Influenza: Viral Virulence

by Ohliger, Steven

  Astonished, Michael watched as the group zipped past his truck, heading north.

  “They’re National Guard!” Lorie cried, excited.

  Indeed, the vehicles that went past them had “NG” printed on the side. One of the drivers saluted Michael as they passed. Michael waved back in shock.

  “Corporal Brett must have radioed the other squad for help as soon as the attack started,” Lorie said.

  They watched as the Guard engaged Krank’s army. Some of Krank’s followers returned fire, while most veered off the road, attempting to escape. Among the vehicles that turned off was Krank’s Humvee. Most of the other cars followed; only a few remained behind to hold off the Guard.

  Still traveling south, Michael spotted a road going west toward I-75. He slowed the truck down to make the turn.

  “We’re not going back?” Lorie asked.

  “Not with Krank somewhere in between us and the camp,” Michael said.

  “Oh,” Lorie said. Michael could tell she was disappointed.

  He pushed the truck as fast as it would go toward the I-75 interchange. With Krank and his cult still out there somewhere, Michael turned onto the freeway and drove south, trying to put as much distance between them and the lunatic who was chasing them.

  Almost an hour later, Krank drove his Humvee onto the same southbound ramp. With most of his followers still behind him, he eagerly looked forward to the time when he would have the green truck again in his sights. He had lost only a few men back there, but Krank would make Michael pay dearly for every man. He reached down and took another hit of meth. With energy and power surging through his veins, Krank forced his Humvee down the freeway at top speed.

  Chapter 34

  Michael and Lorie reached the city of Lexington quickly. The journey was fast because the National Guard had taken the time and effort to clear the interstate of all obstacles. Assuming that the presence of the Guard had dissuaded any bad elements, Michael drove through the city and continued southward without incident. They crossed the Kentucky-Tennessee border less than two hours later.

  Michael noticed a few people walking on the side of the interstate here and there but paid them little attention. He instinctively knew that the threat looming behind him and Lorie was larger and more dangerous than any of these wanderers could be.

  Because the roads south of Kentucky had not been cleared, it took almost another two hours to get near Knoxville. By then, the skies were starting to cloud up. Because of the physical size of Knoxville and the possibility of dark secrets the city might contain, Michael consulted the maps his parents had provided him. Fortunately, an interstate bypass went around the city, much as I-275 circumvented the main downtown area of Cincinnati.

  Once they were safely past Knoxville, night began to fall rapidly. The cloudy skies opened up, and rain drizzled down. The once brightly colored tree leaves began to turn gray in the fading light. As Michael drove, he finally started to relax a little. There was no way Krank could have followed them this far. How could he? With numerous places to turn off the freeway, unless Krank had airplanes in the sky, how would he know where they were going? Plus, he had an army to take care of. They would require food, water, and gasoline, and their supply of methamphetamine was not endless.

  Michael and Lorie would have to stop somewhere for the night. He didn’t want to drive in the dark because of the dangers posed by the limited visibility and because their headlights would announce their presence to everyone. Besides, his head was starting to throb again as his almost-healed concussion reared its ugly head. He needed to rest.

  “Michael,” Lorie said, breaking his thoughts. “We have a small problem.”

  He glanced over at her. “What is it?”

  Lorie pointed at her sundress. “This is all I have. We left all our clothes and other necessities back in the tent.”

  Lorie was right. In their haste to flee Krank, he had forgotten that even though he had most of their supplies in the truck, they did leave their suitcases of clothes and toiletries inside the tent. Trying to make light of their new problem, Michael said, “I thought you liked me even if my clothes smelled.”

  “Don’t push your luck,” Lorie jokingly replied.

  “We’ll find a store on our way. Besides, it’s getting dark, and I don’t want to drive through the night. We’ll rest, get up early in the morning, and then head out. We should be reaching the exit where we need to get off. I’m sure we’ll spot some department store once we get off the freeway. Surely, even looted stores will still have some clothes remaining.”

  “Are you telling me that for our first date, you’re going to take me shopping?” Lorie mused. “I think this relationship is going to work out just fine.”

  “What do you mean? We’re still on our first date,” Michael replied.

  Turning off the interstate on a desolate junction, Michael found a copse of trees that would provide the truck with cover from both the elements and prying eyes from the road. Lorie got into the backseat and coaxed Sandy to lie down on the floorboards while she tried to get comfortable. Michael eased the driver’s seat back and tried to rest.

  He watched as the world lost its remaining light. Soon, he could no longer see the branches of the trees overhead. The ambient sounds of the oncoming night seeped through the cracked windows along with the pitter-patter of the light rain bouncing off the truck roof. There was an ongoing symphony of cicadas and crickets, and the leaves occasionally fluttered in the breeze. Making absolutely sure that the safety was on, Michael laid the rifle across his chest. He didn’t intend to sleep at all that night. They were still very exposed in the truck, and he wanted to keep watch.

  The early-morning sun rising over the trees pierced his eyelids. Michael opened his eyes as the new day dawned. The rain clouds had passed by sometime during the night, and it looked like it was going to be a nice fall day. In the light, he was able to see their surroundings for the first time.

  They were parked in the middle of a small field close to the street. The four large, majestic oak trees he had parked beneath had shed some of their leaves during the rain and plastered them on the top of his truck. A derelict gas station across the street was the only building he could see. A forest bordered the field and blocked Michael’s view of the road.

  Turning his head to check on Lorie in the back, he saw that she was still soundly sleeping. Sandy, lying next to her, looked up at him but remained still. With nature calling, Michael quietly opened the door and slid out of the truck. He held on to his rifle with one hand and tucked the 9mm in his waistband.

  The grass was still damp from the dew and the previous evening’s rain as he walked to the tree line. He could have taken care of this outside the truck, but he still retained his modesty. Reaching the border where the grassy field turned into woods, Michael stepped another three feet into the trees. It was noticeably cooler in the shade. Facing the forest, he could see the beginnings of a housing development through the cracks of the tree trunks. The two-story houses looked like a middle-to upper-class community. Finished, Michael turned to walk back to the truck.

  Movement to his right froze him in his tracks. A figure with a gun was stealthily approaching the truck. From the cover of the trees, Michael spotted at least four other figures with guns following behind the first. They looked like members of Krank’s gang, but how could they have possibly found them?

  With his heart pounding in his chest, Michael noticed that the truck looked empty. Lorie was still sleeping in the back, and they were not close enough to see her. He said a silent prayer that Sandy would keep silent for a few more seconds as he slung the rifle from his shoulder and knelt. Turning off the safety, he placed the butt of the gun against his shoulder. Time was running out, as the first man was almost upon the truck. Soon, they would see Lorie, or Sandy would sound the alarm.

  Michael fired, and the first gang member’s head exploded. Shouts of confusion erupted from the remaining men as Michael quickly chambered another
round. Not having time to aim the rifle, Michael fired at the next man who was closing in. Another of Krank’s men cried out and crumpled to the ground as Michael hit him in the chest. By the time the remaining members returned fire, Michael was already retreating deeper into the trees. He used the cover of a maple trunk as bullets flew around him. Chips of wood flew through the air, and lead projectiles dug into the trunks of nearby trees.

  Then, the gunfire died down for a few seconds as they reloaded. Michael ran toward the housing development, making as much noise as he could. He purposely stepped on large sticks, making them snap. From behind, the gang members who were still standing shouted to each other and started to pursue him. He was leading them away from the truck. With no regard for his own personal safety, he thought that at the very least, Lorie should be able to get away.

  Crashing through the last of the trees, Michael emerged in the backyard of someone’s house. He ran around a desolate swing set and continued around the left side of the empty home. As he crossed the front yard into the street, he paused and listened. Smiling to himself, Michael heard his pursuers still running through the small forest. They were being cautious, expecting him to ambush them from behind a tree.

  Quickly looking to the right and left, Michael chose to go straight. Running through the front yard of the home directly across the street, he flung open the wooden gate to the backyard and ran through. He vaulted over the four-foot fence into another backyard. Ducking down behind the cover of the fence, Michael paused again to listen. It sounded like the gang members had broken free from the woods and were still headed his way. He fired his rifle into the air and then sprinted across to the next street. Hoping that his rifle shot had both slowed his pursuers and kept them on his trail, Michael followed the asphalt road to his right toward a cul-de-sac.

  He ran straight for the light blue house at the end of the street. The front door was unlocked, and Michael entered the home. Not bothering to close the door behind him, he quickly located the stairs to the second floor and ran up, taking two steps at a time. At the top, he looked for a window that had a good view of the street. He leapt over the desiccated corpse of a man and peered out the window. From here, he had a good vantage point of the entire street leading to the house.

  Cautiously following Michael, Krank’s thugs gave him the few precious minutes that he needed to prepare for their arrival. Mash, as he was called by his friends, led the group of three remaining members. Both Derrick and Keith were lying dead back where they had first encountered Michael’s truck. Derrick had tracked the truck, and they had thought this was going to be easy.

  Mash had been instructed by Krank not to kill Michael or Lorie. Krank wanted to deal with them personally. He didn’t know why Krank was so obsessed with finding these kids or why he had continued to chase them across two state lines. They were now far away from home. Although Mash knew that Krank’s head wasn’t screwed on straight, he didn’t dare question him or disobey him. He had witnessed Krank’s wrath too many times to challenge his orders.

  Mash just wanted to get these two pain-in-the-butt kids so they could end this ridiculous chase and go home. At this point, he was tired and didn’t care if he got them dead or alive, despite Krank’s instructions. His men would repeat any story he told them to. Even though they feared Krank, they were loyal to Mash.

  They crossed the lawn and stepped into the next street. A shot rang out from somewhere, and another of his men fell to the ground. Muttering a vile curse, Mash and the two remaining thugs, Pete and Gonzo, immediately took cover. Using hand signals from the cover of a porch, Pete gestured to Mash where to look. Mash followed Pete’s fingers and looked up at the last house on the street.

  It was the only house that had its front door wide open. As Mash scanned the house, he could barely make out a rifle pointing out of the second-floor window. There he was! Finally, they had the punk kid cornered. Mash wouldn’t mind disobeying Krank’s orders and putting a bullet in this kid’s head himself. He deserved it, as he had already taken out three of Mash’s friends. To hell with Krank’s instructions. This kid was his.

  “Stay here under cover,” he whispered to Pete and Gonzo. “I’m going to circle around and get to the front door. When you see me by the doorway, open fire at the kid. Keep shooting for about ten seconds, and then stop. Don’t you dare hit me. He won’t even hear me coming until I slit his throat. Then I’ll finish this crazy job, and we’ll head home.”

  They nodded in agreement, and Mash crept away, circling around to the backyard. He then ran through the various yards, climbing over fences, until he was close to the light blue house. Crouching, he approached the house from the side, out of sight of the kid’s rifle. He moved silently to the front door. When Pete and Gonzo started firing, he ran inside the house. Mash could hear the bullets flying and ricocheting on the upper level. The gunfire came to an abrupt halt, and the house descended into dead silence.

  Mash crept quietly up the stairs, assault rifle ready. Then, he saw the kid kneeling by the window aiming down the street. The punk had not noticed that Mash was in the house, creeping up right behind him. With his prey in front of him, Mash pointed his gun at the kid’s head and drew closer. Within a few inches, Mash stuck the barrel of his gun against the back of the kid’s head.

  “Drop it!” he commanded.

  The kid didn’t budge.

  Aggravated, Mash pushed his assault rifle aggressively into the kid’s head. “Drop…!” he began as the head suddenly broke off and rolled onto the floor. “What?”

  It wasn’t the kid. It was a dead body holding a small pipe out the window. They had been tricked! As Mash was concentrating on sneaking up to the house, Michael had snuck behind Mash and his men. By the time Mash returned to the green truck, the kids and the truck were gone. Adding insult to injury, not only had the kids escaped without a scratch; they had also slashed the tires on Mash’s vehicles. Mash was going to have to come up with a creative story to tell Krank.

  The road ahead was choked with obstacles, and Michael was forced to proceed slower than he wanted. He and Lorie reached the outskirts of Chattanooga by noon. There was a pileup of cars on the other side of the city, which forced Michael to drive off the interstate into the grassy berm to get around the accident.

  Shortly after crossing the state line into Georgia, Michael turned off near Dalton, onto SR 74 heading east. The national forest was only forty miles away. Almost there, Michael thought.

  Krank and his followers continued driving south on I-75. Dosed with meth they had stockpiled for this trip, they drove through the night without stopping. Although high and burning with ferocious energy, Krank made the gang travel much slower than he would have liked.

  Far more intelligent than his stupid followers, Krank knew that if they missed a vital clue as to where Michael and the green truck had gone, they would disappear forever. If the truck had turned off I-75, they had to know where. And Krank wanted, no, he needed, his revenge.

  He had a couple of trackers in his army. Former hunters, these men could follow anything. From an overturned leaf to a broken stick, they could spot the signs of their prey. Krank’s trackers kept them traveling on I-75 south. He had sent his most trusted leader, Mash, out ahead of the main group looking for signs of the kids. He hadn’t returned yet, so Krank continued the hunt.

  In passing all the dead leaves and trash on the freeway, Michael’s truck had inadvertently created an easy trail to follow by blowing the debris off to either side of the passing vehicle. All Krank and his group had to do was follow the trail.

  Around eleven o’clock the next day, they had passed the city of Knoxville. Suddenly, one of the trackers, Mash, radioed Krank, who stopped his Humvee. The rest of the gang followed Krank’s lead and also stopped. Mash informed Krank that he had found the site where Michael had spent the night. Unfortunately, some of Mash’s men had decided to try to desert. Mash had killed the deserters, but his vehicles had sustained some damage. They would rejoin K
rank as soon as they fixed their cars.

  Later, near Chattanooga, his trackers discovered fresh tire tracks in the grass going around a wreckage of cars blocking the interstate. Invigorated by the news, Krank took another hit of crystal glass and drove onward with rising excitement.

  It wasn’t long afterward that Krank followed his tracker’s lead and turned off I-75 onto a desolate state highway. Krank was getting so close to his prey that he could almost smell their fear.

  Chapter 35

  They were almost at their final destination. Michael calculated that it would only take one or two more hours at their current speed to reach his parents’ retreat. Dusk was starting to fall once again as the sun sank below the horizon. They arrived at the main street of a small, quaint, one-stoplight town. Tourist shops and restaurants ran down both sides of the street. It seemed that the town had been completely untouched by any violence or looting. The shop windows were still intact, and cars were parked neatly along the side. Except for the lack of people and lights, this could just as well be the town before the flu virus had ripped through it.

  Being so close to the end, Michael was tempted to just push on and reach his parents’ place. Their latest run-in with Krank’s gang had been a very close call. However, it was becoming dark, and he wasn’t sure about arriving after nightfall. He also wasn’t completely sure of the way. He had only gone to his parents’ retreat by the light of day and wouldn’t be able to spot familiar landmarks in the dark. Besides, his stomach was growling, and he was tired. By the look on Sandy’s face in the backseat, she was tired of being in the truck and was crossing her paws because of the need to go for a walk.