“That’ll take you through Danville and Martinsville. Danville is small enough that you should be able to zip through without much stopping you.”
“What about Martinsville?” He responded with a curiously evasive look. “You said Danville isn’t bad. What about Martinsville?”
He sighed heavily, like he knew he would be the bearer of bad news. “Martinsville is a bad spot, my friend. Memorial Hospital was swarmed in one of the first waves of mutation. Somewhere along the line the building caught fire. What I heard was that the fire crews responding were easy targets for those things. In the end the whole place went down. Before the local news stopped airing, they encouraged people on the north end of the city, closer to the hospital, to evacuate to the Martinsville Speedway on the south side. That place can hold a lot of fucking people with room for cars to park.”
“Where does Route 58 fall in line with the hospital and speedway?” I asked, terrified of the answer.
He didn’t look at me when he responded, “Through it. Right through the middle. Let me take a look at your map. I had jobs scattered around the area so I might be able to come up with another way.”
After a few minutes of consideration looking over my map he rummaged through the drawer of a nearby desk until locating a pink highlighter. With his finger he traced Route 58 from their house through Danville then stopped a little ways short of Martinsville. He tapped the page with marker on the spot. “Look for the school crossing. There’s not much else around there; you can’t miss it.”
In a slow, calculated stroke he drew a wiggly line that followed a series of roads below the city line almost to the Virginia/North Carolina state line. This new course weaved southwest across the expanse then took a few sharp turns to create a northern ascent. At last the pink tip reunited with Route 58 on the other side of the dangerous urban center.
“See,” Randall said, quite pleased with himself. “I told you I’d find another way!”
I was thankful, yet still troubled for a multitude reasons. “What do you know about the detour? Closer to the city limits do you think it’ll be gridlocked? Some areas took ten times as long from swerving around cars clogging the road. Even then we were lucky to get through at all.”
“I think you should be okay. The detour is almost entirely backcountry roads. Hell, you might get through those faster than you would the main roads. Like I said before, I don’t think Danville will be bad. Panic had people head south a little earlier. Knowing what was going on in their neighboring city had folks running the other direction. You’re driving towards the thing they were running from, so the parking lot would be opposite to you. Sure, there will be some traffic. If you all were headed towards North Carolina then my answer wouldn’t be a good one.”
“I hope you’re right. We don’t have many other options. Thanks for the advice.”
“Of course. Just because I don’t want you all staying here doesn’t mean I don’t want you to make it to your parents’ farm.” Randall’s cheeks reddened after his poor attempt at a joke. “If I can remember where they are, I’ll point out a couple of other spots on the route. Two years ago I did some panel work on an office west of Martinsville. Maybe you and your old man can hit it up after the family gets settled. I’ll write some pointers down for rigging a solar panel, if you can find one. There’s a little pharmacy off route 58 that I stopped at to fill a prescription while I was on the job. It was a mom and pop place that could be good for supplies. If it hasn’t been picked over already, that is.”
“Once again, Randall,” I said sincerely, “we are in your debt.” Another awkwardly silent moment passed. “I meant to comment when I sat down, that’s a hell of a weapon you have there.”
He shrugged. “Yeah I guess it is. Picked it up after my first big corporate installation. Felt like treating myself to something pointless at the time.”
It was interesting how this man shifted back and forth between extroverted and introverted. After our pre-dinner conversation when he reminded me of the deal we had made, I sensed that he wanted to limit interactions. This wasn’t something that I faulted him for, I would likely follow the same course. Having a guest that you will knowingly send away to their possible doom was a unique burden. Still, I wanted to find out what he’d been through after the dead rose.
“I imagine it has come in handy.”
“It has. Never thought I’d use it that way when I bought it at the gun show. Never wanted to use it for what I’ve had to.” He stifled a sigh. “That sword looked interesting. The one you had when I saw you from the balcony. What was it?”
“It’s called a Kukri. And yes, it’s supposed to look that way. I had it for years as a collectible. We’ve all had to use seemingly pointless items in ways we wouldn’t have imagined before the pandemic.”
He surprised me with a blunt question. “Breathing or not?”
“What?” I knew what he was asking. I simply didn’t want to think about the answer.
He looked up from the rifle. His volume lowered, the bluntness did not. “The ones you’ve used it against, were they breathing or not?”
“I could ask you the same thing. A few hours ago you were ready to shoot me on your front lawn.”
Randall laughed loudly then solemnness overcame him. My expression couldn’t have been much different, we were both men with demons. He raised his glass towards me for another toast. “Here’s to the breathing and to those whose breathing we stopped.”
2200 hours:
The Fishers insisted everyone turn in early.
After the quality time spent with our counterparts the kids and I got our chance to take a shower. When it was my turn I actually hesitated because of how vulnerable I felt removing my layers of protection. Turning the hot water nob in the basement standing shower was equivalent to transporting myself into another world. It was an instantaneous metamorphosis that washed my worry away along with the second skin of grime I’d accumulated. At our house Sarah had filled up the bathtub before our water became questionable. We had used it for cold sponge baths that only cleaned enough to keep our skin from breaking out. For a few minutes the warm flowing water joined with a healthy scotch buzz to briefly erase all the dread I carried with me.
Once the water stopped, the dread returned. Our future weighed down upon me like a death sentence. However, I was thankful to face the coming day with a full stomach and pounds of dirt removed from my person. While I redressed I deliberately avoided looking at myself in the mirror. Knowing how battle worn and weary I felt was enough to fight the temptation to clear the fog on the reflection.
Before I left the basement I admired the veritable stockpile of supplies that the Fishers had stored down there. They had a chest freezer next to a glowing panel that I assumed belonged to one of the solar batteries. Shelves of provisions covered the walls with dozens of untapped water jugs lined up beneath them. Randall and Jenn had gathered enough to keep them all well fed for months, longer with rationing. His willingness to shoot me on sight was warranted with this much to protect.
Maddox was standing in the hall when I rounded the bend of the stairwell. He looked upset. “Hi, Daddy,” he mumbled.
“What’s wrong? I thought you were sleeping in Brittany’s room?”
He rubbed his arm bashfully. “That’s where my stuff is. But can I stay in the room with you and Mommy?”
I assumed he was frightened since this was our first night separated in a long time. “There’s nothing to worry about, Monkey. We’re safe here.”
“I know… but,” he blushed. “Can I just stay in the room with you? Please?”
It all made sense then. “Come on, Maddox… she’s cute!” His cheeks became so red that they practically luminesced. “Alright. Tell her you’ll be in our room because your mom will sleep better and you have to take care of her. Promise Brittany that you’ll try to come back if you can.”
Thirty seconds later he was back in the hall. We walked together towards the guest bedroom where Sarah waited. When
we passed Courtney’s room the sound of little girl voices acting out a multitude of stuffed cat personalities could be heard through the door. It was a sweet, innocent sound to hear.
Sarah sat comfortably propped up reading from her e-reader on the double bed next to an illuminated bedside lamp. She saw us at the door and looked very confused until the look on Maddox’s face clued her in. “You have a chance to flirt with a pretty girl of the same age in this mess and you’re not taking it?” He looked at the floor then his cheeks and ears reddened. She rolled her eyes. “There’s more blankets in the closet. Make yourself comfortable on the floor. Daddy and I get the bed.”
Having the bashful boy in the room limited our time to talk. Truthfully, neither of us minded the quiet time. For once we couldn’t hear any distant cries or gunshots, there was no pounding of undead fists on the walls, and we didn’t have to drown out sounds that should only have a place in nightmares.
The two of them fell asleep within an hour of entering the room. I was the last one awake. At this hour I was typically plagued by memories that were precursors to nightmares waiting behind my eyelids. However, as I lay there in the warm bed, snug as a fetus in utero, I allowed myself some peace. Terrified feelings about the following twenty-four hours were easier to digest when I imagined myself at the end of the day safely in a bed at the farm.
Chapter 20 - Onward
Day Seven - November 29th
0630 hours:
I dreamed of Lance before I opened my eyes that day. My old police officer friend would have rightfully made fun of me for saying it. In his light southern twang Lance’s dry sarcasm would pick me to pieces for admitting that I had dreamt of him. Homophobic insults aside, he was the focus of this particular unconscious venture.
In the dream we were back in the city trying desperately to get off the campus grounds. Straying from my normal nightmares, any horrors the two of us witnessed or committed weren’t replayed in the dream like they usually did. Instead, I saw that last moment on the south end of the Cary Street Field. We scaled the fence that stopped us from being devoured and prepared to separate. It was bittersweet to have succeeded in escaping the gates of Hell only to part ways with the person who kept me alive.
We shook hands silently, not wanting to broadcast our position to the monsters lurking at every turn. I handed him a piece of paper in the dream as I had in real life. Scribbled on the scrap of paper was the farm’s address in the hope that one day I could thank him by extending an invitation to the safe haven that I personally longed to reach. After that we walked half a block together before splitting up. In the dream that half a block took miles to cover. Every mile I wanted to say more than what was said. I wanted to wish him luck in finding his wife. I wanted to thank him for pushing me through the horrifying campus grounds. I wanted him to know that I was sorry that after everything we’d been through, death would likely find us all before the month’s end.
Then my eyes opened. An unmistakable aroma of a hot breakfast wafted past my nose. I must have shifted or gave some clue that I was awake because a voice whispered to me.
“Are you up? Hey, Daddy.” Maddox carried on, as he would have any other morning before the end of the world. “Something is going on downstairs and it smells awesome. I think Mrs. Fisher is making breakfast already.”
“Little boy…” I was irritated and too groggy to hide it. “I just opened my eyes. Talking to me doesn’t help me close them again. What time is it?”
“It’s around six-thirty. I tried to sleep but the food smells so good.”
“It smells like heaven,” Sarah said, surprising us both. “Calm down, sweetie. We have to hit the road anyway so it’s time to wake up.”
A few minutes after that I was alone. Maddox, Sarah, and the girls went downstairs to feast. I sat on the mattress looking over the map by the bedside lamp. Randall appeared at the doorway to give me a startle.
“Sleep well?” His voice leaned toward the robotic, emotionless version that indicated he meant business.
“Amazingly so, thank you.” I knew he actually asked as a courtesy, like a hotel manager urging guests to check out early. “We’re packing up. Please don’t let Jenn go to any trouble with breakfast. That was never part of the deal and we’ve imposed enough.”
“Nonsense!” he said, his hospitable side returning. “You have been our guests. All you asked for was a bed; the rest was our idea. We’ll send you out with full stomachs. That is the polite thing to do.”
“Again, I don’t know how to thank you for what you and Jenn have done.”
“We’ve enjoyed having you all so I mean it that it’s not a problem. You keep praising me and I’ll have to point a gun at you again to even things out.” We chuckled awkwardly then he added, “Listen, Nathan, if you stop along the way like I suggested then keep your eyes peeled. Stay on guard.”
“I always do! It’s kept us alive so far.”
For the first time I saw Randall look worried. “I know, I know. But I mean it. There is a kooky guy, the girls call him ‘Crazy Doug’, that’s our neighbor on the far end of the property. If you think I’m nuts with the stockpiling and weapons then you should see Crazy Doug’s place! He’s got MREs, guns, ammo, the whole lot. As nuts as he is, he’s also got a heart of gold the way he’s always letting survivors camp there overnight. I bump into him every couple of days when I do my morning perimeter walks. If not for him, I’m not sure I would have had the heart to take you all in. He’s passionate about the stories he has of helping strangers and the things he’s heard from the road since this shit started. Even if Doug has a screw loose, his tales make me worry that...” he paused in thought. “It’s just that I get the feeling there are worse things prowling the roads than the rotters.”
The change in his demeanor unnerved me more than what he said. Throughout his explanation I saw the genuine worry behind the words. It was oddly uncomfortable so I tried to break the tension. “That snow is crazy, huh? I can’t remember a time when it snowed in Virginia by the end of November. Definitely not looking forward to driving in the unmaintained roads.”
“I see it as a sign that we’re in for a long winter. The roads shouldn’t be too bad if you go easy on them. That weird mail truck y’all are driving will do you right.”
We were quiet for a minute and could head our families downstairs, happily chattering away. Then his guarded tone returned; it was a bi-polar swap that amounted to ripping the bandage off a wound. “We should eat. I expect y’all to be on the road by seven-thirty.”
0720 hours:
After I finished breakfast Randall led me through the garage to warm up the truck. An inch to two inches of white blanketed everything in sight. It was quite beautiful, strangely enough, to see the dreaded coating. I’d grown accustomed to seeing destruction and gore marks telling stories of how humanity had failed in its fight with the Reaper virus. I had all but forgotten that the landscape could look so serene.
“Hold tight. Let me do a quick check to make sure we don’t have any other guests,” ordered Randall. Less than a minute later he came back to wave an all clear.
I turned the keys in the ignition while he popped back into the garage to grab a windshield scraper. He stopped a few feet from 522 looking at the chain link-covered glass, totally perplexed. I hopped out of the cab holding my sheathed Kukri.
“Yeah… about that windshield scraper... Give her a minute to warm up then the wipers can do the trick.” The Kukri obviously caught his eye; he looked angered. “I’ll put it back in if you’re that uncomfortable. I feel naked without it on my belt. Once we’re driving it is a bitch to put the thing on from the driver’s seat. By now I’d hope you trust that I won’t try anything. Keep the rifle on me if it makes you feel better.”
“You’re right, sorry. Just being cautious. Can you blame me?”
“Not at all. I’d expect nothing less.” I undid my belt to return the scabbard to its rightful place.
Randall walked slowly around the L
LV, his eyes taking in every detail of the unusual transport. “Not bad, Nathan, not bad at all. Never thought of using a mail truck like this. How did you come across this beauty?”
Ian would have loved to hear the praise of his monstrosity. “Post office was near our house outside Richmond. I went there the day before yesterday to steal one. The fleet manager was held up in the vehicle bay, and he helped me with making her zombie-proof and passenger ready.”
The chain link jingled a bit as Randall tested the strength of its fixed installation. “This here is a wonderful idea! I might try in on the Land Rover. Hate to screw up its paint job, then again, I’d also hate to have one of those infected assholes go through the windshield on a supply run.” He looked at his watch and we went back inside to round everyone up.
In the kitchen I stood quietly with Randall like guards overseeing a prison visitation. Plenty of tears were shed. Hugs were given; sweet pleas for return came from the younger daughters. Courtney gave Calise a new plush feline friend named Sasha; she was elated to have another furry companion. We all laughed when Brittany told Maddox that she was going to marry him. Jenn wiped her own tears away then told everyone that we would find a way to meet up in the spring. The way that the four kids got along made me ponder if a return trip in the future would be possible.
Sarah and I ushered the kids to the idling truck. Randall offered to walk down the driveway ahead of us to do his daily perimeter check. I wanted to believe that was why he escorted us out, but I think he wanted to make sure we actually left.
“We’ll follow behind you,” I said. “If you spot something and need a hand just wave me out.”
“You keep on drivin’,” he smiled. “I can manage whatever we come across. There is one thing you can do…” I raised an eyebrow curiously then he finished, “Next time y’all come for a visit I expect you to bring the booze.”
(Book 2)What Remains Page 18
