by JT Sawyer
The three of them had just finished sharing a can of tuna when Eliza heard the familiar sound of shuffling feet moving along the concrete bridge above. “Sounds like that big group of biters we saw off in the distance near that town to the north,” she whispered while resting her hand over the rifle slung in front of her chest. It felt at once comforting and unfamiliar, as she had only received a few minimal lessons in usage from Willis prior to departing.
“We’ve encountered more of them in the last day since we started north,” said Willis. “Wonder why that is?”
“Not sure, maybe it’s the weather,” said General Adams. “They might be affected by changes in barometric pressure just like other animals, who knows.” He was rubbing his right knee, which he explained earlier had suffered from too many airborne operations in younger days.
They waited thirty minutes more after the shuffling sound above had faded then they grabbed their packs and headed back to the road. As Eliza stepped out past a row of low shrubs, she looked to her left and saw the mob of undead ambling away a quarter mile in the distance. She pushed the shrubs out of her way with her knees and made her way along the blacktop in the opposite direction. To the north, she saw a cluster of six homes and two barns on the edge of the small ranching community.
After a mile of brisk walking, they rounded a bend in the two-lane highway and abruptly stopped, their cold faces trying to squeeze out grimaces as they spotted another group of zombies moving down the road in their direction.
“What the hell—is everybody just getting out of a town meeting or what?” said Willis.
Eliza and the others retreated back a few feet to a clump of wild raspberry bushes. She looked around but there was no place to hide, only more low-lying bushes and a few fallen trees. The farmhouses were a half-mile away and offered the only hope for cover.
Adams moved up alongside her. “We need to bolt for those homes. There are too many of them to fight here in the open. Our movement will take us on an angle away from the creatures but they’re gonna see us for sure.”
As the three of them crouched low into a sprinter’s position, Eliza heard a snorting sound. It reminded her of the noise a deer makes when it senses danger. She peered out around the bend and saw a lithe, yellow-faced mutant standing on the road. Its smooth, glossy head tilted upward as it frantically sniffed the air. With its streamlined appearance and sharp movements, it seemed totally different from the other creatures they had observed. The other mass of desiccated zombies was still a hundred yards behind it and she wondered where this unusual creature had come from.
Before she could say anything, General Adams had already moved forward. Instantly the mutant swung its head towards him and began bounding in their direction. It moved swiftly and had the gait pattern of an efficient runner.
The three of them burst out of their poorly concealed position and ran across the road through a gap in the barbed-wire fence and into a grassy field, then swung to the right towards the distant farmhouses. The thin mutant wasted no time and leapt over the four-foot-high fence, darting towards them. The tangle of zombies on the main road sluggishly readjusted their course and began following.
As they dashed across the meadow, Eliza turned and saw the swift mutant only twenty feet away, its cat-like sprint quickly closing the gap between them. Adams veered slightly to his right and fired off two rounds at the creature but missed when it zig-zagged to their rear. While Adams turned around to resume running, his left leg went into a prairie dog hole and his ankle made a crunching sound. The man went down hard under the weight of his pack.
Eliza and Willis stopped when they saw Adams go down and turned to level their rifles at the creature, who had returned to a linear movement. Its blinding speed overtook Adams and it tackled the man, causing both of them to somersault forward into an anthill. Willis ran forward, aiming his rifle at the tangled mass of limbs only to hear Adams screaming as part of his throat was torn apart. As the ball of man and beast came to a stop, the creature arched its bald head back, and opened its frothy red lips to bellow out a piercing shriek, then spun its glistening face towards Willis. Two rounds in the skull removed most of its forehead and it slumped back onto the mangled body of Adams.
“Jesus Christ, no—this can’t be happening,” shouted Eliza, whose grip was frozen on her weapon. “He can’t be dead—no!”
Both of them stepped forward to look at Adams. Willis gently turned the man on his side and removed his pack and weapons while keeping an eye on the approaching horde of zombies staggering across the uneven field fifty yards away.
Eliza looked down at the lifeless corpse of the yellow mutant, noticing a black collar around its neck. Its muscular frame showing through the torn blue t-shirt and black shorts resembled that of a triathlete she had known at college. “What the hell is this thing? It isn’t like the others.”
“Let’s go. We don’t have time to figure this out right now. Let’s hope there aren’t any more like it.”
Willis grabbed her arm and yanked her from the blood-soaked anthill as they continued running north towards the farmhouses and out of reach of the ravenous undead.
Chapter 10
Carlie and the others were led along the forest pathway through the dense canopy while their guide Alejandro wove along the trail like a deer. Carlie realized just how taxed her body was from fighting in the sun as her skin tried to soak up the cool shade. She followed behind the sinewy man while he led them along a half-mile of faint trails inland and then over a small volcanic escarpment that led down a ridgeline to the other side of the island. The man explained the names of the plants along the path and interpreted the occasional monkey chatter in the canopy. His verbal delivery seemed rehearsed, as if he had depressed a play button for a group of tourists. She thought him harmless enough and had little choice but to follow him if they were to help Amy. His mannerisms reminded her of an article she had once read about solitary lighthouse keepers and their odd social habits or lack thereof. It was clear that he was well-educated and when she questioned him about it, he replied that he had gone to the University of Texas in San Antonio and studied wildlife conservation. He had been assigned to the island as the caretaker four years previous by the Nature Conservancy and prior to that had worked in human rights in Guatemala where he was from. He struck Carlie as a caring person but was bristly at times with his curt replies; he seemed cut out for a hermetic life on this rugged island.
As they descended the ridge, the biological station below came into view. Upon approaching, Carlie could see the thrifty layout which consisted of a single-story structure of white plankboard with a tin roof which had served as a classroom and living quarters for visiting researchers and school groups. Next to this was a small outdoor kitchen with overhead thatched huts and wooden tables. A small array of solar panels and water catchment barrels lined the stone-tiled floor next to it. Fifty yards away to the right was a two-story lookout tower used for sea and wildlife observation.
“That is my home,” said Alejandro, pointing to the tower. “Fifty feet off the ground with a zipline that also goes into the jungle canopy to other platforms so I have several escape routes. The lower floor is my living space and kitchen and the upper floor has my viewing and radio equipment along with maps of the region for plotting turtle sightings.”
“What’s with the .22 magnum rifle with the bull barrel?” Carlie said. “That’s an unusual choice of rifle that I wouldn’t have expected to see down here.”
“Ah, you know your firearms, impressive. Were you a hunter?”
“The job I used to have saw to it that I was versed in shooting.”
“These were issued to myself and my colleagues for reducing the rodent and monkey population so the turtle nesting sites were not molested. Though I have some other rifles at my abode that I acquired from a maritime security vessel after the outbreak, I still prefer my old rifle.”
“Something that’s puzzled me,” said Shane. “How come we didn’t see any
creatures on that side of the island when we arrived and then there were a shitload of ’em this morning?”
“The storm last night brought them in,” the older man said. “Whenever the sea is choppy, there are bound to be a bunch of the dead falling off the cruise ships and docks on the mainland that then drift over here eventually.”
“And where is here, exactly?” shouted Jared from the rear of the line.
As they rounded a bend in the trail and an emerald bay came into view beyond the main compound, Alejandro spread out his arms. “This is Isla Contoy. And although it’s only 8.5 kilometers long, it’s all paradise.”
“How far to the mainland from here?” said Carlie.
“About an hour’s boat ride but that place is a wasteland,” Alejandro said, pausing to lean against the trunk of a palm tree and look at her. “You should rest here a while and let the young lady recover. Afterwards, if you want, we can go take a trip to Cancun for supplies. I need to make a supply run in a few weeks anyway. I can use some company—for a while anyway,” he said, turning around and continuing onward.
“You said you had a radio,” Carlie said, looking over her shoulder at Pavel and forcing herself to remember the need to get him back to the States. “What reach does it have? Can you pick up any chatter from the U.S.?”
“Yes, but it is spotty at times. It’s a low-watt HAM radio designed to communicate with the mainland but there is a way of boosting its output. There is also a helicopter and police vehicles near the main strip of beachside hotels in Cancun. That might provide you with radio components that could be used to strengthen the signal of my radio. That is, if we could get to it.”
When they arrived at the compound, Alejandro ushered them around the back to a gate that connected to the eight-foot-high chain-link fence that surrounded the small facility. Rushing up to the entrance were two border collies who eagerly pranced around the gate as their owner unlocked it.
“Dogs, eh?” said Shane. “I didn’t think I’d ever see one of them again.”
“They are quite friendly and always let me know when the undead are near. I don’t dare take them with me on my hikes though for fear of losing them to those unholy creatures. I couldn’t bear to be without them.”
As the gate opened, the two black-and-white border collies ran up to inspect the new arrivals.
Shane knelt down to pet them and ran his weathered hands over the soft head of the nearest one, who eagerly thrust its wet muzzle into his palm.
“What are their names?”
“The smaller one to your left is Mira and the other one is Ally.”
“Mira—that’s a pretty name,” said Pavel.
“Yes….why yes it is….” He paused, clearing his throat. “My daughter named her,” Alejandro said with a rigid expression on his face. He drew in a deep breath and rubbed his thumb and forefinger along his temple. “Uhm…come this way…we must get your friend inside and look at her wound. I have some antiseptics and other meds we can provide her with.”
As they walked into the gravel-covered courtyard, Carlie closed up the gates behind the group. Then she gazed out at the jade-green waters in the distance and then back to the compound, taking in her new surroundings. It finally looks like we might have a place to rest our weary bones for a while. I could sure go for an actual hot shower and some private space for even an hour. I’m not sure what that will feel like or how to even plan for anything beyond our next meal. Is this ordeal really over or has it just begun anew in a different light?
She looked around the area and up at the massive palm trees. God, what a lovely postcard this would’ve made. This guy has had it good, living in this sanctuary—all of his needs taken care of. What it must’ve been like being in his shoes compared to the hell we’ve just endured. She felt her breathing loosen up and her stride lighten. As she reflected on the comfort of her simple surroundings, she looked over to the right where there was a lush garden and beyond it to a three-foot row of dirt with a wooden crucifix at its end.
Chapter 11
Later that evening, after Alejandro had tended to Amy’s wounds and provided her with antibiotics, the rest of the group took turns using the solar-powered shower house and getting civilized again. Despite his eccentricities, Alejandro turned out to be a gracious host and invited them up to his lookout perch for dinner. After a supper of canned beef stew, fresh mango slices, and red wine, they sat around the small room and alternated between hearing Alejandro’s spotty knowledge on world events and glancing out at the glistening bay in the distance.
The two-story lookout was designed to comfortably house two people and their research equipment. The structure stood on massive metal posts fifty feet high with a staircase leading to a wrap-around porch made of welded metal. The first level was for storage and contained a well-stocked pantry, clothing, blankets, a wall-mounted HAM radio, medical supplies, and telemetry devices for wildlife monitoring studies. In one corner was a blue barrel filled with semi-automatic rifles Alejandro had obtained from a maritime security vessel that had run aground after the viral outbreak consumed the region. On a gray metal shelf beside the rifles were numerous pistols, magazines, and boxes of ammunition.
The second level was the living quarters and survey area which was comprised of large windows on all four walls. These opened upward to allow for an unobstructed view of the surrounding jungle and beach. On the right side was a small bed with a white metal frame, a long table covered with maps, a pair of oversized binoculars, and field journals. The rest of the room contained a stove, cooking pots, a spice rack, several wooden chairs, a desk, a bookcase, and personal storage compartments. Solar panels mounted on the roof provided interior lighting.
After everyone had finished cleaning the table, they spread out along the floor or on the simple furniture while the two affectionate border collies continually migrated from person to person. Matias broke off and went below to examine the HAM radio.
Carlie stood on the outside platform with her hands on the tarnished railing and stared out at the jungle below. Alejandro came out a few minutes later and stood with a cup of tea.
“It’s nice here. I can see why you wouldn’t want to leave,” she said.
“Yes, this patch of jungle has treated me well. It has been a good sanctuary and, at times,” he paused, his voice wavering, “a healing salve.” He looked down at the small grave below and squeezed his eyes shut briefly then abruptly turned back to Carlie. “You are welcome to stay as long as you like. There certainly is no shortage of supplies on the cruise ships or mainland.” He took a sip from his porcelain mug and then rested it on the railing. “You will have to forgive my gruff demeanor earlier when we first met. It had been a long time since I had so many words spoken at me.”
“It’s OK. I thought about that on the walk here. Though we can drive each other nuts at times, my friends and I have all been surviving together for so long, it almost feels we’re a single-celled organism, finishing each other’s sentences and all. I can only imagine what you were wondering when you happened across us today dressed in rags, running along the beach.”
Alejandro gave a faint smile. “Ah, these are strange times, aren’t they? Back in August before the world was engulfed, I was hard at work with my studies here. You know—going to make a lasting impact on the world of marine biology and help save a species from extinction.” He finished his cup of tea, swishing the warm fluid around in his mouth before swallowing. “Now, it seems like every other species will do just fine now that we are nearly gone, even the leatherback turtles here. They will rebound in a few decades now that there will be no more pressure from illegal hunting and the wildlife trade.”
“Well, we’ve just been dealt a sucker punch is all. We’re a pretty hardy race or we wouldn’t have made it this far in history to begin with.”
“Humans may have outlived their usefulness on this earth and nature is now dispensing with us—or God is simply toying with us—I haven’t decided yet.” He tipped hi
s cup over the edge, letting the last droplet disappear into the inky black night below. “The human race may be on the verge of extinction but the other species on this planet will be able to make a comeback. Perhaps the apex predator we thought we were was just an anomaly and will only be a small blip on this planet’s timeline. We are not and never were the most important product of nature on this globe, though we’d like to think so. Of course, that is the wildlife biologist in me talking. I’d like to stick around.”
“Yeah, well that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t go on trying to survive,” said Carlie. “We were born to claw our way to the top and fight our way out of the primordial pit apart from the other creatures.”
“‘Apart from the other creatures’… that is a very western thing to say. Like we have dominion over the earth and its inhabitants when, perhaps, we are just a small cog in the larger workings of evolutionary forces. That’s why I had a job as a caretaker of this island: because people thought that the turtles, the birds, the natural resources around them were for exploitation.”
“Yet here we are,” Carlie said. “Humans are amazing predators and that’s not something to apologize for.”
“There will always be a small percentage of any population that doesn’t succumb to nature’s bitchy moods. People like yourselves who have defied the odds due to sheer willpower and brute strength, or, in my case, being in the right place at the right time coupled with plenty of luck.”
“And plenty of ammo,” said Carlie. “Ammo is another huge factor in a person’s survival these days.”
****
As the night wore on, Carlie continued conversing with Alejandro indoors, eventually divulging some of her background, the details in tracking down the origins of the virus, and what led to them being stranded. She explained her pressing sense of duty to return to the U.S. and the role Pavel held in formulating a possible cure for their ravaged world. Just as she finished, Matias walked into the room and leaned against the door frame, staring into space. “It’s gone…the base is gone. White Sands, I think it’s been compromised. I modified the HAM radio frequency to bounce off the existing repeater towers in the southern U.S. mainland and send a message to White Sands but I just kept getting their emergency relay beacon.”
