by Jack Wallen
Note to self – grill Echo with twenty or so questions.
We got back into the Audi and I pulled it within inches of another car. It blended in perfectly. With the lights and engine off, we were nothing more than another empty metal container.
“In about an hour or so it’s going to be really cold in here. We have to try very hard to fight off the temperature without starting the car. The less noise, the likelier we’ll survive. What’s say we break open some groceries and have ourselves a picnic, post-apocalyptic style!”
Echo smiled and hauled out a sack of food. It was junk food, but would fill the tanks. And honestly, the chocolate snack cakes, pretzels, and warm soda would go a long way to curb what might well be a flood of PAMS – Post Apocalyptic Menstrual Syndrome.
Chocolate. Was anything ever so incredible?
As we were eating, Jacob woke and grew restless. Before the little guy could let loose his first wail of the evening, I took the initiative and changed his diaper. With that mess out of the way and out of the car (Sealed in an air-tight, zipped up baggie, in case moaners could smell baby scat), it was safe to give the boy a bottle of less-than-cold formula. He balked at the temperature, but when the nourishing liquid hit the back of his throat, he greedily sucked it down.
“Can you imagine how nice it would be to have such ignorance and innocence on your side? To not know what the world was suffering at the moment? Do you think Jacob has any idea what’s going on around him?”
I wanted to say ‘no way’, but something inside me was fairly certain this baby was more aware than anyone would ever imagine. Understanding of the apocalypse coursed through Jacob’s blood. When he looked up at you with those big brown eyes, it was clear his knowledge ran contrapuntal to his age. I held in my hands a prophet of an infant.
“I think he’s asleep again. And I think I’m going to join him now.”
I carefully cradled Jacob in the car seat and snapped him in. The soft sound of his breathing was the only noise to be heard. The back seat was going to make for an uncomfortable bed. It was, however, better than sleeping in a grave.
Echo was already spread out in the front seat, her be-socked feet pressed up against the driver’s side window. I sat up and looked over the front seat at her. She smiled up at me.
“Thanks B.”
The nickname struck me hard. It was the name Sally gave me back in Paris, just before she was ripped apart by moaners.
“Most people wouldn’t have bothered with me. It took Armageddon to get someone to notice and care enough to take me in.”
“You mean apocalypse.”
Echo looked at me; confusion lined her big brown eyes.
“Armageddon is actually a mythical place where the messiah and Satan are supposed to fight some end of times battle.”
The confusion on Echo’s face changed to a warm smile that lit up the inside of the car.
“What?”
“You’re so smart B. I really envy that. And I hate that I may not survive long enough to be like you.”
I waited for tears to well up in Echo’s eyes. None came. Instead she grinned, stuffed a chunk of chocolate in her mouth, and laid her head back down. “Night B.”
“Good night Echo.”
I fought off sleep as long as I could. Nerves did their best to keep me from the task of sleep. It wasn’t until I started thinking about the drive ahead of me that I grew bored and weary enough to drift off.
Chapter 6
November 19, 2016 1:35 AM
Outside of Chicago
My own chattering teeth woke me. When I sat up every muscle in my body complained. From my mouth, the mist of winter expelled from between my lips. We hadn’t thought of blankets – that was a huge mistake (one we’d rectify during our next stop). As much as I hated to start the car, we needed some heat. Even if I could stand the cold, Jacob wasn’t strong enough to withstand such chill. I had him swaddled in plenty of blankets – his perfect skin wouldn’t be touched by the cold air. But breathing in the O2 of winter would certainly wreak havoc on his lungs.
“Echo.” I nudged the girl. She didn’t so much as show a sign of rousing.
“Echo, wake up!”
The sprawled girl moaned. She was alive and teen-enough to whine about it.
“What do you want?” One of her eyes opened and glared at me.
“I want you to sit up, start the car, and turn the heat on. We’re going to freeze if we don’t get some heat in here.”
The girl’s eyes went pie-wide. “Are you mental? If there are any moaners or screamers around, the sound of a car will bring ‘em all raining down on us! No way. No fucking way.”
I couldn’t argue with her logic, but the truth of the matter was, we’d die anyway. And I could think of far sexier ways to die than freezing to death in an Audi on Interstate 80.
“It’s below freezing out there. We have to get some heat in here or Jacob could get sick. We’ll figure out a better way to stay warm later. But for now, start the car.”
Echo complained again, but sat up and turned the ignition over. Thank God the car had an excellent muffler. The car was as silent as a combustion-driven machine could be.
“Give it a few minutes and crank up the heat. Once we get the edge off the temperature we can shut the car off and go back to sleep.”
The hum of the engine was hypnotic in the dark, silent night. There was something comforting to still have machines at our disposal
“Do you know how much this sucks Bethany?”
All I could do was laugh. I’d been asking myself the same question for a year. Never once had the answer changed.
“Tremendously.”
“What was it like in Munich?”
The question took me by surprise, punched me in the gut.
“I read the books B. How could I not. Jacob’s book, your blog – required reading for a post-apocalyptic society.” Echo sat up, cross-legged, in the front driver’s seat. “So? Munich?”
Just as I was about puke forth my take on living through ground zero, a gunshot broke the silent, eerie night. The sound shut us up and stiffened our necks. The shot was close.
I eyed the ignition. Echo immediately received the hint and shut off the still-cold car. The doors were locked. The only sign of life from the car would be the fading exhaust fumes.
“Get down,” my voice hardly audible. Fortunately Echo understood and scrunched as far into the shadows of the front seat as she could. I tucked myself down in the spaces between the front and rear seats. My brain wished to will my body as small as possible.
A second gunshot pierced the darkness, followed by maniacal laughter.
“Run, mother fucking coward! Run!”
The raging voice out-shined the sinister crack of the gunshot. Something wicked out there was on its way and I wanted no part of it.
The sound of running footfalls drew near. Something slammed up against the car. The sound of heavy breathing pierced the veil of safety. I wasn’t sure about Echo, but the only movement from my body lie deep inside my chest, pounding mercilessly.
Another gunshot.
“Fuck!” A frightened male voice from outside the car pitched fear to the four winds. “God damn psychotic piece of ass trash!” The thick Chicago dialect couldn’t be mistaken.
“There’s the son of a bitch! Get him!”
The fight outside the car wasn’t the run of the mill scrap. These people meant business.
“Now, you fucking piece of shit, I’m going to show you just why you shouldn’t go around raping poor defenseless women; especially when one of those women happens to be my God damn wife!” A new voice joined the fray.
“What are you going to do to me?”
A laugh that would shame Tim Curry’s evil clown made me want to poke out my ear drums.
“I am going to fuck you up, that’s what I’m going to do. You see, there’s only one thing worse than death now – infection. And since anarchy seems to be reigning supreme, I can do wh
atever the hell I want and no one will do fuck-all about it. So, the only answer for a piece of shit like you, is to tie you up and let the monsters have at your bony ass. Grab him boys.”
Another scuffle broke out. This time, the tragic horse play was accompanied by cackling laughter best suited for an Asylum.
There was no way I was going to chance voyeurism now. The Mengele virus wrought more than just the undead on the human race. Along with the zombification of the majority of the population, came the psychopathic panic of the survivors. What Echo and I were hearing was only the tip of a very large and jagged iceberg.
“No! Don’t leave me here!” The desperate, hoarse voice cried out. “They’ll tear me apart!”
“That’s the plan, mother fucker!”
The manic laughter was accompanied by gunshots. The gunshots were chased by cries for help. Whoever it was out there, wasn’t going to survive making that much noise.
“Should we help him?”
I was surprised by Echo’s question. She was a survivor, a casualty of a very broken system. The girl knew better than to let her heart bleed for the unknown, especially when said unknown was nothing more than zombie bait.
“Bethany? What do we do?”
Right before I opened my mouth to tell Echo she was foolish for thinking we should bother saving the man’s ass, my conscience bitch slapped my mind. The man was still out there, screaming a siren song for every moaner and screamer in the area to hear. If we were going to do something, it had to be now.
I sat up and scanned the area. Sure enough the ‘zombait’ was tied to the rail of a truck bed about twenty yards away. He looked youngish, maybe mid-twenties.
“Stay in here Echo. Have you ever shot a gun?”
Echo’s head shook back and forth, like she’d become possessed by Captain Howdy and his band of evil renown. So much for my backup. “Fine. Just stay in the car.”
The young girl grabbed my arm and looked deep into my heart, concern and fear lined her face. “Don’t die B.”
“I don’t plan on it.”
I slowly swung the Audi door open and stood up from the rear seat. The gun I tried to offer Echo was in my hand, ready to rock. I wanted that gun to give me some sense of security; it didn’t, quite the opposite. Using the pistol meant willingly making enough noise to draw the attention of the walking dead.
“Fuck! Lady, come and untie me. Please. Oh my God hurry.”
The man’s panic was understandable. In the distance the familiar cattle-like lowing sound was drifting through the cold night air. Zombies. They were coming, en mass. I had to make a decision immediately. Should I untie the man, knowing one of two things would happen; either he’d take off running, or he’d demand refuge with our little trio. I liked trios. Three was a prime number, it only had two divisors – perfect order – the anti to apocalypse. I needed that order. But there was a life in front of me that could be extinguished with a single bite.
The cattle were coming.
“What are you waiting for?” The man cried out.
I halved the distance between us to get a better look. The male was a bit older than I thought, his neck covered in a large bar code tattoo.
I hoisted the gun up and pointed it in the sweaty-faced kids’ direction. “What’s your name?”
Confusion drifted across the face of the male.
“What the hell does it matter? Untie me before those sons of a bitches get here!”
The zombies couldn’t have been more than a block away. I had to make a choice, now. Either save the poor man, or cut my moral umbilical and haul ass.
Tears began pouring down the man’s cheeks. I couldn’t help myself. I ran to him.
“I won’t hesitate to use this gun. You fuck with me, prepare to be fucked back – and I use no lube.”
The rope holding the man was a maze of knots. I tried channeling my inner Boy Scout, but nothing worked. The moans drew nearer. The man struggled at the binding, which only served to draw the knots tighter.
“Will you stand still? You’re making this impossible.”
“Lady, if you don’t hurry we’re dead. Oh fuck! I see the bastards.”
Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look. The thought plowed through my mind. Finally, the only solid plan my panic-filled brain could come up with struck me hard. I aimed the gun at the rope, steadied my hands, and fired. The bullet sliced the rope enough so a swift tug would break him free.
“Come on! Run!”
I didn’t bother to wait to see if the stranger followed. All I cared about was making it back to the Audi and getting my baby to safety. Echo already had the driver’s side door open for me and was perched in the passenger seat. I flopped into the seat, slammed the door shut, turned the car over, and punched the gas. Just as the car spun out into a half-donut, the rear driver’s-side door slammed shut.
He made it.
“Okay, first things first. Don’t touch my baby. Second, don’t fuck with either of us or you’ll get it back tenfold. Now, what’s your name and why did those men tie you up?”
“Whoa dragon lady. What’s up with the firing squad?”
He saw my eyes burning holes in him through the rear view mirror. His hands shot up in the air. “Okay, I get it. You don’t know me so you don’t trust me. That’s the new world order. We’re all guilty until proven innocent. Fine, fine. My name is Gabriel Wright. Full disclosure, I stole some of their food.”
Echo squawked out her disapproval of his excuse. “No way. Those dudes were going militia on you. You did more than that.”
Gabriel glared at Echo as if a moaner had exploded out of her chest and lunged for his face. “You’re kidding right? You know what it’s like out there on the streets. Fear is the driving force behind every action. You can’t look someone in the eye without them thinking you are after anything and everything they have. It’s brutal. Yes, that’s all I did. I took some food and ate it. I was starving. It’s every man, woman, and child for themselves now.”
A stare-off silence drifted down between Echo and Gabriel. I wasn’t sure, but Echo looked like she was about to ram her fist through the man’s face. I placed my hand on her knee to try to cool her off. As soon as my fingers found purchase, her shoulders relaxed, and the eyes returned to their normal size.
“Thank you, by the way, for saving me.”
A single, broken sentence and my resolve melted away. How can you continue to be angry at politeness? Seriously – it’s the apocalypse, when someone has the wherewithal to drop a thank you and please, you can’t just brush it aside. After all, the human race set aside manners when the Zero Day Collective drop kicked us in the nuts.
“You two have names?”
I was afraid of this. It was one thing to let Echo into the center of my world – she’s a young woman, I could take her if necessary. A man? That, I’m not so one hundred percent on at the moment. So, when Gabriel asked for names, my first thought was How far would he dig?.
“Name’s Echo. That’s all you get, for now. And don’t bother asking about a last name. I don’t have one.”
The temperature inside the car seemed to drop a few thousand degrees as the Ice Princess unleashed her special brand of cold shoulder on the stranger.
Gabriel scoped me looking at him through the rear view. He was waiting for my go at the game.
“I’m Bethany and that’s my baby in the back.”
I gave our new recruit the low-down on what was going on. He seemed straight-forward with us, there was no reason I could think of to lie in return. He got everything but the core of what was going on. For him to know about the Zero Day Collective, and my plans to rip them asunder, required an earned trust. So we were now four. I wasn’t perfectly settled inside with the change, but knew we stood a better chance with an extra pair of hands in our group. Besides, a male among us couldn’t hurt.
Gabriel seemed amenable to joining our little crew.
We chit chatted until we were far enough away to be safe. I
t was now just after three AM. My eyelids were at war with gravity, and gravity was certain to win. Morning would come all too fast.
The rest of the night, I would sleep with my gun in my hand and the proverbial one eye open.
Chapter 7
November 20, 2016 9:05 AM
Zombie Response Team Minneapolis, MN Unit
“Minneapolis unit, checking in. This is Franklin Tash. Check, check.”
The Minneapolis division of the Zombie Response Team was one of the largest in the north central United States. Because of their size, they were all business, all the time. The color of military flowed through the very veins of every member of ‘ZRT MinSin’. No one knew where the nickname came from, they just knew it existed and everyone was expected to use it.
“Officer Tash, this is Morgan Barnhart. What’s your SITREP?”
“All units in place and ready for action. If a moaner or screamer breeches our perimeter, we’ll know it immediately and neutralize the threat.”
“The target should be arriving in your location within the hour. Make sure the area is cleared. Morgan out.”
Franklin pocketed his mobile and picked up the walkie to radio his squad leaders. “Operation clean and sweep is – ”
The unit leader was cut short by a hideous chorus of screams, shortly after the squeal, the radio went silent.
“Sir, we have a sizable group of zombies heading our way. Type is Two. Your orders?”
‘Type Two’ referred to screamers. Franklin and his men had faced down only two screamers so far – and that was a challenge. Now there was a group of them on the way.
“Fuck.” Franklin’s jaw nearly released itself from the top portion of the skull. Once again, he spoke into the radio. “Incoming. Type Two. Shoot on sight. Repeat, shoot on sight.”
Everything went silent. The moment before war always seemed to have that tiniest of moments where time seemed to lose its relevancy. Ten seconds could stretch out into ten hours. Breath was held, hearts refused to beat. All was placed on hold.
