Five Roads To Texas: A Phalanx Press Collaboration

by Lundy, W. J.

  They pulled forward a few feet at a time every five minutes or so. After what seemed like an eternity, they reached the front of the line. A soldier walked up to Jack’s window. He hit the button to roll it down as the man approached.

  “How many in your group?” he asked.

  “Four,” Jack replied. “Me, and the three people in the car behind me.”

  The soldier looked back at the Isuzu. “Pull forward, to the left,” he instructed Jack. He waved Sarah forward, motioning for her to stop when she pulled even with him. She rolled down her window.

  “Put it park and turn off the motor. Leave any weapons in the vehicle, dismount and come with me please,” the man said, and turned and walked up to Jack, repeating the same thing.

  Several other soldiers walked around the vehicles, inspecting them again, looking inside this time. One raised his rifle at the door of the trailer while another pulled it open. They did a quick sweep of the interior, then walked back to the group.

  “All clear, Lieutenant,” one of the men said.

  “Good,” the lieutenant said. He turned to the Washburns. “I’m Lieutenant Gordon. Welcome to the first checkpoint for the greater El Paso Safe Zone. Let me tell you what happens next. If you’ll follow me…” He turned without waiting for a response and walked into a collapsible canvas structure, twelve feet square. It was not quite a tent, but more than a canopy. Two large flaps were tied open. He walked through the opening, not bothering to see if the group followed.

  Leonard looked around. There was a similar structure on the other side of the off-ramp, and another set of soldiers led a group from a minivan into it. He scurried after the rest of his group, not wanting to miss any instructions. Inside they found a bank of LED work lights focused on one area. A soldier stood by a table with a clipboard; another had a tray of devices on a big, folding plastic table, while a third was messing around with colored cards and stacks of paper at another table.

  “This is the entry team,” the lieutenant said. “They will inspect each of you, looking for bites and signs of infection. If we clear you, you pass to Inspection Point Two. If we don’t, you turn around and go back to where you’re from. Am I clear?”

  “Yes—” Sarah started to say.

  “Good. I’ll see you outside when you’re done.”

  The lieutenant left them with Sarah’s mouth hanging open. Another uniformed man walked over to her. “Name?” he asked.

  “Sarah Washburn.”

  A second man pressed a probe against her head in several places. “Hold still,” he directed. “I’m just getting your temperature.” A few seconds passed, and he said, “Temp normal.”

  The first man made notes on the paper on the clipboard.

  “Come over to the lights please,” Clipboard said, holding his arm out and directing her to the far side of the enclosure. “Strip,” he said.

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. “You don’t get past this exit unless you complete the inspection. Your choice.”

  “All the way?” she asked.

  “All the way.”

  She bristled at the violation but kicked her shoes off and started pulling her shirt over her head so the inspector could do his thing.

  Charlie turned his back to the scene. He jabbed Leonard in the ribs. “Turn around, Lenny.”

  Leonard blushed and turned to face the entrance with Charlie.

  “Hold your arms to the side and spread your legs just past shoulder width, please,” the inspector directed as he put on a pair of black latex gloves. He returned the electronic thermometer to the tray and grabbed a UV cob light. Clicking it on, he scanned her with it, running his hands over her skin, starting with her scalp and face, checking every inch of her body. Jack clenched his jaw, but the soldier was clinical in his approach, not lingering longer than was necessary at any spot. Sarah locked eyes with Jack, and he held them there, trying to tell her she wasn’t alone.

  “You can lower your arms,” the soldier said, transitioning to her back. She covered her breasts with her left arm and her pubic area with her right hand.

  The inspector finished at the base of her legs. “Feet together,” he ordered, grabbing her right ankle. “Lift your foot, please.” He scanned the sole of her foot and released it. He grabbed the left ankle, and she lifted it before he asked. He stood up. “Go ahead and get dressed.”

  He turned to Clipboard while Sarah hurriedly pulled her underwear on. “She’s clean. No bites. No photoreaction.”

  Clipboard made several notes on the paper and handed the clipboard off to the third soldier, who handed another one back to him with a clean sheet on it.

  “Who’s next?” he called out.

  “I am,” Charlie said.

  Clipboard turned around to find Charlie standing naked in front of him. Despite his serious demeanor, he broke out laughing. “Jesus, old man, buy me a drink first, all right? Why don’t you give me your name?”

  “Charles Washburn. But you can call me Charlie.” He wore an exaggerated grin.

  “Don’t make this weird, all right Charlie? I’ve seen enough old-man sack to last for the rest of my life.”

  The soldiers repeated the inspection procedure with Charlie while the one with Sarah’s clipboard pulled her aside and handed her the form and an orange card with C117 written on it.

  “This is your inspection report and ID number. Do not lose these or the next inspection station will make you come back here and go through this again. At the next station, they’ll inspect you the same way, to make sure we didn’t miss anything and to ensure you didn’t get into trouble between here and there. Just so you know, there are four more inspection points. At the final one, you’re going to have to decide between service or citizen.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you choose service, you’ll be taken inside the base, billeted and given a work assignment. You’ll get food and water, but you’ll be put to work helping to secure the city. If you want to chill and ride this out, you’ll go to refugee camps. They have them all over, mostly in city parks, also at the UTEP campus. FEMA is overseeing those. Think about it. Service would be what I’d recommend. Those FEMA camps will be death zones when the infection breaks through.”

  “You sound like it’s a foregone conclusion that it will,” she said.

  “This shit never stays contained. How do you think we wound up with Ebola in the US a few years ago?” The soldier turned back to the table with the forms and cards on them, placing a blank sheet on the clipboard from which he’d just taken Sarah’s form.

  Jack walked over to Sarah. “You okay?” he asked. “I hate that every time we turn around, someone’s prodding you.”

  “Step away from the Cleared Citizen!” a soldier shouted, raising his weapon up to his shoulder as he advanced rapidly from the edge of the tent. The barrel was only inches from Jack’s temple.

  He held up his hands and stepped back. “I’m fine,” Sarah replied, giving the soldier a stare that would melt ice. “I get it. It should make us feel better, right? That they're thorough?” The soldier lowered the rifle and edged backward, maintaining eye contact with Jack.

  Sarah lowered her voice to a whisper that only Jack could hear. “Let’s just get you through this, okay?”

  He nodded, then looked over her shoulder. Charlie’s inspection was complete, and he was walking their way in his shirt and boxers shorts, his pants in one hand and his inspection form and an orange card in the other.

  “Easy peasy,” he said.

  “Don’t you think you should put on your pants?” Jack asked.

  “I’m just gonna have to take them off a couple miles up the road. It’s a time saver.”

  The trio waited, backs turned, for Leonard to get through the process, and then it was Jack’s turn.

  Clipboard waited while the inspector took Jack’s temperature. “One hundred,” he stated.

  Clipboard raised his eyes and made a note on the paper. The inspector direct
ed Jack over to the lights, where he stripped, putting his clothes on the nearby table.

  The inspector clicked on the UV light and began his scan. “Hit!” he called out as he ran the light over Jack’s eyes. The soldiers in the room all jumped. A pair of armed men outside the entrance rushed in to join the ones already inside.

  “Whoa!” Jack put his arms in front of him. “Whoa! I have an infected cut! That’s all!”

  Clipboard looked around for a moment. “Stand down,” he said. The armed soldiers lowered their rifles, but did not leave the enclosure. Clipboard nodded at the soldier filling the clipboards with blank forms. “Go get the LT,” he said. He turned to the inspector. “Finish up.”

  The inspection was complete, and Jack was tying his shoes when the lieutenant returned to the tent. “What’s the situation?” he asked.

  “Positive UV test, sir,” Clipboard said. “Eyes and mouth. He has an infected wound on his arm that lights up.”

  “Impossible,” the lieutenant protested. “He barely looks sick.”

  “Temp is only one hundred, too.”

  The lieutenant tilted his head a few degrees. “One-oh-two?” he asked.

  “His temperature is only one hundred,” the inspector clarified.

  “Odd,” the lieutenant said. “They’re normally boiling alive.” He turned to Jack. “When were you exposed?”

  Jack did some mental math. “Seven days ago. On the twenty-seventh.”

  The inspector looked at the lieutenant. “Do you think he’s immune? There’s no way he would take this long to turn. His temperature is nowhere near the limit. He’s got no other signs, aside from the UV hits.”

  The lieutenant turned to the man at the table. “Yellow card. Take him to staging. They’ll decide if he should go on to Beaumont.” He turned and walked out.

  “What does that mean?” Sarah asked.

  “Yeah, what does that mean?” Jack seconded.

  “Here’s the deal,” Clipboard said. “You’re infected. I think you knew that already. Since you’re not pulling your hair out, I can forgive you for thinking it was just an infected cut. But it’s not, and you can’t go on.”

  “So, we’ll go back,” Sarah said. “We’ll take our chances back in the, whatever, where we came from.”

  “I’m afraid not,” Clipboard said. “Well, you three can. Your companion here might have an immunity to this thing. That makes him a valuable medical asset, and as of now, he’s the property of the US Government.”

  “You can’t do this,” Jack said. “We’re leaving.”

  The two armed soldiers stepped forward, menacing the group.

  “Look, folks, here’s the deal. There’s a hospital a klick to the east that we’re using as a staging hospital. We’re sending other people there—people who need medical attention we can’t provide here. They have different tests they’ll run, and if it’s some kind of false positive, they’ll send you back here. If you’re really infected, you’ll be sent on to Beaumont Medical Center, where one of the scientists working to develop a cure will meet you for treatment.”

  “What can they do?” Jack asked. “Is there a cure?”

  “Not that I know of, but maybe you’re it, sir. That’s why you’re not leaving. We have a truck about to go to the staging hospital, so you all say your goodbyes. You have five minutes.”

  45

  Near Edwardsville, Alabama

  April 8th

  “Switch! Switch!” Toby’s shout blasted, exceeding the sounds of the road and screaming infected. Ian secured his lanyard to a ring on the ceiling and hooked it down on the belly of his tactical vest so he could swing out the door and over the roof to clear the way. The only problem would be if the door hit something, he’d be dissected into three sections. Not a situation he wanted to be in. Plus, he didn’t want to discard the door, they had a lot of miles yet to go.

  Jose was more than happy to drop back down into the cabin. Toby leapt halfway out the hole, letting Jose lock him in while swinging an extendable baton into the face of an infected who was trying to follow Jose in. Then he was through the hatch, using his armored body and sheer strength to swing his baton in one hand and his other blasting all fourteen rounds of his 1911’s magazine. There was a slight pause for the magazine switch and then more firing.

  Ian smiled as he saw the magazine drop in the hole and knew that Toby was in his zone. He was their brawler, and when on fire, his blocky form flowed like fresh cream over hot peach pie and everything clicked. He was the guy who showed up late to the fight and cleaned house after you got your ass kicked, and then thanked you for wearing them down for him. In seconds, the roof was clear and he was picking them off before they blocked the Hummer.

  “Holy crap, I didn’t see that one,” Jose said between gasps. “This brawler shit is more for guys like Tobes and you than for people like me.” He paused and then exclaimed, “Oh! I gotta tell you what I saw. About a hundred yards further on the right is a goat path going up and to the right. It goes over that hill there… There, you can just see it at the crest at one o’clock.” Jose pointed.

  Kinsey slammed another body and swerved around a second one before she risked a glance toward where he pointed. “I see it.”

  “Good, it just gradually Ys off the road right…over, there,” he said, still pointing as the hundred yards had passed and they were almost already past it. What he could see up higher in open air was much different from what they could see from inside behind the vehicle’s tinted glass.

  “Close it up, Toby,” Ian said into his helmet com, and he responded immediately by falling into his seat and slamming the hatch shut.

  “Buckle in!” Kinsey shouted. “It’s my turn. L-O-fucking-L!”

  “You know, in real life you are just supposed to laugh out loud instead abbreviating laugh out loud,” Ian teased, smiling at the freak named Kinsey.

  “Yeah, but I am living the best fucking video game ever right now, so we’re playin’ by my rules.”

  “Kinsey! People are dying out there, for Christ’s sake; show some compassion.”

  “Can’t,” she shook her head. “I… ca—I mean, I won’t. Not yet,” she replied and Ian nodded. They had all put up a shield for sanity’s sake. Without it, they might as well have joined the infected outside.

  The trail was old and nobody else had spotted it, which was evidenced by the small saplings they had to mow down in the center of the wheel ruts. It got steeper, but the surface was solid and straight.

  The Hummer popped through a line of trees at the crest of the hill and out onto the utility easement. The way was clear. Kinsey motioned to the side view mirror. “Four vehicles on our six,” she stated. “Following our lead.”

  Ian glanced into the mirrors outside his small window and saw the trucks. He was hopeful that they’d make it, but now, the fewer trucks around them the better. Kinsey slowed down and let the vehicles pass. Every car waved as they flew by, knowing that it was their maneuver that granted them a couple more minutes of life.

  “Need to release, boss,” Toby said. He opened the door, and the rest of the group followed. The woods looked clear and quiet as, one by one, they satisfied their natural functions. Ian looked back at the flats and noticed that no other trucks had made it up the slope, other than the four they had let pass. That probably meant…

  “Load up!” Ian shouted when he heard the first screams of infected that had followed the trail of the escaping trucks. The twenty feet that he’d wandered to smoke a cigarette suddenly seemed too far from the safety of the truck as the sounds of pounding feet caused him to bolt like a rabbit.

  Ian expected one or two to come over the hill, but en masse like that was too much. If they tried to fight, they’d be swarmed under a pile of teeth and nails, of course so would slowing down. He jumped into the passenger seat as Kinsey took off. Only a couple pairs of hands slapped the sides of the Humvee before they pulled out of range. They drove for an hour before they got to finish their piss break.r />
  Man, did I need that cigarette, Ian said to himself.

  It took until the next afternoon to get all the way to Talladega. The safe house was remote, secure, and unbreached. Showers and deep sleeps were in order before they planned their next steps.

  The bunker was huge and appeared to have been built by a distributor of some sort with large, open spaces containing forklifts, as well as full-sized loading bays that were currently empty of trucks.

  It was also big enough to have its own motor pool area, which they had to check out. While their own rig was still solid, it had been put through a lot, especially the tires. There was a shimmy in the front end that implied they were running on the run-flat portion of the tire or that the Hummer had a broken strut. Thankfully, they never had the opportunity to run at highway speeds or they’d have known for sure.

  The lights revealed a large concrete garage, one wall lined with vehicles. The far wall was solid, with the exception of one massive overhead door.

  “What the?” Kinsey asked.

  “Pretty great isn’t it? I saw this last night when we got here,” Ian said and saw that Kinsey was drawn toward a uniquely large truck that sported eleven-thousand-pound axels. It was a four-wheel drive with four twenty-two-inch wheels surrounded by puncture-resistant tires.

  “It’s a little big, don’t you think?” Ian asked, making a joke like she was actually thinking of taking the monster. Then she surprised him again.

  “It’s exactly big enough. Look down here.” She pointed at the extendable armature, which had steel wheels designed to drop down and ride the rails. “This beast, this beautiful beast, is our best chance at making it the next ten miles, let alone all the way to El Paso.”

  “I don’t think so, Kinsey. It doesn’t look mobile enough to me,” Ian said, trying to imagine this monster going off road.

  “Oh, it’s mobile enough and can go places that other vehicles can’t go.” She looked at her boss and smiled. “I’ll start hauling gear from the other truck. Look where the air intake is on this muffer,” which was Kinsey’s version of “motherfucker.” It wasn’t the F-Bomb as much as the “mother” portion that bothered her. “We could go through five feet of water without stalling. This is way better than the Hummer, and you can take that to the bank.”