by JT Sawyer
Travis stood with arms folded. “Sir, I am sorry for your losses. My friends and I will do what we can to help you and your family. Right now, though, my head is swirling like a cement mixer. You see, we all just came off a twenty-two-day river trip and could sure use your help figuring out what’s going on.”
The man looked down at Becka. “Darlin’, why don’t you go in the kitchen and get these folks some food and glasses of water while I explain things to ’em?”
The girl got up and walked into the dimly lit room next to them. Evelyn followed behind her to offer help.
“Jim and LB, you two go on the porch and keep an eye out,” said Travis. The two men walked out, leaving the screen door open so they could hear the conversation.
Evan turned his attention back to Travis. “Fire away, son.”
“Down at the beach, the ranger—and some of our people who were bitten by him—they turned into something I’ve never seen before. They were like animals that just wanted to tear through us.”
“That’s the blood virus. It’s taken down most of the world’s population, I’m afraid. When it hit, most of us in these parts just holed up at our ranches. Then a few weeks back, those things showed up, brought in by some infected Japanese tourists on a bus that came to the hotel. Many of the townsfolk, and my two boys, eventually got infected. We shot a bunch of those creatures. Then one of the cowboys down the road got the idea to lure as many as possible into the high school gym, where we torched a lot of the satanic beasts. There’s still quite a bit of ’em around, though, but we’ve been keeping quiet here and, so far, haven’t had any problems. Just when we thought there was some relief” —he gulped in some air, his body spasming—“these biker thugs show up, rollin’ in on choppers and a convoy of trucks, laying waste to everything, shootin’ up the place.”
“Is getting bitten the main disease vector for how the virus is spread?” asked Katy.
“All I know from the early news broadcasts is that this started in Eastern Europe with people attacking one another and it radiated out from there through air travel. It’s spread through being bit or getting infected blood on an open cut on your skin. Some people just outright die of internal bleeding, and God hope that is my only fate, but most others sorta come back to life within six to eight hours, depending on the air temperature. There’s some talk about higher elevations and colder temperatures slowing the spread, which is why so many people left here for Flagstaff or Colorado and why places like Alaska have been able to contain it better. Here in the desert, we ain't so lucky.”
Travis ran a hand through his bristly hair. “Sorry to ask, but when were you bit, sir?”
“About four hours ago, by my son Jack, who I buried out back last night. I thought he was dead but he jumped me by the barn and tore a hole in my arm before I had to…I had to...” Tears streamed down his parched face as he stared hard at the ground. “He was a good man. A damn good man,” he said, glancing over at his rifle. “At least he’s with his brother now. I reckon we’ll all be reunited soon.”
“What about the biker gang. Are they still around here?” said Pete.
“I don’t think they’re in the immediate area right now. They showed up a few days ago and there was a shootout between them and the other survivors living in the hotel. That’s when me, my sons, and other ranchers headed over and shot the shit outta most of ’em. There’s talk they control the smaller towns around here. The large cities like Vegas are war zones between the undead, the criminals, and the desperate survivors.”
LB returned from the front porch and rushed in, wild-eyed, shoving open the screen door. “Those things…they’re coming…hundreds of them! They’re on the road and moving out in the open field to the right. They must have followed us.”
Chapter 6
“I thought the town was pretty cleaned out?” said Pete. “Where are all these creatures coming from?”
“There are small pockets around this area that were never quelled,” said Evan. “Many were probably feedin’ off the blood of the dead victims around the hotel, after the last shootout. They musta heard the noise of your truck on the pavement and followed you. Make no mistake—these things ain’t alive but they are very aware of their surroundings. Some can even come close to a run. Saw one last week movin' faster than a preacher at collection time. They’re like pissed-off badgers acting on raw instinct.”
Travis bolted to the front door and peered outside at the moving throngs of undead. “Looks like we’ve got mere minutes before they’re on top of us.”
He turned back to Evan. “Is there another road out of here?”
“You drove in on it. That’s it. Otherwise, it’s miles of boulders and cactus in every direction.”
“What about guns…what kind of firepower you got?”
Evan hobbled on his cane to a closet and pulled out a .20-gauge pump shotgun, a 30-30 lever action rifle and a .45 pistol. “Along with this .357 on my hip, it’s all I got along with some boxes of ammo in the corner,” he said, thrusting the lever action towards Travis. “In the barn out back, I’ve got some half-sticks of dynamite I used to use for mining and a couple of axes and pitchforks, but that’s about it.”
Damn it! Not enough time, not much of a fortress, and not enough weapons. If we stay here, we get slaughtered; if we are caught in the open, we get slaughtered.
The noise of shuffling movement was within earshot now and a cloud of fine dust from the creatures was billowing in the moonlight. Without cover, they are going to see us bounding across the desert. Looks like we will be making our stand here after all.
As Travis prepared to dig in, Evan grabbed his arm and pointed towards the back. “Behind the tack barn, there’s a concrete mound with a metal grate over it. That leads down into a series of tunnels that are connected with the Grand Canyon Caverns system a few miles east of here. Get everyone down in there and I’ll divert their attention here. It’s your only hope.”
Travis looked out the front door and back at everyone in the living room. “Alright, grab the weapons and ammo along with any food and water you can carry. We gotta go now!”
Evan went over to his granddaughter and pulled her into his embrace, trying to keep his anguish in check. “Darlin’, you go with these people. They’ll take care of you, OK? You’re gonna be fine. You’re going to grow up to be a fine woman,” he said, his lips trembling. “One day you can come back here, when the world is better, and ride over this land and remember all the good times we all had, OK?”
The noise out front was growing as a low garble of squealing sounds filled the night air. Evan pried the girl’s arms off his sides and gently pushed her towards Katy. “Go now, sweetie; we’ll see each other again one day.”
Katy grabbed the girl’s plaid shirt sleeve and pulled her away. “Come on, Becka, we have to go now,” she said, half-dragging the screaming girl to the back door as they headed out with loaded packs and arms.
Evan walked onto the front porch with the kerosene lantern in his hand. He waved it above his head, trying to get the attention of the creatures. When he was sure enough of them had seen the motion, he hobbled off to the open field off to the left.
“This way,” Travis said, and took off towards the tack barn, past a tractor. “Pete, head out back and have Becka show you the entrance to the tunnel. Katy, you provide rear cover with the shotgun. I gotta look for something in the barn.”
The group scurried along the edge of the barn, staying out of the moonlight, while everyone shot glances back at the approaching din of creatures staggering towards the house. A stifling wave of ammonia-like odor crept over the landscape as they ducked past the tractor. The cement mound Evan spoke of was three feet high, with a rusty metal grate padlocked to a concrete encasement that lined the upper half. Pete shined his flashlight below the grate. There was a metal ladder bolted to cement walls that led down into blackness. Lifting the gate, Pete motioned to the others to head down. The sound of the .357 pistol rang out from the fro
nt of the house, followed by a muffled scream as Evan was taken down by the hungry horde.
Travis was in the barn and found a small wood crate in the rear corner. He slung the 30-30 rifle and carefully removed the lid from the crate. He found a dozen half-sticks of dynamite nestled in sawdust and removed two, wrapping them in some spare clothes and stowing them in the middle of his pack. He could hear the approaching shuffle of creatures by the house. He grabbed his pack and then stowed the crate under his arm. Once outside, he placed it alongside the propane tank beside the house. Then he sprinted to the cement mound as Katy was climbing down.
Travis paused at the top with Katy a few feet below him. “What are you doing? We have to go,” she said.
“Buying us some time. I’m not about to have those things joining us below. Get moving and give me a holler when you are down all the way.” Travis rested his arms on the rim of the cement foundation then pulled out the Glock and settled the night sights on the underside of the cylindrical propane tank next to the dynamite. He strained his ears towards the barn, then heard the abrasive sound of footsteps scraping the ground and crashing through the bushes. The mass of undead figures began filtering into his peripheral vision as he eased his finger onto the trigger. The wretched creatures were staggering through the house and along the porch, while others entered the barn.
“Travis, we’re all good down here,” said Katy. He pulled one hand off the pistol and wrapped it around the first step of the ladder by his chest. Then he focused the sight on the propane tank as forty rotting corpses swarmed around the back of the barn towards him. His finger pressed back fully on the trigger. The propane tank ignited and then the dynamite, rocking Travis back as he ducked into the shaft, gripping the wrought-iron step. An orange mushroom cloud of heat swept over the entrance while dust, metal, body parts, and wood shrapnel flew through the air. When it was past and the orange glow diminished slightly, he tucked the Glock in his belt and clambered down the steps.
Chapter 7
Travis followed behind Katy as they pushed through the sinuous passage in a partial squat, continually ducking under low-hanging rock protrusions. They could see the faint glow of headlamps ahead where the rest of the group was huddled in a small chamber.
As the two of them rejoined the group, Travis turned, raised the Winchester rifle and peered back, scanning the tunnel entrance, where a faint orange light from the fire above was emanating. Except for the sound of muffled exhalations, the group was silent and stared intently beyond Travis’s form, down the earthen passage.
After listening intently for any sound coming from the tunnel entrance, Travis pivoted back towards the group, his boots grinding on the fine grit of the rock surface. The look on everyone’s face was one of exhaustion coupled with terror. Evelyn was planted on the ground, resting against the chamber wall, panting. LB had his hand on the .45 pistol tucked in his belt, while casting a penetrating gaze into the dark tunnel beyond Travis. Pete was sitting cross-legged, adjusting his headlamp. Katy paused long enough between breaths to take a sip of water, and then splashed some on her face, the drops prancing off the hard ground. Jim was sitting beside Becka, who was scrunched against the lime-colored rock wall with her arms around her legs. Jim kept casting sideways glances at the young girl and then fiddling with the zippers on his pack.
Travis knelt down and eased his grip off the weapon. Retrieving a water bottle from his pack, he swigged down some cool liquid and screwed the cap back on with fingers encrusted with dirt. He shuffled up to the center of the chamber, closer to the group, and turned so he could see the entrance from whence he had come.
“Look, we’ve had a helluva reentry into civilization and are all frazzled.” He paused, scanning back down the entrance, then taking a moment to look each person in the eye before beginning again. “These tunnels are our best option at present. We’ll rest for a few minutes and then keep moving. I know this isn’t the kinda day you had in mind but I’ve seen your toughness on the river and I know if there’s one group of folks that can handle Murphy, it’s all of you. Get some water in you, split up the chow, and down a few calories. Then we’ll push on in ten minutes.”
Travis nodded to Pete to follow him into the tunnel, a few feet off from the group. With sound amplified in the tunnel, Travis kept his voice to a whisper. “So, tell me what you know about the caverns here.”
Pete pursed his lips. “Well, we used to take our groups to the region east of here, the Grand Canyon Caverns. It was a touristy place with an elevator we’d take down twenty stories into the heart of the caverns. The main cavern complex was huge but there were several offshoot tunnels that branched out for miles beyond those, going who knows where. I did a headlamp tour once with a guide and the tunnels were gnarly, man.” He paused, talking in between chews of his protein bar. “We were crawling on our elbows for hundreds of yards just to get from one chamber to the next. Not sure all these folks could make it, for more than just the obvious physical limitations. I remember the guide told me that there were some branches that went on for fifty miles or more in different directions.”
“The question is,” said Travis, “whether this branch is one of these or if it leads to the main cavern?” He rubbed his whiskered chin, contemplating the path ahead. “We’ll have to see what Becka knows about it.”
Pete chimed in, “A few years ago, some geologists filled the caverns with red smoke canisters to see if there were any above-ground entrances elsewhere in the region. They found a few, but the amazing thing is that three weeks after they left, red smoke was spotted in several areas seventy miles away from where they launched the project.”
“Well, we have enough water and food to last for the next day and that’s about it, so we need to find a way out of here before we’re too spent. Not to mention avoiding running into any more roving bands of those rotting freaks. Also, trust me on this—funny things can start to happen to your head when you’re in a dark cave for days on end.”
They heard someone moving up behind them and turned to see Katy. “What are you guys talking about?”
“We’ll be with you all in a minute, Katy. We’re almost done here,” said Travis.
“I want to be involved in your planning. I’m not gonna sit this one out,” she replied, resting the shotgun across her knees.
“Alright, we’re talking about where we go from here and how to get there in lightning speed before everyone is tapped out physically,” he said.
“You mean more tapped out? We’ve been pushing hard for over eighteen hours now. Maybe you’re used to such punishment but Evelyn doesn’t have much more left in her, not to mention the rest of the group being ready to collapse,” she said, rolling her sleeves down to contend with the cool air wafting through the tunnel.
Travis stole a glance in Evelyn’s direction. He knew she was the weak link in the group that they would have to adjust for. “We can’t stay here. We have to keep moving. Everyone will have to hoof it for short intervals. There is no alternative. Once we gain some distance from the entrance, we’ll take a breather.”
He stood halfway up and strode back into the small chamber where the rest of the group was sitting. He knelt down next to the young girl, who was balled up against the rock wall, her hands wrapped around her knees and her head sunk low. “Becka, I’m sorry about your grandpa. He seemed like a fine man. You are one tough woman to have gone through what you did.” He paused, searching for the words. “You are probably no stranger to what it feels like to be bucked off a horse and land hard on the ground, and what happened back there must hurt a hundred times more. I don’t know what you are feeling, but just know that you are not alone. Me and the others are here if you need to talk, OK?”
She gave a faint nod while he continued, “Right now, I gotta ask a few questions that will help us out. Do you know where this tunnel leads?”
Becka stared down the dark shaft before them. “I only came in here a few times with my cousins,” she said, choking out the words. �
��I know if you follow this passage here, it eventually leads into another huge cavern with a couple of routes coming out the other side. There’s no water or quicksand, if that’s what you’re worried about, but it’s a long walk.”
“Is it a tunnel like this or one where you have to crawl around on your elbows?”
“It’s like this all the way, but pretty snaky. I remember one of them ends up at a sealed-off mineshaft but I don’t know about the others.”
“Thanks, Becka. I’m going to be relying on you for more of your knowledge of the area as we go along, OK?” Travis took his hat off and ran a forearm over his dusty face, then turned to the rest of the group sprawled out on the rock floor. “Let’s get moving. I want everyone to buddy up and be responsible for the person you’re teamed up with. Keep an eye on them and their location at all times. Evelyn, you’re up front with Pete. LB and I will take the rear. For now, only the first, middle, and rear individuals will use their headlamps to conserve batteries. So, grab a partner and saddle up. We are going to weave through this so we can get back to where the sun shines.”
The formerly relaxed air about Travis from weeks on the river had been swept away. He clenched the strap of his pack and hoisted it on his shoulder. “LB, why don’t you stay in front of me.”
“You got it, amigo,” replied LB.
As they walked along Travis looked over at LB, remembering that he was very adept physically on the trip and a solid guy you could depend on. “Just so I know where we stand, tell me what kind of experience you have with firearms, LB.”
“Went through basic training in the army in the mid-’90s and then was a helicopter pilot for four years, so I had a decent amount of training with firearms, but it’s been a long time. Before that, I grew up hunting with my dad. Mostly shotguns and deer rifles, but I did some pistol training with .45s too. My dad had been in WWII in both theaters. He loved the old .45 Springfield.”
