In the Lone and Level Sands

by David Lovato

  “I’ll try,” Katie said.

  Layne climbed onto the tanker, which was stopped behind some cars and pointing slightly to the right, and opened the door. It creaked loudly. Everything stopped. Layne closed his eyes, listened. He thought he heard a shuffle come to a stop, but after a few minutes, nothing happened. He slowly opened the door the rest of the way. It went with a series of much smaller, quieter creaks, but drew no attention.

  “Can we do it?” Garrett asked.

  “Yeah. The keys are in. I’ll put it in neutral, and we’ll get it moving.”

  Layne shifted the gears and turned the wheel. He wasn’t sure how straight the truck would go, but he had hope.

  Layne hopped out of the truck and met Garrett behind it. It was already starting to roll forward because of the incline of the bridge. Layne and Garrett pushed, and the truck went faster. Then, when the two could hardly keep up, they let go, and it was off. Layne and Garrett turned and ran back toward where Katie was kneeling, ready to take the shot.

  They reached a solid blockade of cars. Garrett jumped and cleared the hood of one. Layne jumped, landed directly on the hood, and the metal sank inward with a loud noise that echoed through the fog.

  Layne half-expected a joke about the jumping capability of Caucasian men, but all Garrett said was “Fuck.”

  The zombies started toward them. They came jogging along either side of the tanker, which was almost out of sight.

  “Hit it! Hit it now!” Layne said to Katie, who was a few yards back. She fired. The shot was loud, but nothing happened after it. The truck kept rolling forward. It was nearly invisible.

  “You missed!” Garrett said. The zombies were getting closer. Many of them were well past the tanker. A few were hit by it as it went along.

  The tanker crashed into a row of cars. Layne and Garrett started shooting at the closer zombies. Katie cocked the rifle and fired again.

  The explosion was huge. A shockwave nearly knocked Layne down. A wall of heat followed close behind. The zombies closest to the tanker were incinerated. Some of the farther ones burst into flames, ran around briefly, and then fell to the ground. Layne found it disturbingly humorous.

  “Great shot,” Garrett said.

  “Let’s go!” Layne shouted. The rest of the group rushed to catch up to them, and then they were off.

  “Look, they’re doing it again,” Lacie said. She pointed ahead. The zombies would run toward the survivors and then stop, stare at the burning tanker, and plunge into the fire.

  “Like moths to lights,” Garrett said. A few of the zombies were either unimpressed or simply didn’t see the flames, but they were easy to take out.

  Then there was another explosion. Most of the group was knocked down. A car near the tanker had caught fire and exploded. And then another.

  “I think we just set off a chain reaction,” Warren said.

  “Maybe that’s a good thing,” Kyle said, helping him up.

  “It’ll leave us a clear path,” Layne said. The group passed the tanker, and Layne could see the end of the bridge and, even better, the open road.

  “Find cars,” he said. He looked around and spotted a minivan with the keys in the ignition. He opened the door.

  “I’ve got one over here!” Garrett said. A nearby zombie growled at him. He lifted his gun, pulled the trigger, and killed it.

  “Get in,” Layne said. Jessi buckled Kara into the middle seat, and then buckled herself in next to her. Dex and Lacie got to the van next, and climbed into the back.

  Then there was a noise unlike any they had heard before. It sounded like a gigantic boulder had been thrown against a marble plain. A few seconds later, it happened again, and all of the survivors outside of the car were thrown from their feet. The car’s tires lifted a few inches off of the ground and then settled back down.

  “What just happened?” Katie said, barely up on her hands and knees.

  “I don’t know!” Layne said. Then the sound came again, and the bridge shook violently.

  “Oh shit,” Garrett said, indicating to Layne that he, like Layne, had just realized what happened.

  “We broke the bridge,” Layne said.

  Layne could see it just ahead of him, near the remains of the tanker: A large crack was running across the highway in rapid intervals, making its way to the edge of the bridge. Another crack appeared farther ahead. Layne turned, hoping to get as far away from the crack as possible, but saw that there was yet another crack on the other side, between the group and Washington.

  The Oregon side of the bridge, between the two cracks, gave in and plunged into the water below. The Washington side, where the survivors were, remained in place for a moment that was all too sweet and all too short, and then began to slowly slant toward the water.

  “I think we’re going to die,” Ralph said. Layne got the feeling that he said it simply because there was nothing else to say.

  The incline grew steeper. Layne grabbed on to a nearby car. Most of the others did the same. Kyle had nothing to grasp. He fell to his hands and knees, bracing the street. It worked for only a moment. Then, it was too steep, and he slid. Fast. He reached the crumbled edge of the bridge, tried to grab it, slipped, and fell into the water.

  “Oh shit!” Dex said from within the minivan. It was starting to slide down the bridge. Many of the cars were. The car Garrett was holding on to, which was closest to the edge, was sliding fastest.

  “Look out!” Katie said. Layne turned, and a car was rapidly approaching him. He rolled out of the way, it passed within a few inches of him and the car he was pressed against, then fell over the edge.

  “Get out of the van!” Layne said. Jessi was struggling to unbuckle. The bridge lurched into a steeper incline, and the van left. Layne watched it slide away, then reach the edge. It stopped there for a moment and teetered as if it was waving goodbye, then went over.

  “Son of a bitch!” Garrett said.

  “Our Father, who art in heaven,” Ralph said, “hallowed be thy name.”

  “Katie, watch out!” Layne said. A Vespa was rolling down the bridge toward her. She had been holding on to the Washington side of her car, using it to prop her up. Katie tried to get behind it to avoid the Vespa, realized she couldn’t, and then tried to duck. She was too late. The Vespa rammed into her, flipped her over the car, and then tumbled off the edge of the bridge. Katie was slammed against the asphalt, where she lay still for a moment, and then started rolling along the incline.

  “This is bad,” Garrett said.

  Ralph continued. “Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done.”

  “Get to the other side of the car, or you’ll be crushed!” Layne said to Garrett. He couldn’t see Warren anywhere. A zombie rushed by, unable to grasp anything, and fell over the edge.

  The bridge cracked again, the section the survivors were on became two sections, and both fell. With a huge splash, the first piece landed flat, forming a sort of island. The other piece was still attached to the rest of the bridge, forming a near-vertical incline leading from the island back up to the main part of the bridge, clinging on by a set of rebars.

  Layne was lifted from the ground just before the bridge hit, and when it did, he was slammed against the asphalt on the island before bouncing into the river.

  He was underwater. He couldn’t see anything, and his whole body hurt. He heard a noise, and saw a car plunge into the water a few feet away. The tow pulled him down a little bit. Layne rushed toward the surface. He could see the bridge, and swam toward the small island and climbed out of the water.

  The incline of the small island wasn’t as steep as the bridge had been before it broke, and Layne was able to stand up. He saw Warren, still clinging to the Washington side of a car, which had come to a stop.

  “Where is everyone?” Warren asked. He was bone dry and terrified, though seeing Layne seemed to have snapped him out of it.

  “They fell! They all fell in!” Layne said. He turned and looked into the river. There
were a lot of things floating in it. Some were bodies. He turned back to Warren, who was making his way to the edge. “I’m going to see if I can find anyone!”

  Layne turned back to the water. He had no idea where to even begin. Then, he saw something moving. A few feet away, Garrett’s head poked above the surface, and then went back under. Then it popped up again, this time closer to the bridge. Layne rushed to the other lane and reached his hand out. Garrett grabbed it and climbed onto the bridge. He was coughing.

  “Thanks, man,” he said as he rolled onto his back, clutching his left shoulder.

  “Did you see anyone else?” Layne asked.

  “No.”

  Layne thought of the ones who had gotten into the van. He looked at the water but saw nothing. He took a deep breath, and dove.

  He didn’t know what he was moving toward, but he swam downward. Then, he saw the minivan. It was on its side, and the door was shut. Layne swam faster. The river wasn’t very deep, and he quickly reached the van. He looked into the window, and just as he did, a hand pressed against it, startling him. He accidentally let most of the air out of his mouth, then he came to his senses and gripped the handle. Layne pulled the door open, and a stream of bubbles emerged. Jessi handed Kara to him and motioned for him to go. Then, she turned to her seatbelt.

  Layne held Kara with one arm. It was difficult to swim; Kara was thrashing. Slowly, with one arm, Layne swam to the surface. He took a huge breath. Kara started screaming.

  “I’ll take her,” Warren said. Layne handed her to him. Garrett was sitting up, scanning the water for his friends.

  Jessi emerged near Layne and took a huge breath. Then she reached the bridge. Dex and Lacie followed shortly after, Lacie helped Dex to the island.

  “We couldn’t get the door open,” Dex said. “I won’t lie, I thought I was a goner. Where’s everyone else?”

  “I don’t know,” Layne said. “I can’t find them.” He went back under. Lacie followed.

  Layne couldn’t tell how much time had passed. He spotted Kyle at the bottom. His shirt was stuck on the side view mirror of a car, and he couldn’t free himself. He was barely moving. Layne swam as fast as he could and reached Kyle shortly. Kyle looked more than surprised to see him. Layne tried to free him, but it wasn’t working. The mirror was pinned to the bottom of the river, and Kyle’s shirt was between the two. Layne helped Kyle remove the shirt, which was difficult because of the water, but soon he was free. The two headed for the surface.

  Kyle took a breath when he reached the air, and then climbed up the bridge on his hands and knees. When he reached mostly flat ground, he threw up. A moment later, Lacie emerged with Ralph.

  “Where’s Katie, did you see her?” Layne asked.

  “She’s at the bottom,” Lacie said. “She isn’t moving, Layne. Her eyes are shut and everything. Oh, God.”

  Layne dove in. It didn’t take long to find Katie. She was definitely unconscious, and possibly worse. A stream of blood was floating up from a wound on her head. She was suspended, her foot stuck on the window frame of a sunken car. Layne reached her and pulled her free with ease, but she wasn’t moving. He headed for the surface.

  As soon as he emerged, Garrett took Katie and dragged her onto the bridge.

  “Is she alive?” Layne said. Garrett looked for a pulse, felt for air.

  “She’s not breathing. Does anyone know CPR?”

  “Yeah,” Warren said. He rushed to Katie’s side and went to work. Layne caught his breath, and then headed to where Katie lay on the wet asphalt.

  “It’s not working,” Lacie said. “Oh God, it’s not working.” She was near tears. Kara’s screaming had been reduced to crying, and Jessi was trying to comfort her, unable to stifle her own tears.

  “She’s bleeding a lot,” Kyle said.

  “That’s just because of the water,” Dex replied. He took off his outer shirt and pressed it against the wound on Katie’s head.

  Warren breathed into her mouth, then pressed on her chest. He repeated the process several times. Layne sat next to Dex and helped him apply pressure to the wound. Layne was breathing heavily, his eyes were filling with tears.

  Lacie fell to her knees, next to where Ralph was already sitting down. She started to cry. Ralph sighed, and looked toward the west, where the ocean would be, had there been anything visible through the fog.

  “On earth as it is in heaven,” Ralph said.

  Katie threw up. Then she started coughing. Warren moved away to give her air and room. She shot up, inadvertently knocking Layne and Dex away, and then threw up again.

  “Jesus Christ,” Garrett said. Katie coughed, and then looked around.

  “Are you okay?” Layne asked.

  “My head hurts,” Katie said. “But I’m alive, I think.”

  Layne hugged her. She hugged him back, but with less strength. Layne’s body was sore, but he squeezed as hard as he could. He buried his face in Katie’s shoulder, and cried.

  Dex got up and sat next to Lacie. She leaned against him. Everyone was breathing heavily. Layne cried harder, his weeping muffled by Katie’s shoulder. She closed her eyes and leaned her head on his.

  “Give us this, our daily bread,” Ralph said. He stood up and looked toward Washington.

  39

  On the Football Field

  The stadium heat was intense as Martha lay quietly in her cot the day after her heart attack. Her head was propped up on two flat pillows, her hands laced together and resting on her stomach. The sounds of the surrounding crowd were minimal. Martha looked around her. Everyone appeared to be asleep, except for Francine, who was reading. Martha’s stomach growled, and she sat up.

  “Oh, good morning, Grandma,” Francine said.

  “Morning, dear. You seem to be enjoying that book very well.”

  “Yeah, it’s really good. Did you sleep well?” Francine marked her place in the book, then set it down. “After last night, I’d think sleeping would be near impossible.”

  “Fine, I suppose. I’m pretty achy. Hungry too.”

  “Good, I’m glad.” Francine stood up. “Do you want to go get some breakfast?”

  “You don’t have to help me,” Martha said, flashing her palm. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Grandma, it’s okay,” Francine said. “I’m hungry too.”

  They walked toward the tables, where breakfast had been set out, and served themselves. When they returned, Emily was standing at Beverly’s cot.

  “Look at us, Bev!”

  “What, Em?”

  “We’ve been friends forever, and now we’re acting like two bus passengers. We never talk anymore.” Beverly looked at Emily, eyes watering, and gulped. “You’re my best friend, and it hurts me so bad to see you in pain. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to pay attention to you through this… I just want you to know that I am so sorry about Tylor. I know it’s hard to deal with. But there’ll be a time when you’ve grieved enough, and then you can move on.”

  Beverly sat for what seemed like an eternity, appearing to mull over all that Emily had said. Finally, she spoke up. “You mean like you did with your father?” Her voice was cold. Emily sighed.

  “Beverly, I love my father. He was a great person on almost all accounts. He did a horrible thing, yes, but there’s nothing that can undo that. A part of me still doesn’t forgive him for it. I was too young at the time to make heads or tails of it, but I’m a grown woman, and I know what it’s like to be cheated on. Besides, my mother is crushed by his death, and more than anything, I’m about making her feel better. It doesn’t help matters that we’re stuck in this Godforsaken football stadium… Bev, you’re my best friend, and I love you. Please don’t let your emotions get the best of you. You’re better than that.”

  Beverly started to cry. “I just want Tylor back. I miss him so much!”

  Emily leaned into Beverly and hugged her tightly.

  “I’m sorry. It’ll be okay, Bev. It’ll be okay.” Beverly pulled back after several se
conds. She sniffed, and wiped her face.

  “I don’t know,” Beverly said. “I just don’t think anything will get better.” Emily frowned. “Tylor was my life, and now I have nothing. Without him, I feel empty inside. It was something so avoidable.”

  “Believe me,” Emily said, “it will get better. And I’m sure that Tylor wouldn’t want you to keep crying over him. It’s just not healthy to constantly grieve like this, either. You should allow yourself to grieve a little each day, and then get back to life.”

  “What life? You mean this?” Beverly gestured to the stadium around her. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but lately things are shitty. We’re trapped in a damn football stadium, and somehow I’m still alone in this fucking rut. This is the first time you’ve really talked to me since we got here.” Beverly’s voice was growing louder, and some people were staring.

  “Did you listen to a word I said?” Emily asked. Beverly continued.

  “And when you finally do get around to helping me, you try to tell me I shouldn’t feel my feelings. I should just bottle them all and put on a big goofy smile like ‘Oh, I feel great, because today’s a new day!’ Emily, that doesn’t work here! That doesn’t work!”

  “That’s not what I—”

  “I know you’re worried about your mom, but this is ridiculous! I’m still here!”

  “I know you’re—”

  “Like you said, the schmuck was a horrible husband anyway. He cheated on her, and how she still cared for him, I can’t begin to imagine. I know Tylor would have never crossed me like that, but I guess the seventies were a different time!”

  Martha stood with her tray of food, her lips pursed. Francine looked from Beverly to Martha, and then took Martha’s tray as well as her own and set them both on one of the empty cots, then put an arm around her grandmother. A lot of people stared. Phil and Angela had woken up, and were speechless. Billy sat up last. Alan was staying out of it by writing in his notebook. Jesse was playing his PSP, earphones in.

  “I should have just gone to Hawaii with Tylor instead of that bastard’s funeral. We’d be safe, no fucking zombies.”