by T. W. Brown
Jenifer wrapped her arms around the trunk of the palm tree. She wondered if she might actually lift off the ground and flutter like a flag as the wind continued to howl and blow relentlessly. The storm had been raging for hours. Its destructive force had not been the blessing she’d hoped. Instead, the barricades had failed. The undead were everywhere and chaos was the new ruler.
She’d heard plenty of gunfire a few hours ago, but now all she could hear was the roar of the unnamed hurricane that seemed intent on eliminating the island and relegating Atlantis to the same demise as its mystical namesake.
Once more, Jenifer tried to move forward, if nothing else, then to at least have a new tree to cling to. Never in her life had she experienced such a force of nature. Tentatively she let go with one hand as she inched forward. The dark outline of the next tree was almost within her grasp. Just a little bit more.
Success!
Hauling herself forward, she shook her arms out. Her muscles were sore from the constant effort it took to not be blown away. Also, she imagined that the meager rations she’d been surviving on did her no favors.
Something was moving towards her! It was far too dark to discern what, but a large shape was tumbling her way. It was Adaire! Rather, what was left of him. Now he was one of them. She didn’t need to see his eyes to know that.
She watched as the living dead version of Adaire struggled to stand, only to be blown over again. The stupid thing had no concept of futility. It just kept attempting to stand and failing. It would sprawl windward and then repeat the same tactic with the same results.
The thing faded into the darkness and Jenifer felt the tears well up in her eyes. She knew she should be relieved, but all she felt was cheated.
A little while later she’d managed to move forward three more trees. Then the wind began to slack. The storm was beginning to abate. She began to make out shapes a little easier.
Dawn was breaking.
***
Travis Reynolds stood on the gravel-strewn roof of the county jail. On all sides, those stinking, rotting meat-bags stood pressed against each other. In some spots they were a couple hundred deep. Some of the faces staring up at him were familiar.
Three days ago, those things forced their way into the lobby of Clackamas County Jail. They simply pressed the myriad of obstacles aside over time, and now stood just outside the metal door that led to the jail proper.
Yesterday, they breached a rear entrance. That coward Tracy Miller thought he could run for it. He foolishly believed that he could make it to the white transport van parked less than twenty feet from the narrow concrete stairs that the door opened out onto. He’d been wrong. There hadn’t been enough left of Tracy for him to come back as one of those things. But, others had come in during the night. It was Gary Messer’s scream that woke Travis. He’d heard that scream before...the night this all began. He couldn’t remember the name of the kid on that janitorial work crew, but he remembered the scream.
Travis had fought his way to the roof. He managed to escape without a scratch. However, up on the roof…he had nothing. Of course that hadn’t changed much compared to what he had down in the jail. They’d been down to the last scraps of food in the place. And it was all that spic’s fault.
That weak punk had taken off shortly after the purging of the freaks began. They’d done the world a favor by feeding every stinking sex offender to those damned zombies. Hell, Travis thought, if society ever did recover…it would owe him. When Juan Hoya took off, it was Tracy who suggested that maybe Juan ran because he had something to hide.
“Lotsa them damn Mexicans are in the joint because they think it’s okay to fuck thirteen-year-olds,” Gary chimed in on the discussion.
“Yeah.” Tracy’d nodded, thrilled that he was being listened to by the men in charge. “They sneak into this country and bring their bass-ackward ways of life with ‘em.”
Travis sent a team in pursuit of Juan. Only half returned. And on their heels, it seemed that most of the zombie population of Oregon City followed. There would be no more supply runs. No more trips to known meth labs in the area to score the quality crystal just laying around waiting to be scooped.
Nobody else had made it. At least not up to the roof. Perhaps there were folks holed up down below. But, they wouldn’t last long either. Not without food or water. Yes, Travis was safe from the zombies. They couldn’t climb the metal rungs bolted to the wall. Only, what good was it to be safe? He was going to die. Thirst and hunger were already beginning to inflict their own brand of torture. And it was clear that these damn things weren’t leaving.
“Fuck it.” Travis stood on the lip and looked down into the sea of disfigured, torn, discolored, open-mouthed faces below. There was no way he would exist like that. He’d seen enough to know that if they got on you thick enough, there wasn’t anything left to come back.
Travis Reynolds wasn’t some weak-ass, punk-bitch. Travis Reynolds was a warrior. He’d go out like one. “Fuck alla ya!” he screamed down at the writhing mass. “And fuck you, Juan Hoya!”
Travis Reynolds dove head-first into the waiting and outstretched arms below. Instantly, hands grabbed, clawed, and tore. Teeth clamped and ripped.
Travis screamed.
15
Geeks versus myth
“It’s me,” Ruth’s voice whispered.
Kevin felt instantly relieved…and embarrassed. He must’ve looked like a complete idiot. Also, hadn’t he just shrieked like a little girl? That had to have taken him down a few notches in Ruth’s eyes.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Ruth apologized. “I just wanted to tell you that my mom is thinking of taking off tomorrow when Mike and Darrin leave on their little mission.”
“Oh?” Kevin stood up dusting himself off. “So you came to say farewell?”
“No,” Ruth glanced over her shoulder towards the glow of the RV that her mom and sisters were in, “I want you to talk them out of it.”
Kevin scratched his head. He certainly didn’t want Ruth to leave, but he didn’t have a clue how to deal with this unfolding situation. He’d never been much with people skills. Truth be told, that was what had led him to all the survivalist courses and outings. He was on his own and didn’t need or have to talk to anybody. He knew he came across as an asshole to most people. But really, he just had a very weak filter when it came to saying things outloud.
“Gee, Ruth…” Kevin stammered a bit. Great, he thought, try a little harder to sound like Opie Taylor or The Beav. “I’m not much for diplomacy. I don’t know what I’d say.”
“Maybe you could—” Ruth stopped suddenly, cocking her head to the side. “Do you hear something?”
Kevin listened intently. It took a moment for him to realize that there was a low growl of an engine…or engines. It was getting closer.
“Go tell the others.” Kevin nudged Ruth, then headed towards the entry to the RV Park with his bat and sword in hand.
Ruth ducked into the vehicle Mike and Darrin had chosen. Even on the fly, her rational mind reasoned that it would be best to tell the guys with the guns first. She relayed the information and took off to warn her mom and sisters as the two men were scooping up weapons of all sorts.
The reaction of the Bergman women would have been embarrassing if anybody other than she witnessed it. That sudden fear and panic—like three old-fashioned damsels in distress—was painful to watch. It only furthered her conviction that, in this new world, her liberated mother needed the comfort of a man to rely on. As for Erin and Shari, they were almost completely useless.
Ruth had learned a great deal about her family when they were trapped in grandpa’s office complex. Certainly she expected more from her mother, Senator Angela Bergman. She’d been known as a bit of a bully in the Senate. If you gained her support, you could almost consider your bill or project a done deal.
Only…now…Angela was all bark and no bite. The main reason she’d gone to Kevin was to give her mother a way out of
all the bold talk she’d spouted in front of the other two. She’d been a bit hesitant, but, considering the circumstances, her choices had been limited to one: a boorish loner with an awk-wardness around women similar to a male in his early teens. The best thing about Kevin was that she could utilize his obvious infatuation with her as a tool.
She would run this group through him, and he’d be none the wiser. She’d known she had him when she let him get a glimpse of a box of condoms that she had no intentions of ever giving him the actual opportunity to use. Not with her anyways.
***
Kevin peered from behind the gatehouse at the dark road that ran past. Coming from the same direction they’d arrived, a single headlight crested the gentle slope. Then another. And then what had to be a four-by-four truck sitting high with fog lights above the cab. The truck seemed to be trailing a fair distance behind the two motorcycles. He heard footsteps coming fast from behind him. A hand touched his shoulder.
“Whadda we got?” Mike whispered.
“It ain’t Tom Savini,” Kevin answered, pointing up the road to the approaching headlights. “But it looks like two bikes and a truck prowling slow.”
“What’s the situation?” Darrin scurried up in a crouch.
Kevin filled him in, then the trio clustered in tight and watched. As the lead bike came abreast of the turnoff that would bring them into the park, all three unconciously held their breath.
The motorcycle stopped!
The rider was clearly silhouetted by the fog lights of the still approaching truck. Darrin brought his .30-30 up to his shoulder. Mike nudged him, shaking his head.
“We got no idea about these people. They could be like us,” Mike whispered, barely audible above the idling engines only yards away.
“Yeah, and they could be bad-ass raiders out to take whatever they want without giving a damn if we’re living or dead,” Darrin snapped.
“You really need to get over the fact that this ain’t a Romero flick,” Mike said, lowering the barrel of the rifle with his hand.
“They’re moving,” Kevin tried to keep the relief out of his voice as the trio of vehicles resumed their slow advance down the road.
As the taillights vanished over a distant rise, Kevin, Mike, and Darrin rose to their feet. Each of them secretly grateful that the darkness hid the sheen of sweat on his face.
“I take it whomever it was is gone,” Ruth’s voice made all three jump.
“Jesus!” Darrin snapped. “That’s a good way to get shot!”
Ruth was standing halfway between where the three RVs were parked and the gatehouse. She held a rifle cradled in her arms. Angela, Shari, and Erin were huddled together beside their rig…weaponless.
“Sorry,” Ruth hissed back, sounding anything but. “Maybe somebody could’ve relayed the news.”
“We had to be sure,” Kevin spoke up, trying to diffuse the situation before it got any worse.
“Is it safe?” The quaver in Erin’s voice gave away her fear.
“Sweetheart,” Mike walked across the park, barely visible until he reached the soft glow coming from the curtained windows of his and Darrin’s RV, “it ain’t never gonna be safe again.” He pulled open the screen door and went inside, ignoring Erin’s gasping sob.
“Nice.” Ruth spun on her heel and went to her sister.
“We need to settle down and get back on the same page,” Kevin said to nobody in particular. “We are going to have to rely on each other out here.”
Darrin stopped at the door, one foot up on the first step. “Show of hands. Whose bitch-fit got one of his friends killed recently?” He stared at Kevin, anger clear on his face. “Preach peace, love, and understanding someplace else, Dreon.”
Kevin dropped his head and took a deep breath. He raised it as the doors shut, first on Mike and Darrin’s, then on the Bergman’s RV. A moment later, lights blinked out in both vehicles. Suddenly Kevin felt very tired.
For a moment, he stood there alone in the darkness and listened to the breeze. He had no desire to go into any of the three vehicles. There was something soothing about being under the stars. Every creak of a branch or rustle of leaves in the warm evening air added to summer’s nocturnal symphony.
Kevin fetched his sleeping bag and climbed up onto the combination men’s and women’s shower-bathroom. Staring up at the cloudless, star-filled sky, he dozed off…thinking of Ruth.
***
A loud noise brought Kevin from deep sleep to fully awake much quicker than was pleasant. His eyes darted everywhere at once. It was still dark. The stars glittered above with their brightness intensified by the utter darkness that the world had plunged into.
Another loud bang, the sound of a metallic door being slammed. Cripes! Who was fighting now? Kevin rolled over to see who was in a tizzy. Either Mike and Darrin had gotten into it…or maybe Ruth tried to do what she’d asked him to do…talk Angela and the others out of leaving. What he saw made his heart flutter and his blood freeze in his veins.
The two motorcycles, the truck, and a van were parked about ten feet away from the trio of RVs! Men with guns—Kevin counted six men—were in an arc, covering the open door to Mike and Darrin’s Landcruiser. Four more men had the Bergman’s Winnebago covered as well. Its door was also open.
There was commotion coming from both vehicles now, a lot of it screaming from the girls. Kevin went through his options and realized quickly that he didn’t really have any. He had a nine millimeter, a bat, and a sword. He’d left his other guns in the U-Haul when he went and snagged his sleeping bag. He hadn’t really seen much reason to load out too heavily just to go to sleep. In fact, he’d considered just bringing the bat, but there still seemed to be something cool about sleeping with a pistol at his side.
Bodies tumbled out from Mike and Darrin’s rig. Three men came out behind them. Darrin was struggling to his hands and knees and received a kick to the gut that lifted him and flipped him onto his back.
“I said stay the fuck down!” a voice snarled.
“Easy, TJ,” another much calmer voice spoke.
“That fucker pulled a gun on me in there!” TJ stood over Darrin, but lowered the booted foot that had been cocked back to deliver another blow.
“Well, we did sorta bust into their…home,” the calm man raised an arm gesturing to the three RVs.
Just then, Angela and her daughters stumbled from their vehicle. She, Shari, and Erin scurried over to where Mike and Darrin lay sprawled, clustering around them. Ruth simply walked over and stood defiantly in the midst of her family and companions.
“Just four females,” one of the men who followed them announced. “One of ‘em’s pregnant.”
“Put ‘em in the van,” Calm Voice ordered.
“Hey, Shaw,” another of the men who’d come from the Bergman’s RV called.
“Yeah?” Calm Voice answered.
“You ain’t gonna believe who we got.”
“No time for games, Paris.” Shaw sounded only slightly less calm.
“Shari.” Paris stepped into the soft glow of the parking lights and reached down, jerking Shari’s head up, eliciting a new series of screams and shrieks.
“My sister listened to her,” somebody piped up.
“Whatever.” Shaw seemed unimpressed. “Load ‘em into the van.”
“What do you think your doing?” Ruth demanded as she, her mom, and sisters were shoved or dragged towards the open sliding-door of the waiting van.
“You seem too smart to ask such a stupid question.” Shaw slung his rifle over his shoulder. “Men, clean this place out. One of you get that moving van, Milo said the keys were in the ignition.” He walked over to where Mike and Darrin lay, both on their backs with a half dozen guns trained on them.
The struggles and protests of the Bergman women were suddenly muffled as the sliding-door of the van slammed shut. Kevin felt sick to his stomach as he considered their fate. But at the moment, he was actually more concerned about Mike and Darrin
.
“Hope you boys understand,” Shaw knelt between the two, “this ain’t personal.”
“Easy to say from where you are,” Mike said with a tremor in his voice.
“Look, if I thought you two could help us in some way…I’d ask ya to join. We got a really sweet set up. Only…I’m guessing we won’t be needing computer programmers any time soon.”
“First,” Mike struggled to keep his voice from cracking, “I’m not a computer programmer. And second, I wouldn’t join you if you begged.”
“Ya got spirit,” Shaw laughed, “I’ll give ya that. And hey, we ain’t takin’ everything. Just the girls, and the moving van of stuff. We’ll leave most everything you two had in your trailer. Of course, we’ll be disabling your rigs. Can’t have you following us.”
“You’re a real humanitarian.” Mike managed to actually sound more sarcastic than scared.
Most of Shaw’s men had been scrambling about, gathering things or ripping wires out from every vehicle in the park. The U-Haul had been brought up beside the van where the screams suddenly intensified.
“TJ, go tell those assholes to leave the bitches alone until we get back to The Basket!” Shaw barked.
TJ stepped away from Darrin and went over to the van. He pounded on the side and then jerked the door open. What Kevin saw made him ache inside. All the Bergmans had had their clothes torn or cut away. Each was cuffed with their arms over their heads to a bar suspended from the roof.
“You guys know the rules.” TJ yanked out one man who had his pants already down to his knees and tossed him to the ground.
“C’mon, TJ,” another man protested. His pants were also down and he held Shari by the hair with one hand, the other held a knife against her cheek. “We gots a bonafide celebrity here. Hell, I’ve beat off to her videos before.”
