by M. Van
I waited patiently until I had a nice lineup. They all followed each other like a bunch of lemmings—one shuffling after the other. Once they’d cleared the other truck, I pressed my foot down on the gas pedal.
The Knight’s engine roared. Dirt sprayed up from the ground, leaving a cloud of dust behind me. The powerful truck quickly gained momentum, and the first zombie didn’t know what had hit it. Bones cracked and pulverized under the Knight’s massive wheels. Blood splashed on the windshield, and a body even managed to land on the hood before it fell to the ground.
Five zombies lay dead in my tracks. I slammed the truck in reverse and ran over two that had managed to dodge much of the first blow. Then I aimed for the remaining horde still plaguing the other truck.
I could see the three men inside clearly as I drove the Knight parallel to theirs. The truck shook as I ran over another body. Driving up to the gas station, I could see the two men on the roof, guns in hands, although the young officer had forgotten to fire it as his gaze followed the Knight. The other man showed no love for the zombies and kept firing his rifle as I made another pass running over bodies.
Two zombies still stood at the main doors of the station’s shop. They had stopped banging their fists on the glass doors. Instead, they just stood there watching me as if I would bring them salvation. I didn’t stop as I steered the Knight in their direction and rammed the vehicle through the front door of the shop. Glass shattered as the Knight ran easily over the two zombies and they disappeared from view.
Ash had found her way into the shop along with the husband-and-wife tracksuit team as I jumped out of the Knight, leaving the engine running. From the smirk on her face, I could tell she was pleased.
“Took you long enough,” she said. I would have hugged her, but I knew she wouldn’t appreciate it while surrounded by strangers. Instead, I ran a hand over her head.
“Get in,” I yelled at the couple.
Ash climbed inside on the driver side of the truck, and I shoved her chair along with the shoulder bag in after Dick and Suzanne, who had climbed into the back.
Sitting behind the wheel, I slammed the door shut and hit reverse. In the rearview mirror, I barely saw the legs dangling from the roof and in a reflex jerked the wheel.
The metal strips that had held the glass door before I rammed it, cracked and buckled as the Knight’s body partly crashed through the side paneling of the shop. The truck shook, and I lost my footing, pressing down on the gas a lot harder than I wanted. From the back, I heard Suzanne scream while the truck jerked backward. Frantically, I hit the break, but wasn't in time to stop the Knight’s rear wheels lift of the ground as it rammed one of the gas-pumps.
Checking the mirror, I couldn’t see much except for the pump now standing at an angle.
“Son of a bitch,” I heard a man’s voice yell. My eyes switched to the front where I saw the two men had lowered themselves from the roof and were now squatting on the ground in front of the shop. The man in the T-shirt got to his feet and grabbed the young officer by his collar. Half-running, half-stumbling, they made their way to us.
“Get your ass in there, Timmy,” the man in the T-shirt shouted at the officer before he stopped at my window. “Nice driving,” he said. The man looked to be in his midthirties. His black wavy hair dripped wet from sweat, and his white T-shirt had stains around his neck and under his arms. The unshaven face added to his scruffy appearance, but his gray eyes peered at me with delight and softened his features.
“Get in,” I said, still a bit shaken by the off-kilter exit from the shop. The man’s eyes glanced over the damage at the back of the truck along and the tilted gas pump, and I could see them change. Eyes wide, he raised his arm and waved at the other truck.
“Gas leak, Go! Go! Go!” he shouted. He climbed inside behind me and again yelled, “Go! Go! Go!”
As he said it, I remembered how Dick had dropped the hose while the highly flammable liquid still poured from its nozzle. I took the hint and stepped on the gas. Metal screeched as the bottom of the Knight broke away from the wrecked pump. Something snapped, and I could feel the air displacement around me.
Everything seemed to happen in a fraction of a second. As we bolted forward, the other truck plunged forward as well, and we came up by their side. Then, all I could sense was the enormous heat that engulfed us from the rear.
Within seconds, my eyes went from the road to the rearview mirror and then to Ash. Her eyes went wide as they met mine. I wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close as I tried to keep the Knight steady.
An explosion that reminded me of Dr. David’s lab blowing up rocked the Knight. Holding on to the steering wheel, Ash and the searing heat were about the only things I registered as we drove off.
Sometime after the gas station blowing up and following the other truck, I parked the Knight on a shoulder. I stared out over the open road and watched the cloud of black smoke darken the blue sky in the distance. Except for the heavy breathing inside the vehicle, it felt as if we had gotten ourselves stuck in a vacuum of silence.
A door slammed shut in the near distance. It tussled me out of my stupor.
“Dad, you made it!” a voice came from the backseat. At my side, Ash had turned to face our new company, and as I glanced in the rearview mirror, I witnessed how the young officer named Timmy scrambled to get out.
As the backdoor swung open, I noticed the three police officers making their way from their truck to ours. The elderly officer who had welcomed us before was among them.
“Sergeant,” another voice spoke. Ignoring the voice, I turned to Ash.
“You okay?” I asked as a hand tapped me on the shoulder.
“Sergeant,” the voice spoke again. I glanced up to stare into the gray eyes of T-shirt man. Impatiently he crossed his arms over his chest. I narrowed my eyes at the man whom I thought could be a bit more grateful since we’d rescued him from that roof, although the reason he needed rescuing could have been my fault. As I glanced back at Ash, who seemed equally baffled, my gaze fell on the patch on her shoulder. A single, inverted V decorated her uniform. With a quick glance on my own shoulder, I noticed there were three of those inverted Vs. It dawned on me that T-shirt man was talking to me.
I cleared my voice before I replied with, “Can I help you?” The man eyed me with a strange curiosity, and I felt sure that he could see straight through my poor attempt at pretending to be military.
“Sergeant, my name is Michael Carver. I’m with the CDC, and I need you to get me to Jackson,” he said. The man must have noticed me scan his dirty T-shirt and unkempt appearance. Without a word, he pulled a wallet from the back of his pants and took out a card. My eyes went from inspecting the card to Ash, who shrugged. The man looked nothing like the picture.
“That’s supposed to be you,” Ash said.
The man glared at her before he flipped the card around. Then, he glanced into the rearview mirror and grinned.
“I guess. It’s been a while since my last shower,” he said.
Outside, Timmy threw his arms around the elderly officer. I guessed the man had found his son. The other two men slapped Timmy on his shoulder, and it looked as if they were congratulating him for their rescue. It seemed odd, knowing how freaked out the kid had been and how he had almost shot me.
Perched between the two front seats, Michael cleared his throat as if he wanted to catch my attention. I shifted to face him.
“What do you want, Mr. Carver?” I asked. The fact he had told me he worked for the CDC, or the Centers for Disease Control, something I had learned from watching certain movies, made me a bit wary of him. Ash and I didn’t have the best track record when it came to similar government organizations.
“I would like you to take me to Jackson. I assume you’re heading there anyway,” he said. I looked him over as I considered my reply. Having someone else tagging along with us wasn’t something I preferred, but considering he worked for the CDC, this might work to our advantage.
I hadn’t considered containment procedures before we’d left on this journey, but since then, I had realized we could run into trouble trying to enter the city. The security measures in Terry seemed easy enough to evade, but I imagined it wouldn’t be that simple in a large town like Jackson. Still, I couldn’t just say yes. In my role as a sergeant in the US military, I didn’t think it would be very realistic if I didn’t act a little cautious.
“Do you have business in Jackson?” I asked in my best formal voice.
“You can say that,” Michael replied. I waited for an added explanation, but it didn’t come.
“And you’re not goin’ to tell us,” Ash said. Michael shifted his gaze to her, and although he didn’t voice it, I could see him wonder about this fragile little soldier sitting in the front seat of this tank-like vehicle.
“Nope,” he answered.
Ash shrugged as she replied, “Fair enough, I guess.”
Michael opened his mouth to speak, but commotion from the back made him close it again, and he turned his head.
Suzanne had exited the Knight and stomped toward the officers. Dick shuffled after her. Both of them engaged in an animated discussion with the four officers. Michael pulled a hand through his hair and followed.
I watched them for a moment before I turned to Ash. “Wanna come?” I asked. She glanced past my shoulder and frowned.
“I think I’ll pass.”
I didn’t buy the pitiful little pout on her face; she was happy leaving me to deal with our new company.
“Besides someone needs to look after our stuff,” Ash added. She had a point, and I nodded before stepping out of the truck to join the conversation.
Fortunately for me, Michael did most of the talking, together with the elderly officer, who turned out to be Chief of Police Dudley. The four officers were all that remained of the Terry Police Department.
Dick and Suzanne demanded an escort to Jackson. From the chief and his son Timmy, I got the impression that all they wanted to do was to head back into Terry to get their wife and mom, although the chief morphed the argument into something more responsible, like checking if the rest of the town had gotten out all right. The two other officers seemed to agree, although I think they did it to back their chief. They didn’t look eager to get back into the by-now-infected town.
“All right, then it’s settled,” Michael said. “We split up. You and your men head back into town in your truck, and the sergeant will take the Shaffers and me to Jackson.”
“We shouldn’t split up,” Suzanne argued. “I say we all return to Jackson.”
“Honey, these men have a duty to perform. You can’t ask this of them,” Dick chimed in, but the woman ignored him.
The chief shook his head, “I’m not leaving my citizens—that is not an option.”
I just stood back as I watched the men and woman argue, although I started to get eager to get on the road again. We had wasted enough time, and I wanted to find out if my dad had been successful in procuring a plane for us. The adrenaline shock of the sudden zombie attacks and getting shot at had subsided—the thought of going home took over.
“Listen,” a voice near my ear said. Timmy had left the conversation and stood by my side.
“I’m really sorry for shooting at you … I … uh …” he said.
His face turned a shade of crimson, and his eyes kept shifting between his father and me.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “You missed.”
His eyes shifted back to his dad for a moment before he spoke again. “Please don’t tell my dad.”
The young man barely looked eighteen, and the shame that his action had triggered was endearing. There was also something disconcerting about it. I didn’t want him to doubt himself in another one of these situations, not at times like these.
“You were protecting your dad and those men,” I said. “I knew someone was up there shooting. I should have announced myself.” With a smile, I extended my hand. “Maybe we can both learn from it.”
He gave me a meek smile in return before he took my hand. In the same moment, Michael entered our conversation.
“Sergeant,” he said.
I released Timmy’s hand and turned to the man from the CDC.
“Mr. Carver.”
“The officers won’t be joining us, and we should leave,” Michael said. I nodded in reply, but he had already turned on his heel and made his way to the Knight. I had a feeling we were in for an interesting ride.
Chief Dudley came over to me and shook my hand. “Thank you for helping us out back there,” he said.
I took it and, as I shook, blurted out, “Sorry for blowing up your gas station.”
Although his face didn’t look annoyed, he didn’t seem overjoyed either.
“I hope you find your wife,” I said. The worry that flashed across his face made his forehead wrinkle.
“As do I,” he answered. Before I could say anything else, he nodded and joined the other officers at their truck.
As the men drove off, I noticed an argument escalating at the passenger side of the Knight. The Shaffers had found their places in the back of the vehicle, but Michael waved a finger at Ash as he stood at the front passenger door. The man had no idea what he had gotten himself into. With a smirk on my face, I stepped closer, and heard the tail end of Ash’s argument.
“You do not get to tell me where I sit,” she said in loud voice. Michael drew in a breath of frustration and then spotted my approach.
“Sergeant,” he said, elated, “please tell your subordinate to sit in the back.”
“Why would I?” I asked. A glance at Ash told me she was royally pissed. Her eyes were wide, and her cheeks were flushed with anger. Michael glared at me in disbelief.
“Well, for one, you don’t have any seats in the back,” he said. I raised an eyebrow and glanced over Ash’s shoulder into the back of the truck.
“There actually is a seat, and if you ask nicely, Suzanne might give it to you,” I said calmly, “or else I suggest you sit on the floor—it beats walking.”
Ash looked pleased with my reply and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at Michael. Unfazed, the man stepped in closer. He drew in a breath, straightening his shoulders and raising his chest as if he wanted to make himself taller. That seemed to be the intention of men shorter than me and at a solid six feet tall, I got that a lot.
“Listen to me, Sergeant, or whatever it is you pretend to be,” he said in a hushed tone. With that he caught my attention and even Ash leaned in to listen.
“If you want to get your ass inside Jackson borders, you better do as I say,” he said. “I don’t know what your goal is, but considering the gear you’ve acquired, I’m guessing it’s on official business, and frankly, I don’t care. But don’t think this soldier routine of yours is fooling me one bit, especially not with that kid.”
From the corner of my eye, I could see Ash shift and knew she was ready to retort on the kid remark. Before she could, I gave her a hard stare. She caught it and closed her mouth, but from her facial expression, it was clear she disapproved. Without changing my own expression, I turned my gaze back to Michael.
“What do you want?” I asked. His posture relaxed, and he pointed a thumb at Ash.
“I need the front seat and not just out of comfort. You need to get the kid into the back,” he said. “Those hick cops might have been fooled, but you won’t be able to fool Jackson security—I can get you in.”
“What makes you think we need your help to get in?” Ash said. As she spoke, I glanced at the couple in the back. The husband and wife seemed oblivious to our conversation as they kept bickering among themselves.
“There is enough unrest between the official branches to create problems for you two, and soldiers might even take offense in your roleplaying game. I’m with the CDC, and they asked me to come,” Michael said with a smirk.
Not sure of what he meant, I considered asking him what his deal was but decided ag
ainst it. As long as he’d be able to get us closer to the airport in Jackson, I didn’t care what he did, and without breaking eye contact with Michael, I said, “Ash, please join the others in the back so Mr. Carver can ride in the front.”
I could imagine Ash’s scowl, but I kept my eyes on Michael. His smirk remained until he noticed how Ash squirmed past the front seat. He didn’t say it, but I could see the questions in his eyes about this kid not using her legs. He must have seen the chair in the back while we drove here, but maybe he hadn’t made the connection to Ash. After a moment, he returned his eyes to me. As our gazes reconnected, I narrowed my eyes, ready to hit him with a comeback if he decided on a smart-ass remark.
Fortunately, he kept his mouth shut about Ash and said, “We should get going.”
As he stepped inside the car, I drew in a breath. The warm, dry air did nothing to loosen the tightness in my chest. The CDC man didn’t seem interested in us and might be our ticket past a possible quarantine situation in Jackson, but I couldn’t help feeling anxious about the whole situation. For lack of a better word, Ash and I were fugitives. Dr. Warren was still out there, and I knew for sure he wasn’t happy about losing his favorite subjects. Hanging out with a CDC guy seemed a connection too close for comfort to another certain government agency. But then the thought of going home overruled my fears.
Warren
William lifted a finger in the air and swirled it around. Warren approached the desk filled with radio equipment where his aide had claimed a seat.
A few months ago, he wouldn’t have had this much trouble making an international phone call. The communications room at this healthcare and research center in Minnesota looked pitiful to him compared to the recourses provided by the military installation he used to occupy in Florida. Still, he had a feeling things were about to change. If only he could find his favorite subjects, then he could use them to regain his credibility.
