The Redivivus Trilogy (Book 3): Miasma

by Kirk Withrow

  The truck wouldn’t start, so naturally Reams imagined the starter motor was at fault. That theory came into question when General Montes pointed out that most of the truck’s other electrical systems weren’t functioning properly—most importantly, the radio. They had no way to contact Garza or the others at the CDC.

  After several minutes of looking around under the hood, Reams turned to face John. “This shit is beyond me. Even if I knew what was wrong with this truck, I doubt we have the tools or the parts to fix it. We should probably start thinking about finding some alternate transportation.”

  John had thought about that and had climbed on top of the Bearcat to see if he could spot anything promising in the vicinity. He couldn’t. They had the panel van and a pickup truck back at the CDC, but with their only radio out of service, they had no way to call for a ride.

  “How far do you think we are from the rendezvous point?” John asked.

  Montes cocked his head to the side and looked up slightly. “Maybe two or three miles if I had to guess.”

  There were still several hours of daylight remaining owing to the ease of their mission up to this point. John eyed the back of the Bearcat, and while none of them wanted to acknowledge it, they were all thinking the same thing.

  “If we head out now, we can make it to the rendezvous point and use Garza’s radio to contact the others back at the CDC. We can keep our eyes peeled for other means of transportation on the way, but I, for one, am not going to hold my breath,” John said.

  “Well, damn,” Reams said, as he walked over and opened the truck’s cargo door.

  Plant walked back into the store as though he wanted nothing to do with John’s proposal. Seconds later he emerged pulling a small flatbed utility cart with low sides. Its tires were in need of air, but it was in good shape otherwise. He carried a can of spray paint that he tossed to Animal when he got close enough. She caught it and walked over to the side of the truck. After a few good shakes, Animal tagged the side of the truck. When she stepped away, John read what she’d written.

  Beware. Infected inside.

  Seeing his quizzical look, she said, “You know, so no one will get too interested in the truck—just in case they have the tools and parts.”

  John noticed she’d been looking directly at Reams when she’d said those last few words, and he couldn’t help but smirk. The big man looked a little embarrassed by her obvious insinuation, but he kept his reaction to a minimum. As soon as the boxes of supplies were loaded onto the cart, they set off in the hopes of meeting up with Sgt. Garza before nightfall.

  24

  Although the utility cart wasn’t built for speed, it was relatively quiet as they pulled it along in the direction of the CDC. Animal happily dealt with any infected in their path that couldn’t be avoided. Thankfully, their route involved only paved roads; the cart’s deflated wheels would’ve struggled on any rougher terrain. They passed through inner city areas that had clearly suffered from urban decay well in advance of the apocalypse. Rundown convenience stores, pawnshops, and liquor stores that had been looted long ago were as plentiful as the derelict homes and vacant lots filling the neighborhoods. It was hard to imagine anyone living in such areas even before LNV devoured the land.

  Churches were also nearly as prevalent and appeared to have fared no better during the apocalypse. Several decomposed bodies were sprawled on the steps of the Holy Angel Baptist Church, whose doors had been chained shut from the outside. Unlike the two angel statues that welcomed worshippers from their perch above the entrance, the corpses served to reinforce the message scrawled on the heavy wooden doors: Infected. Do not enter. The chains rattled ominously every time something inside banged against the barricaded doors.

  After walking for a couple of hours, they stopped to take a break in a sparsely populated area that offered good visibility in every direction, and most importantly, had no infected in sight. An old commercial district lay just ahead on the road.

  “I think the Bearcat and the wall made me soft. I’d almost forgotten how creepy it is out here,” Reams said after taking a long drink from his canteen. He scanned the area intently as though expecting the bogeyman to jump out at any moment.

  “Don’t worry, big guy. Animal here will keep you safe,” Plant said as he placed his big hand on the woman’s shoulder. Although he couldn’t see it, she interrupted her dutiful surveillance of the area long enough to roll her eyes in response to his comment.

  Cujo stood quietly studying the map over John and Montes’s shoulders. The two were discussing various routes from their position to the rendezvous point, as well as back to the CDC. As they spoke, their fingers traced multiple lines on the map spread out before them. After everyone had time to rest and regroup, the small convoy set out on foot once again.

  The crumbling commercial district consisted of a narrow thoroughfare that had likely been a bustling main street many years ago. Most of the storefronts appeared to have been abandoned for many years. Several dusty chairs sat empty in the window of an antiques shop. The glass storefront of the failed jewelry store next door had been smashed along with the display cases inside. With no one to stop them, whoever had broken the windows had simply pried the steel bars away from the frames.

  Animal saw across the street the hand-painted sign of the Blessed Waters Community Church fixed to the door of what had likely been another failed retail venture in its previous life. Blinds covered the windows from the inside, as though those who’d attended the house of worship hadn’t wanted the outside world to know their business. Animal thought it looked oddly unwelcoming for a place that was supposed to have its doors open for all who were in need. Then again, she’d never been a particularly religious person.

  The old commercial thoroughfare transitioned to a more modern, metropolitan area that had likely been responsible for the former’s demise. Neglected buildings lined its dirty streets as well, while narrow alleys crisscrossed between them to form a confusing network of passageways and shortcuts. Several cars blocked the road ahead, and Animal didn’t see a way to get the cart through. She motioned for the others to follow her down a nearby alley in hopes of bypassing the obstruction. As John made the turn with the cart, it struck a pothole, jostling its contents. The disruption sent one of the boxes tumbling off the cart, causing its top to burst open when it landed on its side.

  The sound of the glass beaker exploding against the asphalt was like catnip for the many worshippers that had crowded into the Blessed Waters Community Church to pray for salvation one night near the start of the outbreak. That night, the situation inside the church derailed when an infected boy near the front door triggered a mass stampede of people fleeing toward the church’s rear exit. In lieu of the salvation they’d been praying for, those in attendance received a death sentence. No one realized until it was too late that boxes of religious pamphlets and Christmas decorations blocked the rear exit. As more and more panicked people rushed toward the rear door, the obstruction became impossible to clear. Everyone inside was either trampled or succumbed to LNV; the most unfortunate among them were subjected to both fates.

  No one had entered or exited the Blessed Waters Community Church since that night the house of worship was transformed into a tomb for the congregation—and a deathtrap waiting to be sprung for everyone else. The shattering beaker turned out to be just the trigger to do so. A rev standing close to the church’s front window whipped its head in the direction of the piercing sound. Several unsteady steps later, the ghoul collided with the window. The dull thud set off a chain reaction in which rev after rev began pressing against the thin, single-pane glass. The words painted on the window vanished in an instant as a sharp crack rent the air. The sound that followed was like a thousand glass beakers shattering on the ground. Everyone on the scavenging team braced as though waiting for the impact that was sure to follow. Moments later, it came in the form of the ravenous snarls of more than one hundred infected that flooded into the street behind t
hem. The horrible sight left them frozen in place momentarily.

  If the shattering window made time stand still for the scavenging team, then the revs’ hungry moans kicked it into overdrive. No longer concerned with maintaining any semblance of stealth, General Montes crunched over the broken glass as he hurriedly replaced the fallen box atop the cart.

  “Move, John. We have to get out of here,” Montes said. The undercurrent of fear in his voice spurred John into action, and he pulled the cart forward.

  All of a sudden, John felt as though the thing weighed a thousand pounds, and every little bump threatened to scatter its contents across the road. Plant and Animal covered the rear of their little caravan, while Cujo and Reams covered the flanks. Montes worked to ensure that all of the supplies stayed in place. In a matter of seconds, the leading edge of the horde came into view.

  The team moved as fast as possible, but they were greatly hindered by the cart of supplies—complete with its flat tires. While they could certainly ditch the cart if they had to, they all knew they would fight to protect it until the bitter end. The cart held much more than just the supplies they’d scavenged from the warehouse—it held their hope for a better future, or for a future at all. It was something each of them was more than willing to die for.

  Thankfully, the path ahead was free of the infected. John had no idea which direction he should go and no time to consult the map. Instead, he simply guided the cart along the path of least resistance in the hope of staying ahead of the infected surge pressing toward him from behind.

  “Where the hell did they all come from?” Cujo cried breathlessly as she plunged her knife deep into a rev’s temple. The thing toppled lifelessly to the ground, adding to the trail of carnage the team was leaving in their wake.

  “Doesn’t matter…just keep them away from the cart,” Reams snarled as he brought his machete down onto the neck of an infected thing wearing the remnants of a chef’s uniform.

  Thwack.

  The blade cleaved through the thing’s spinal column, leaving its head attached only by a few sinewy muscles on the opposite side. The blade made a sucking sound as he wrenched it free. He shoved the rev back with his free hand, and its head flopped unnaturally to the side as it collapsed into a crumpled heap. While the pile of mutilated bodies around them grew steadily, the number of infected still trying to get to them seemed to grow at an even faster pace.

  Plant looked like a barbarian wearing a ninja costume when he swung his huge sword in a wide arc and beheaded a petite female infected that had slipped under the reaching arms of those in front of her. “Now, now, there’s no cutting in line. Didn’t you see there were others ahead of you?” he asked in a lighthearted tone that starkly contrasted with the menacing weapon in his hands.

  The blow splattered infected blood on Animal’s hand and sleeve, causing her to scowl venomously at her companion “Damn it, Plant! Why the hell do you need that big sword, anyway? None of the other guys seem to have that problem,” she groused.

  Plant let out a strange chuckle as he swung his sword back around to ready it for another blow. He called to John over his shoulder. “You’ve got to get me out of here soon. I don’t know how much more I can take; Animal’s killing me back here.”

  For a moment, John wondered whether Plant’s words were intended to be literal. He was so focused on trying to find a path through the urban maze that he hadn’t initially detected the sarcastic tone in the man’s voice. It simultaneously amazed and irritated him that Plant and Animal could maintain such happy-go-lucky attitudes no matter how dire their situation. John chanced a look behind him and immediately regretted it. While everyone in his group appeared to be okay, the wall of revs just behind them assured him that wouldn’t be the case for long if they didn’t get somewhere safe in a hurry.

  Immediately ahead, John saw an alley that split from the road at a rather acute angle, almost like a switchback. Hoping to lose the horde, John guided the unwieldy cart down the narrow side street. When he saw several of the infected stumble past the alley’s entrance, he thought his plan had worked. All too soon, he realized that there must be another reason those first few revs continued heading down the street, because the rest of the infected horde crowded in behind them. Panicked, John followed the alley as it led to the right. What he saw made his heart sink: it was a dead end. The shortest building was still two stories tall. The fire escape on the taller building directly ahead of him sat tauntingly out of reach, its ladder more than fifteen feet off the ground. They might be able to reach it given enough time, but the hungry moans of the revs pursuing them made sure that time wasn’t a luxury they had. An ice-cold wave of panic flooded through John’s body when he realized that he’d violated one of the cardinal rules of dealing with the infected: never back yourself into a corner, and never leave yourself with only one avenue of escape.

  John froze as though he’d run into the daunting brick wall towering above his head. Montes was directly behind the cart and nearly collided with it due to the abrupt cessation of movement. When he looked around the cart, he immediately saw the reason for John’s sudden change. Scanning from side to side, Montes noticed a doorway set into the wall of the building to the left. The old door blended almost perfectly with the building’s dirty wall, making it rather difficult to recognize. He didn’t bother checking to see if the door was unlocked, as it didn’t appear to have been opened for decades.

  “Reams, get that door open,” Montes called as he pointed out the location of the camouflaged doorway.

  Reams shouted for Cujo to cover him. He didn’t waste any time checking to see if it was locked either. Running full-speed like an offensive tackle, he drove his shoulder into the heavy door. The doorframe disintegrated under the force as the door exploded inward.

  Animal pointed out the obvious downside to his action. “Nice job, but how are we going to keep it closed now? Did you consider checking the knob or maybe knocking to see if anyone was home before you went all linebacker?”

  Reams’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He stared at her incredulously, as though he’d just been punished for doing a good deed. She softened upon seeing the hurt look on the big man’s face.

  “I’m kidding. Help me slide these boxes in front of the door,” she said after the last member of the team was inside. Although it was a tight fit, the overloaded cart just squeezed through the doorway.

  Outside, the infected were piling up and banging against the door relentlessly. The meager stack of boxes shifted with every thud. Were it not for Reams and Plant’s significant weight reinforcing the barricade, she doubted it would hold at all. Although none of them said as much, they all knew they were in serious trouble if they didn’t find a way out soon.

  Cujo scouted the room in hopes of finding another way out. Even in the dim light, her ghostly pale skin and forlorn expression told them that she’d had no such luck. Her frail voice cracked as she spoke.

  “We’re trapped. It looks like this was some kind of storeroom, but I don’t see any other way out.”

  A blanket of despair enveloped the room as her words hit them like a punch in the gut. No one said anything for almost a minute. Aside from Reams and Plant pushing to keep the boxes in place, no one moved. Finally, John broke the silence.

  “Well, I’m not dying in here.”

  One by one, the others nodded in agreement. Despite knowing they had little if any chance of escaping the musty room, that single statement was enough for them to decide that it wasn’t going to be their tomb. If death was on the day’s agenda, it was going to be in for a fight.

  Without a word, they each began looking over their weapons. Magazines were checked, guns were loaded, and the various blades and melee weapons were given one last inspection. John glanced around the room, hoping to find anything of use. If the room had indeed been used for storage, it had been quite some time ago. There was nothing that would make their impossible task any easier.

  While Reams and Plant ke
pt the barricade in place, they lost a little more ground with each passing second. The sheen of perspiration covering their skin was evidence of the substantial effort required to hold back the infected eagerly trying to reach them.

  * * *

  “There, up ahead! Did you see them?” Stack asked excitedly. His heart raced as he waited for Mother to confirm that he wasn’t hallucinating.

  Mother, too, had seen the scavenging team before they turned into the alley. Although he hadn’t been expecting them to be on foot, he took the heavily loaded utility cart to be evidence that their mission had been a success. Unfortunately, there was no time to revel in their accomplishment, as what he saw behind them left him speechless. Nearly one hundred revs pursued the team. All but the first few, which had taken notice of Mother and Stack, followed the scavenging team into the alley.

  Before Mother had a chance to reply, Stack had readied himself to charge into the fray. He felt a firm grip on his sleeve and turned to find Mother giving him a hard look.

  “Wait. We need to come up with a plan. We don’t know why they’re on foot or where they’re heading. Now, I didn’t get a great look, but I didn’t see Garza and Anthony with them. The team might be heading to rendezvous with them. Maybe we can circle around the block and meet up with them on the other end of the alley. Judging from the size of that horde, they’re going to need all the help they can get to fight them off,” Mother said.

  The tension in Stack’s body diminished as he accepted Mother’s words. He realized that his thinking was clouded by his concern for Cujo. He wanted more than anything to charge in there with guns blazing, but he realized that was a foolish course of action that would likely succeed in getting him killed. Stack exhaled and let his shoulders fall.

  “Fine, but let’s move quickly—they could be in trouble…Cujo could be in trouble,” Stack said.

  A minute later, Stack looked as though he’d just been punched in the solar plexus. He and Mother stood on the opposite side of the block where the alley should’ve opened, only there was only building. Stack placed his hand against the wall as though needing confirmation that it was real. The brick was warm from basking in the sunlight, though it wasn’t enough to dispel the icy dread Stack felt inside.