Eventually, they passed the Begich Boggs Visitor Center and its recent memories of loss. Not long ago, Neil and his party found themselves harbored there, relatively safe from the horrors of the undead, only to fall prey to the evil intentions of other men. The militia from Soldotna, having driven north on a foraging trip, cornered everyone but Neil, Jerry, and Emma at the rest area. The resulting confrontation ended with a couple of deaths and the abduction of most of Neil’s group. The militia, capable of subterfuge and plotting, posed a much more significant threat than the zombies.
Seeing the large visitor center building, Jerry’s tongue dried and his heart threatened to stop due to the weight of his grief. Claire, the only girl to ever give him the time of day and with whom he had fallen in love, was taken from him that day…stolen away and tortured to death for sport. Jerry, like Neil with Meghan, was not allowed to share an emotional farewell. She had been abducted while Jerry, Neil, and Emma were scouting ahead. In Jerry’s mind, Claire had fallen victim because he had not been there to protect her. He had to live with his failure but she had died because of it. Jerry would like to have blamed someone else for Claire’s death, but he always came back to the fact that it was his idea to leave the women and children in their group undefended. How could they have suspected that such evil could lurk in the hearts of men? What kind of people did such horrible things?
There were, of course, no answers to any of Jerry’s questions and no reprieve from his agonizing self-doubt or guilt. With tears forcing themselves into the corners of his eyes and onto his cheeks, Jerry looked away from the buildings and fixed his gaze on the road ahead. There was no escape from his pain though. Claire’s pale face and butchered hands and feet as she lay lifeless on a work bench-turned-executioner’s table were waiting just behind his lids every time he shut his eyes. No matter the distraction, it wasn’t enough to help ease his heartache. He chewed his lower lip and held his breath, hoping to curtail the tears to no avail. The hot, salty mist filled his eyes, even as his heart tried to empty itself of all feeling.
The first tunnel through which they drove was short but very dark due to the bend at its middle. Once through, the valley opened in front of them. The mountains seemed to take several steps back and the water to their right disappeared. There were still cars and bodies along the road, but the sense of claustrophobia was absent. Perhaps the most forgiving development was the Begich Boggs Visitor Center and its punishing memories were no longer in view. Everything felt so different on the opposite side of the short tunnel. Even the buffeting wind subsided somewhat, apparently satisfied that it had done its part to make a miserable day all the more intolerable.
In front of them and to their right, the mountains were dominated by a pair of looming glaciers that pressed themselves forcefully into the mountains, separating peaks and eroding ancient rock with their raw power. The dirty white surface of snow and ice gradually but inexorably surrendered itself to a deeper and cooler hue of blue, which looked to be at the glaciers’ hearts. The valley was both breathtaking and intimidating and had been for thousands of years.
Just ahead, the road opened into a much more full and multilane affair with the tunnel entrance looming ahead. The few service buildings in front of them, including two tollbooths, were in ruins. Not a full pane of glass sat in a single window and much of what should have been inside, such as paperwork, furniture, and other office odds and ends, littered the ground in front of and around the structures. Barely recognizable for what they were, withered dismembered limbs wrenched violently from their bodies were mixed in with the detritus. If not for the claw like hands or the shoes and socks at their ends, Neil would have assumed they were discarded tree branches used to smash the windows.
There wasn’t a single bird circling or animal stirring for as far as the eye could see. Most of the trees had shed their leaves too. Life itself had apparently eschewed this cursed place. Was this the road to salvation or to damnation?
Either way, the road was barred. Before them on the far side of an eclectic mix of vehicles including some yellow construction trucks, an imposing looking iron door closed the tunnel entrance. The barrier stood unmoved by time or the efforts of those who preceded Neil and his small group of survivors.
It looked like several drivers had tried to ram their cars and trucks through the unyielding door. The veneer of the enormous door was barely scratched but the cars sitting in front were broken, burned heaps.
Jess slowed the car and shifted into park. No one was eager to get out of the car, so she turned around and faced the front of the car away from the tunnel. She hoped, as they all did, that the preparation would be unnecessary. They yearned for the promise and possibility Whittier had come to symbolize for them. They had all had enough of running.
Neil was the first out of the car as usual. He stepped out and stretched his sore back and aching knees. Having been recently thrown from the back of a moving truck, his muscles and bones protested his every step. Lucky for him, Jess found a bottle of generic Ibuprofen in her glove box, but the ten or twelve he’d taken were only able to do so much. Moving from sitting to standing was a challenge at the moment.
The others followed Neil’s lead, climbing out onto the pavement with all the enthusiasm of the condemned marching the Green Mile. Each wrapped himself or herself in as many layers as they could. Shirts were covered by more shirts, which were covered by sweatshirts of cotton and fleece. Upon those were light jackets that were in turn covered by parkas or heavier coats. Their legs were similarly provisioned when possible. Most had gloves and weatherproof boots as well.
When all was said and done, most of them felt capable of facing the elements for a short while. Nikki and Jess were the only two not well equipped, with Nikki in the worse shape of the two. Jess wore a pair of flannel-lined pants, two sweatshirts over a pair of long sleeve shirts, and had a very thick brown Carhartt coat, compliments of her missing boyfriend Bob. She was also able to find an extra pair of socks and a pair of gloves in her trunk belonging to her daughter Syd. Seeing them and then pulling them onto her feet and hands caused Jess to rediscover the guilt she had successfully suppressed for the past few hours.
When all of the troubles had started, Syd had been with Bob on a late season fishing run. Jess had been only able to speak with Bob once since that terrible day so long ago but the conversation had helped maintain Jess’ hope for her daughter’s life. Bob knew what was happening and promised to keep Syd safe. Jess knew she could count on Bob. He was a good man and had always looked out for the two of them, despite not being Syd’s father. He had never hesitated to willingly fill whatever role either Jess or Syd needed of him. It was for that reason that Jess had been able to nurse along her hope for Syd’s life and safety.
Not a day had passed that Jess hadn’t thought about her daughter, but the time and distance combined with the desperate nature of her current existence had blunted the depth of awareness she’d had for her daughter. When Jess saw the socks, she was transported back to the day the socks had ended up in the trunk in the first place. After an impromptu midnight venture to Clam Gulch, Jess and Syd, feet wet and squishy, crawled back into Jess’ waiting car. Jess had thought ahead enough to be wearing Tiva sandals but Syd had waded into the cold, surging surf in her tennis shoes. Back at the car, Syd took off both shoes and socks, throwing the socks into the open trunk and her shoes into the backseat. The socks fell victim to the curse of out of sight, out of mind, and had remained in the trunk until that moment.
In her mind, Jess was seeing Syd’s smile and smelling the scented shampoo she used daily. Jess could hear her voice and full chested laugh. The memories, specific and full of acute details, reawakened in Jess the pain of the protracted and uncertain separation. As with Neil’s Ibuprofen, Jess had also been lucky. She found a long forgotten pack of Marlboro cigarettes with a handful of smokes still in it in her glove box. Borrowing a lighter from Emma and giving her one of the precious cigarettes in return, Jess stepped away t
o smoke and gather herself.
Meanwhile, little Nikki, only slightly more alert and responsive than a catatonic, was outfitted with extra odds and ends from Jules and Danny. She was the least prepared of all of them and in the worst position to do anything about it. She was so small and so frail, both of body and spirit. Vulnerability was her most outward and apparent characteristic. Nothing they had was capable of protecting her from the cold, and that was distressing to all of them, but more so to Danny.
It was apparent to everyone that Danny had taken on a bit of a guardian role with Nikki. When the militia had abducted them, Danny was the oldest child of the four. They looked to him for protection and strength. Although scared himself, Danny accepted his new designation and did what he could to keep them safe. Danny merely tried to do what he thought Neil would have done for all of them. And when he felt like his fear was going to staunch his efforts, Danny chided himself and searched his memory for Neil’s voice to embolden his resolve. Nikki, like Jules, clung to Danny both physically and metaphorically and Danny did what he could to justify her faith in him. He felt a sense akin to his idolization of Neil and what he had done for all of them and was eager to emulate the hero in his life. He zipped up the sweatshirt, which was a couple of sizes too large for Nikki and pulled socks over her hands to act as gloves. He also wrapped a blanket they found in Jess’ trunk around her shoulders to further fend off the cold, though it came off looking like a princess’ ceremonial robe more than ad hoc winter gear. Through all of it, Nikki hadn’t said a word until she finally stated what all of them were feeling.
“I’m hungry.”
It had been a couple of days since they had eaten anything and their stomachs were growling testament to that fact.
Neil shared with more than a little hope in his voice, “There will be food on the other side of the mountain. There has to be.”
“And people? Will there be people too?” Jules asked, her hushed voice as cautious as it was hopeful.
Neil looked at the others with the same question in his eyes. He was as curious as all of them were about that. He also wondered, if there were people to be encountered, what kind of people they would be. Would they be as fanatical and crazed as the militia and the Colonel of which Jess spoke?
He smiled at Jules. “I’m sure there will be, sweetie.” Neil turned to the rest of the group. “We should get going while it’s still early. Maybe we can get ahead of the weather before it gets too bad.”
Chapter 3
DB had been right. There was a trail that started out wide and flat, but gradually inclined itself up the mountain. As it climbed, the way became more narrow, rocky, and difficult. Though it was marked with trail posts and dead lights, the difficult path challenged them at every step. The higher they climbed, the deeper the snow became and the stronger the winds grew. At a certain elevation, the still falling snow blowing into their faces.
Neil started doubting the wisdom of their choice...of his choice for all of them, as they continued to climb up and up without end. The path didn’t go up and over the mountain, but rather skirted a wide but elevated tier, like the largest, first layer of an extravagant wedding cake. The first couple of hours Neil and the others found themselves beneath a thin canopy of leafless trees that shrouded the sunlight. Despite the best efforts of the firs and other evergreen trees spread around them to add green to the surroundings, everything was draped in a dreary, lifeless brown. The forest grew less dense, and the ground beneath began to transform. The patches of yellow and brown grass struggling to keep their heads barely above the snow gave way to growing bodies of the white atop grassless mud or bare rock. The slippery rocks, loose gravel, and snow all conspired against them as the elements challenged each and every step. Neil tried to conceal his fear but looking in everyone else’s eyes, he realized they shared his misgivings. No matter how high their ascent, the mountain loomed ever upward.
They could still turn around. It wasn’t too late. They could go back to Jess’ car and come up with another plan. Maybe they could drive to some other place and wait out the winter. Perhaps there were some cabins or homes or some other shelter that they hadn’t thought of yet.
They were pulling and pushing one another along, sometimes literally when traction failed them or legs didn’t have the energy to push on any longer. All of their feet, cold and wet to the bone, were soon like cinder blocks threatening to anchor them to the unforgiving earth. If it weren’t for the trail markers, they likely would have given up. But each new post renewed their hope. Like lighthouses shining their beacons into the gloom, the wooden markers kept them focused on the easier stretches between when the snow seemed overwhelming and their exhaustion threatened their next steps.
Finding a rare stand of trees in a shallow depression on the inclining mountain that might provide some respite from the weather, the adults stretched a pair of tarpaulins between the narrow trunks to block the wind and the snow. Jerry gathered some branches from the ground and piled them together to build a fire, hoping they weren’t too green or wet to burn. Using the last bits of paper they had as kindling, they managed a small flame that initially struggled to burn the moist wood but finally took hold.
The flame flickered and danced as the changing winds forced it to seek cover. All of the people huddled around the desperate fire watched absently, the small blaze more an object of focus than one of warmth. They tried to collectively form a barrier between the fire and the buffeting winds threatening to extinguish it.
They rested for a few hours and allowed some of their gear to dry a bit. There was no food to be had, but the rest was very welcome. While they waited, the snow stopped falling and a peaceful quiet settled over them. The sun even managed to stage a surprise visit through a wide opening in the dark clouds.
The likelihood they had been followed by any of the ghouls was slight, but that didn’t mean they could afford to get too comfortable. Jerry and Emma kept a watchful eye on the path behind while Neil kept looking ahead. The mountain was serene and calm, with nothing stirring in the freshly fallen snow. Neil understood why hermits had always been rumored to retreat to the mountains to seek their isolation. It was easy to get lost in the quiet.
Danny, Jules, and Nikki stayed close to the fire, warming their hands and feet in the sparse blaze. Jess was preoccupied with a picture of her daughter Syd, staring at it intensely, and saying nothing though a few, quiet tears managed to escape.
Danny finally mustered the courage to ask, “Who’s that a picture of?”
Jess said, her emotion absent from her voice, “My daughter. Sydney.”
“Is she... I mean do you know if...?”
Jess merely shook her head and put the picture back in the inside pocket of her coat. She stood up and walked away from the fire and the possible next line of questions for which there were no answers.
Danny felt a pang of guilt for asking about the photo but was unsure about what to do about it. He turned his attention to Jules and Nikki, hoping to help them get both warm and dry. He scouted around a bit and brought back sticks and twigs that Jerry had neglected to grab. He never could get the fire big enough or warm enough. Danny wanted to be useful and do his part.
In a short while, they were back on the trail. With the passing of the storm, the going was easier and, thankfully, they were traveling downhill again. Jules began to enjoy the snow. She kicked at it and scooped up handfuls to throw into the air. It wasn’t much, but it was the most joy she had felt in quite some time. She wished that she could share it with her parents. In that moment, she missed them as much as Jess missed her daughter although her sorrow didn’t linger for her the way it did for the quiet Jess.
Not long afterward, Jules had started to play her game of jumping between snow patches. Her levity lightened everyone’s mood, especially when the other children joined her game and they all laughed.
The laughter ended when they came up over a final rise and beheld Whittier.
Chapter 4
> Months earlier...
Abdul Manneh arrived in Anchorage from Gambia, West Africa a little more than a year earlier. He felt like he stepped off the plane, got himself into a cab, and hadn’t gotten out since. Driving a cab had become such a major part of his identity. He drove his cab for the early morning rush, arriving at Anchorage International Airport and then again for the redeye flights later in the evening. He got them both coming and going from the city that he had taken to calling home. After a year, he could claim to be a local, he reasoned. He knew the city better than most, having driven to the best and worst that Anchorage had to offer.
He didn’t allow himself much in the way of free time because his family was still in Gambia. The only leisure activity he pursued was his weekly kick-arounds with his friends out at the soccer fields on the Park Strip. He and a group of other immigrants from Africa and some locals who knew about it would gather every Sunday evening to play some pick up matches until the ground was too frozen to play. Those two to three hours weekly were his only release from the week’s toil.
He’d seen some pretty strange things in the short time he’d been driving his cab. Through all of it, he just kept his head down and his hands on the wheel. He stayed alive and made a living by staying out of people’s ways and definitely out of their business. He didn’t need to know why the woman carrying what appeared to be all of her belongings in duffel bags ran out of the apartment building, hopped into his cab, and directed him to a nearby hotel. His life wasn’t more complete when he picked up the well-dressed executive and his much younger, much more giggly, and very friendly assistant from the new Embassy Suites. Nor did he ask for details from the many quiet passengers he had who needed to be taken to work on a Sunday morning because the public transit system wasn’t very accommodating to the working class.
Alaskan Undead Apocalypse (Book 4): Resolution Page 3
