In the Lone and Level Sands

by David Lovato

  “Take this.” Aimes handed Eugene a sidearm, and Eugene took it with a shaky hand. “Just back me up as best you can. I’ll need it. We’ll get your puffer and be out of here quick.”

  “Okay.”

  The zombies drew in. Eugene shot one in the neck. It screamed in pain, and Eugene cringed at the sound. Blood spewed from its throat, and before either of them got another shot out, the zombie slipped on its own blood, floundered a bit, then fell to the ground.

  They moved down the hall, killing zombies along the way (with Aimes taking care of the majority), and soon they made it to Art’s office.

  “In here,” Eugene said. He pushed the door open and Aimes followed him inside. Eugene rushed through the door but came crashing down only a few steps into the room, as he was breathless. He scrambled for air that wouldn’t come. The only thing he knew to do was gesture toward the small table that separated the couches. The inhaler rested on it. Aimes ran to retrieve it.

  “Here!” he said. Aimes gave the inhaler to Eugene, who nearly dropped it before finally lifting it to his mouth. He pressed on the canister. The medication drew into his lungs, and he felt relief. One more puff, and he withdrew the canister.

  Inhale. Exhale.

  “Thank you!” Eugene said.

  “Don’t mention it. We gotta move.”

  They both headed to the door. Eugene pocketed the inhaler as he entered the hall. More zombies were pouring in from shattered office windows and tributary hallways.

  “Let’s go!” Aimes said. He shot a zombie heading their way. Eugene and Aimes ran side by side to the stairs, with more zombies following faster than ever.

  Eugene and Aimes made their way up the stairs with the howling, blood-thirsty demons on their heels. They burst through the door onto the roof. The first zombie to reach the door simply slammed into it, but the ones behind pushed against him, pressing him into the long metal bar, opening the door and leading them outside.

  “I knew it!” June said. “You’ve lured them all back here!”

  Eugene and Aimes ran across the roof and practically dove into the chopper.

  As the chopper lifted off the ground, one of the zombies grabbed Eugene’s ankle. It was centimeters from getting a bite in when the chopper lifted higher. The zombie kept a tight grip on Eugene, pulling him toward the opening. Eugene shook his leg, and Evan grabbed his arms to keep him from falling out.

  Aimes shot the zombie square in the forehead. It fell to the roof below as the chopper rose higher with Eugene still hanging halfway out. Evan and Aimes pulled him inside and helped him into one of the seats. He buckled in, and then he sat just staring at the floor for the better part of a half hour. He had nearly been bitten, nearly become one of them, and that scared the hell out of him, scared him more than death itself.

  It was Mal who eventually snapped him out of it.

  “Are you okay?”

  It took a moment for Eugene to notice she was talking to him. “I’m f-fine,” he said. “Thanks for asking.” Mal smiled. Eugene gave her a smile as well, then looked away.

  ****

  The city of Louisville was ravaged. The good news was that the destruction began to thin out as they drew closer to the base. The ride was almost over.

  “Less than ten minutes now,” Aimes said. “How’re you feeling, Jared?”

  Jared didn’t feel up to talking, so he just raised a thumb to Aimes. The soldier grinned, and nodded.

  “Good. Just hang in there, buddy.”

  “Almost there, honey,” June said.

  Fort Knox came into view. The community sprawled out, but only part of the base had been barricaded off, with several buildings serving as the perimeter. Walls made of wood and sandbags filled the spaces between buildings, and some of the smaller ones were completely inside the barricade.

  To the south, well outside the barricade, Evan saw the famous bank often associated with Fort Knox, and realized he didn’t even know what it was called. He wondered if the bank would ever be of any use again. He decided that if the military thought it might, they would’ve built the barricade closer to it. Evan found this somewhat disturbing.

  Several soldiers sprawled across a landing pad beckoned the chopper, which descended slowly, with a soft bump as it hit the concrete. The blades slowed and came to a halt.

  “Welcome to Godman Air Force Base,” Clark said.

  Everyone began exiting the chopper. Aimes motioned for June to follow. “Just come with us,” he said. “We’ll get a few guys out here with a stretcher and get Jared to the medical ward.”

  “Okay,” June said. She looked over her shoulder at Jared as she walked with Aimes and another soldier.

  The survivors made their way toward a large building near the landing pad. Inside, dozens of soldiers rushed to and fro, shouting orders to each other, guiding survivors around the base, talking to each other on landline telephones. For the first time, Evan and his friends felt safe.

  55

  In Bangor

  The air was heavy and wet. The survivors were in the kitchen doing some last-minute packing.

  Richard stuffed a canvas bag with some supplies. “Does anyone have any idea where we should go?”

  “Without radio signals, TV, or power, I don’t think any of us have a clue,” Al said.

  “I’m thinking the best idea is just to get away from Bangor, maybe drive a bit north,” Fred said. “Maybe we’ll run across a safe zone, or maybe… maybe it hasn’t spread to all of Maine.”

  “Why north?” Ben said. “Why not west, or south?”

  “Well, I doubt south would be our best bet. Remember the news report from Augusta?”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “I just threw north out there. It doesn’t matter. Point is, we’re not safe here. I think we can all agree we need to leave.” Fred packed the rest of the items he’d gathered into his bag, slipped the strap over his shoulder, scratched his moustache, and picked up his shotgun, which was leaning against the counter.

  “There’s got to be a place we can stop and take refuge, somewhere,” Charlotte said. “Maybe a place where this ends.”

  “I hope so,” Sara said. “I don’t know how much more of this my old bones can take.”

  Fred smiled. “Don’t worry, honey. We’ll be all right as long as we all stick together. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

  “We’ll have to find a store, though,” Richard said. “We don’t have everything we need here.”

  “That’s true. How much ammunition do you have, Al?”

  “Quite a bit. I’ve got my handgun, one other, and plenty of bullets. Plus I have a shotgun, and maybe a box and a half of shells.”

  “That’ll hold us for a while,” Fred said. “Well, if you’re all ready, let’s hit the road.”

  ****

  The survivors piled into Fred’s van. It held eight people, so there was ample room. Before Fred could stop him, Angus leapt into the van. He climbed all over the passengers. They laughed when the ninety-pound dog tried to squeeze past their legs. Angus turned his head and whined, then tried to squeeze through again.

  “Angus, come on,” Fred said. “There’s no room for you up there.” He led Angus out of the passenger area and to the back. “You can ride out of your kennel if you be good, Angus.”

  Angus whined and cocked his head. His jaws opened wide, his big pink tongue sticking out, and he yawned.

  “I’ll take that as your agreement.” Fred patted Angus, who sat down while Fred pulled a latch on the kennel. It collapsed and Fred slid it underneath the seats. Angus then jumped into the van and made himself comfortable on his bed.

  Ben was about to get into the van, but he noticed Al was farther away, crouched in front of Ruth’s grave. “Al, you ready to go?”

  “Yeah, just a moment,” Al said. He kissed his hand and placed it gently on the top of the old rocker, and then stood up. “I’m ready.” He walked over to the van, but instead of getting in, he pulled Ben aside. “Can I
ask you to do something for me, Ben?”

  “Yeah, what’s that?”

  “I know you’re still a bit fuzzy since the crash, but don’t stop trying to fix things, okay? Charlotte’s crazy about you. I just don’t want you to have any regrets if something were to happen, you know?”

  “I won’t stop,” Ben said. “Don’t worry.” He smiled.

  “Good,” Al said. “All right, let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  The two climbed into the van and Fred drove out of the back yard and onto the street. As they passed, Al’s eyes were glued to the tree. It lay on the ground, still partially inside the house. All that remained of the stump were sharp spikes from where the trunk snapped, pointing upward like wooden stalagmites. Al tried to look away, but he couldn’t until it was out of sight.

  The scenery was remarkable as the van traveled along the roads of the neighborhood. The blood spilled on the 22nd had mostly washed away in the storm, but there were still many bodies lying around. Leaves littered the streets and houses, thousands of little twigs lay about. Zombies roamed the neighborhood, but no longer bothered trying to catch the moving vehicle.

  Fred maneuvered around the bigger branches and pretty soon came to a phone pole stretched across the street. There was no driving over it, so he drove around it, into someone’s yard.

  “Such destruction,” Sara said.

  Carah turned away when she’d had enough. She looked at Richard, pantomimed grasping an object from the top and bottom, then flipped it over. Her lips mouthed “chaos”.

  Ben leaned his arm on the arm rest. He looked at Charlotte, who sat in silence between the only two members of her family she knew to be alive.

  “Wonder how far this storm spread,” Richard said.

  “Who knows?” Fred replied.

  Soon, Charlotte got to thinking. What would happen if Ben stepped foot in his home? Could it bring his memory back, at least make him remember her? These thoughts excited her. She turned to Ben.

  “How are you doing?” he said.

  “I’ve got an idea that might bring everything back for you!” Charlotte said.

  Ben looked intrigued. “What is it?”

  “Why don’t we try going back to Ashton? Maybe seeing our house, going inside will help. We’re going in that direction anyway.”

  “I like it! Fred, do you mind stopping in Ashton?”

  Fred puffed on his pipe. “Just lead the way, and I’ll go there.”

  “Thank you!” Charlotte said.

  “No need for thanks.”

  ****

  The cars were more spread out on the freeway, which made it easier to drive. Several zombies walked along the edge of the road, some just stood there.

  A semi lay on its side on the median. The survivors passed by in the middle lane, looking at the downed truck as they went. The driver’s body was hanging out of the smashed windshield.

  They didn’t spend much more time on the freeway. Charlotte directed Fred to their exit.

  Ashton was a quaint town, and not many zombies were around, at least that anyone could see when they pulled into a gas station on Feldton Street, just inside the city limits. Fred pulled up to one of the pumps, climbed out of the van, and got out his wallet. He slipped his card through the slot and began filling his tank.

  A little red car came down the opposite side of Feldton street. It stopped at the pump next to Fred’s van. Looking closer, there seemed to be metal caging separating the front from the back. Fred thought this to be strange at first, but he waved it off; he was more interested in the driver.

  A loosely built man stepped out of the car. His greasy midnight hair hung in his face. He bore a pompous smile as he stood by his car, looking at Fred. Fred returned a friendlier smile after a puff of his pipe. The man was about Fred’s height, and looked pale.

  “Hi there!” the man said with a deep German accent. “Fancy seeing other normal humans out and about. You must have a destination?”

  “We’re headed someplace safe,” Fred said. The sliding door of the van opened, and Al got out of the car to stretch his legs. “You, Sir?”

  “I’d be lying if I said anything different, but for now, we’re just traveling. The name’s Edward.” He grinned, with an outstretched hand. Fred shook, but pulled back as soon as he could. The man’s hand felt cold and clammy. Fred nonchalantly wiped it on his slacks. Edward rubbed a three-inch-long scar on his neck, then lowered his hand.

  “You said ‘we’,” Al said. “Who else is with you?” He looked into the back window of Edward’s car. A set of hands banged against the metal caging, unable to reach the glass. Al jumped back. The hands disappeared and reappeared as the zombie smashed its hands into the caging several times. It was chained and had shackles on its wrists. There was blood on its shoulders, and it wore a revealing silver top.

  From a safer distance, Al saw a face join the hands at the window. It was the beautiful but bruised face of a twenty-something-year-old. Its eyes were open wide, almost as if the lids were being tugged upward by invisible strings, and the eyes were bloodshot. It hardly blinked, but moaned a lot. There was a contraption on its face that came down below the nose, wrapped under the chin and continued up the jaw line. It looked like it prevented the zombie from opening its mouth, but there was a square-shaped mouth hole, and Al could see teeth gnashing inside. A strap on the device locked it with a padlock.

  He turned away, face twisted in disgust. “What the fuck? Why do you have one of those fuckshits with you? And why is she dressed like that?”

  Edward looked at Al and chuckled. “Oh, that’s Desireé. She was with me when our little world fell down the rabbit hole. She was quite good at her work. What is a ‘fuckshit’, anyway? That’s a strange thing to call this beautiful goddess. There’s nothing wrong with her, you know. She’s just like us humans.” He rubbed the scar again. It appeared as if he’d been cut with a knife. “Don’t worry, she won’t bite. Not through the glass, that is.”

  “These things aren’t like humans at all!” Al said.

  “Oh, ho, ho!” Edward’s laugh sent chills up their spines. “That’s where you’re wrong, mein Freund. These ‘fuckshits’ are most certainly like us. She is a human, just more primal, you could say. I should know. They are alive. They can breathe. Their hearts beat, and best of all, they respond quite well, sexually.”

  Edward’s words froze Al and Fred to the ground on which they stood. They didn’t know what to say or do, but soon, Fred’s gas pump clicked, snapping them out of it.

  “You’re a fucking sicko!” Al said. Edward was rubbing the scar again. He lowered his hand from his neck when he saw Al watching it. “Why the hell do you keep rubbing that damn scar?”

  Edward laughed, a deeper, more guttural laugh. “All Desireé needs is some food, just like you and I, some water, and she’s good to go. And you may have noticed that contraption on her face. That prevents her from being able to turn me into a living zombie, or ‘fuckshit,’ as you call it. I can feed her through the hole, as well.”

  “You feed her?” Fred said.

  “I sure do! If I didn’t, she’d die. I don’t want that.”

  Paled, Fred said, “I’m not even going to ask what you feed her.”

  “Then I won’t tell you,” Edward replied. “You should come along with us, now. I believe we’d all get along famously.”

  “Not a chance,” Al said. He walked back to the door of the van.

  “No disrespect, Edward, but you have to be somewhat mad to travel with a zombie.”

  “It’s a good thing for one to be mad. One’s survival depends on it.”

  “Aren’t you worried she’ll bite you?”

  “Did I not tell you about the thing on her face?” Edward chuckled, then rubbed his scar.

  “Fred, let’s go. This lunatic isn’t worth our time!”

  Fred nodded. “I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for, Edward.” He went back around to t
he driver’s side. Al climbed back inside the van.

  “I’m fairly certain I will, thank you, both!” Edward laughed and began working the pump he’d pulled up in front of. Fred sighed, shook his head, and got in. “Farewell!” Edward waved, bearing his smile. The van drove off.

  ****

  Still thinking about Edward and his sick face, Al cringed. He looked at Charlotte and then Ben, tried to take his mind from the encounter.

  A medium-sized park with walking trails sprawling its grounds lay in the center of Ashton. Charlotte and Ben had walked it many times, but when she looked at him, his face showed no signs of recognition. She turned back to Fred. “All right, after Ashton Park, you take a right on Drayton Avenue.”

  “Will do, Fred said.

  “I really hope this can help you two,” Sara said

  “I hope so too,” Ben replied. “I have a feeling… Like this will restore everything.”

  “Well, there’s only one way to find out,” Charlotte said. “On the right side of Drayton, a few blocks down. 4554, the brownish house.”

  Soon the street came into view. Ben was nervous. He hoped things would just slam back together in his mind. He decided to close his eyes until they pulled into the driveway.

  Ben’s eyes remained shut for another few seconds. When he felt the bump of the curb, he slowly opened them and got a good look at the house, hoping it would work.

  56

  Tagging the City

  “Are you all right down there, Max?” Ortiz asked.

  Max was trying his hardest not to look down. He could see Ortiz’s face peeking over the edge of the building about twenty feet above him.

  “Yeah, I’m fine!” Max said. His side was sore, but he ignored it. What was harder to ignore was the fact that he was terrified, and he was beginning to question why he had chosen to go through with this plan at all.