A few moments slipped past with the anxiety brewing before she couldn't stay any longer. She shouldered a pack and lifted Luna off the ground. She left most of the gear scattered on the ground and took off running to the north, dragging Sophie along behind. She was winded in a matter of moments, but the sound of feet slapping on pavement behind her kept her moving. She rationally knew that the feet belonged to other refugees, but the deeper fears whispered quietly to her, telling her they were not.
If the scene on the road outside the refugee camp was chaotic, the field of vehicles was riotous. People ran about throwing their possessions inside vehicles. More than one fistfight broke out as panicked people tried forcing themselves into other people's cars. Laura started to panic as they approached the end of the field of cars. The Yukon was nowhere to be seen.
“There!” Sophie shouted.
Laura followed the little girl's pointed finger and spotted the ruined black SUV at the far end of the last line of cars. It sat under the shadow of the forest beyond and in the gloom of the morning, it was nearly invisible. Laura set off, moving as fast as she could with her burden, down the aisle. Cars spun their wheels in the mud and roared out of their spots. Exhaust filled the air and the three of them came close to getting run down on two occasions as they moved.
Laura urged Sophie inside and plopped Luna on the driver's seat while she took off the pack and put it in the back seat. Looking around nervously, she saw that no one was paying her any mind. She slid behind the wheel, lifting Luna onto her lap. She leaned across to the glove-box and pressed the button, opening it.
“Yes!” she screamed, seeing the key inside.
She slid the key into the ignition far enough that it would stay, but not far enough to engage the ignition chime. Outside the vehicle, she watched the chaos and panic as the vehicles and pedestrians fled from Donner. She had to force her eyes off the scene, as it amplified her concerns for her husband. She cursed him for abandoning her and the children. She knew he had done so out of sincere compassion for Will, but she also knew that didn't justify the position he had left her and the kids in. She had no weapon and was sitting in a vehicle with two small children, watching as everyone with a brain fled.
As time went on, a few sets of eyes of other refugees settled on her, as they looked for escape. As the lot started to empty, three men moved across an open space towards the vehicle. Her worries about desperate people finally forced her to action.
“Come on kids, get out of the car!” she commanded.
Sophie did as she was told, stepping out into the rain, nervously clutching her Hello Kitty purse. Laura took the keys and thrust them into the front pocket of her cargo pants as she stepped out with Luna. Some people were moving in their direction and Laura took Sophie by the hand and moved off, into the forest. She wasn't about to wait and see what the people wanted.
They moved a hundred yards into the forest, using a fallen tree as cover. They watched as the trio of refugees moved to the Yukon. Laura could barely hear their voices as they spoke after circling the SUV.
“Piece of shit probably doesn't even run anyways,” was all she heard before the three moved off in search of a vehicle.
The minutes dragged slowly as they sat under dark cover of the forest. Gradually the stream of people fleeing Donner began to peter out. Laura was too nervous to move back to the Yukon, afraid that someone would take the SUV or force her to drive them. They sat there for what seemed like an eternity. At first they waited for the rest of the group to return. As time moved on they started wondering if they were going to return at all. It seemed like an hour or more had passed when Laura heard footfalls in the loamy blanket of pine needles behind her. Only then did she usher the children back to the car.
*
Three hours after the legion of undead had descended on Donner, Grayson still had not caught sight of Tar. He fully expected the man to be one of the first to respond to the blossoming chaos. He worried that maybe Tyler was right and the man was dead. Still though, he had a hard time believing it. In his brief experience, being led at gunpoint through the forest at night, he knew that Tar was tough as nails. Besides that, Tyler hadn't actually seen him die. According to his own words, Tar was in a vehicle headed to a hospital the last he saw.
Pablo had arrived an hour earlier and milled about aimlessly, apparently not interested in watching the devastation below. Grayson hadn't taken his eyes from the lenses of the binoculars for more than a minute since the assault had begun. At this point, the horde had fully penetrated the defenses of the town. Once the bomb had gone off, clearing the barricade from the road, they had met little resistance. The continued sounds of fighting came from much deeper in the town, beyond even the view of his powerful binoculars.
“Pablo, pack your gear,” he said absently, still peering into the war zone he had created. “We need to get a bit closer.”
*
As Cristobal slipped inside the bus, the sound of footfalls slapping on the blacktop grew steadily louder. The four men outside the door shifted their weight from one leg to the other, waiting impatiently for him to open the door. After what seemed like an eternity, the doors finally slid apart, allowing them to enter. Yen, ever the protector, ushered Win, Leonard and Milton in before stepping in himself. He took his first step, just as the first undead rounded the corner at the rear of the bus. He grasped the steel railing and propelled himself up the three steps into the bus. He grasped Cristobal's hand resting on the door mechanism and forced the lever to close the door just as the undead crashed into it.
“Get this thing moving!” Win barked up to them from halfway down the aisle of the bus.
Yen looked back to Win and followed his eyes, catching sight of the mob of undead that pressed around the bus. Behind a handful of the fast undead, dozens of the slow undead packed in, flowing around both sides of the bus. Cristobal cranked the ignition, which cycled and cycled but would not catch. After the third attempt to get the bus started, both Milton and Yen were yanking the slender man out of the seat to replace him. As Milton settled into the seat, his hand caught hold of a pink tag affixed to the wheel. Flipping it over in his hands it read Starter on back-order, est. delivery 11/16 - See Chandra re: alt. Vehicle.
“Fuck! Bus is broken!” he nervously squealed.
He leapt out of the seat and looked furtively around for an escape as the undead began to encircle the bus. Yen moved to the seat and read the tag. He muttered a string of curses to himself and he too looked for a way out.
“What the fuck are we gonna do? We're fucked!” Milton shouted as he paced up and down the aisle.
“Cut that shit, Milton,” Yen commanded, his voice low, but firm. “Find something, a fire extinguisher, tire iron, anything we can use to brace the door. As long as we can keep them out, we are safe, for now.”
Milton scrambled towards the back of the bus, searching each row for something until he arrived at the back of the bus. A heavy duffel bag lay on the ground. Inside lay a set of breakdown triangles, a first-aid kit, and a fire extinguisher. By the time he got to the front of the bus with it, Yen and Win were pushing another fire extinguisher into place, bracing it between the door that swung inwards and the first stair riser. The horrid faces of the undead pressed in on the glass, mere inches from where they worked. Once the door was made relatively secure, the group retreated into the recesses of the bus. They dropped to the floor and tucked themselves down in front of the seats, hoping that if they stayed out of sight the undead might drift off. The gentle rocking of the bus gave them the vague impression of being aboard a boat.
“We need to make an escape plan. So we can get out of here,” Yen said at length, his voice a hissed whisper, devoid of fear.
“No. We should stay here and wait for them to go,” Cristobal demanded. “Someone will come, or they'll give up.”
Yen thought back to the harrowing journey across the state. The undead had pursued them across eastern Utah and halfway through Colorado. He could
n't risk, wouldn't risk their lives and the lives of the rest, waiting to the north on a hope borne out of cowardice. Cristobal wasn't one of his people, he hadn't made that perilous journey. Cowering inside the bus while the rest of his people waited to the north was not an option for Yen.
“No,” Yen replied softly, placing his hand on the man's shoulder. “They don't give up, Cristobal. I fear that the longer we wait here, the worse it will get. More will come and we will grow weaker and more scared. We have to go now, or we will die here.”
“I ain't going out there,” Cristobal roared, throwing Yen's hand off him.
“That is your choice to make, but I am leaving.” He looked at the others, drawing a nod from all three. “Roof hatch.”
The four men climbed through the small square emergency hatch on the roof of the bus, using the seat backs as a step up. The moaning outside was a maddening howl as dozens of the things vied for the prey that was within a few feet of them.
“We really leaving him here?” Win asked.
“From the looks of it, yeah. We're gonna have a hard enough time getting out of here without trying to drag him along,” Yen replied. “I don't like it any more than you, Win. He is responsible for his own choices, though. Besides, there is a chance that the undead will leave the bus to chase us.”
He sincerely felt for the man, understanding his fear. Having been chased across hundreds of miles by the relentless undead, he learned how to work through the fear. He had also learned that it was better to keep running than to give up.
“What's the plan then?” Milton asked nervously.
Yen looked around for a moment before answering.
“I'll jump down and try to lead as many of them away as I can. You guys use the opening and run.”
The men looked relieved at the plan. Only Win protested.
“So, you're gonna lead a hundred of the things around and lose them?” Win blustered. “That makes no sense Yen, you might as well climb back down and wait with Christo.”
“One more thing,” Yen said as he stood. “Don't follow me. Meet up with the others as we discussed, in the woods, or where they hang the pants out. Good luck, boys.”
With that, he took off running, down the length of the bus, dropping down onto the hood of the bus before leaping into the fray below. Hands slapped at him as he hurtled through the air, hitting his legs and feet, unbalancing him. He dropped heavily on his left leg and spun down into a sideways somersault. He rolled up to his feet, quickly testing his weight on the left before deciding he was good enough to move. The leg hurt and he had a limp but he could still run full-out if needed, and he did.
Moving clear of the immediate undead that converged on his spot, he rushed to the south, following the road that passed in front of the school. After a dozen steps he took the risk of a glance behind. The fast undead were the first to arrive at the bus, they were pinned in by the press of the horde of slow undead. Yen could see a few of them furiously pushing their way through the crowd in an attempt to give chase as Win, followed by Milton and Leonard dropped off the bus. He watched a handful of heads turn towards the trio.
“No!” he shouted, trying desperately to warn the men.
The slow undead had acted as a barrier, keeping the fast ones hemmed in. Once the crowd shifted to follow Yen, the thinned numbers allowed the fast to push free and give chase. A moment after Yen's warning shout, the screaming started. Yen had no choice left but to run. The tears mingled with the sweat as he tore across town, moving back west and then north to where the rest of his people waited. His watch read half-past two. Fires raged occasionally as he ran. Houses, even blocks of houses burned unchecked and ever the sounds of gunfire rang out through the air, their sound dulled by the rain and low-hanging clouds.
Regret and sadness tugged at his heart as he ran. Only the occasional fast undead moved in pursuit. Yen used his pistol on these, he was already drawing too much attention with his mad dash to care about the sound of the weapon. With the sounds of gunfire all around, he doubted that his would draw any more attention than the others. This far behind the tip of the massive horde that moved into Donner, Yen figured that most of the fast undead would have already moved far to the east. The ones that lingered behind had most likely been feasting on a victim. As his count of ammo ran lower, he was thankful that most of those that he encountered were slow. He outpaced those quickly.
Ten minutes later, as he neared the copse of trees he had left his people in, his breath came in ragged hoarse gasps and explosive bursts. The sounds of his lungs and heart dulled his own sense of hearing. It was through limitless will alone that he still continued forwards. He was deaf to the sound of the bird call that came from one of the men inside the cover of the trees. The sound and muzzle-flash of a gunshot from the copse ahead was the only thing he recognized before he threw himself down to the ground. Unable to lift his face out of the sucking mud he drifted into darkness.
*
The group of six watched in horror as the bullet riddled Silverado careened backwards down the clinic driveway. Tim, Linda, and Nala held back the inconsolable Jen to prevent her from running headlong into a mob of undead in order to join Will. The truck blasted through the undead that happened across its path as they made their way up the road towards the clinic. Their bodies were either bounced off to the side or thrown down beneath the tires. The SUV was redirected numerous times, bouncing between the guardrail on one side and the curb on the other until it finally achieved enough speed to force its way over the top of the curb. The truck rocked heavily to and fro as it hopped the curb and started down the rocky slope. The rear passenger wheel caught up on a rock, twisted sideways with a loud snap, and threw the battered vehicle into a series of terrifying barrel rolls.
“No!” Jen screamed, renewing her efforts to break free of their grasp.
The three held Jen back as she fought viciously to go to the man she loved. Her breaths came in great wailing gasps and tears and snot flew freely as she thrashed about in their grip. The Silverado came to a screeching halt, finally coming to a rest on its roof. The glint off shattered glass and random bits of plastic and metal that had ripped free held Tim mesmerized for a moment before the sight of Will's prone form could be seen lying limply on the headliner. Tim hoped that he was dead as the first of the undead approached. The undead dropped to a crawl and moved into the vehicle towards Will's unconscious form. Don't wake up. Don't wake up. Don't wake up. Tim repeated over and over as he gritted his teeth and watched the scene unfold, frozen in horror.
Jen fell to her knees, her keening wail brought tears to Tim's eyes and gooseflesh to his skin.
“No!” she wailed.
“Lin, get moving to the north. The baby is gonna get us killed,” Tar barked at the doctor.
He took her by the elbow and physically turned her around, sending her towards the back of the clinic building.
“You,” he demanded of Tim. “Get a hold of that young lady and get her moving. Ain't nothing more for us to do here.”
Will awoke as the undead dragged him clear of the wreckage. He started thrashing about under the weight of the undead as it leaned down to feast on him. He held it at bay, and Jen redoubled her efforts to pull herself free, seeing a spark of hope that everything might still be okay. She collapsed back to her knees a moment later, letting out a horrible wail of agony when more undead joined in from the road. They piled atop Will, jostling each other for position. Tim had to wipe the tears from his own face as he turned away, unable to watch the final moments of the man he had come to love.
The undead at the base of the rocky slope that Tim and Will had climbed to get to the clinic were still intent on the form of Tim. They had looped around through the trees and were closing in on them from the west, up the forested hill to their side. It was Tar, seeing the incoming danger that broke the spell of the moment.
“Time to get moving,” he commanded. “Move it!”
He called upon reserves of strength he wasn't
aware he possessed at seeing Will die. He wanted to make the man's death worthwhile even if it had been foolhardy. He gripped Jen by her arm and lifted her to her feet. He turned her bodily away from the gruesome scene and pushed her to the north, to follow the others. Linda was already ahead a dozen yards and had stopped to wait for them. Tim and Nala moved at the rear, following blindly in the unfamiliar terrain. Tar leaned heavily on Jen for help, mainly to give the girl a purpose. He recognized the grief of a lost lover from so many funerals and figured in that moment they could help one another. Linda followed right behind as Tar led them in a circuitous course, well clear of the approaching undead. In a matter of a few minutes they were trudging down a rutted access road behind the clinic, the course of the trail looped to the north and west.
Tim's own tears of grief intermingled with those brought on by the intense pain radiating up his back. Nala, seeing him struggling, helped him along as best she could. Linda did her best to quiet the newborn, tucking him under her clothes and pressing him against the bare skin of her stomach. Tar, moving on atrophied muscles and missing a leg, fell numerous times as they moved. Each time, sheer will and deep stubbornness, with some help from Jen, brought him back upright. His hands, elbows and face were bloodied and covered in mud in a matter of minutes from the impacts. Jen's constant sobs and their combined labored breathing were an unsettling backdrop to the newborn's plaintive wails.
The access road led them a half-mile to the north before winding its way down a hill to the west. Tim could see that it looped around towards the rear of the municipal building where he had asked directions earlier. The child's constant wailing was drawing the undead to them. Dozens of them moved across the lawn of the municipal building, heightening the already mind-numbing tensions. Every one of them entertained the idea of smothering it.
A Spring of Sorrow Page 31
