An RV had pushed aside some of the traffic, as if it'd been trying to get through the gridlock. He broke into the opening, using the open space to gain momentum. A few creatures hurtled at him from the front, but he changed course, avoiding them with inches to spare.
He kept the next exit ramp in his sights, thinking that if he could reach the city, he'd find a place to take cover. The exit was about a half mile away.
Ken kept running. His bones shook from the thud of his feet on pavement, and his wind was almost gone. The green exit sign clung to the horizon, as if it were a mirage he'd concocted. More bodies tumbled over the median in front of him, cutting off his path.
Dammit.
He stopped short, ducking to avoid a lunging body, and looked behind him.
The road was swarmed. It was as if a volcano had erupted beneath the interstate, sending a mound of writhing bodies to the surface. There was no way he'd make it to the exit. Not now.
He raised his pistol and squeezed off a few rounds, warding off the creatures closest to him, delaying the inevitable. He stared at the RV he'd just passed, which was fifty feet away. If he could double back to it, maybe he could find his way inside.
Even then, it'd only be a matter of time until the things overtook him.
A creature flew at him from his left, and he eluded it. Would it be easier to give in? To succumb to the reaching hands that awaited him? Maybe it was time for the nightmare to end. In the four days and hundreds of miles he'd traveled, things hadn't gotten any better. He'd lost his wife. His faith. His sanity. And Phoenix wasn't looking any better.
There was little chance he'd find his son.
Another thing approached him from behind, and he spun and shot it in the head, watching it collapse. Ken stared at the gun, contemplating thoughts he never thought he'd have. Then he stared at the RV.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Isaac stared out the window as he drove toward the interstate.
Past the sidewalk was a coffee shop where he'd once worked. The display window was shattered, the contents strewn about the sidewalk. He'd been a barista there for several months, right after he'd moved. The café was only a few minutes from the highway. Normally it was filled with both city dwellers and passing commuters.
Now it was empty.
He stared inside as he drove by. He wondered how many of his old coworkers had still been employed there when the infection hit. He hadn't kept in touch with any of them, but he felt a sudden sense of loss at their absence.
He tried to remember their faces but drew a blank. They were nothing more than blurred faces in his past, details he couldn't recreate.
There were a lot of things like that now.
It'd only been a few days since the city had fallen, but already Isaac was forgetting the routines of his old life—things he'd once taken for granted. How easy it had been to grab a decent meal. How safe it had been to walk down the street. All that seemed years behind him.
Now, it was impossible to drive without roaming, sadistic creatures trying to impede your path.
His eyes flicked to the roadside. A sign sprung from the sidewalk, announcing the upcoming turn for I-17 North. He'd already seen a line of cars that hadn't quite made it, others who had taken the same path he was now embarking on. What made him think he'd be any different?
He studied the path ahead. Once he took it, Isaac was positive he wouldn't return. But there was nothing left for him here. Taking the highway would bring him one step closer to whatever was waiting for him.
Although the road was clogged, he could see an opening in the breakdown lane. It was thin and bordered on one side by a guardrail, but by the looks of it, just wide enough to squeeze through. He glanced down at the gas gauge. In the frenzy of the moment, he hadn't thought to check it.
The tank was full.
If omens were real, perhaps some higher power was giving him one now. Isaac swallowed back his fear and then turned onto the interstate, heading into the unknown.
Squeezing past the vehicles was nerve-wracking. Several times Isaac heard the bumper scrape against another vehicle, and the noise was loud and grating. The vehicles on the on-ramp were similar to those in the city—almost all of them held a body, and most of the bodies had already started to decompose. He assumed the rush to leave had occurred close to the beginning of the infection. Most of the bodies seemed like they'd been there awhile.
He remembered peering out his window and watching people leave. Although his instinct had been to flee, he'd remained inside. It had been easy to make that decision when he'd seen what had happened to the other survivors. And now he might be one of the only ones left.
The last of the few.
The car groaned as he squeezed past a minivan. He glanced at the road behind him, certain he'd draw the attention of creatures, but saw nothing. He hoped to God he didn't damage the vehicle. He supposed he could get another, but at the moment, the prospect of getting out of the car scared him more than the uncertainty of what lay ahead.
He followed the curves, circling around until the ramp became a straightaway. Within minutes he'd made it onto the highway.
The six-lane interstate, although cluttered, seemed navigable. He noticed a straightaway in the distance, and he steered toward it, grateful for a moment's reprieve.
It was then he heard gunshots. He stared ahead of him.
A swarm of creatures had appeared in the distance, fanning out over the highway, tumbling over cars and jumping over the median. What the fuck?
Isaac's panic mounted.
He slowed the vehicle, squinting to ascertain what was going on. Just minutes ago, he'd been certain his only companions on the road would be bodies and the infected.
Now it looked like there was another survivor.
About a quarter mile away, he spotted an RV in the center of the commotion, a man standing on the top. The man was firing at the infected, trying to prevent them from scrambling up the side. Although Isaac couldn't make out the details, it was evident the man was trapped.
There was no way he'd survive for long.
Isaac's pulse hammered. His hands blanched on the steering wheel. He'd rolled the car to a stop, and he was staring at the man with the same sinking feeling he'd had looking out his apartment window. He'd tried to help others—he'd tried to help Kate—and look what had happened. If he were to drive down the highway, he'd immediately be surrounded, immersed in the scene. Past the RV, he could now see that the road was barricaded again, with no way around.
He'd come this far for nothing.
Isaac gritted his teeth, his foot hovering over the brake pedal. He looked in the rearview mirror. The on-ramp was still cluttered with cars—the ones he'd driven past just minutes ago. Another meaningless task he'd completed.
In the distance, the man cast aside the gun he'd been using and withdrew a rifle from his backpack. From what Isaac could tell, the survivor hadn't seen him. Isaac could turn the vehicle around, squeeze his way past the cars and drive back into the city, find another way out. The man would never know he'd been there.
The creatures pawed at the side of the RV, leaping into the air to get a handhold. The man darted to one of the edges. It looked like he'd climbed up using a ladder, and now several of the things were making their way up the rungs.
Who was to say the man wasn't dangerous, anyway? Perhaps he'd be as cold and uncaring as Scotty, or Jimmy, or Spencer had been. What if Isaac died trying to save him?
Isaac took his foot off the brake. Out of nowhere, he pictured himself in the trunk of the Buick, trapped and waiting to die. He'd been certain he was living his final moments. Was that the way this man felt now?
Isaac couldn't abandon him. Not while he was in a position to help.
He bit his lip and then gunned the accelerator, hoping it wasn't the last decision he'd make.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ken was almost out of ammunition. He'd already expended the spare clips for his pistol, and he'd switch
ed to using his rifle. But the creatures kept coming from all directions. Every time he fought one back, another emerged to take its place, as if the things were part of a bottomless army that he could never defeat.
Rather than shooting, he'd switched tactics, using the butt-end of his rifle to knock them off the ladder. His arms and legs were sapped of strength. He'd barely made it to the RV in the first place, and now that he was here, he was watching his worst fears come to life. There was no way to ward off the things, no way to dissuade them from attacking.
They'd keep coming, no matter what he did.
It didn't help that the doors to the RV had been locked. When he'd reached it, there'd been no way inside; as a last resort, he'd climbed up the ladder. Being on the roof only added to his torment. He was destined to die with his son's city in sight, the prospect of Isaac and the fulfillment of his mission only an arm's length away.
A ratty, long-haired creature hissed at him from the middle rungs of the ladder. He waited until it had climbed further, then stomped on its face, sending it toppling back on three others. He could hear the slap of mottled hands on all sides of the RV, and the vehicle felt like it was swaying.
A pair of fingers appeared on the right side of the vehicle, and Ken raced over to stomp them off. The creatures were unwittingly piling on top of one another, and some of their groping was paying off. It was only a matter of time until they made it onto the roof.
He dashed back to the ladder. His heart was racing, and his lungs felt like they were going to burst. Ken was surprised he hadn't died from natural causes already. He'd seen—and taken part in—enough violence to last a lifetime, and he couldn't handle much more.
Maybe his time had come.
He thought of Roberta. Not of the frail, dirt-covered body that he'd buried, but the woman who'd been so full of life that she'd made his own worth living. Then he thought of his son, regretting that he'd never be able to see him again.
Ken watched a few pairs of hands cling to the edge of the RV, but this time, instead of rushing to kick them off, he remained still. It was as if the events of the last week had culminated in this moment, and now that it was here, Ken would make peace with it.
He might not be able to control his fate, or the manner in which he died, but he could control the thoughts he had on the way out. He wouldn't give his last moments to the creatures; he'd give them to his family. They could have his body, but that was it.
I'm sorry, Isaac.
One of the things made its way onto the roof, but he ignored it. The thing snarled and clawed the air, but he paid no attention, alternating his gaze between the picture in his hand and the buildings in the distance.
A rumble jolted him to attention. A car was barreling down the highway.
At first he thought he was imagining things, and he wiped his eyes, certain he was mistaken. But the image persisted. The car was really there. A white vehicle was coming straight toward the RV, its engine growling.
The creature on the roof ambled toward Ken, but this time, instead of ignoring it, he raised his rifle and fired, sending it tumbling off the side. He raced back to the ladder, warding off another thing with his boot, keeping his eye on the approaching vehicle.
"Up here!" he shouted, waving his arms.
He couldn't see the driver, but it looked like there was a single occupant. Ken shouted again, as if the person might miss him, even though they were headed in his direction. The vehicle turned sideways, exposing an opened passenger's side window.
Ken stared inside the car, catching a glimpse of the person inside. What he saw made his hands tremble on the rifle and his voice lodge in his throat.
Staring back at him was Isaac.
"Dad?"
Isaac couldn't believe what he was seeing. The man on top of the RV was gaunt and dirt-stained, his face lined with stubble. His clothing hung in tatters; his cheeks were spattered with blood. Beneath all of that, however, Isaac could still recognize the loving eyes of his father.
"Isaac? Is that really you?"
"Yes, Dad! Hold on! I'll get you out of there!"
In spite of his words, Isaac had no idea how he'd execute the maneuver. His father was surrounded, and a horde of creatures was already clambering for his own vehicle.
But his father was alive.
He pulled forward, still trying to digest the reality of what was occurring. Not only was his father alive, but also he was here. How? Why? There was no time for answers. If Isaac didn't get them out of the situation, there'd be no happy reunion, no warm embrace. He might never have a conversation with him again.
He veered back around until he was facing the direction of the city. He watched the rearview mirror. He'd lured away several of the creatures, but not enough to free up his father. He honked the horn, watching a few more peel their bodies from the RV. There were too many of them; too many still intent on getting onto the RV.
Groans and ululations filled the air, drowning out the sound of his engine.
A gunshot burst into the air, and Isaac startled. He looked behind him. His father had fired on several that were making their way up the ladder. They were overtaking the RV.
"Hold on!" he screamed.
If he couldn't lure the creatures from the RV, he'd have to get his father another way. Isaac drove forward, breaking away from the creatures that were pawing at the car, and then slammed the vehicle into reverse.
The engine soared, and suddenly he was flying backward, on a collision course with the rear of the RV. A group of creatures were in the process of climbing up the ladder, but he rammed into them, listening to the crunch of limbs and the muted thud of bodies. He'd backed up so that he was butted against the ladder.
He rolled down the window and stuck his head out.
"Come on, Dad!"
The sound of gunfire exploded from behind him. Several bodies toppled to the ground, writhing. When he looked in the rearview, he saw his father on the top rung of the ladder. Isaac glanced left and right. Where would he go? The infected were already surrounding the vehicle.
His father could jump from the ladder to the car and try to hang on, but what if he were to fall? The infected would be on him in seconds. There was no way to—
An idea struck him, and suddenly Isaac was leaning down in his seat, searching for the trunk latch. Where the hell is it? Hands pounded on the windows, threatening to shatter them. Faces pressed against the glass. Finally Isaac found what he was looking for, and he pulled the lever, crying out with relief.
In the rearview, he saw the trunk pop open. He turned to the window, ready to scream out instructions, but his father was already climbing down the ladder, getting inside it. He caught a glimpse of tattered clothing and skin, and before he knew it, he felt something heavy hit the inside of the trunk.
Isaac didn't wait another second. He hit the accelerator, careening away from the RV and the shrieking infected, heading back to a city he'd sworn he'd left for good.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Isaac couldn't stop looking at his father. It felt as if the man were an illusion, a mirage, and any moment, he'd disappear. Ken was doing the same to his son.
"Is it really you, Dad?"
His father nodded. Isaac welled up.
"I can't believe you made it, Dad," Isaac whispered.
Ken Smith nodded, his eyes brimming with tears. "I can't believe it myself."
"I was coming to find you. I've been stuck for days. I was going to try to get to Oklahoma...What about Mom? Where is she? Is she all right?"
Silence settled over the vehicle, and Isaac could feel his father's sorrow, as if it were a tangible thing between them. He tried repeating his question, but his words were stuck in his throat.
His father gripped his arm, steadying him for the news.
"Your mother didn't make it."
Isaac's body grew numb.
"I lost her back in New Mexico, just before the Arizona state line. Three men attacked us. One of them attacked your mo
ther," Ken explained. "I did my best to help...but I just...I just couldn't."
Isaac nodded. He tried to process the information, but at the moment, it was just a string of unconnected words. Nothing more. After everything he'd seen, everything he'd been through, he would've thought he'd be prepared.
But nothing could've prepared him for this.
"She wanted to find you so badly," Ken said. "You were all she talked about, from the moment this whole thing started."
Isaac nodded.
He stared at the road, realizing he had no idea where he was going. His mind felt like it'd been irreversibly scrambled. He couldn't concentrate. He couldn't drive. He couldn't fathom what to do next. With the interstate blocked off, they'd need to figure out an alternate plan, but all he could think about was his mother. Her face kept appearing in his head, as if the woman were still alive and clamoring to see him, and he was desperate not to lose the image.
"She was really brave, Isaac, through this whole thing," Ken said. "She knew we'd find you. She'd be so proud of you."
Isaac nodded. "Did you bury her?"
"Yes. Yes, son, I did."
"Where?"
"Off the interstate. I can take you there, if and when things settle down."
Ken was staring out the window, his rifle on his lap. Isaac noticed he'd managed to take his bag.
"What's in there?" Isaac asked.
"Guns and ammunition. And food, too. Are you hungry?"
"I haven't eaten in days," Isaac admitted. "But what if it's—"
"Don't worry, the food is safe."
"How do you know?"
"I took it from the men who did this."
Ken launched into his story about what had happened on the highway, recounting the SUV that had chased him, as well as the supplies he'd managed to obtain. Isaac listened intently. After he'd finished, Ken offered his son a drink of water and some crackers from his pack.
Contamination: Dead Instinct (Contamination Post-Apocalyptic Zombie Series) Page 11
