost another of us today. She had a heart attack. I've seen more bad stuff in the last few weeks than I've seen in my whole life.
But I have Molly. We have hopes and dreams. I guess after what happened to Kate, so out of the blue, I worry something could happen to Molly. I know that's unreasonable. I know it is. Even so, I find myself praying to God much more often than I used to.
~Arlene's journal~
I had to kill someone. It's really all that I can think of. Some low life made me kill him. And I wonder if he has any idea at all of the damage he has left behind.
~The Army~
Donita sat watching the children as they lay dead before her. Soon the power would come over them and they would rise from death into the world of the Walkers, her world.
The boy sat waiting beside her. They had finished the woman, and then the old woman. Neither would rise again.
The boy was a good soldier. The two before her, twin girls by the look, or so close to twins as for it not to matter, should be good choices too. Strong, intact. Their bodies would turn faster, as the boy's was already doing. Her own body had taken much longer. Much longer before the rotting flesh had begun to change to something else, something not exactly living tissue, but that was nourished by dead tissue. That new flesh was stronger, more resilient, self healing... Probably other things that she had not yet figured out.
Her eyes told her when the horse left. To where, she did not know. But she also knew it was not her concern.
The boy's flesh already seemed to have made some of that change. He was completely devoted to her. Unquestioning. That is what she wanted. The girls would be also. She knew that instinctively. She could smell it on them. They were meant to leave that world for this world. It was a gift, really. It was so unnecessary to have to go through all the pleading and begging in the leaving of that life, she thought. This one was so much better. This one did not have an absolute end. This one could be forever. And forever could not even be measured.
CHAPTER SIX
Fight & Flight
~ April 1st~
The rain stopped in the early morning, just before dawn, and Janet had everyone fed before the sun was fully up. The trucks were loaded and on the highway just as the first hint of gray began to creep into the sky and the southern horizon began to glow.
The sun rose high and bright into a clear sky. Steam rose off the highway and the trees as the morning warmed up. The roadway was in better shape, except a few areas where rushing water had cut through the pavement, and they made good time. They found themselves running closer to the Appalachians, through the foothills, and although they saw no road signs, Bob was sure they had crossed over into Kentucky.
Just past midday, they stopped at a truck stop complex that featured a diner, a huge garage and a gas pump area. A cluster of other stores, mom and pops and fast food outlets filled out the complex.
While they filled the trucks, Mike found a handful of maps in the cashier's booth between the islands, all Kentucky.
Everybody lunched on smoked meat and packs of peanuts, washed down with vitamin water or sports drinks. The stores were pretty well picked over by what looked to be foraging animals. A few were little better than flattened, splintered wrecks.
Behind the gas pumps, a raw red crater had opened in the earth, and it looked to Mike to be well over fifty feet deep. As he peered over the edge down into the hole, he saw, sitting at the bottom, a nearly brand new Ford pickup truck. It didn't appear to have a scratch on. Things were strange like that sometimes. He pointed it out to Bob and Ronnie. The three of them had a little laugh about it, and then they went to work opening up the fill pipe to the underground gas tank.
~
They got back on the road and found their first sign just before dark. Mike pulled off into the national forest preserve ten miles further down the road. They stopped within a quarter mile of the highway and set up camp for the night.
They set up the vehicles in a loose perimeter and posted the first watch of the night. Bob got out the map as Janet and several others began to get the evening meal going.
Mike made the rounds of all the posts while Bob dragged two picnic tables together and waited with the map. He didn't specifically mention the conversation they had all overheard on C.B. channel seventeen during the day, but he did say he felt they were being followed, and maybe by some folks who were not so nice. Privately, he, Bob, Ronnie, Tom and Jeff had discussed the transmissions. The people on channel seventeen were looking for someone. They were staying within broadcast range, although only barely, so it stood to reason they had to be traveling in the same direction. The second time they had heard them, they had mentioned Jessica.
If they were behind them and they had found Jessica, it could only mean that they were following. It had given each of them an uneasy feeling. After the map, they intended to discuss it in detail.
Mike sent Tim and Annie up to the top of a small rise where the highway could be seen for over a mile in either direction. He told them to watch for headlights and get on the radio system as soon as they saw any. It was quiet, and Mike was sure they would also hear the hum of the big tires on the pavement long before they would be able to see the trucks. He'd done what he could. He walked over to the tables, got a cup of coffee and sat down with Bob and a few others. The smell of cooking food was already wafting on the air, causing his stomach to growl.
"We're there," Bob said as Mike sat down.
They studied the map that was laid out on the table.
"How are we there?" Mike asked.
"We're as close as we need to be," Bob said. "Some of that depends on where we're going to end up, but really, no matter the direction, we can start from here."
"Southwest will take us to a large area that includes Tennessee, Alabama and part of Mississippi and Arkansas. East gives us the Carolinas, Tennessee, Alabama and little bit of Georgia," Bob said.
"Isn't that more than what you said before?" Mike asked.
"Yes, but it's because those wilderness areas are usually backed up against state forest preserves, logging lands, State park areas, and all that really means is all that land is now empty. So it has added more to the whole. I got to thinking about that and re-figured it. It only makes sense." He paused, drawing a wider circle around the one he had previously drawn.
"See? We can stay in our smaller circle, build our life, build the Nation outwards and have all of that other land as a sa
fety zone." Bob said.
A portable C.B. radio sat on the table nearby squawking intermittently. It did so now.
"... eey one," it said. And then more clearly, "We keep going."
"Gotcha, Death, gotcha," a new voice responded.
Bob and Mike looked at each other.
"That fucks that," Bob said.
"It does," Mike agreed. He turned around and looked at everyone. Some on post, some helping to prepare food. He raised his voice:
"Listen everybody...."
~
Reference over heard on C.B. Radio Channel Seventeen earlier that morning
~
"They was here, Death. There's tracks, they was here," the voice said.
"I can see that, Shitty, but what was they here for?" Death asked.
"Buried something, Death... There's a covered up hole with rocks and shit and a little cross marked out in stone's on top of it," Shitty told him.
Lilly had read over the body, and Lilly had laid out the simple outline of a cross over the grave in small stones once it was filled in.
"Dig it up... see what the fuck it is, or was," Death laughed.
"Dig it up?" Shitty asked. "But, well, it's probably another dead body, what the fuck sense does that make?"
"Dig it up," Death responded calmly.
"Damn, bro, you ain't supposed to fuck with a dead body after they's been buried, Death. Everybody knows that. Bad fuckin' luck is what it will get you."
"Dig it fuckin' up. Now!" Death shouted into the radio. "Or do I have to send Murder? Maybe you're just a straight up pussy?" Death asked.
Silence on the radio...
"You hear what I said!?" Death asked.
"I'm fuckin' digging," Shitty said. "I'm fuckin' digging, and I ain't no pussy," he said. The radio had fallen silent.
~
Mike talked for more than twenty minutes when the C.B. radio once again crackled to life...
~
"There's fresh tire tracks here, they was here. And not long ago either," a voice said.
America The Dead Book Two: The Road To Somewhere Page 13
