by D. J. Molles
“That was...” Harper started.
“Better fucking hurry.” Lee lowered the rifle and scanned the woods with his naked eye. Now the roadway seemed like a horrible place to be and the woods seemed closer than they had been just seconds ago. If something burst from those trees it would be on them in seconds. If there were more than one, they might not have time to react.
Slow it down and think...
Lee began to back up towards Harper, scanning slowly left to right. While he watched, his fingers checked the safety and pulled the bolt back to check that the chamber was loaded. He pushed the bolt back into place and tapped it twice so he knew it was seated.
The Savage Axis with its four-round magazine suddenly seemed like the worst possible weapon to have outside of a stapler. The scope was too ridiculously magnified to use on anything inside a hundred yards, and with only four rounds, each one would have to be a hit-and-a-half to count.
While the first howl still echoed through the woods, another call came from the opposite side of the road, this one more shrill. Lee swung in that direction, but the woods still yielded nothing for him to target.
Are they boxing us in?
“Where we at, Harper?”
“First one’s almost full but this tank is tapped.”
“Keep it moving, I’ll let you know when I see ‘em.” Lee backed up to the bed of the running pickup and quickly vaulted himself in. Being a few feet higher in the bed gave him a better vantage point over the box truck’s big frame.
A third call, this one very close to them, just inside the nearest section of woods. Lee looked to that section of woods and remembered the disaster of the night before—the one limping haphazardly through the trash bins while the others sneaked stealthily up from behind.
Pack instincts.
Lee turned in a slow circle in the bed, his rifle pulled tight to his shoulder, the muzzle held at a low ready. As he turned to the woods across the road from them, he heard the crackle and swish of someone moving swiftly through the leaves and bushes.
Lee wanted to leave, but he wanted that gas.
He did not relish the thought of a second trip out to finish what they could have finished right here and now. But he also did not relish the thought of losing another member of Camp Ryder. He had already taken the blame for what was clearly not his fault, how much more would they blame him if Harper died when they were out here alone and without witnesses?
Harper hacked and spit and began to siphon the next tank of gas.
Just give it a minute...
Another screech, further back towards Camp Ryder. Though the distance was greater, it did nothing to comfort Lee; they were now coming from all directions.
A crack of twigs, very close.
Lee broke down and gave in to his instincts. “We gotta move, Harper.”
Harper didn’t need to be asked twice. With the black tube still spewing gasoline, he ripped it out of the car it was in, spraying gas all over himself and the ground. He snatched the red cans up and sprinted for the truck.
There was a whoosh of leaves.
From the nearest tree line a figure burst through, loping towards them with a strange, sideways gait. Lee brought his rifle up, as a small part of his old self murmured in the back of his mind the many rules of engagement he had been taught. It questioned him with righteous indignation: Is he a deadly threat? You can’t engage him unless he is a deadly threat!
But Lee sighted through the riflescope, saw the moving, mottled shape and a mouthful of bloodstained teeth, and pulled the trigger. The rifle boomed and bucked and the creature’s left hip exploded in a shower of meat and gristle and bone shards.
Maybe not dead, but immobile.
“Lee!” Harper shouted as he threw both gas cans and the siphon tube into the bed. “Other side!”
Lee swung about, even as gas sloshed out of the can and onto his legs. From across the road, two, and then three more had exited the woods and were sprinting towards them in a staggered line, closing the gap fast. Lee cranked the bolt hard, up and then back. The brass shell sprung from the chamber leaving a ghostly smoke trail behind it.
Lee slammed the bolt back into place.
Two of the three sprinters were leading at an angle, cutting off their prey’s escape route. The other was heading straight on. Lee chose that one because he knew his chances of hitting the others with the overpowered scope as they moved laterally were slim-to-none.
He raised the scope to his eye, but the sight picture was not there.
He moved it around, trying to get his target.
Grass blades.
Leaves.
Blacktop.
Fuck this stupid scope!
The pickup lurched as Harper threw it into gear and slammed on the gas.
Lee lost his footing, not expecting the sudden acceleration and fell, slamming his back into the bed of the pickup truck. Every stitch in his back was a hot branding iron held to his skin and he cried out and swore violently.
The tires were spinning, trying to gain traction.
Something hit the side of the bed.
Lee rolled towards the sound, bringing the muzzle of the rifle around. Two sinewy arms, black with blood and grime, gripped the side of the bed as the pickup started moving. Long, stringy hair, beyond which a man’s face peered out, the mouth crusty with gore and set in a fierce, toothy grin, the yellow teeth snapping and gnashing wildly at him.
Lee put the muzzle to its mouth and pulled the trigger.
The head snapped back, but the claw-like hands did not release their grip from the bed. Blood began to spew out of the creature’s nose and mouth like a faucet had been turned on inside its head, gushing down the white paint of the pickup’s bed. Lee reared back to kick the hands loose when the last instinctive muscle spasms faded and the thing slid off the side of the pickup with a wet scrape and a thud.
Lee reached for the back glass of the pickup and pounded it. “Drive faster, motherfucker!”
He let the rifle drop as he tried to get up on his hands and knees, wavering like a drunken sailor on a violently pitching deck. He groped for the .22 pistol he’d stuck in his waistband but it wasn’t there. As they accelerated, Lee caught sight of it in the bed of the pickup, clattering back and forth.
The pickup swerved; Lee heard and felt the heavy thump of flesh striking the front bumper, accompanied by a breathy grunt.
Lee got his hands and knees under him and peered up over the side of the bed. The one he’d shot was still rolling on the side of the road, and another was in the process of stumbling back into the grassy median. The third attacker was just clearing the median and still sprinting straight for them.
For a moment, panic tightened Lee’s throat and he just knew the Nissan would break down now, at the worst possible moment. But the straining engine found third gear and dropped to a steady rumble, and the blacktop kept blurring by underneath them, punctuated rapidly by the white lines flying by. The wind rushed loudly in Lee’s ears but couldn’t overcome the thundering of his own pulse.
As they turned into the curve past the white Cavalier, the infected disappeared around the corner, still running madly after them.
CHAPTER 7: LIMITED PROVISIONS
They returned to Camp Ryder’s gates in a cloud of dust. Harper had put the pedal to the metal getting back and hadn’t let up until he slammed on the brakes in front of the chain link fence, causing the sentry on the other side to stutter step and nearly jump out of the way.
When the dust settled, the sentry—a thirty-something-year-old with a rifle slung on his shoulder—was standing with his arms raised. “What the hell?” he shouted.
Harper stuck his head out of the open driver’s side window. “Just open the goddamn gate!”
The sentry shook his head with irritation but complied, pulling the stop-bar out and swinging the hinged gates inward. The Nissan lurched forward, letting out a tiny spray of pebbles as Harper brought it back safely into the middle of camp.
Lee had situated himself in the bed, holding both gas cans in his arms to keep them from tipping and spilling. The first was still full, though a little had sloshed out. The second had been more haphazardly tossed and Lee thought there might be only a half-gallon or so left in it. The ride back had been herky-jerky the whole way, and Lee didn’t want to risk getting toppled around again. He waited until Harper turned the engine off before standing up.
Bus approached them, his black hair wet with perspiration and fresh sweat rings standing out on his white tank top. A small crowd of curious survivors followed, looking to see what the flying gravel and yelling was all about.
Harper stepped out of his vehicle and slammed the door behind him.
“Captain,” Bus nodded to Lee as he hopped out of the bed. “Harper. What happened?”
Harper seemed to consider his words with the eavesdroppers still standing around. The other two men picked up on the cue and leaned in, creating a loose huddle.
“What’s wrong?” Bus asked. “Did you get the gas?”
“We got some gas.” Harper nodded. “But man, I gotta tell you…those things…” he pointed out beyond the gate and made a face. “Those things are getting smarter.”
Bus lowered his voice. “What do you fucking mean ‘they’re getting smarter’?”
“They boxed us in.”
Lee clarified. “We were getting gas, and they did the same thing they did last night. They circled us up, had us surrounded. Then one starts running towards us, while three more sneak up from behind.” He looked at the leery faces surrounding their small group and heard the ripple of hushed conversation. “I don’t know if ‘smarter’ is the right word. They still lack self-preservation. But I think the ones that stay in groups are developing some kind of pack instinct.”
“They’re turning into hunters.” Harper mumbled.
Bus rubbed his eyebrows and swore under his breath.
Harper crossed his arms and looked resolute. “I’m telling you this because I don’t think it’s prudent for us to go outside the gate with only three. The captain and I barely got away with our skins and there was only four of them that we could tell. If we run into a bigger pack, we won’t be able to stop them. And if we hadn’t been able to drive away, we would have been fucked.”
Bus’s voice was harsh. “What do you want me to do about it, Harper? I don’t see a whole lot of people volunteering to go outside the gate accept you and Miller, and I sure as shit can’t order anyone to do it.”
Doc suddenly appeared in their huddle and Lee wasn’t sure how long he had been standing there. “I’ll go.”
All three heads turned his way.
The skinny medical student had his long hair pulled back into a loose ponytail and his skin looked sweaty and pale and his face was a dreadful mask of fear, like a trapped animal. The expression belied the willingness with which he spoke and Lee wondered what the kid wasn’t saying.
“No,” Bus sounded final. “Absolutely not.”
“Why?” the kid’s voice was flat and without conviction.
“Because you’re the only doctor we have!”
Doc’s face was suddenly animated with frustration. “That’s bullshit! I’m not a fucking doctor, Bus! I’m a med student with no goddamn supplies to help anyone with. Without the supplies I’m fucking useless. Plus you have Jenny and half the times she knows more about what she’s doing than I do.”
“Why do you want to go?” Lee asked. He wanted the extra man, but he wasn’t sure if Doc would be a help or a hindrance, and he couldn’t help but wonder why he’d volunteered. He didn’t strike Lee as the daring type.
Doc looked at him and Lee could see some hidden machinations rolling through the younger man’s brain. “You say you have medical supplies?”
“Correct.”
“Unless you have more medical training that I don’t know about, you don’t know what we need or what’s first on our list of priorities. You have a limited amount of space in that truck and most of it needs to be filled with food and water. I know what we need. I can make sure we get the vital stuff first. Otherwise you might waste your cargo space on shit that will go to waste.”
Lee had to concede that his limited medical training made him less than qualified to make a doctor’s shopping list. He could also see a desperation in Doc’s eyes, and in the moment felt he couldn’t tell him no. He wanted to know why Doc felt so strongly about accompanying them, but he knew that Doc wouldn’t say. Not here in public, anyway.
In the end, he nodded. “Doc makes a good point.”
The look on Doc’s face was one that Lee found hard to distinguish between thankfulness and deep regret. “Thank you, Captain.”
“So that gives you four total,” Bus hadn’t given up the fight. “And you think adding Doc to your crew is going to keep you safe? No offense, Doc, but you’re not exactly Special Forces.”
Lee spoke up. “Neither is Harper. Or Miller. Or you, for that matter.”
The group fell silent.
“I’ve worked with a lot of third-world farmers and shepherds. People with goat-shit on their hands that tended flocks during the day and grabbed an AK-47 and fought at night. If I can teach an Afghan goatherd to fight, I can teach anyone.” Lee looked at each of them in turn. “I know we don’t have a whole lot of time, but if you all give me the rest of the evening to teach you what I can, it will at least give us an edge.”
“I want another one,” Harper said suddenly. “I want to ask Josh. I’m sure he’ll come along. Then we’d have five. All five of us can fit in Keith’s pickup truck and if Lee can teach us how to work together...” Harper looked much more confident. “I’d feel a whole lot better about this thing.”
Bus considered for a long moment. “Fine.”
“Good.” Harper met Lee’s gaze. “I’ll get Josh. Where do you want to meet up?”
“You tell me,” Lee said. “I just need a quiet place.”
Harper nodded. “Behind the Ryder building.”
“Gimme a few and I’ll meet you over there.”
Harper and Doc departed the small huddle. Miller, who had been waiting nearby fell in step with them and began barraging his older counterpart with a slew of questions.
“Before you go,” Bus motioned towards the gas. “How much did you get?”
“Maybe six gallons.”
Bus grimaced. “Not quite enough.”
“No, but it’ll get us going.” Lee grabbed the two gas cans and began walking towards Keith’s big Dodge Ram with Bus alongside. “It’s should be enough to get there and back, but it doesn’t give us a lot of room for error. I’m sure we’ll pass more abandoned cars on the way. We’ll just have to keep siphoning on the go.”
Lee placed the two gas cans in the bed of the Dodge Ram and took a moment to grit his teeth against the sting in his back.
If Bus noticed the pain he didn’t mention it. “You remember Marie from earlier? The lady that took up for you?”
Lee smiled. “How could I forget?”
“She’s kind of the cook around here. Puts together our meals. She’s in charge of our food stores, as well. I would like for you to get up with her and see what she needs. Most likely, she needs anything and everything.”
Lee nodded. “I’ll check in with her.”
Bus left something unsaid and forced a smile across his broad features. “Thank you, Captain. She’ll be in the storage room right below my office. Just to the right when you walk in.”
Lee left Camp Ryder’s leader without another word and headed for the big Ryder building. He had questions, but he didn’t ask them. He had the feeling he would find the answers soon enough.
***
He found Marie before he reached the Ryder building. She was carrying a five-gallon bucket full of water around the corner of the building. She wasn’t a big woman, but Lee guessed she was a little taller than most. She wore a faded pair of tan Dickies that fit her loosely and a blue denim shirt with the slee
ves rolled up. Sweat matted down the hair on her temples and the rest of it was pulled back in a dark bundle that looked on the verge of falling apart. Lee noticed the set of blank determination on her face and the lean cords of muscle that stood out on her forearms as she hauled the heavy bucket. This wasn’t gym muscle, but hard work muscle. The kind you got from years of tossing hay bales out of pickup trucks, pounding fenceposts in the ground, and turning up dirt for planting.
She didn’t notice Lee step up beside her as she began to mount the steps to the front of the Ryder building. “I’ll offer to help you with that if you don’t take it as an insult.”
Marie jerked a bit when he spoke and turned to look at him. She cocked her head to one side, speculatively, and puffed a stray wisp of hair out of her face. Finally, she shrugged and set the bucket down. “You go right ahead, Captain.”
Lee stooped and grabbed the pale, doing a good job of masking the raw feeling that it sent down his back. “Where to?”
“Go ahead and take it inside.” She followed him up the stairs. “So what brings you to me?”
“Well, first I’d like to thank you for backing me up earlier,” Lee said earnestly.
“Hmm.” She didn’t show much of a reaction, positive or negative. “You’re welcome, I suppose. You can thank my granddad for that. He always told me to speak my mind, or keep my mouth shut.”
Lee appreciated her forthrightness.
“And the second thing?” She opened the door to the Ryder building for him and they stepped inside where it was slightly warmer and a little musty.
“The second thing is up to you. Bus sent me to ask you what you needed.”
“Uh-huh...” She stopped and regarded Lee with her hand on her hip. “Bus sent you to see me.”
Lee nodded.
She started moving again.
“He told me you were in charge of the food and to see what you needed.”
“Okay.” She guided them right, and then into a dimly lit space that was noticeably warmer than the rest of the building. The room was originally some type of storage closet and was lined with shelves that now sat empty. It smelled faintly of wood smoke and largely of bland, unseasoned foods. Marie stepped to a shelf where a kerosene lantern was glowing and turned it up.
