He let the wind take the paper from his hands. Cale walked over spent shotgun casings and moved the bicycle. He analyzed the small space between the bumpers of the police cars. The Bronco still wouldn’t fit. He’d have to move one of the cruisers.
Cale looked around before working. He didn’t want one sneaking up on him. It looked okay. Cale pulled the door open, then searched for the key. It was already rolled forward. It was dead. He grasped the transmission stick that was behind the steering wheel. He put it in neutral then tried to turn the wheel. It took both hands to crank it all the way to the right. Cale checked to see if the wheels had responded, and began to push the car off the street. He struggled at first but then the car’s own momentum took it. The car struck a light pole with a Christmas wreath hanging on it. This caused the cruiser’s air bags to deploy with a loud bang. Cale looked around again. The only thing moving was the trash in the street.
He went to climb back into the Bronco, but a noise stopped him. It sounded like crying. Cale went to the back of the Bronco. It was coming from down the street. He walked to the intersection to investigate. It sounded like a little girl. She was crying somewhere.
“Hello?”
Was somebody there? He shouted again.
“Hello?”
The wind carried the moans of the dead to him. Like mummies waking from the slumber of their tombs they sauntered out of the open buildings and into the street. Among them was a little girl who was shrieking loudly. It sounded like she was crying.
“Case solved,” he said to himself.
He hurried to the truck. The Christmas tree on display at a clothing store to the left was now accompanied by two infected children. They smeared rotted ooze across the glass. Cale closed his door and put the vehicle in drive. An undead policeman rose from behind the cruiser, he didn’t move.
“How the fuck did you miss that?” asked Zach.
Cale stared at the man. He didn’t know. The truck slowly passed through the opening he’d created. Behind him the dead gave chase. It didn’t matter. He was out of town within a minute or so and back down the highway heading west. A median divided east and west highway 70 then it transitioned into a four lane highway. Another sign listed Kinston and Goldsboro. Goldsboro was forty miles away and had a junction for I-795.
“Yes,” he cheered quietly.
Within twenty minutes he passed through Kinston and another twenty brought him to Goldsboro. Private residences and trees flanked the street. Those were replaced by quaint motels and car dealerships. A business on the north side of the highway had “Melvin’s” largely posted on it in blue. More homes went by. Then some empty fields.
“Are we in Goldsboro? There isn’t a lot here,” Zach voiced his concerns.
“I think so,” answered Cale sounding unsure.
He stayed on the route marked Hwy 70. Cale didn’t want to enter the town but it looked like he had no other choice.
“Just stick to the main road,” he told himself.
He passed by an Exxon fuel station. Its large sign declared there was no gasoline and the station looked as if it had been vandalized.
“You’re not going to stop?” cried Zach.
“For what?” replied Cale as he looked back at the station in his mirrors. “It looked empty.”
“You don’t know that for sure. There could have been food in there,” Zach argued.
“I have plenty of food,” he stated.
“Enough for maybe a week! Maybe!” objected Zach.
“And if I ration it right, it’ll last longer,” Cale answered smugly. “I shouldn’t be on the road for that long anyway.”
Zach rolled his eyes. Cale noticed that the undead weren’t on the streets.
“Where are they?” he asked himself.
“Maybe they seek shelter for the winter?” Zach answered,
“Like hibernating.”
“Could be,” Cale agreed.
Another set of shops went by. Then a grocery store.
“You’re really not going to stop?” Zach asked again.
“No,” Cale answered flatly. “Besides, that one is about to fall in on itself,” he pointed to the grocery store.
The west half of the building had extreme fire damage. The roof at that end had caved in and exposed parts of the store’s interior. Strengthening Cale’s argument.
“Look at the streets,” he told Zach. “If the dead aren’t out here then where are they?”
Zach was gone. Leaving Cale looking at his backpack and talking to himself again. The road was clear straight through. Goldsboro was much larger than Cove City, but the population was spread out. The turnoff for I-795 was in a half mile. He was disappointed with what he saw when he reached it. It was packed bumper to bumper. Even the grassy median in between was crammed with vehicles. In the sky above a large dark cloud circled.
“The fuck—” he leaned to get a better view.
It wasn’t a cloud. It was one massive flock of birds. Their squawks and caws were heard loudly over the truck’s engine. Scavengers. Cale looked at the interstate to see what they were encircling. Heads of the undead bobbed up and down amongst the vehicles. Lots of heads. He hoped it wasn’t the first of many detours he’d have to take. Cale continued on highway 70. It was all he could do. Princeton was twelve miles away. He didn’t care which way he went, just as long as he was going. The road to Princeton, unlike Goldsboro, was littered with abandoned cars. Most of which had been conveniently pulled over to the sides of the road.
Every one had all doors open and all tires were flat. Open doors meant they’d been looted, but why would someone flatten the tires? An F-250 lay on its side to the south. Again, all tires were flat.
“That’s…” Cale was interrupted by the Bronco suddenly dropping and swerving.
He maintained control and stopped the truck. He grabbed his rifle and jumped out. Both tires on the driver’s side were flat.
“God damn it,” he cursed as he circled to the passenger side.
Flat. Both of them. He looked around.
“Pull the spares from the other wrecks,” suggested Zach.
“That won’t fucking work,” Cale said angrily. “they’re all different sizes, makes, and models.”
He scanned the road to the east. A thick metal plate spanned the entire length of the road. Cale went to check it out. It was a police spike strip.
“Well that’s unfortunate,” Zach stated.
Cale looked at the other cars to the east.
“Zach,” he whispered.
“Yeah?”
“If the spike is here, then why are the cars all spread out over almost a mile?” he asked.
“Huh?” Zach was puzzled by the question and looked at what Cale was talking about.
This was intentional. It wasn’t an accident. Why would someone do this?
Chapter 16
IT’S A FUCKING TRAP
“It’s a fucking trap!” concluded Cale.
He spun around and discovered a man armed with a blood stained baseball bat stood between him and the Bronco. He wore a heavy coat over coveralls and large rubber boots. He was tall but probably only weighed around one hundred twenty pounds. His straggly hair matched his beard. A trucking hat snuggly sat on top of his head. A boy was grabbing Cale’s bag out of the passenger seat. He was in his teens. Dressed in almost the same attire. He wore a blue stocking cap.
“He’s only got the one bag Pa,” said the boy.
“Bullshit,” answered the man. “Ya crawl up in der boy and look some more. Der’s always more.”
The boy placed his bag on the road and jumped back into the Bronco. Cale pointed the rifle at the man, who then laughed.
“Hee hee! What ya got der?” he asked rhetorically.
Cale could see the boy climbing into the back.
“Take your boy and get out of here,” Cale said calmly.
The man laughed again and ignored Cale’s warning.
“Are you stupid?” asked Cale. “
Gun beats bat, you hick. Now grab your boy and go.”
The man laughed. “Oooh. I’m scared. I’m shakin like a little leaf. I bet you ain’t got no bullets. Yer bluffin.”
Cale fired a round two feet to the side of the man’s foot. The bullet skipped off the pavement and zipped into the air. He looked startled as the blood left his face, leaving him pale.
“Guess again, fucker,” smiled Cale. “Now get out of here.”
He knocked on the Bronco’s back window. “Gi-git out here boy!” he demanded.
“I ain’t found nuthin, Pa!” he objected.
“Git out here now! or I’ll whip yer ass!” he shouted.
The boy quickly did as commanded, then grabbed Cale’s bag before joining his father at the back of the truck.
“Tell him to put the bag down,” Cale said in a threatening tone.
“Pu-put the damn bag down,” he told his son.
“Why don’t ya just kill em like der rest Pa?”
“Shut yer mouth and drop the bag boy!” he told him again.
The man tightened his grip on the bat and his son dropped Cale’s pack.
“Now go,” ordered Cale.
“I thought ya said he didn’t have no bullets Pa?”
“Well I thoughts wrong,” he answered.
“GO!” Cale shouted at them.
“Jus don’t shoot. We’s goin. We got a famly we’s providin fo is all,” he pled.
“It’s jus you an me Pa,” stated the boy. “Why—”
“Would ya shut yer mouth?” barked the man.
“Go,” hissed Cale.
He motioned with the barrel for them to go south. The two of them bickered the whole way to the tree line. Cale grabbed his backpack and began to walk west. Occasionally, he’d look back to see if they were following him. Even at six miles away, he could see the birds hovering like sharks waiting to go in for the kill. They served as an infected tracking device. Cale checked every car he passed, only to find all the tires were flat.
“Old Pa Walton has been a busy man,” whispered Cale.
After a couple of miles he decided to stop and rest against a minivan. Which, to his surprise, had only three flat tires and a can of gasoline in the back. It was only late afternoon. Too early to call it a day, but did he want to risk attracting the attention of any infected in Princeton? As he pondered his options he could hear voices emanating from the trees to the south. They clearly hadn’t given up on their pursuits of him.
Cale left the road and entered the tall grass and trees to the north and stopped just far enough so he could still see the road. The ground here was bare. Perfect for a camp site. It was going to be cold tonight so he’d need a fire.
“What are you going to do about them?” asked Zach as he pointed back toward the road.
Cale could see the boy’s blue stocking cap as the boy and his father lay in the wood line to the south.
“They must think you’re like a deer,” Zach joked. “You can only see in black and white.”
“Deer are red-green color blind,” Cale corrected him.
“How do you know that?” asked Zach.
“I don’t know. I probably read it somewhere,” he answered.
“When the fuck do you have time to read?” joked Zach.
Cale shrugged.
“Anyway,” Zach continued. “what are you going to do?”
I’ve got a plan,” replied Cale.
He spent the rest of the day gathering firewood and putting his camp together. The entire time the father and son waited there. Cale even made it necessary for them to see him eat his dehydrated fruit and enjoy a bottle of water. Just before dusk he made a fire. He rolled out his sleeping bag then filled it with the clothes from his pack. Cale sat the pack at the head of the sleeping bag and left the light of the camp fire. He took up a prone position in the tall grass and waited. Cale watched as the fire burned. He could feel its warmth from his hiding place. Stars passed over head and insects made their calls from far away.
“You think they’ll come?” whispered Zach, who lay next to him.
“Yep,” Cale whispered back.
“How can you be sure?”
“This guy is a fanatic,” answered Cale.
“So?”
“He can’t help himself. I don’t think it’s just the supplies. I think he likes killing people,” Cale speculated.
“How do you know that?”
“It was something the boy said,” informed Cale. “Besides, didn’t you notice the other cars?”
“What about them?” asked Zach.
“Where are the bodies? Why does he bother to take them? He could just leave them.”
“True,” Zach whispered. “So what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to put the fear of God in him,” answered Cale.
A twig snapped from across the camp site and the insects fell silent. Cale watched their ghostly faces emerge from the dark. The boy had a small knife out and a bundle of rope. The man held his bat over his shoulder like a pro slugger. They crept toward the bundled sleeping bag. Cale could see the man was biting his own lip, savoring the moment before he struck.
He adjusted his grip once more, then swung down at where Cale’s head would’ve been.
“Aaaahhhh!” he swung again before he realized something was wrong.
He stopped suddenly.
“What’s wrong, Pa?” asked the boy.
“What’s wrong is, I’m over here and not in there,” Cale answered as he stepped out of the darkness.
His rifle was pointed at the boy’s chest.
“Put the knife in the fire,” he ordered.
The boy did as commanded.
“Now your bat,” Cale oriented his weapon at the man’s chest.
He dropped it short of the fire.
“Kick it in,” demanded Cale.
The man barely complied as he reluctantly kicked the bat.
“Get on your knees,” Cale told him.
The man got on his knees.
“Not you,” he stopped the boy from doing the same. “Tie him up.”
The man nodded to his son.
“Tie it tight,” hissed Cale. “Or I’ll blow both your brains out.”
Cale kept his distance but walked behind them to watch. The boy tied a feeble looking knot around his father’s wrists. Cale pushed his barrel into the boy’s back hard.
“Try again,” he barked.
“What ya goin ta do with us?” the boy asked.
“Tie that fucking knot right and find out,” replied Cale.
“He’s yella son,” said the man. “he won’t shoot us. He’s prolly never killed uh man before.”
In a flash of anger, Cale pushed the boy aside and butt-stroked the father on the side of his head. The man howled and put his hand over his crushed ear. Blood seeped down through his hair and down the side of his face. The boy raised his arms as Cale pointed the weapon back at him. Cale waited for the man to stop whimpering.
“I’ve killed a lot tougher men than you,” he said as he thought about Zach.
“I’ll fuckin kill ya!” exclaimed the man.
“Keep running your mouth and it’ll be your other ear,” threatened Cale. “Finish tying him up!”
The boy hurried back to his task.
“There,” he said after his father’s hands and legs were bound.
“Step back,” ordered Cale as he used his steadying hand to check the knots.
He kept the barrel facing the boy as he gave the ropes aggressive tugs. The man grunted with discomfort.
“Really?” said Cale at the man’s reaction. “Good job, kid. Now, grab my sleeping bag and put it into my bag,” he ordered the boy.
He packed the bag quickly and stepped back when he was finished. Cale quickly put the backpack on.
“Now, pick him up,” he nodded to the boy’s father.
The boy threw his father over his shoulder and awaited further instruction.
“Let’s go
for a walk,” he said purposely sounding vague.
They left the campsite and headed back for the highway. The boy slowed.
“Keep going,” ushered Cale. “Go to the van.”
He directed them to the rear of the van.
“Open the door.” He waited for the boy to comply. “Now put Pa in there.”
Cale was pleased to see he listened. “Pick up the gas can.”
The boy looked at Cale with a scared look.
“Pick it up!” he told him again.
“No,” he objected.
“Pick. It. Up,” hissed Cale. “Or I’ll shoot him,” he placed the barrel of his rifle on the man’s forehead.
“When I git out of here, yer dead!” the man shouted.
Cale butt-stroked him in the gut. The boy grabbed the can of gas.
“Where ya goin wit my boy?” he asked between gasps. “Don’t take em. He’s all I got left.”
“Your boy and I are going for a walk,” Cale whispered, then slammed the door shut.
Inside the man’s screams were indistinguishable.
“Open the can,” Cale told the boy.
“No,” he replied.
“Open it,” he sounded threatening. “Or I will. And you won’t like what happens next.”
Again the boy submitted. Cale gestured him to dump it on the van. The boy did so while crying.
“You missed a spot,” Cale added sadistically. “Now form a trail over here.”
Cale and the boy stood ten feet to the west of the minivan. He clutched the empty can and sobbed. Cale knocked it out of his hands and produced a lighter. He lit it on the first strike. The boy blubbered.
“See how bad this could have been?” asked Cale as he extinguished the tiny flame and returned the lighter to his pocket.
“Wha-what?” stammered the boy.
“This could have gotten a lot worse,” explained Cale.
The boy looked surprised. He wiped his eyes and walked toward the van.
“No no no,” Cale taunted. “You and I are going for a walk.”
“Wh-where?” he asked.
“Let’s go,” Cale herded him toward Princeton.
“Bu—”
“Go!” barked Cale.
They walked quietly in the dark for a while. Cale walked a half step behind the boy.
Z Plan (Book 3): Homecoming Page 16
