Wheels' End: Book Four in the Wheels and Zombies series

by M. Van

  “I … uh …” he started to say, but stopped himself. He leaned against the doorpost, abandoning the window and the delivery guy for a moment. He inhaled sharply as if to compose himself and said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare, and Agent Marsden has told us as much during the briefing before he sent us out. It’s just …” He paused and his eyes drifted to the ground.

  “It couldn’t have been easy out there, you know, during those first days,” he said. “Agent Marsden has told us some of what had happened in New York and Colorado.” He looked up to face me, and I didn’t know what he saw there, but he quickly added, “No details, but just the idea of being out there and not being able to, you know …” Luke gestured at my legs and then fell silent. I peeled the wrapping from my energy bar and took a bite, mulling over his question.

  It hadn’t been easy, but it could have been so much worse if Mags hadn’t found me inside that hospital. Still, it wasn’t something I wanted to dwell on.

  “Where were you when it happened?” I asked, steering the subject away from me. Luke grinned sheepishly, almost embarrassed even.

  “In school on this side of the country,” he said as I took another bite.

  I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering if my assessment of him coming straight from boot camp hadn’t been so far off.

  “So how did you end up here?” I asked with a mouth full.

  “I wanted to help and signed up,” he said. “It seemed the right thing to do.”

  The loud rumble of a big engine pulled Luke’s gaze from me back into the hallway.

  “What is it?” I asked with a mouth full of calories and carbohydrates. I didn’t have to wait long for my answer. I had barely finished my energy bar when Luke tapped the door.

  “A truck just stopped in front of the house,” he whispered.

  “Shit,” I muttered and lifted Rowdy from my lap. I shifted back into my chair and reclaimed my spot at the window where, lo and behold, I saw none other than Dr. David Warren step out of a large truck that blocked the entire street, strolling in the direction of the delivery guy.

  “Son of a b—” I started to say, but swallowed the last word as a cold shiver ran down my spine.

  “Is that who I think it is?” Luke asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Who do you think it is?”

  Luke stood at the doorway, pausing to take another peek through the front door window and then stepping back to stand at the doorway to the living room, gaping at me.

  “That’s Dr. David Warren,” he said, sounding stunned.

  “Then you are thinkin’ correctly,” I said. I bit my lower lip in the hope it would bring on some profound idea, but nothing happened. They had us trapped in here.

  Warren glanced around and took a step aside to let an approaching zombie pass. It looked as though he had finally figured out the serum and found a way to duplicate what had been working for Mags and me for all this time. He had managed to make it so that a human would not be of interest to the zombies. But if he had done it, then what was he doing here? He wouldn’t need me for his research anymore; he had fixed the problem.

  Still, he was here, and with his wavy black hair, he looked as smug as he had the day he’d appeared at the house where Mags and I had sought refuge. He even wore a similar-looking leather jacket. I supposed I should be grateful that he had shown up that day and that he had fixed my leg after a zombie had taken more than a mouthful, but it was kind of hard to feel that way as the memories of what had happened later inside that lab in Florida seeped into my mind. I shook my head as if that would drive the memories away.

  Warren stopped at the van and kicked at the pile of cigarette butts on the ground. Then he got himself into an animated conversation with the delivery guy. They both pointed fingers at the house, and Warren didn’t seem pleased, because he shook his head.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to think up a course of action, but none came. It seemed that Mags was usually the one to come up with the ideas. Although a bunch of them hadn’t been the brightest of ideas, they had worked out and I wished she were here.

  Another man came around the truck and joined the conversation. He looked like one of those apes that usually hung around Warren. I’d seen them in Florida and in Cheyenne—broad shoulders, thick neck, and a bald head, wrapped in a suit and tie that didn’t look comfortable. I wondered how anyone would even want to be associated with Warren. Unless, of course, endless amounts of money were involved. It seemed money really did make the world go round if people could lend themselves to do the dirty work of a man like Warren.

  As the delivery guy stepped from his van, Baldy pulled a weapon from a holster tucked underneath his armpit.

  “Uh-oh,” Luke muttered, and I heard him pull his own weapon from his holster. “I think they’re planning on coming in.”

  Once again Warren forced my hand and left me with little choice. On the couch, Rowdy had woken and sat up as he watched me with those big brown eyes. The sight of him only strengthened my resolve—I couldn’t let them get in here. From what I had witnessed before, Warren wasn’t averse to some collateral damage. He had made that clear from the moment he had started to accelerate his testing inside that lab facility he had in Florida. Warren didn’t care who died or got infected—he just cared about the result. So who knew how he or those goons of him might react. At the sight of Luke, they might decide to shoot up the place. Rowdy would not get hurt because of me.

  “I’m goin’ to face him,” I said rolling my chair to the hallway, but Luke blocked my way. “Move!” The word came out harsh, and I heard a little gasp coming from Rowdy behind me.

  “You’re not going out there,” Luke said. He stepped back to press his body against the front door and peeked out the window.

  “Oh, so you’re gonna take on three men with guns,” I said, trying to shove him away from the door, “with a kid, and a cripple to back you up. And let’s not forget about the zombies.” I shoved him again when he didn’t move. “It’s me he wants, and Rowdy will not get hurt because of it.” At that, Luke knelt by my side, a firm hand pressed against the door.

  “How do you know that?”

  “I do—trust me.”

  Luke glanced past me, at Rowdy no doubt, and then shot a quick look out the window.

  “They’re gesturing for one of them to go around back,” he said. Without hesitation, I shoved Luke again—harder this time. It tipped him off balance. As he released the door to catch himself from falling, I grabbed the handle and opened the door.

  “Warren!” I yelled. The door stood open a crack, and through it, I could see all three men pause.

  “Don’t do this, Ash,” Luke said as he pulled himself to his feet.

  “They’ll leave once he has what he wants,” I said, hoping my voice sounded firm. “Stay here, wait for Mars, and keep Rowdy safe.”

  “Ms. Reed.” I shuddered at the sound of Warren’s voice. “What a pleasure to see you again.” I pulled the door open and rolled the chair through the opening while Luke stood behind me. “I see you have company.”

  Warren stood in the driveway, flanked by his two goons. The delivery guy had his weapon pointed my way, but Baldy didn’t seem to bother. Warren shoved his hands in his pockets, and a smirk formed on his face.

  “I’m guessin’ it’s me you want,” I said, more as a statement than a question. Warren sighed shifting his gaze to the sky before lowering it and shrugged.

  “Not exactly, but you’ll do for now,” he answered. What did that mean? What else could he want?

  Mr. Fletcher, who I recognized by the hideous flower shirts he used to wear, hobbled across the path between us. His face was bloodied and unrecognizable. He stumbled and fell flat on his face, crushing what was left of his nose on the gravel. The delivery guy pulled a face of disgust, and Baldy held a hand to his mouth. Warren didn’t even feign interest.

  Finding some leftover courage, I rolled forward and said, “If you promise to leave peac
efully, I’ll come willingly.” Warren shot me a look of surprise.

  “What,” he said, “don’t have enough soldiers in there to fight for you?”

  “In fact, the soldiers are eager to pull their triggers,” I said, keeping up the ruse Warren had created himself by implying others were inside the house, “but I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me.”

  Warren tilted his head as if considering my words or perhaps calculating the chance of more soldiers being inside the house, or worse, wondering what else might be of his interest. I needed to get him out of here. “Do we have a deal?”

  Warren paused and eyed me thoughtfully. I thought he was ready to comply when Rowdy burst outside. He grabbed my arm and pulled it against his chest.

  “No, Ash, no,” he said, whining the words. Tears streaked his face, and the sight of him made my stomach drop. I placed my hand on his cheek and kissed the top of his head.

  “Go inside, Rowdy, please,” I said softly.

  “No, Daddy said to stick like glue,” he replied.

  “Rowdy, please,” I said more firmly and looked to Luke for help. He didn’t hesitate and grabbed Rowdy around the waist. Luke hoisted him off the ground and placed his own body between Rowdy and the men. The little guy was still crying as Luke stepped back until Rowdy disappeared into the house.

  “How interesting,” Warren said. “I’m thinking that must be Agent Marsden’s boy.”

  “He has nothing to do with this,” I shouted.

  Warren pulled a hand from his pocket and tapped a contemplative finger on his cheek. Then he waved me over.

  “All right, come on then,” he said. Fortunately, Luke held Rowdy from view as I glanced reluctantly over my shoulder. I didn’t know whether I’d been able to go through with it if I had to face Rowdy’s pleading eyes, but I also knew I didn’t have a choice. Luke cocked his head as if to ask whether I was sure of what I was doing. I nodded my head as if I knew I was.

  I eased forward until I reached the edge of the steps and started to balance on my rear wheels. Rolling forward, I eased off the first step and held fast at the next. Taking my time, I took the last one and dropped the front casters to the ground. As I rolled closer to them, Warren’s goons stepped away from his side to circle me. Somewhere in the distance I heard the rumble of an engine and the fast-paced rat-a-tat of machine gunfire, but with the men closing in on me, I couldn’t focus on the sounds. My heart seemed to have taken up residence inside my head as it pounded away, drowning out all other sounds. As I came closer, Warren gestured at the delivery guy to move me along. He came around me and started pushing my chair. I bit my lip to keep myself from lashing out at him.

  “Why don’t you see who else is in there?” Warren said to Baldy as the delivery guy wheeled me past him.

  | 13

  Mags

  My arms started to hurt from waving them over my head. Gibs had turned the truck and pulled it back onto the road, heading south away from the DC. We hadn’t moved far at our slow pace and I could still see the building in the distance. Two figures stood on top of the roof: Preston and Tom had made it.

  I pointed the two out to Angie, and she stopped waving. Instead, she slammed the palm of her fist on the top of the cab and yelled, “Time to go back.”

  We had managed to lead quite a trail of zombies behind us and away from the DC, but there were still plenty of them milling around the building. There must have been thousands in total, and these hundred or so hobbling behind the Hummer had been just enough to get Preston moving again.

  Gibs steered the truck in a lazy circle until its nose pointed at the DC. With their focus fixed on the moving vehicle, it wasn’t hard to imagine the zombies would just keep on following us back, and so they did.

  “Now what,” I asked Angie, pointing a finger at the ongoing parade behind us. “If we stop near the building, these and the others will just box us in.”

  “We shouldn’t stop then,” she said and pressed the button to activate her radio. “Gibs, just stop long enough for us to hop onto the other vehicle and then move the truck to a safe distance?”

  “You think they’re gonna surround us again?” Gibs asked. Angie didn’t need to answer as Preston’s voice came over the radio.

  “I agree with Ms. Meadow. Don’t stop.”

  I grinned and mouthed Ms. Meadow. Angie rolled her eyes at me.

  “I respond better to Angie,” she added, “and if you want tall and mean over here to move, call her Mags.”

  Gibs did as he was told. He pulled away from the zombies trailing us by placing his foot on the gas. Then he stopped next to the other Hummer, and as soon as Angie and I had exchanged trucks, he sped away.

  I followed Angie up the ladder and found Preston patiently waiting for us, while Tom let out a breath in exasperation as if he’d been waiting all day for us. Kneeling beside the others, I gazed over the roof. A variety of exhaust vents poked up from the flat surface, and four little sheds with exit doors stood scattered across the roof.

  “Wouldn’t there be someone here to greet us?” I asked, peering at the closest structure and its closed door. “I mean, someone must have heard or seen us.”

  “I was kind of wondering the same thing,” Preston said.

  “So,” I added.

  “So either they’re dead or they’re hiding,” Preston said.

  “Wouldn’t that be great,” Tom said. “Getting shot because they think we’re looters?”

  “I guess we’ll find out,” Angie said.

  “Okay, here’s how it goes,” Preston said. “Tom and I have the lead. Mags, you follow, and Angie will have the rear.”

  In a line, we moved to one of the small structures with a door that would lead us inside the building. Within seconds, Tom had it open, and we peered into a black hole. With the aid of flashlights, we moved down the steps until we reached a landing. The narrow steps, with barely room for one person, should have led further down if they hadn’t been dismantled. Shining our flashlights into the depths of the staircase revealed the concrete floor and the metal frame of what had been stairs. Although we couldn’t see them, we heard the low moans that could only have come from the zombies. Fortunately, we didn’t have to go any further, because the people had moved up to the second floor.

  With our weapons at the ready, Preston opened the door to exit the landing. One after another, we filed into a dark open space illuminated by the flashlights we carried. I tried to get my bearings, swinging my flashlight back and forth. The floor underneath my feet seemed to be made of some metal mesh while a railing mounted on one side prevented us from falling. I gathered we stood on some kind of walkway. My flashlight wasn’t strong enough to punch a dent in the darkness that lay beyond. I could make out the tops of containers and racks that nearly reached the roof of the building.

  A punchy and putrid smell rose from the darkness underneath our feet along with the moans of the undead. The sound of a strange rustle raised the hairs on my neck. I tried to shake it off and swirled the flashlight to my left where the beam bounced of a wall. That end of the walkway was a dead end. There was only one way to go.

  Preston led the way, moving with determination, but cautiously. I tried to be as quiet as possible as I followed in Preston’s trail, but I couldn’t seem to take a step without that damn metal walkway clanking underneath my feet. The moans in the depths below grew louder, and I cursed myself for my inability to move as stealthy as the others.

  The walkway ended at another set of stairs, and Preston stopped after he’d led us down.

  “This should be the second floor,” he said. “From what Eaves has told me, the remaining survivors are on this level and have barricaded themselves inside the offices and lounge.”

  I glanced around with the help of my flashlight, trying to ignore the strange sound that gave me the chills, and I noticed the walkway at the top of the stairs was just that, a walkway—a metal construction appearing almost suspended high above the ground. It was probably
meant as an emergency exit. To my left there was another railing, but it ended abruptly, leaving a gaping hole between it and the wall. As the others took their first steps down the hallway, I paused to raise my light to the opposite side and moved closer to the railing. I pointed my light down and gasped. The light hit a forklift with a crate suspended in midair surrounded by zombies.

  Shifting the light revealed more zombies. Every inch of the place sat packed with the bodies of the infected. Foggy eyes peered up at me as the light skimmed their mutilated faces. Smears of blood stood out against the yellow paint of another machine that had probably been used to haul around goods but now sat stuck among the countless bodies. Everywhere I pointed, my light fell on walking corpses, barely recognizable as the humans they once had been, while they shuffled among the debris of fallen crates and boxes.

  I stood there frozen as the thin beam of light fought a path past the aisles filled with the walking dead. Chills rose up my spine as the moans along with the snapping of teeth grew louder with every passing of the flashlight.

  The moans echoed hollowly in the large space, and I jumped as Angie came up beside me.

  “Guess that explains why the others couldn’t get in,” she said as her own flashlight bounced across the racks and then veered over to a large space packed with zombies. One of the loading bay doors stood halfway open, but the number of bodies pressing their way inside had kept us from noticing. The large space sat packed with so many bodies that there just wasn’t any room for the ones left outside. “Why haven’t they moved on?”

  Angie’s words were barely audible as if she had asked the question for her own consideration.

  “What the fuck,” Tom said, trailing off as his gaze swept over the gruesome display.

  Preston didn’t say anything as he thoughtfully shifted the helmet on his head.

  “It’s like those parades I’ve encountered with Ash,” I said somewhat to myself but also as a reply to Angie.