I only had to drive through two side yards to get to the intersection. I crept up to the corner lot and came to a stop. I checked for any infected nearby but didn't see any. The underpass was just two blocks away. I could hear the faint sound of distant moans but nothing close by. 39th South was normally a two-way street with two lanes and a suicide lane in the middle. But there were four lanes of cars squeezed together all heading east in the direction of the freeway. The crowded lanes were backed up at least three blocks from the freeway entrance, maybe four.
Almost all the windows and windshields of the cars were smashed and broken. Some of the doors had been partially opened, but the cars were so tightly packed together, the doors hadn't opened far enough to allow people to exit their vehicles. They'd been trapped in their vehicles, easy prey for the infected. Some of them may have crawled out the car windows to get away. It's what I would have done. A faint stench of rotting bodies permeated the air and I closed the window.
It wasn't all that hard to figure out what had happened here. It had all begun with the freeway entrance. Midway up the ramp were several wrecked vehicles, the result of head-on collisions. Cars already on the freeway tried to use the freeway entrances as exits. They must have been at the tail end of the cars backed up on the freeway from the blockades. Having seen the infected swarming the cars on the freeway, they must have turned around and tried to use the freeway entrances as exits. The freeway entrance on 39th South had been bottlenecked from cars trying to enter and exit at the same time. The same was probably true for the other freeway entrance on the other side of the underpass, though I couldn't see it. The lone exit was clogged shut with stranded cars. People trying to use the freeway exit couldn't get off because of all the cars jammed together on 39th South. The underpass itself wasn't any better. It was packed with cars with nowhere to go. And with the accidents and people honking their horns, it probably hadn't taken long for the infected to show up. The people trapped in their cars must have been terrified. There must have been a mad scramble to get away.
I had to decide what to do. I didn't know how much time I'd have before the Swimmer showed up. It had only taken me a couple minutes to travel from the Josephsons' house to 39th South. I figured the distance to be a little over a mile. As fast as he was running, I thought it might take the Swimmer seven minutes or so. But it was only a guess.
I had to make a decision. I knew I wouldn't be using the underpass tonight under any circumstances. But I had to decide where I would spend the night. I could stay somewhere nearby and maybe scout out the underpass early in the morning before I headed to Sarah and Becky's. The other option was to try to make it to their house tonight.
The underpass worried me. When the time came, I'd have to travel three or four blocks out in the open on foot. I knew the cars would help camouflage my movements, but with the cars so tightly packed together, it might be difficult getting by them.
Finding a house nearby and then spending the morning studying the underpass might not be a bad idea, but what would I do with the ATS? While I wasn't worried about the other infected associating me with the ATS, the Swimmer might recognize the car if I parked it nearby. Then he'd know I was close by, and I wasn't comfortable with that idea. I needed to get as far away from the Swimmer as possible.
I studied 39th South as it stretched westward. The lanes were strangled with cars for nearly two blocks. I thought I might be able to drive through the yards that far, but it would be a challenge. While front yards in most of the neighborhoods in the area were roomy, front yards on 39th South were relatively small, no more than twenty feet from the front steps to the sidewalk. I didn't see any front yard fences, but it was difficult to see clearly that far down the street. The only light came from the street lamp at the intersection.
I decided to take my chances. I packed the bat and the Glock into the backpack. If I got stuck, I'd abandon the car and cross 39th and get into a backyard. Finding a suitable house to spend the night wouldn't be a problem.
Halfway down the second block, a yard with a thicket of young birch trees blocked my way. The trees lined the left side of the yard out to the sidewalk in a figure-eight pattern. The trees were maybe three inches in diameter, too thick to run over. I stared at an opening between the trees and a Nissan Altima that was wedged into the curb. The opening spanned the sidewalk. It would be a tight fit at best and I didn't know if I'd be able to get the ATS cleanly by. But if I could squeeze past the trees and the car, I'd only be a block from 31st East. From there, it would only be a few minutes to Sarah and Becky's house. The only other option was to abandon the car and cross 39th South to find a house. But the truth was, I'd grown fond of the ATS. It had been like a good luck charm. Driving the car was a lot easier than trudging through neighborhood backyards.
I checked the rearview mirror for any sign of the infected but saw nothing. It bothered me not knowing how close the Swimmer might be. I decided to roll the dice. I eased the ATS slowly into the opening, hugging the tree as close as I could while avoiding the Nissan. I'd moved a couple feet past the closest birch tree when I realized the side-view mirror on my side wasn't going to make it past the tree. I cursed the mirror, but then came up with an idea. I veered the car into the birch tree to see if I could get the tree to bend. The tree gave a couple inches but not enough to get the mirror past it.
I figured I'd been lucky so far. I hadn't hit the Altima which meant I had managed to get past its front bumper. From my driver's side seat, I couldn't actually see the Nissan's bumper. The Altima's right front tire was jammed into the curb at an angle and the head light and bumper had spilled over the curb maybe ten inches. It was critically important to avoid hitting the car. Last thing I needed was the sound of metal scraping against metal. As long as I kept riding the car into the tree, I might get by if I could swing the car to the right at the right moment, then back to the left. I checked my rearview mirror again. Nothing there. But even though there was no sign of the infected, I still felt antsy. I didn't like sitting there stuck between the stubborn birch tree and the Altima. I rode the car harder into the tree, but the car screeched when the tree scraped the fender. I stopped the car immediately, but the damage had been done. There was no point in trying to remain quiet any longer. If there were infected nearby, they would certainly have heard the shrill screeching. I moved the ATS forward and swung it hard into the tree, and just before the tree was about to strike the mirror, I turned sharply to the right to see if could get the mirror by the tree, then swung the car back to the left. The tree smacked the mirror pretty hard but just the tip of it, and I eased my way past the tree.
Just before taking off, I checked the rearview mirror one more time, and there they were, four of them, standing under the lurid glow of the street lamp, tilting unsteadily like drunken sailors. They had to be from the group of infected who had laid siege to the house on Lisa Drive. They peered down the street at the ATS, then began to shuffle in the direction of the car, relentlessly focused. I'd underestimated them. And I couldn't help but think the Swimmer might not be far behind. I drove the ATS quickly past the last half block of abandoned cars and then veered onto 39th South.
Once out on the street, it only took me a few seconds to reach 31st East where I turned right and floored it. But I slowed immediately. I slowed because there was a serious dip in the road a half block up where a side street intersected with 31st East. I also realized flooring the gas might alert any infected in the area. I needed to settle down. I eased the car past the dip and checked the intersecting street for any sign of the infected but didn't see any. A block up ahead was a four-way stop. I had a fleeting feeling of deja vu. There was something reminiscent about the street and the four-way stop, though I couldn't quite place it. I slowed as I approached the intersection. I racked my brain trying to bring up the memory, but the harder I thought about it, the further away the memory drifted. There was a school catty-corner from the four-way stop. A sign on the corner spelled out Wasatch Jr. High Warrior
s. And again, the familiar sight teased my mind.
I cruised to the middle of the intersection and eased to a stop. I scanned the street both ways but didn't see any infected. Intuitively, I looked to my right a second time and caught a glimpse of the freeway, and the memories broke free. Skyline High School was located two blocks down the street, and just a block past the school was an underpass. Because of the slope of the street, I couldn't see the underpass, but I knew it was there. I'd driven this way a couple times for Alex's football games back when we were in high school, maybe ten years ago. Murray vs. Skyline. And I remembered the underpass. I couldn't remember ever using the underpass or the freeway entrance, but it was there nonetheless. Just one freeway entrance and no exits. And during the summer months when school was out, I knew the underpass was rarely used.
I backed the ATS up and turned down the street. I had to stem a rising tide of excitement within me as I headed toward the underpass. I felt juiced but did my best to remain calm. I knew this might be my ticket out of the valley. The street had several speed bumps and I slowed for each one. I stayed patient and managed not to drive like a maniac. Last thing I needed was to attract any infected in the area. I passed Skyline High on my left with its bizarre undulating roof, a remnant of the '60s. The school was dark and almost certainly empty. After passing the school, I went through another four-way stop and then I was there.
There was a single freeway entrance on the other side of the underpass and no exits, just as I remembered. Cars were tightly packed together on the entrance much as they had been on 39th South, but this underpass would be much easier to cross. I would be able to drive past the underpass to where the cars were jammed up at the freeway entrance. From there, I'd have to go on foot, but it would only be two blocks or so to a residential neighborhood. And then it dawned on me that this street was the same street that turned into Millcreek Canyon Road. While I never had any intention to drive up the canyon road—all the canyon roads had been blockaded on Black Saturday—I had planned on using the road as a guide to take me east through the mountains. I would parallel the canyon road from up high and stay clear of any infected roaming the canyon floor. The mountains through the canyon wouldn't be as steep or as difficult a passage as their towering neighbors. I had to pinch myself. I couldn't believe my luck. Everything was suddenly falling into place.
For a moment I got caught up in the excitement of having a viable escape route and was tempted to take it, but then I thought about Sarah and Becky. They had taken up residency in the periphery of my mind, never very far from my thoughts. And I couldn't help but wonder if my guilt over Alex had placed them there.
I still had no idea what they looked like, which I had to admit bothered me some. Not that it was important that I knew what they looked like. It's just strange when you can't associate a face with a name. I suppose in a way, they were like the people whose homes I'd stayed in the past few weeks. People I'd never seen or met yet shared a certain intimacy with, a connection, even if the connection were tenuous. I believed the same to be true of Sarah and Becky. I'd never met them or seen them, but I still felt connected to them.
I made a u-turn and headed back to the four-way stop, driving with a renewed sense of urgency. I managed my speed as best I could. I believed I had enough time to get to Craig Drive before the infected would arrive at 31st East. As long as I could be out of sight before they arrived, they wouldn't have any idea which way I'd gone. When I arrived at the four-way stop, I glanced back down to 39th South but didn't see them. I turned right on 31st East and accelerated at an even pace till I reached a top speed of forty. There were no speed bumps in front of the junior high to slow me down. I slowed as 31st t-boned into Craig Drive.
I turned left when I got to Craig and was quickly out of view. I relaxed and slowed to a pedestrian speed, keeping my lights off. Craig Drive sloped downward toward the valley as all the westbound streets near the mountains did, though Craig wasn't particularly steep.
Most of the porch lights were off and it was too dark to make out the addresses on the homes. A two-story home on the even side of the street had their porch light on and I could just make out the address—2940. I took a nervous breath. I was less than a block from the Josephsons' home which would be on my right.
The ATS felt stuffy and the smoky odor from the leather seats was starting to get to me. I wasn't used to the leathery smell of a newer car. I lowered the windows so I could breathe easier and hear if any infected were nearby. A subtle chorus of faint moans drifted aimlessly through the night, rising and falling endlessly. It was impossible to tell which direction they were coming from, but they didn't seem to be coming from the immediate area.
I felt somewhat tense, though for once it had nothing to do with the proximity of the infected. I was feeling anxious about meeting Sarah and Becky, anxious and excited at the same time. I often felt awkward meeting people for the first time. I was perfectly comfortable teaching my fifth graders, but I was out of my element when it came to making new friends or engaging in social banter. I wasn't frightened at the prospect of meeting them, just tense.
Their home had to be close now. I pulled the car over and stopped alongside the curb where I believed their house would be. Stopping here would be temporary. I planned to abandon the ATS and stash it at least a few blocks away, preferably out of sight.
I pulled the bat from the backpack and set it on the seat next to me. I knew opening the door would be far too noisy. I took off my seat belt and began to ease myself through the window, face toward the asphalt. I grabbed the dinged side-view mirror and used it for support. Halfway through, I twisted my body around and sat on the bottom of the door's window frame. I gripped the upper part of the door frame, tucked my right leg into my chest and turned and edged my leg out the window. The rest was easy. Once I had my feet firmly on the street, I reached in the car and grabbed the bat.
I looked back to where 31st East intersected with Craig Drive just to make sure there were no infected around. A dullish street lamp lit up the intersection. I watched closely for several seconds but didn't see a thing. Satisfied, I hurried up the sidewalk. Two-thirds of the way to the front steps, I was able to make out the address—2889. It wasn't the right house, but the Josephsons' would very likely be the next house down. I crossed the lawn furtively, not making a sound. I checked the address next to the darkened porch light and it matched the number she'd given me over the phone.
The Josephsons lived in a two-story home with beige vinyl siding and a four-foot, rust-colored brick facade that wrapped around the front of the house to the sides. It made for a nice effect. But it was the yard that stood out. The yard had been meticulously landscaped and well tended by a caring hand. Bushes and gardens full of flowers bordered the front of the house, enhanced by an intricate precision in the spacing of the flowers, plants, and bushes. And even in the dark amidst the proliferating weeds, the flowers offered a colorful array. The weeds had been held in check by bark chips that had been filled in thickly on the ground surrounding the flowers and plants. Angled brick edging had been used as a border. The bricks snaked along the periphery of the gardens in an elongated S shape. The same brick edging had been used to circle the trunks of the two mature trees in the front yard, an elm and an oak.
There was a late model Corolla parked in the driveway. Claret red. For a moment, I wondered why their car wasn't parked in the garage. But I let it go and headed back to the car.
It was easier climbing back into the ATS than it had been getting out. After getting settled, I eased away from the curb and inspected the neighboring homes as I cruised by. Two houses down was a ranch-style brick bungalow. The ranch style home was an oddity on Craig Drive. I decided to use it as my landmark since it was the only house that wasn't a two-story affair. I had already decided to use a backyard route to get back to the Josephsons'. I had spent enough time out on the streets and didn't want to press my luck. The bungalow would serve as my landmark to make it easier to find the Jose
phsons' home.
I also needed to find an abandoned house that would have food. The fourth house down had a soft light on in an upstairs window, not too bright, probably a bedroom desk lamp. The rest of the house was dark. The picture window in front had sash curtains that were pulled back to the sides. The interior of the house was filled with murky shadows. None of the windows in the home had been shuttered up. Whoever had lived in the home was likely gone. If they'd been home, they would have turned the bedroom light off that first week. They would have hunkered down like everyone else and made sure their home was buttoned up tight, but they didn't. I guessed they had taken off that first week. The house would likely have some food, though I wasn't sure how much. The amount of food would depend on whether they'd left because they needed to go to a hospital or whether they packed up to leave the valley. Either way, this would be the first place I'd look for food for Sarah and Becky.
The house was a perfect candidate for finding food, at least that's what I was thinking when a shadowy figure suddenly appeared in the upstairs window. A gaunt female. Not much more than a slender whisper of a person. She looked down at the ATS and began to slap feebly at the window pane with the palm of her hand, trying to get my attention. The soft light must have been behind her since it threw her face into obscure shadows. Her head trembled in a slight elliptical orbit as if she were trying to keep her head up but her neck muscles weren't up to the task. She appeared trapped in a never-ending struggle between her weakened neck muscles and gravity. I assumed she'd been infected early on and had been stuck in her bedroom ever since. I'd have to find another home to look for food.
Jacob's Odyssey (The Berne Project Book 1) Page 14
