You and Me against the World: The Creepers Saga Book 1

by Raymond Esposito

  “There’s a Cadillac dealership just up the road, at the entrance to the highway.”

  “You want to steal a Cadillac?”

  “Borrow one, and I’m thinking Escalade.”

  Devin looked at Brandon and then in the rearview mirror at his friend.

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Hey, all you got to do is stop. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  “Bro, I don’t think we need to add to our troubles,” Brandon said.

  “Caroline, what do you think?” Devin asked.

  “I beat my roommate’s head in today because she was creeping through the window to kill me, and I think we need something quicker than my car to make it home. I’m not worried about getting arrested. I think everyone will understand.”

  Devin shrugged, and Brandon pointed to the dealership coming up on the right.

  “Connor, I’m driving,” Devin said.

  “Fine, I call shotgun.”

  The faith that guides us

  Kevin Bradley and his band of survivors fought their way north through Texas. Survival seemed unlikely but he remained silent on that subject. His wife, little girl, and the people who depended on him didn’t need to know the truth of it.

  The trucks were almost out of gas, and their ammunition was low. They would be on foot by Oklahoma, and that would be bad. His plan was crazy, but it was the only plan he had left. Life came down to an almost forgotten e-mail sent by a friend who was most likely dead.

  The sight ahead interrupted his thoughts. Dead bodies filled the highway. The infected fed on the remains. It was too late to turn back, and they did not have the fuel to run. He stopped his truck and stepped out. Two young boys joined him, and he turned back to his wife.

  “If we go down, you run for as far as the truck will take you.”

  “You’re not dying,” his wife said. “God isn’t having it today, and neither am I.”

  He didn’t argue; her faith was unshakable. He tried hard to find his own faith, but his love of God still wasn’t stronger than his love for his family. That might be a sin he took with him all the way to Hell, but these days it seemed Hell had come to them. With or without the Lord’s help, he was determined to save his family even at the cost of his soul. God would need to forgive him this one small transgression. Still he bowed his head for a moment and prayed. When he looked up, his steel blue eyes saw that the infected ran toward them. He cocked his rifle.

  “Here they come. Now use those bullets wisely, boys.”

  “Yes, sir,” the two boys answered.

  Kevin took the first shot, and the charging infected dropped with a hole in its forehead.

  “The Lord is my shepherd,” he whispered and targeted the next running blasphemy.

  Wyoming seemed a long way away.

  Act III

  Fugue

  In psychology: a pathological state of altered consciousness in which individuals may act and wander around as though conscious, but their behavior is not directed by their complete normal personality and is not remembered after the fugue ends.

  In musical composition: a polyphonic composition based on one, two, or more themes, which are enunciated by several voices or parts.

  Chapter 12

  Night of the Cats

  Simon says … run!

  They made Northern Florida on their first long and surreal night’s drive.

  The caravan moved in tight formation through the dark summer’s night. The secondary roads allowed them to avoid the pileups on Interstate 75. In truth, the encounter with dead William’s group had served as a stark reminder that the infected were not the new world’s only danger. They felt safer passing through the small abandoned towns than risking the exposure of a major interstate. The children suffered the ride as all children did, with the occasional complaint of boredom and several requests for restroom stops. The younger teens, Vanessa and Brittney, seemed the most affected. The loss of the triplets, John, Josh, and Joseph left them quiet and disconnected. Thorn worried about them, but there was little that he could do. He was no psychologist but knew that despondent teens were often prone to reckless or suicidal behaviors. They already had enough of that without the two girls adding to it.

  Each town seemed more desolate than the last. The infected’s nighttime hibernation saved them from all but a few encounters with the Creepers. Occasionally, one of the infected would appear on the side of the road and charge the vehicles. At first, they rolled down a window and killed the galloping insanity, but after a while, they just ignored them.

  In several towns, they saw indications of other survivors. No actual people, but signs like the soft glow of firelight behind a boarded window or a few vehicles drawn together in a protective circle outside a building. Once, Thorn thought he saw flashlights inside a small grocery store. The Reflections Lake memory was still fresh, and they dared not investigate. The guilt of that silent agreement, that decision to abandon their role as rescuers, weighed on their faces whenever they passed a possible survivor’s house.

  In time, they simply stopped looking; but still, as they passed such places, the conversation would stall and the vehicles would fill with the same eerie silence as the surrounding town. When dawn approached, Thorn was grateful they had reached the Ocala National Forest outside of Lake City. They drove deep into the woods, circled their own vehicles, and took turns standing guard while the others slept. The air was hot and humid, and sleep was difficult. Sheer exhaustion only granted them a couple of fitful hours of sleep.

  On their second night, they faced a larger problem: fuel.

  Over half the county’s gas stations were categorized as “unbranded” retailers. These service stations and convenience stores bought no particular major brand and relied on independent contractors to deliver their supply three to four times a week. The gasoline supply for the Southeast portion of the country came from refineries in Louisiana and Texas. When the outbreak began, most service stations lost their deliveries, and the unbranded retailers were the first cut off. People scrambled to top off every tank and to fill every container. Now most of the fuel sat useless in abandoned vehicles and empty garages.

  The back roads provided greater safety for the group, but it also limited their ability to find gas to siphon from service station tanks. The C2, which had seemed like an excellent transport solution, ran on diesel, and that was even more difficult to find than gasoline. The big powerful engine burned fuel at an alarming rate, and early the second evening, it became clear that they might have to abandon it. This compounded the issue of supplies. The passenger van contained food, water, ammunition, and weapons. Moving the children to the van, which was the only vehicle large enough to carry them, required that they leave behind a large amount of supplies.

  Just over the Florida border, on the second night, they began a northwest turn across the less populated area of southwest Georgia. They planned to continue through Alabama, cross into Mississippi, and then take a diagonal route across Arkansas, staying below Little Rock but above the Texas border. This seemed the least populated route into Oklahoma, where they would then begin their northerly drive toward Wyoming via Kansas and Nebraska. Without more diesel fuel, however, they could not continue to rely on the army transport vehicle. If they abandoned the big C2, they would need two additional vehicles to gain enough space for both the children and their hard-earned supplies.

  For the moment, Devin’s goal was to keep them moving and to keep all their options open. He consulted a map from the pile on the dashboard.

  “Brandon, look for state Route 4. It should be on the left. We need to get on a major road and find some diesel.”

  “That could be dangerous,” Brandon warned.

  “I know, but what choice do we have? That beast isn’t gonna make it another twenty miles.”

  Brandon slowed the Escalade, and the speed
ometer fell from thirty to twenty. He scanned the roads to his left and looked for the sign in his headlights. The CB radio crackled and Thorn’s voice came over the speaker.

  “Is there a problem?”

  Devin picked up the microphone and pressed the button.

  “We’re gonna jump onto a main route and see if we can find diesel for the C2.”

  There was silence for a few seconds.

  “That could be dangerous,” Thorn said, and Brandon chuckled.

  “No choice, Doc, unless we want to abandon the C2 and put all the kids in the van.”

  “I understand; just thought I’d mention the danger.”

  “Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Austin said from the backseat.

  Brandon saw a white sign with a black number 4 outlined in the state’s shape.

  “There she is,” he called and swung the SUV to the left. The caravan followed.

  The road looked as empty and desolate as the one they had just left. The only notable change was that it became wider and seemed in slightly better repair. They drove around a single overturned Ford Explorer. No one looked to see if any passengers remained in the shattered vehicle. The road twisted and turned for another five miles until a final deep curve emptied them into another abandoned town. The town looked like something from another era with its small Main Street and local businesses. At the final intersection, before the road returned to the Georgia forest, they found a Race Trac service station on the corner. A large yellow sign listed the pre-apocalypse prices of the three common gasoline grades. Beneath it was another sign that read Diesel.

  They pulled into the two-island parking lot, and Devin keyed CB’s mic.

  “Okay, kill the engines and lights. Make a perimeter and watch for company. But no gunfire for one or two Creepers. I don’t want to bring the whole town down on us out here. Understood?”

  Out in the dark, quiet night, their nerves were on edge. Austin held his baseball bat, and Annie slid her machetes from their twin holsters.

  “Remember,” Devin reminded them in a whisper, “no gunfire unless it’s a horde.”

  Heads nodded in agreement. They spread out on both sides of the vehicles. Nick and Adam went to the underground fuel tanks and removed the caps until they found the diesel storage. It was empty.

  “I hope there’s a plan B?” Adam said.

  “Nick, how much is left in the tank?” Devin asked.

  “None. The needle is past the E.”

  “Well, fuck it, let’s just put some regular in the damn thing,” Brandon whispered.

  “Will that work?” Devin looked at Adam, who shrugged.

  “Come on, Adam, you’re the car guy.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not a damn mechanic. I have no idea if it will work or not.”

  “I don’t think so. Otherwise, no one would pay a dollar more for diesel,” Nick added.

  “Doc, what do you think?”

  They all looked at Thorn.

  “Boys, I have no idea. I’m with Nick—doesn’t seem likely.”

  Devin gave a frustrated sigh.

  “Okay, well, we have two choices. The first is we can move the kids into the van and take what supplies we can fit in the rest of the vehicles. The second is we can put gasoline in the damn thing and see what happens.”

  “I think it will ruin the engine,” Nick said.

  “Well, any other ideas?” Devin asked, but the others just shrugged.

  “Incoming,” Austin called in a loud whisper.

  They looked and saw the Creeper that galloped at Austin. It still wore a suit and tie that was covered in dirt and dried blood, and it was missing a shoe. Austin spun his Yankees cap around and twirled his bat. He took a few warm-up swings and then several quick steps forward as the Creeper reached for him. He swung the bat hard and connected with the Creeper’s head. The skull split with a loud crack, and the infected fell dead. Dark fluid drained from the open skull.

  “That kid has one hell of a swing,” Thorn whispered with sincere awe.

  “For real, right?” Brandon agreed.

  “Incoming,” Annie called from the other side of the vehicles, and she raised her blades in preparation. Brad stood next to her but didn’t draw his weapon. She would bitch at him endlessly for demonstrating any lack of faith in her ability. She did her pretty and effortless little dance move, and the second creature’s head rolled across the pavement. Devin turned back to the group.

  “We can’t stick around here,” he said, and his words were confirmed by a third and fourth call of “incoming.”

  “Nick and Adam, put some gasoline in it, and we’ll see what happens.”

  In the end, they filled the tank.

  That’s gonna be a problem

  The team didn’t know many things about the effects of gasoline in a diesel engine. They didn’t know the combustion pressures were different, they didn’t know that the gasoline would erode the fuel injector seals, and they didn’t know that it would completely screw the emission system. None of that information would have mattered with the number of waking Creepers; the inconvenient mechanical facts did not outweigh the absolute requirement for immediate escape. They were fully prepared to lose the C2 at some point, even if that point was no farther than a few miles down the road.

  The two things they were not prepared for still would not have changed their decision to try. They simply had no time to transfer the children from the C2 to another vehicle, not with the Creepers charging the parking lot. Not with their backs and asses exposed on three sides to attack. They had worked hard to remain quiet and avoid aggravating the situation with extra noise, and they fully intended their escape to be quieter and to go farther. The “wake the dead” noise of the choking engine shocked them, but it was nothing compared to the C2’s quick death just three quarters of a mile later. Three thousand feet was not the head start they had hoped to gain.

  Brandon led the departure back toward their original route with Adam, Brittney, and Vanessa. Fighting off the Creepers during the fill-up had changed the outlay of seat assignments, and Devin had joined Nick and Caroline in the C2, while Thorn and Susan drove the van behind them. Austin drove the final SUV with Annie, Brad, and Golden.

  Within five hundred feet, dashboard warning lights in the C2 began the flash. The engine barked like a big dog as the gasoline exploded too early in the engine cycle and parts rattled. Nick gunned the engine but the vehicle responded inversely, and it lost velocity with each passing foot. The noise woke up the neighborhood as they made their slow, painful escape out of town. Creepers charged from all sides.

  “Push it harder, Nick. We gotta roll out of here,” Devin yelled.

  “I’m trying, bro, but it’s not working, and it feels like we’re dragging a house.”

  “Try nursing it.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “You know press and release the pedal. Maybe that will work.”

  Nick tried and it worked a little, and they picked up more speed. The needle on the speedometer rose to ten, then fifteen, and finally twenty. The engine screamed and barked louder.

  “They’re in trouble back there,” Adam said as he looked out the Escalade’s back window.

  Brandon, who had cruised up to thirty miles an hour, released the accelerator and let the vehicle slow.

  Austin rode the bumper of Thorn’s van. He attempted to block the Creepers who tried to climb on the van’s bumper. Thorn thought Austin wanted him to move faster, so he accelerated closer to the C2.

  When the C2’s engine suffered a catastrophic, but thankfully contained, internal explosion, it felt like a concussion grenade in the cabin, and the children screamed. Nick slammed on the brake, fearing the entire vehicle would explode.

  The C2 was not equipped with brake lights and Thorn’s only warning was the smoke that poured from its
tires. He hit his own brakes hard, but there wasn’t enough space to stop the overloaded van. It slammed into the back of the C2, and steam sprayed from the punctured radiator.

  Austin had a moment’s notice of the impending disaster. He had the advantage of well-tuned and youthful reflexes born of baseball and video games. He also had a good measure of risky teenage bravado. He pumped the brake once, abandoned the option when it became apparent that wouldn’t work, cranked the wheel ninety degrees left, and stuffed his foot hard on the accelerator. The Tahoe shot past the van with less than an inch of clearance. He lost the SUV’s side mirror as it sheared off on the van. Past the wreck, he twisted the wheel right and slid into the empty space between the dead C2 and the Escalade.

  Brandon stopped the Escalade, and he, Adam, and the girls ran back to the crash.

  “Is everyone okay?” Devin asked.

  They were shaken but with no injuries.

  “Fuck, now what?” Adam yelled, frustrated.

  “Let’s move quickly. Caroline and Susan, get the kids in that van.”

  “Dev, I think the van is dead,” Thorn said apologetically.

  “Nope, it’s still running, and we have no other options. Let’s see how far it will go. Everyone else, we need to hold off the horde until the kids are moved.”

  “What about all the supplies in the van? Should we dump them?”

  “No, just pile the kids on top of it. This isn’t about comfort.”

  “Dev, look,” Austin pointed down the street. It was impossible to tell how many were galloping at them in the dark. The moonlight provided enough light to see that it was a lot.

  Devin looked around at the deep, dark woods. There really were no options. They could not run. They needed to get the kids moved and get mobile.

  “Just make a line and kill everything you can kill,” Devin called out and then whispered, “We’re screwed this time.”