by John Ringo
Mia exchanged Looks with Hashim in the passenger seat. Taking one of her cheerleaders in to a potential deathtrap like a gas station was pretty high on her list of things she really didn’t want to do…but no other option seemed to present itself.
“Okay,” Mia said as they drove. “Here’s what we’ll do. Hashumi, I’ll give you my card. You hop out and start pumping. If that doesn’t work, Danny and I will go in and authorize the pumps. We’ll need to find a gas station that still has its lights on, though.”
* * *
“Kill the lights!” Allison screamed, pulling the trigger of her 20-gauge and pumping another round into the chamber. “Kill the fucking headlights, Evan! They’re attracted to the lights!”
Evan, on the other side of the camper, would have loved to have killed the headlights. Unfortunately, he was a little busy holding off a naked adolescent girl who was doing her ever-loving best to get her teeth into his neck. He got his feet planted under him and spun, smashing her head into the steel I-beam that flanked the gas pumps at the Circle K in Farmington, NM. The infected girl’s skull caved in, and blood and other fluids leaked out of her ears and eyes. Evan threw her body away from himself as quickly as he could, and then reached for his Kimber 1911 as the sound of Allison’s shotgun came around from the other side.
Suddenly, tires squealed, and a gunmetal grey Nissan plowed through the wall of naked bodies that streamed toward the beleaguered camper. Just as quickly as he’d arrived, Max threw the truck into reverse and backed back the way he’d come, running back over bursting rib cages, tires slipping on the blood and entrails in his wake. Several of the infected turned away from the camper, toward this new source of food and noise, and Allison, at least, was able to get her door open, throw in the bag of groceries she’d gotten, and climb into the passenger seat. Another blast from her 20-gauge rang out as she shot through the open door, severing the arm of the closest infected. She kicked the severed arm out of the car and slammed the door shut. “EVAN!” she screamed as she leaned over and turned the key, starting the camper’s powerful engine.
Evan shot one, then another as they came at him. He fumbled at the door handle, his hand slick with sweat. Eventually, he got it open, but not before one of the infected managed to squeeze between the gas pump and the supporting I-beam and sink his teeth into Evan’s calf. Evan howled and shot the attacker in the head, but the sting in his calf said that he was already too late. He’d broken the skin. He was infected.
“Allison,” he said.
“Evan, no,” Allison said. “Get in. Please.”
“No. I’m hit. Slide over and drive. Stay with Max. Get Kimber to safety. I love you.”
“Evan!”
“I love you, Allison,” he said again, as he reached across the seat for the shiny red plastic two-way radio he’d been using to talk to Max in the grey truck. Allison, sobbing, did as he bid, sliding over the center console into the driver’s seat while he turned and shot at another infected reaching for them. Evan Dwyer kissed his wife, one last hard, long kiss on the mouth, and then slammed the door.
Allison could barely see through her tears, but she slammed the camper into reverse and gunned the engine, her tires squealing on the concrete as she backed out rather than attempt to plow through the crowd that never seemed to end.
“Max, Evan.”
“Evan, buddy, you guys out?”
“Negative. Allison’s out. I’m hit.”
Long pause. “Shit.”
“Yeah. Got an idea,” Evan said as he shot another one off of him. He had three bullets left in this eight-round mag. He’d left his spare mags in the camper. Good thing, too. Allison or Max could use the .45 ammo.
“Go with idea.” Max said. He could see the camper approaching now. He could see Allison’s face. Shit.
Evan lifted the hose of the gas pump and began spraying fuel. He wasn’t sure if this would work as well as it always seemed to do in the movies, but he did know that gasoline atomized fairly well, especially when you held your finger over the hose in order to make it spray into the air. He mentally thanked Allison for jamming the shutoff mechanism when she’d gone inside. That had been a bit of genius.
The infected seemed to be thrown off by the smell of the gasoline filling the air. Evan found that incredibly funny as the first shiver of fever started to race through him.
“Evan?”
“Yeah. So. I’ve soaked this place down well with gas. You still got those .762 tracers that I don’t have and neither of us knows where I got?”
Despite himself, Max smiled. “Yeah.”
“What say I draw a big crowd into my little gasoline shower and you light this fucking place up?”
“You got it, buddy,” Max said as he wheeled the truck around. He had Evan’s AK-47 in his lap.
“Max.”
“Yeah,”
“Take care of my girls.”
“Like they were my own, man. I give you my word.”
“Ha! A gunner’s word,” Evan said, jokingly. Before he’d qualified as a flight engineer, he’d been an aerial gunner once, just like Max. “The fuck’s that worth?”
Max laughed, blinking the tears aside as he pulled up to within the AK’s range. He could see Evan there, on the radio, standing in the midst of a puddle of gas, spraying the shit out of the place.
“Evan,” Max said over the radio, his voice little more than a whisper.
“Yeah.”
“In place.”
“Roger. Here’s to gunpowder and pussy, man.” Evan said, shooting one of the slowly approaching infected. The rest of the infected turned toward him and began to gather faster, lunging at him. He fired another bullet. “Live by one…”
“Die by the other,” Max whispered. He braced the AK on the door frame and took aim at the puddle at Evan’s feet.
“Love the smell of both,” Evan finished with satisfaction. Then he put the 1911 in his mouth and pulled the trigger, just as the horde of infected surged toward him, entering the cloud of atomized gasoline.
Max pulled the trigger, sending a single red tracer winging through the night.
The crowd of infected enveloped Evan’s body as a tiny blue flame flickered on the surface of the gas-soaked concrete. Then the air itself ignited in a blinding flash that had Max diving for the floorboard of his truck and had the truck itself rocking on its shocks, even at this distance. In the back seat, his girls woke up crying, both of them, for their mother. Max could only barely hear them through the ringing in his ears. He shook his head and forced himself back up into his seat, where he wheeled the truck around and headed back to the sheltered spot where he’d left Allison and the camper.
* * *
The clock on the dash read 8:23. Not terribly late, but the events of the day were taking their toll. Most of the cheerleaders were sleeping, heads leaning on one another or the windows. Hashim was awake, but he was deeply involved in the message boards he’d pulled up on his iPad. Mia was sick of listening to emergency messages that never changed and was saving the charge on her iPhone in case Max called. So it was kind of ironically funny that she jumped a mile high in her seat when the phone buzzed against the plastic of the van’s center console.
“Hello?”
“Baby?”
“Max? Yeah, I’m here. You guys ok?”
“Yeah.” Long pause. “We lost Evan.”
“Oh shit.” Hashim looked up at that one, his eyes worried. Mia mouthed “Evan” to him, and the microbiologist closed his eyes briefly.
“Allison okay?” Even as she asked, Mia knew it was a stupid thing to say. Of course Allison wasn’t okay. She’d just lost her husband. Mia knew she’d be pretty fucking far from okay if it had been Max. But she didn’t know how else to ask about her friend.
“No,” Max said. “But she’s holding. For now. She and Kimber weren’t hit. Evan got bit. Listen. We figured out that they’re attracted to light and motion. We got mobbed when we stopped for gas in Farmington. So be caref
ul going through there.”
Mia looked up as they passed a sign. Farmington, 25 miles. “Roger,” she said. “Where’d you stop?”
“At the Circle K we usually use. It’ll probably still be burning when you go past. Evan went out with a bang. Took a lot of those fuckers with him.”
Despite everything, Mia smiled. That was exactly how Evan would have wanted it. “Good for him,” she said. “Right, so we’ll watch out for Farmington.”
Another long pause. “How are the kids?” Max asked. “Anyone sick?”
Mia glanced over her shoulder at the team. “Not yet,” she said. “Hashim says it’s early yet, but I’m hopeful.”
“Me too. I love you, baby. Stay safe.”
“You too. I love you too.”
As she hung up the phone, a soft, almost apologetic cough sounded from the far back seat.
“Coach?” It was Sonia’s voice, one of their tiny freshman “flyers.” She was good, always stuck her stunts at the top of their pyramid.
“What is it, Sonia?”
“I don’t feel so good.”
* * *
Thanks to the van’s auxiliary fuel tank, they were able to avoid stopping for gas in Farmington. As they rolled past the remains of the Circle K (which was, in fact, still burning) Mia could see what Max had been talking about. Not only was there a crater where the parking lot had once been, but the entire front half of the building was gone and the rest was in flames. Still, though, the light and sound of the burning wreckage seemed to draw the infected out. Mia was surprised. She didn’t think that Farmington had had that many people in it, let alone that many who’d been infected already. When she mentioned this to Hashim, though, he just shrugged.
“The bloodborne virus is much faster to spread than the airborne version,” he said. “If you have one infected who attacks a living human, and then that one turns, who turns another…it would not take long, especially not in such a small community.”
Mia felt herself pale, and then shoved that thought away in the back with the thought of vaccine production and four dead cops. She’d deal with all of that later. “I see,” she said.
Hashim nodded. “It is a shame that we cannot harvest some of them for vaccine, but it is not worth the risk at this point.”
“No,” Mia said, “I agree.” Her eyes flicked up to the rear view mirror, where Sonia lay in the back seat, loosely bound by bungee cords so that she could be restrained when the time came. As of right now, she still just had a fever, but from what Hashim was saying, it wouldn’t be long.
“What will you need to produce the vaccine?” Mia asked, determined to think of something else. “Besides infected tissue?”
“It is really very simple,” he said. “A small x-ray machine, some minor lab equipment. That is all.”
Mia frowned. Torrey, UT, the town where her mother lived, wasn’t large by any stretch of the imagination. It had less people than Farmington and nothing resembling a hospital…except…
“The community clinic!” Mia said, snapping her fingers. “We had to take Micaela there when she was little and broke her arm. They’ve got an x-ray machine, and I’d imagine most of the lab supplies you’ll need.”
“Where is this clinic?” Hashim asked.
“It’s in downtown Torrey, or what passes for a downtown in a town as small as Torrey. It’s right on the main road…oh.” Mia felt her enthusiasm drain away as she thought her plan through. “That’s exactly where they’d go if they were getting sick.”
“Probably,” Hashim agreed. “But, it is small, yes? Perhaps we can fight our way in and barricade ourselves inside?”
Mia snorted. “Yeah, that sounds like a lot of fun,” she said softly, but then sighed. “But, as I don’t have a better idea, I guess your plan is it. But first,” she said, slowing and flipping off her headlights as they started approaching a lit section of the highway. “We need gas, and Shiprock is about our last resort for a long ways.”
Hashim looked up, focusing on the buildings coming in to view. “Big town?”
“Smaller than Farmington, but not by much. They’re almost linked. There’s a place we usually stop near the outskirts, after we make our turn. I think that might be our bet.”
“What is your plan? Do you still intend to act as normal?”
Mia pursed her lips, then shook her head. “I think it’s too dangerous. Max said that the lights attracted a horde of infected. I think we’ll just have to go in and out as fast as we can.”
“I will pump the gas, then” Hashim said, as though asking for confirmation, “while you take Danny inside?”
“I think so. Do you think you can keep them off the van?”
“Perhaps, if your team can shoot from the windows, that would also be good.”
Mia nodded, then looked up in the rearview mirror to see eleven pairs of eyes open, listening to their conversation. She met Danny’s gaze, and the junior nodded.
“Give Jessa your rifle, and take her shotgun,” Mia said. “When we go in, you follow close behind me. I’ll clear the store itself, you just worry about getting behind the counter and getting the gas turned on, you got it?”
“Yes, coach,” he said. In the seat in front of him, Sam pulled off the body armor he’d been wearing and handed it to Danny. It was too big, but better than nothing, Mia supposed. Especially if they got mobbed. It might keep Danny alive long enough for Hashim to come get them.
“All of you, when we come to a stop, take aim out the windows. Don’t shoot until you have to do so. One, we don’t have ammo to waste and two, we don’t want the noise to draw more of a crowd than we have to.” Mia turned the wheel as she spoke, not stopping for the red light, turning on to US 491, the highway that would take them north into Colorado and then Utah.
A few more blocks, and Mia slowed. The gas station looked good. Parking lot was empty, lights were off. Nothing moving. Yet. She turned in to the driveway and cut the engine, coasting to a stop next to one of the pumps in a move that impressed even herself. She glanced back over her shoulder at Danny, who was poised next to the door. At her nod, he opened it, slowly, trying not to make too much noise. She followed suit and dropped softly out of her seat onto the concrete. She left her door open and began to jog toward the building. Naturally, it was locked, but Mia solved that problem neatly by shoving a sweatshirt up against the glass and having Danny hit it with a rock. Not a perfect solution, she mused, grimacing at the muffled crash and tinkle of glass hitting the ground, but it was what she had on short notice. She reached inside, flipped the deadbolt open and opened the door to the convenience store.
It was dark inside, and Mia blinked quickly, trying to force her eyes to adjust. Not for the first time on this adventure, she wished she had a pair of night vision goggles. She’d probably look pretty damn ridiculous, rolling around in her old flight helmet with a pair of goggles on the front, but it would be super useful to be able to see in the dark.
Goggles or not, she had a job to do here. Danny was already moving for the front counter, doing a passable job of being quiet and careful. He didn’t really know how to professionally clear a room, but neither, for that matter, did she. All either of them had was good sense and self preservation. It would have to be enough.
She moved quietly through the store, methodically checking each of the four small aisles. She quickly looked in the restrooms and the back storeroom. All appeared to be clear. She went back out to the front to see Danny smiling at her, giving her a thumb’s up. Apparently, he’d gotten the pumps turned on. A quick glance outside told her that Hashim was fueling the van, and all looked quiet for the moment. Time to get some supplies.
She motioned Danny over to the snack aisle, and pointed out the things she wanted. Mostly beef jerky and bottles of water, though she did throw in another four pack of Sugar Free Red Bull. It was still five hours from here to Torrey, and with Sonia sick and others to follow, Mia had the feeling it was going to be a long night.
Speaking of
which, she thought, turning to the small stash of automotive and hardware supplies the little store carried. She grabbed every roll of duct tape they had, plus some more bungee cords and a couple of multitools.
“Coach!” Danny called out in a harsh whisper. “I think we’d better go!”
Mia looked up right as the first infected came crashing through the hole they’d made in the front door.
“Shit!” she yelled. “Danny, get around the other side, get back to the van!” She drew her .45 and kicked the metal shelf, knocking several items to the floor with a resounding crash. “Hey!” she yelled, using her best “gotta be heard over turning rotors and screaming cheerleaders” voice. “Hey asshole! I’m over here! Come get me!”
Sure enough, the infected turned for her voice, as did the one following him through the door. The third one, however, turned for Danny as he tried to make it back toward the door. With presence of mind she wouldn’t have expected from one so young, Danny cooly pointed the 12-gauge at the infected’s head and pulled the trigger.
Mia’s ears rang from the report, and blood and brain matter sprayed everywhere. Praying that Danny didn’t have a cut on him somewhere, Mia shot the infected closest to her and dodged around the metal shelf as the second one lunged at her.
“Why,” she said out loud, “Why the fuck did we have to get the fast zombies?” She said this last as she grabbed a tire iron off the shelf and swung it, hard, against the head of the second one. The infected’s head deformed, almost as if it were made of putty, and the body slumped to the floor.
“Coach! We’ve got more coming!” Danny called. Mia scrubbed her sleeve across her face and looked up to see that he was right. There were easily twenty infected between them and the van, and the number looked like it was growing.
“C’mon,” she said. “I think I saw a back door.” Her tennis shoes slipped a bit in the zombie’s blood as she took off toward Danny, but she kept her feet, barely. Mia turned down the hallway she’d checked earlier, finding the door marked “Emergency Exit Only” and half blocked by a hand truck. For no good reason at all, Mia grabbed the hand truck. It seemed like a useful thing to have, if nothing else, it could be used to bludgeon attacking infected.
