(Book 2)What Remains

by Barnes, Nathan

  Sarah returned from the rear tailgate. “Calise talked about how pretty this place is when she came back in and she was right. It’s a nice change from home.” Another kiss was planted upon my chapped lips. “I’ll send Maddox out.”

  Maddox stretched his lanky body as soon as both feet were planted on the pavement. He scanned the area, machete in hand. “I don’t like it here, Daddy.”

  The comment took me off guard and caused me to snort with a laugh. “That’s pretty far off from what the girls said. Why not?”

  “I’m not sure. It just doesn’t feel right.”

  It was an odd time to feel proud yet that’s exactly how I felt. “I thought the same thing, big boy. Mind if I go to the bathroom at the same time as you so we can get out of here? The ladies didn’t want me near them.”

  He laughed aloud then covered his mouth to stop the noise. We walked to our own corners of the tailgate to take care of business and stuck our blades in the soil almost simultaneously to free up our hands. Mid-stream a sudden crash echoed throughout the field. I swiveled and saw that the farmhouse door was flung open, and five infected spilled onto the lawn.

  “Daddy!”

  “I know, bud.” Their attention was instantly focused on us. They eagerly approached while fanning out an advancing line that stretched to the road. “Get it all out and finish up. We might not get another chance to stop for a while.”

  “But the zomb—”

  “Will be here in about a minute. We’ll be driving before then.”

  Their motions became more excited with every step. The wind picked up again, wafting their rotting stench with it. I zipped with one hand and grabbed the Kukri with the other. Maddox finished in a similar fashion then ran back inside the mail truck. I stomped on the gas pedal before even buckling my seatbelt.

  Three of the five monsters were in the road. I gunned it towards them hoping to clear the gap before any stood in the way of the crossing to the westbound lanes. The farthest reaper made it over enough to meet the truck head on. Screams came from the rear cabin as we hit the corpse at thirty miles per hour. Its left arm was sheared at the elbow on impact sending the amputation careening over the fenced windshield. I could only imagine what was happening to its lower body as it dragged across the pavement. Its intact appendage latched onto the hood while the jagged nub pawed towards me.

  I took the turn at a high rate of speed, the tires squealing as centrifugal force listed everything to the left.

  “You persistent little shit!” I muttered towards the beast that was somehow still attached. A second later I took the westbound turn just as fast, shifting us towards the right. This time our stowaway was pried off, sending him through the air in a short flight that came to an abrupt end at the mercy of a ‘One-Way’ sign.

  I clicked my seatbelt down. “You guys alright back there? Sorry for the bumpy ride!”

  The bridge crossing the Appomattox River passed beneath us. Calise whimpered over Sarah’s consoling shushes.

  “I’m glad we went to the bathroom before the bumpy ride started!” Maddox answered.

  1235 hours:

  A peanut butter and jelly sandwich appeared at my side. I hadn’t thought about food before seeing it then.

  “Lunch time,” Sarah said

  She carefully set the napkin holding the meal on the letter tray next to the twelve gauge. After a kiss on the cheek she disappeared behind the blanket curtain that separated the driver’s cab from the modified rear cabin. We had the option of closing the door between the sections; however, it seemed best to save that for overnights or emergencies. A space at the bottom allowed heated air from front vents to circulate back there. Blankets pinned to the walls insulated where environmental controls weren’t installed.

  Stale bread couldn’t slow how hungry I evidently was. I inhaled the sandwich like it was an appetizer. Maddox came through the opening as I took the last bite. “Can I be up here with you?”

  “Not a good idea, monkey man.” The road was uneventful, yet I didn’t want even a remote chance of him seeing something horrid passing by. “Why don’t you sit there at the opening? Then you can at least keep me company for a little while.”

  “Why I’d be delighted to keep you company!” he said in a goofy voice.

  We chatted for an hour. I caught him trying to sneak a peek at the road more than once. Each time I swatted him on top of the head playfully to keep the road out of his view. Finally he asked, “Haven’t I shown you that I’m brave enough to handle what’s out there?”

  “You are brave. I’m not saying you aren’t. Actually, I don’t think could have done this without your help.” His confusion visibly grew by the second so I tried to settle the matter. “It’s my job as your dad to protect you the best I can.”

  Any point I tried to make only riled my stubborn son. “You said I’m brave so I can handle it. I promise I won’t get scared,” he huffed and puffed.

  “Cut the crap, Maddox!” He looked startled by how unwilling I was to engage in banter. “Brave has nothing to do with it. I don’t know if anyone can be that brave. Understand that we’ve driven past things that would scare your worst dreams. Those bad things are everywhere and I won’t always be able to keep you from seeing them but I’ll be damned if I don’t take the chance when I have it.”

  Sarah opened the blanket divider. “You boys okay up here?”

  He answered, “Yeah. We’re just talking.”

  “Daddy, we need to find a stop for another bathroom break if we can then let’s have some quiet time,” Sarah said. I grumbled acceptance then she turned to Maddox. “Calise is ready for her nap right after we stop. I got one of your books out. Leave Daddy alone so he can focus on the road.” She employed the mothering tone that transformed her words from suggestion to instruction.

  “Mommy is right. I appreciate you keeping me company. We’ll stop much faster than before then you can relax for a while.”

  Our second bathroom break was delightfully uneventful. I pulled to the side still in the westbound lanes. There were empty fields on all sides, unlike before when I had to seek a place with good visibility. Sarah took both the kids out at the same time, they did what they needed to do, and then we were back on the road.

  The skies had become cloudy; they looked almost like it would snow. I tried to think of a time when it snowed at all so close to Thanksgiving. It may have once or twice but not normally.

  Normally… I thought. Normally was a concept that I needed to let go of.

  Chapter 18 - Struggles

  1400 hours:

  After lunch we made up for some lost time on a long stretch of road with hardly any activity. The path carried us along a few state parks where strip malls or gas stations legally couldn’t be on every mile. I began to relax at points, and then we’d pass a random wandering corpse and my attention refocused.

  Another truck zipped by going eastbound. I had seconds to react once it came into view. As it turned out, I had nothing to react to. Two people dressed in black were in the seats and a figure in head-to-toe layers of black clothing sat in the truck bed. He or she had a paintball mask covering their face. When they flew by the paintball mask figure waved at me. After they passed I expected to see them appear next to us ready to loot whatever we had. My head nervously panned back and forth, searching for signs that they had turned back for us. Those signs never came. A wave was the only acknowledgment we got. We never saw them again after that.

  If speed limits could have been maintained then we would have arrived at the farm before the afternoon with hours to spare. On average, we were lucky to go more than twenty miles per hour. The speed limit couldn’t be held long enough between obstacles to make it worth the extra gas, not to mention how paranoid I was about the engine being too noisy.

  The map said we were in South Boston, Virginia. I assumed a town large enough to be noted on the map was nearby, however, all we saw was a collection of stores and restaurants. There was a maze of cars ahead startin
g near the turnoff for a grocery store.

  I cursed under my breath loud enough that Sarah took notice in the back. She poked through the blanket door and whispered, “What is it?”

  I pointed forward.

  She sighed. “Shit. Can we get through?”

  “I think so. It’s a backup but I can see gaps in the cars. I’ll snake through as much as I can. We might end up on the shoulder so it could get bumpy. What are the kids doing?”

  “They’re both knocked out. The morning excitement and the car vibrations did them in pretty quickly.”

  “Let them sleep. We should be past this soon then we’re over halfway to the farm.”

  She leaned forward to look out the window. “It looks like it’s going to snow.”

  “Hard to say…. although I thought the same thing. One problem at a time, babe,” I said. She lightly squeezed my shoulder before she returned to the back.

  The cars congested rapidly. I slowed to a crawl in order to weave around the random placement. McAllister would have been proud to see how well 522 maneuvered around the obstacles. We neared a purple Volkswagen Bug with windows caked in muck from the inside. A hand slapped against the glass as we passed. The creature inside instantly became so incensed that its burst of movement rocked the rounded vehicle in place.

  When the Beetle’s occupant threw its tantrum it consequently invited all of the hidden friends it had in the area to join the fun. Zombies popped up from random placements in the traffic jam like they were lying in wait. I stopped trying to sneak our way through and looked for the fastest way out. Side view mirrors scraped on stopped cars as I gunned through narrow openings. We loudly neared the outside of the traffic jam.

  Finally the cars thinned. The center lane emptied a few cars before the other two lanes. Only a box truck that was parallel to a van/trailer combination was left to pass until we’d be back in an open stretch on the fringes of this town. I was so relieved to be almost through that I missed the two bastards waiting after the box truck. They lunged when we passed. I tried to swerve away but they were too close. Each landed against the spray-painted covering on the passenger side with a clamorous thud.

  I regained control then sped up to give us some distance. When the infected pair tag-teamed the side of our truck it jolted the kids out of their naps. Calise screamed inconsolably for close to thirty minutes. I couldn’t blame her for it because I felt like screaming too.

  1600 hours:

  Hull Street left us long before that point. It was always Route 360 but many names were attached to it the farther from our fallen home that we travelled. First it turned into Patrick Henry Highway, then it became Kings Highway, onto James D Hagood Highway, with a short stint as John Randolph Boulevard, then it merged with Route 58 to become Philpott Road. Philpott, God I hated that name.

  Although we had made it more than one hundred and twenty miles in zombie-infested wasteland and we were over halfway to the farm, less than an hour of daylight remained. I started to get stressed with our timeframe. We would have to find a place to park 522 that was hidden enough for us to all sleep in the back overnight. Driving in the dark wasn’t a risk I was willing to take after having made it so far.

  Then the flurries started. Seeing the elegant flakes begin to trickle down nearly gave me a panic attack. “Sweetheart,” my voice cracked, “will you come up here?”

  Sarah moved the blanket aside and saw the wintry precipitation. “Oh no…” She knew that snow wasn’t part of our plan. “If this keeps up will we be safe to stay in the truck overnight?”

  “I don’t know. We can’t leave the engine idling all night long. Will we be warm enough huddled up?” I asked.

  “Without snow? Probably. With snow….” she sounded as discouraged as I felt. “Doesn’t look like there is much around this area. Can we maybe find a house? Then if we have to turn the truck on to warm up we would at least be away from the road.”

  I noticed the white tinge that quickly formed along the shoulder of the road. “It’s worth a try. Clock is ticking, though. Sunset is in less than an hour; it’ll be dark even sooner with the snowfall.”

  She stayed up front to lend a second pair of eyes. “What about that one?” she asked, pointing to a short drive on the eastbound lanes with a house visible at the end.

  “No good.”

  “You’re right. Too close to the road. Here comes a river, that sign says it’s the ‘Dan River’.” She snickered. “Couldn’t they have come up with a better name than that?”

  “That’s not much better than the James River,” I countered.

  “Then we agree, Virginia has crappy river names. I was thinking,” Sarah teased, trying to distract me from the stress of our situation, “with this whole ‘end of the world’ thing, can’t we rename stuff that we don’t like?” I didn’t answer because I was too focused on the snowflakes that grew larger with every passing minute. The pavement began to take on the same white hue as the grass. “I know, I know. Not the best time to joke around.”

  A side road ahead on the right came into view. We started to point it out in unison. Taking our simultaneous observation as a sign, I sped up towards the road, which looked as if it veered off in the opposite direction then continued off far from the main highway. Less than a minute later we were there. The sign said it was called Elmwood Trail. I eased 522 to a stop at the turn.

  “You sure about this?” I asked.

  “No,” Sarah answered timidly. “Are you?”

  I gulped. “Not one bit. Let’s get on with it then.”

  Flurries graduated to light snowfall by this point. Depending on the way the wind picked up it made the world beyond our chain link armored windshield look like the static between television channels. Snow periodically dusted the gravel path making our new course completely nerve racking. I turned the truck’s headlights on for the first time ever, dread filling my gut as if I had alerted every monster in the area of our whereabouts. Between the increasing snow and the buffering forest I hoped that we would remain hidden from anything on the main road.

  We followed Elmwood Trail on its sharp easterly turn towards the way we came then its slow bend westward around a dense area of trees. A fork in the road was stationed at a gap in the forestation where a pond of menacingly dark water was. The turn would have led us on the line between the water and woods onto an unknown end. I didn’t slow for the turn because I wanted to keep the course. I looked to Sarah for confirmation, and her approving nod kept us going straight.

  Soon the trees were gone and open fields of white made us feel vulnerable once again. A few hundred feet later brought us to another fork. This time I slowed the truck. “Turn or go straight?” I asked.

  “Turn this time?” she hesitantly said.

  “Yeah, turn. We don’t want to stray too far from the main road if we can avoid it.” I eased the wheel towards this unknown offshoot. Saplings and bushes bordered the new road as it narrowed. Every inch we traveled felt more like a driveway than a road.

  “Nathan,” she gripped my shoulder with her right hand while pointing ahead with her left, “there!” A large house appeared in the grainy distance.

  “Do we try here?” I inquired. “Or should we go back to see what’s up the road?”

  She mumbled a worried hesitation then said, “The sun is almost down. If we wait any longer then we’ll be moving the kids in the dark.”

  I stopped the car a hundred feet away from the dark structure. “Some of them could be in the house,” I said softly so the kids couldn’t hear. “It looks boarded up. Can’t tell a damn thing from here.”

  “Maybe the owners sealed it up before getting out of town?”

  “Maybe the owners are still in there...”

  “We are out of time for maybes. Let’s go check it out so we can get them into cover.” Sarah said briskly, right to the point.

  “I’ll go. If something happens to me then another adult has to be here to drive them away.”

  “You expec
t me to let you go in there by yourself? Are you flipping kidding me!?”

  I waved to remind her that the kids could hear every word. “Stand outside the truck with the rifle. Keep me covered from there but do not follow. If I don’t come back or if something does happen then you have to go. Find a place to park and wait out the night.” She glared back, saying nothing. “Maddox, Calise, listen up. We’re going to check this house out to see if we can hide here overnight. Stay in the truck - NO MATTER WHAT. Mommy is going to be right outside the truck watching over me but she won’t be farther than the door.”

  “I don’t want you with the snow monsters!” Calise pleaded.

  “Mommy is right,” Maddox immediately interjected. “You shouldn’t go alone. I can do it. I can come help you. I’m brave enough.”

  “I know you are, big boy. Not this time though. This time I need that bravery here looking over your sister.”

  The truck was in park with the headlights on. Sarah was already holding the rifle in front of a disapproving glare. We slipped out of the truck into the cold. She carefully and quietly closed the door behind us then raised the weapon with the house in her sights. I pulled my hood up to stop the pestering of every snowflake’s stinging touch. Every shadow in the fading light taunted my imagination as a potential attacker. The house rose higher with each crunchy step.

  Visibility was so poor. I couldn’t make out a damn thing of this place we needed to take shelter in. There could be an entire horde of the undead waiting beyond the fortified doors and I wouldn’t have known it until it was too late. I was shaking, not because of the cold, but from anxiety over having to search the inside alone. My boot caught a hidden step causing me to stumble. I regained my composure, waved my Kukri towards Sarah to let her know I wasn’t hurt, then I turned back towards the house.

  “That’s far enough!” said a voice, seemingly from everywhere and nowhere all at once. I could see no change in the blustery tempest that surrounded me. I saw no ghoulish shapes, no new lights, nothing other than the beaming columns from our truck headlights and Sarah’s frantic searching for a target.