by Ricky Sides
“I know you will, buddy. Keep your weapons handy, and I’ll see you in a few days.”
***
Randy waved as the small convoy of the truck with its trailer and the two cars left for their trip to Colorado.
“Do you think he’ll make it back in a few days?” asked Amy.
“He’ll be back. I don’t have high hopes for him being back in just a few days, but I believe he’ll make it back in one piece.”
“Why are you so sure?”
“You don’t know my friend well, or you wouldn’t ask that question. Herb is tough in a fight. He never seems to get edgy the way I do in battle.”
Henry overheard the conversation and said, “Oh, he gets the jitters too. He’s just one of those people able to function better than most in stressful situations. I knew a man like that once. I always thought he was the bravest man I’d ever seen. I said that to him one afternoon. He thought I was joking. Then he admitted that he got just as nervous as the next man did. He just refused to let fear cause him to fail to act in an emergency. He said he feared that more than what he was facing. It kind of made sense to me when he explained it that way.”
As the trio talked, they had been walking back toward the cabin. They saw Ox run around the left side of the house and jump up onto the porch. The dog saw them coming and stopped to wag his tail, but then he seemed to look past them toward the woodline and his demeanor altered drastically. He crouched and growled menacingly as he stared. Randy spun around to see what was behind them. He saw tree limbs moving, as if something large had just entered the woods and jostled them with its passage. A loud bawling sound broke the silence, causing Ox to bark and jump down off the porch to the grassy area in front of the cabin.
A loud huffing sound, emanated from the woods in answer to the dog’s barking.
“Amy, you’d better go in the house, and tell Martha I said not to come out,” Henry said.
“Ox, get back on the porch,” Randy said sharply as he unslung his rifle.
“We should take him inside,” Henry said. “That’s a bear out there. If he tangles with a full grown bear, he’s going to lose.”
“Come on, Ox,” Randy said impatiently. He took two steps toward the dog, but the big Pitt Bull mix turned on him growling fiercely.
Randy stopped in his tracks and said, “What’s wrong with you, boy?”
The dog backed away a couple of steps, and then he darted forward with a burst of speed that Randy had never seen it display in the past. He reached out to try to stop the animal, but the dog turned its head in passing and snapped at him. It would have bitten Randy, but Henry grabbed the man and jerked him back away from the animal.
Ox snarled at the men, but then the bawling in the forest started up again, causing the dog to focus its attention on the woods once more. The canine wheeled around in its tracks and raced toward the woodline.
“Leave him be, son. He’s going to hurt you if you interfere. You should get up to the tower. You might be able to see what’s happening from there. Going into those woods after him would be just plain stupid. You’d be dead before your friend got more than ten miles down the road.”
“I need to get my shotgun. This .22 Smith and Wesson rifle won’t help much against a bear,” Henry added.
“You’ve got that right,” Randy replied. “But I want you to stay inside and protect the women. I’ll get up there and see what I can see. If something comes at the door, get the women in one of the bedrooms and barricade yourselves in the room. Take some food and water, just in case.”
Henry looked as if he wanted to say something, but then he nodded his acceptance of Randy’s instructions and headed for the cabin.
Randy followed him, but paused on the porch and turned to face the forest. The woods were silent now. There was no movement that he could detect.
“You’re coming in, aren’t you?” Henry asked from the door.
“Yeah. I was just looking at the woods,” Randy responded. He entered the house and noted that Henry locked the door.
***
Herb was following Agent Marx’s car as they drove past the area where they had rescued Martha and Henry Echols. The three CDC scientists who had arrived at his cabin with Agent Marx were driving behind the trailer.
They drove past the dead zombies without incident, disturbing the feeding of a solitary vulture that was present. Ahead of the small convoy, the agent’s vehicle slowed as they came to an area where a couple of cars were in the road. Herb frowned as he noted that the doors had been left open.
“That’s not a good sign, is it?” asked Erma.
“No. I’m afraid it isn’t,” Herb responded truthfully.
Agent Marx skirted around the abandoned vehicles, and then they were once more in the open and heading for the interstate. They had driven less than four miles when Herb saw the Agent’s vehicle come to an abrupt stop. He stopped as well and looked down the road at the cause for the agent’s concern.
There were people in the road walking toward them. Herb picked up the binoculars and studied the approaching group. “They look normal,” he told Erma as he took his time and studied them one by one.
Agent Marx must have reached the same determination, because he began to roll toward the people at a slow rate of speed.
Herb put the truck back in gear and followed the agent. Soon they were forced to slow again as the people showed no inclination to get out of the road. Agent Marx sounded his horn, which startled some of the people into jumping out of the way, but a couple of men stood their ground.
Agent Marx sounded the horn again, but to no avail. The men on the road ignored him and waited for the vehicles to stop. Herb was beginning to wonder if Marx would stop, but then the car screeched to a halt. Herb stopped as well. He put the truck in park and reached beside him for his rifle. “No matter what happens, stay in the truck,” he said as he opened his door to exit.
“Get out of the way,” Herb heard Marx shout to the men blocking the road from his partially opened driver’s side window.
“We need a ride,” one of the men countered. “We’re all broke down on the interstate. We walked miles to get here!”
“You people need to turn around and head back to the interstate. This area is a zombie zone. You’re in danger,” Marx explained to the two men blocking the road. Herb counted a total of three men, three women, and two boys, who appeared to be in their mid to late teens.
“There are zombies on the interstate too!” one of the women said. She was standing on the shoulder of the road, and Herb thought she looked exhausted. They all looked worn out. He knew that most people weren’t accustomed to walking miles at a stretch out in the elements. Modern life had stripped away peoples’ ability to walk for miles on end. The majority of those who did exercise regularly did their walking on treadmills in air-conditioned or well heated environments, so they weren’t exposed to the elements.
“We can’t help you. We’re on an important mission,” Herb said to the people. “I will tell you this much. A few miles down the road, you are going to encounter an unknown number of zombies. If the interstate is also compromised, then go back on it just long enough to reach the next exit. Maybe you’ll have better luck there.”
“You can’t just abandon us,” the woman responded.
“I’m afraid we have no choice,” Agent Marx said. “Now, get out of my way. I won’t warn you again.”
Herb brought his rifle to his shoulder. “You heard the man. Move out of the way, or so help me God, I’ll put a bullet in you where you stand.”
“He means it, Frank. Get out of his way,” one of the women said.
The two men stared sullenly at Herb for several seconds, but then they stepped out of the way.
“You assholes could have carried us all with you in the trailer!” one of the women said vehemently.
Herb entered his truck and dropped it into gear. He was rolling within seconds of Agent Marx’s vehicle. He watched his side mirrors to ensu
re that the car with the scientists in it made it past the people. He hoped they stayed close. He was afraid that if they gave them the opportunity, the people might block the road again. If that happened, he doubted that the scientists would make it through.
He needn’t have worried. The driver of the vehicle behind them was sticking close to them as they drove past the unfortunate people on the side of the road.
“Would you have shot them?” Erma asked in a quiet tone of voice.
“Only if they forced me to do it. I was going to fire over their heads and give them another chance to see reason.”
“I can’t believe we just left them there. They could have ridden in the back of the truck.”
“You mean with our emergency supplies? That’s not a good idea. Look, Erma, I don’t like this any more than you do, but there are going to be hundreds of people in need of help. Let’s not lose sight of the fact that your work in the trailer has the potential to help millions. You need to concentrate on that fact, because I’m telling you now that if we try to help everyone we see, your mission is doomed to fail.”
“I understand what you’re saying on an intellectual level, but it’s hard to remain so detached when you see people suffering.”
“Believe me, I know,” Herb replied in a sad tone of voice. He was thinking of the people the guardsmen had turned back. There was little doubt in his mind that many of them would have been free of the parasites at the time he and the other guardsmen had sent them back into Decatur.
“You had to do things like that at the bridge, didn’t you?” Erma asked.
“Similar, yes,” Herb admitted as he drove.
The two rode in silence after that. The miles slipped past uneventfully, and soon they arrived at the interstate. As they got on the highway, they saw that there were indeed several abandoned vehicles in the vicinity. They passed the first zombie a few minutes into their westward drive on Interstate 40. The creature was walking down the side of the road, and appeared to be in pursuit of some people who were running from it a hundred yards away.
Herb stared at the zombie as they passed it. He confirmed that it was indeed a zombie. He braked to a smooth stop a hundred feet in front of the creature and got out of the truck with his rifle. He walked behind the trailer and waved the scientists around him. When they had driven past, he sighted on the zombie that was moaning and making its best speed possible in his direction. His bullet punched through the creature’s forehead and it toppled to the ground.
As he got back in the truck, he said, “I won’t always be able to help, but this time, it was safe enough to intervene.”
“Thank you. At least we’ll do what we can.”
“Marx isn’t going to like that line of reasoning. Frankly, I’m not sure I do either. We have a limited supply of ammunition available to accomplish this mission.”
Erma sighed. “Have we fallen to this level so quickly that a person’s life isn’t worth a bullet these days?”
“I’ll let you ask Marx. He stopped and is waiting up ahead. Care to guess what he’s going to have to say about what I did?” Herb asked with a grin.
Erma frowned but withheld her comment. As Herb predicted, the agent was less than happy with what he had done. When they stopped behind the man’s car, Marx walked up to the window beside Herb and said, “You know, Bennett, if you just wanted to ride around shooting zombies every time you encounter them, maybe you should have stayed at your cabin.”
“I only stopped for a moment,” Herb responded.
Agent Marx looked at him as if he was an idiot, and then he said, “Just so you know, every ten minutes another few thousand people are becoming zombies in this country. The time you wasted on that lone threat would have been better spent trying to save time during this trip. Yeah, you may have managed to save a few people for the time being, but how many hundreds will die because you took it upon yourself to play hero. Well, you need to understand that we don’t need a hero on this trip. We need a soldier who can follow orders. From here on out, I expect you to conduct yourself professionally, or I will put you out on the side of the road and leave you walking.”
Herb sat still throughout the agent’s tirade. He was about to respond, but Erma beat him to it when she asked, “How many did we lose so you could make your speech, Agent Marx?”
The Homeland Security agent bent down and looked inside the cab of the truck at Erma. “This is time well spent. He needs to understand that being a trigger happy fool won’t cut it on this trip.”
“He understands the situation quite well. He had already informed me that there would be many times that we wouldn’t be able to intervene. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the one who is wasting time.”
Agent Marx stood up straight. Muttering to himself, he turned and headed back for his car.
“He’s right, you know,” Herb observed. “I had no idea things had gotten that bad already.”
“That’s a fact he might have shared with us. It would have impacted our decision making process. It’s not your fault that he is holding back critical information. How can he expect us to behave appropriately when we don’t know the true scope of the problem?”
The convoy got back on the road again. Interstate 40 turns north at Little Rock, Arkansas, but they didn’t want to risk the radiation emanating from that area, so they planned a detour that would connect them to the interstate well north of the city. They encountered a few more stranded people who had left their vehicles and were walking, but none of them posed a threat, and was avoided with ease. They reconnected to Interstate 40 before noon and resumed their journey along it.
The Interstate section west of Little Rock seemed almost normal. The traffic was lighter than one would expect, but there were very few stalled or abandoned vehicles present. They crossed the Oklahoma border without incident and continued West on Interstate 40.
Things changed as they drew nearer to Tulsa, Oklahoma. The Muskogee Turnpike was crowded with travelers, many of whom were driving vehicles with Arkansas license plates. “They must be fleeing the zombies and bombed out Little Rock,” Herb said to Erma at one point.
Agent Marx was frustrated by the snarled traffic. To make matters worse, cars were jockeying for position so aggressively that all three of the drivers of their little convoy were under constant tension as they struggled to keep from becoming separated.
After being snarled in the major traffic jam for better than two hours, the three vehicles finally made their way clear as they bypassed Tulsa.
Four and a half hours later, they pulled into the parking lot of a hotel in Salina Kansas, where they would stay for the night.
“Well, we’re better than half way to Fort Collins,” Herb observed as they walked toward the lobby of the Courtyard Salina off Interstate 135 to get rooms. “We’ve got 6 to 8 hours driving left on this trip, assuming nothing bad happens. We’re a hundred miles from Hays, Kansas. That’s the next city of any size we have to travel through. With a population of about 20,000, that’s more than enough to be a problem, if there are zombies present in the area.”
Agent Marx saw to it that everyone got a room, and then he called Herb aside for a brief meeting. He began by apologizing for his remarks earlier in the day, and then he said that Herb had done a great job. He sounded sincere when he said that he was happy to have him along on the trip. Finally, he said, “I’ve got to go check in with the law enforcement people here in Salina. I want updates on the latest outbreak news, and you can’t get the full picture by watching the news now. While I’m there, I’ll be securing more weapons and ammunition. What do you need? I’ll get some for you too.”
“Nine millimeter ammo and magazines for my army issue Berretta M9, and magazines and ammo for my M4.”
“How many of each?” asked the agent, who seemed to be going to great lengths to make peace with Herb.
“All you can get. I may need a lot. If we get in a serious fight, I’ll go through a lot of ammo, and the extra magazines sav
e reload time in combat,” Herb explained.
“Yes, they do. That’s why I always carry a couple of spares for my pistol,” Agent Marx said as he nodded his agreement. Then he changed the subject abruptly when he asked, “Did you see the smoke columns over Tulsa?”
Herb nodded soberly. He had seen them and he was concerned that it meant there was an outbreak in the city. “I saw the smoke. It began that way in Decatur when we were on quarantine duty on the bridge.”
“We’re a long way from Tulsa now, but a lot of people are on the move. You saw the Arkansas plates too?” asked the agent.
“Yes, and you’re right. That many people on the move will make the spread of the outbreaks more likely.”
“Good. You’re keeping your eyes open. I’m counting on you to help me keep these people safe,” Marx responded. He promised to be back in a couple of hours, cautioned Herb to keep everyone at the hotel, and then he left.
Herb escorted the scientists to their rooms, reminding them to secure their doors with every lock available, including the folding privacy latches that were mounted above the other locks. They agreed to meet in the hall in half an hour so they could go to the hotel restaurant for dinner.
Chapter 21
Outbreak
Herb enjoyed a quick shower. It was his first in several days because his cabin lacked that amenity. He was the first of their party to step outside his door, but the others joined him in a matter of minutes.
They ate in the restaurant, after which Herb tried to pay the bill for the party with his credit card. He was informed that all electronic transactions by financial institutions had been suspended earlier in the day, so he paid in cash.
“That doesn’t sound good,” David said as they headed for the elevator that would take them to their second floor rooms. “I think we need to try to catch up on the news,” he added.
“It’s probably going to be a waste of time. Did you notice how little news, real news, was being broadcast on the radio today?” asked Gil.
