by Greg Dragon
By the end of the second day, exhaustion had led to short tempers and questioning the decision to make the trip. After all, some argued, their neighborhoods were still safe. They could have stayed in their own homes, fortified themselves behind locked doors. Used duct tape and rolls of plastic to keep out the infection.
After all, Joey Waldron had done exactly that.
Joey’s decision was understandable, though. He had two kids away at college, and they were supposed to be heading home. Joey and his wife, Tammy, hadn’t wanted to leave before their whole family was together. The Waldrons would come along as soon as the kids arrived, and George had stood behind their decision.
George had talked far too long the previous night, trying to calm people down, staying up into the wee hours of the morning to have quiet moments with each of the group. Now he was nearly done. He wasn’t sure if he would make it another night, much less the remaining day after that before they reached the hunting camp.
Now he drifted along, letting his mind go blank as he watched the road ahead of them. His eyes spanned side to side, not really making a conscious note of the scenery. The group was coming up on a small, decrepit motel, and he idly watched as some people clustered at one end.
There were four people pressed up against the side of the motel, facing about a half-dozen others. More were coming around the end of the building.
At first it didn’t sink in, but when he was almost past the entrance the Bear realized the people facing the four were sick—zombies.
Without thinking, he swung his Hog over onto the road and gunned it down towards the motel. He could hear the other bikers following, and knew those in the trucks and RVs would be right behind.
He was being stupid, he realized. The one thing they’d agreed on before the gang had left town was that whatever happened on the road wasn’t their fight. His job was to get them all safely to the camp, and he was about to throw that idea out like moldy bread.
“Damn it,” George muttered. He was going to catch hell for it, but one of those people was in a wheelchair, and two of them were women. One of them sported a handgun on her hip, but still.
George pulled his bike to a halt a couple of yards from the moaning, reaching zombies and drew a shotgun from behind his shoulder. He took aim and watched the blood and brains of the infected person closest to the four live people.
He could hardly hear himself give a rebel yell as the zombie went down with a sudden slump. While some of the others began slowly turning towards the sound of the shot, he ratcheted another shell into the chamber and took down a second zombie.
George was taking aim at a third zombie when another gang member pulled to a sliding stop beside him. He barely spared a glance to see who it was before he ejected the spent shell and downed another of the ravening infected.
* * *
It was hopeless, Dara knew. She’d made a mistake early in the morning and didn’t do a sweep of the area before opening the door and ushering Ted out. It hadn’t been a restful night, what with Ted staying up until the early morning hours, constantly chattering about what had happened the night before, and asking her endless questions about his “new friends”, as he liked to call Janet and Connor. She was tired and not thinking straight.
Dara wasn’t entirely sure Connor would be much of a friend. She figured the scruffy, rough-looking white boy would probably shoot them both in the back, if it suited him.
Somehow, she knew it would, at some point. He was the kind of man she’d met and dealt with all her life, though most of them had kept their racism hidden behind a smile. Connor didn’t bother, though so far he’d restrained from calling them niggers to their faces. It was just a matter of time before he lost that thin veneer, she knew.
He treated Janet like a concubine, one with the spirit beaten nearly out of her. But Dara knew it had been Janet that got him to help when the infected people had swarmed towards the van. It was surprising that the other woman had enough gumption to stand up to him, and it had probably cost her a few bruises and sore spots.
Still, the couple had helped them, and if it came down to it, Dara would just put a bullet in Connor’s head while he slept one night. The thought turned her stomach, but with things the way they were she had resigned herself to being as tough as she had to be to protect Ted. She’d nearly lost him once, and she didn’t intend to risk it again.
At first things had been fine as she’d gotten Ted ready to take his place in the van. The motel lot was empty, and quiet. The few other rooms that had vehicles parked in front were dark, with no signs of movement. Dara had heard a few people pulling in throughout the night, so they’d probably sleep for a while yet.
Her group had to get on the road, though. There were still a lot of miles to cover, and a couple of decent-sized towns to get through or around. The longer they lingered here, the more miles they’d have to cover after dark, before they could stop to rest. Then there was the remaining day of travel, which would see them navigating the mountain road in the dark as it was.
From their last trip up the mountain, Dara had made a note of how overgrown and deteriorated the roads had become, due to heavy snowfalls over the previous months. No one had done any repairs on the road for decades, and it had nearly returned to nature.
It was all on her mind as she’d loaded their few things they’d used overnight into the truck, settled Ted in his chair with a bottle of juice and a donut, and wheeled him out the door. That was when Janet and Conner had brought their own gear out, packed it back into the bed of their old pickup truck, and turned towards their new companions as the first groans drifted over the still morning air.
Dara’s stomach clenched from fright, and she was sure she peed herself a little. She looked around to see where the infected were coming from. At first there was just the sound, and she almost convinced herself it had just been the wind. She moved towards the van, pushing Ted’s wheelchair, stopping with a jerk when a movement from the end of the motel caught her eye.
“There!” Janet called softly at the same time. She pointed towards the lone person who was shambling towards them, dull eyes locked on the living souls beside the building. In seconds, another followed, and then a clump of infected rounded the edge of the building and made their awkward way towards Dara and the others.
Dara fumbled with the key to their motel room, intending to get the door open and shove Ted back inside. She would feel better if he was safe behind a locked door while she, Janet and Connor dealt with the infected.
“Shit,” Connor grunted, grabbing his holster from where it was resting on top of the tarp covering the truck’s bed. He thumbed off the strap holding the gun in place as a roar like rolling thunder broke the near-silence.
Dara looked up to see about a dozen large motorcycles barreling down the access road towards them. A long line of pickups, some pulling campers, and beat up RVs followed more slowly. It must be a group like theirs, she thought. People banding together for survival.
She wasn’t sure if they were going to help, or wait out the infected and scavenge like vultures afterward. She had a sudden burst of hope that they might just get through this nightmare, if these people were on the side of righteousness.
Ted had seen the mass of bikers coming towards them and clapped his hands with delight. “Look, Dara! Motorcycles! I just love motorcycles.”
“I know you do, honey. Let’s not make too much noise and scare them off, okay? Maybe they’ll let you touch one, if you’re very quiet.”
Ted made a zipping motion across his lips, grinning like a kid, and dropped his hands in his lap. With one eye on the incoming infected, and another worrying over the bikers, Dara was clumsily trying to fit the key into the motel room’s peeling door. She dropped it, and bent over with a curse to pick it up.
“Dara, bad words for the jar,” Ted chided, watching as the bikers got closer.
“Sorry, Ted. I’ll put a dollar in the jar when we get to the camp.”
She fina
lly got a good grip on the motel key and stood up in time to watch as the lead bike slid to a stop in the loose gravel parking lot. The bike slewed sideways before coming to a standstill. The biker reached backward and pulled a sawed-off shotgun from a case fastened to the bike’s saddlebags.
Before Dara could turn and unlock the door, the biker had taken his first shot, dropping one of the infected in a spray of brain and blood.
* * *
She didn’t know how long the gunfire lasted, but by the end Janet had a massive headache and her ears were ringing from the noise. Connor had shoved her roughly against the motel’s cinder block wall, stepping in front of her while he fired his pistol. Being so close meant she felt every vibration as he pulled the trigger, and the sound was deafening at that distance.
Janet only knew it was over when people started to move again. She eased out from behind Connor, rubbing at a skinned elbow that had caught the brunt of her contact with the wall.
The smell of hot motorcycles and gunpowder was overwhelming. The infected lying broken and bloody on the ground around them didn’t help any. There was a stench about them that wasn’t normal for people who could have only been dead a couple of days. The bodies reeked of spoiled meat and had an odd chemical tang that make her want to vomit.
But, she had to control herself. Connor wouldn’t like it if she made a mess in front of all these people, especially a gang of bikers. He’d never been in a club, but had great respect for the mystique.
Janet eased around one body that had been beheaded by a shotgun blast, trying not to step in any of the gore. When she was past it, she went to help Dara with Ted, who was making a fuss now that all the drama was over.
“Should we take him back inside?”
Dara shook her head. “He won’t calm down if he knows there’s something going on out here. Things like this upset him, and he regresses a lot, gets more child-like.”
Janet nodded. Ted did look sort of like a petulant toddler, with his lower lip stuck out. His skin was ashen, except for a high flush that showed on his cheeks. He was trembling as he stared around at the bodies.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when a soft voice spoke from behind her. Janet whirled around to see one of the bikers standing a short distance away, helmet off and tucked under his arm. He’d unzipped his jean jacket, revealing a plain blue tee that clung to his muscled body.
His dark blond hair was short enough to have been pulled into a spiky, sweaty mass from being under the helmet. Janet thought it gave him a younger, punk look, though his expression was kind.
What the hell was she doing, looking at another man with Conner only a few feet behind her? She must be insane.
Janet pulled her gaze from the biker’s green eyes and tried to keep the blush she felt burning her cheeks from getting any worse. She knew it wasn’t working by the way the biker’s eyes were searching her face. Janet ducked her head, turning back towards Dara and Ted.
“I think we’ve got it under control. Ted’s just a little overwhelmed by all of this,” she said, gesturing around them.
“I can see that,” the biker replied. “If you need anything, though, just ask.”
Janet nodded. If Connor had heard their exchange, she’d pay for it later, she knew. Even though the guy had just been trying to be nice, it wouldn’t matter. The jealous streak that ran deep through her boyfriend made him suspicious and mean.
Dara was watching her as Janet reached out to pat Ted on the shoulder. The look in the other woman’s eye said she’d had some experience with a man like Connor, and the understanding and sympathy Janet could read on Dara’s face nearly undid her.
Janet gave Dara a bright smile she didn’t feel, and moved to help her calm the injured man so they could finish loading up and get back on the road.
She’d have to deal with whatever Conner dished out later, once they’d reached the camp. It wouldn’t be easy, but it would be private.
Chapter Eight
When the smoke cleared, the two groups were left staring at each other and the carnage they’d produced. The smell of gunpowder overlay the usual late summer odors of nature, but a freshening wind was sweeping it away. It couldn’t do much about the smell of the corpses—or were they doubly dead now?
Big Bear rose from the low-slung seat of his Harley and stretched. As much as the scene facing these strangers had stressed him out, somehow he felt relaxed and energized. He barely spared a glance for the cooling bodies of what had once been people—somebody’s mother, or son, or boss—as he went to talk to the people his group had just saved.
George walked up to the women standing beside the man in the wheelchair. One woman and the man in the wheelchair were black, the other two were white. All of them looked to be in their mid-to-late thirties. The woman closet to the man in the wheelchair stared at him as he approached, looking deep into his eyes. George smiled his best, most friendly smile.
“Hey, there, folks. Looked like you needed some help,” he offered when he was just a few feet away, within reasonable talking distance. An added advantage was it didn’t put him too close to the corpses. They had a stink on them that defied belief.
The woman nodded. “Appreciate it.”
The white guy standing near a rusty pickup truck snorted. “Could have handled it ourselves, dude.”
George spared him a glance. “I guess you could have, at that. Three of you against twenty or more. Pretty good odds, right?”
The white guy frowned at George. That one is trouble, something in the back of George’s mind flashed. Yes, he could be. If he got behind you, jumped you from out of the dark, when you weren’t looking.
“I’m George,” he said to the woman. “This is my club. We’re headed west, keeping away from towns. We have a place that we think would be safe, been on the road a couple of days. How about you folks? All traveling together?”
He was just trying to be friendly, but when the black woman’s face closed down he knew he made a mistake. He was about to wave a good bye and get the club back on the road when the thin blond white woman standing beside her spoke up.
“Yes, we’re together. I’m Janet, and this is Ted and Dara. That’s Connor,” she said, pointing a thumb behind her.
“Nice to meet you, Janet, Dara. Hey Ted,” George gave his hand to Ted, who shook it with a grin. He just nodded to Connor, who leaned against the truck and frowned even harder.
“The reason I mentioned where we were headed was I think you guys might want to join up with us, at least to you get nearer to wherever you’re going. It’s getting pretty dangerous out there. Safety in numbers, as they say.”
Janet and Dara looked at each other. Something passed between the two women, but George couldn’t tell what it was. Still, he tried again.
“The club is headed up into the mountains, know of a place up there that can be fortified, defended if need be.”
Something sparked in Dara’s eyes at that, and George stopped suddenly. He’d said something wrong.
“If you mean the old hunting camp, it’s spoken for,” Dara said, her voice firm. “Ted and I bought it months ago.”
George felt like it had been knifed. Nothing he’d found in his searches had shown the camp to be anything other than a forgotten resort place; it didn’t even show up on the county or state’s list of properties.
“Are you sure? I looked into it a while back, and I didn’t see anything about that. Maybe you’re thinking of some hunter’s old cabin?”
Dara shook her head. “Nope. The old camp, that backs up onto a national forest. Most of the property documents show it as being part of the forest, but it’s not. Never was. Some clerk misfiled the deed, and it dropped out of sight and memory long ago.”
Damn it! How was he going to explain to the others that he’d just lost them their refuge? That knife in his gut twisted.
Something of the anguish he felt must have showed on his face, because he could almost feel the woman softening.
“I’
m sorry,” she said, softly.
“Dara,” Ted turned his head to look up at his wife. “Our new friends can come with us. It will be fun! Maybe I can take a ride on the big guy’s bike!”
“Honey, I don’t think that’s a good idea—”
“But I want them to come! I want my new friends!”
Ted’s voice had risen, and he was petulantly pounding on the arms of his wheelchair. George could only stare at the scene before him.
Dara sighed. “Okay, Ted. Calm down and I’ll talk to George about it. Remember, we need to be on quiet time until we get to the camp.”
Ted pouted, but nodded and was silent.
Dara gave George a defeated look and tipped her head towards the front of the van.
“Why don’t we go talk about the situation, George?”
* * *
Dara could hear the huge biker clomping along behind her, his boots crunching on the lot’s loose gravel. She almost felt like she was fleeing from a giant in a fairytale, rather than just getting some privacy to discuss the future in this insane new world.
If it weren’t for Ted, she would have told the man flat-out there was no way his gang was going to join them at the hunting camp. But in reality, what could she have done to prevent it? Even joining up with Connor and Janet hadn’t exactly equipped her with an army, while biker dude had at least fifty people—all armed and ready to shoot—to force his way in.
So, she’d do what she’d always done, and negotiate. The few members she’d seen hadn’t seemed like the usual rough criminal element portrayed in the media.
When Dara reached the front of the old moving van, she stopped and turned to face George. She stared up into his face, searching for any sign that she was about to make a big mistake.
She only saw an open, kind expression, with a bit of worry behind it.
