After Everything Else (Book 3): Creeper Revelation

by Brett D. Houser

  “How?” Sonya asked.

  He forced a smile and said, “Oh, I’ve got some ideas.” He really hoped he would have by morning.

  When they arrived back at the old house, Audrey went immediately upstairs to the room she had claimed and closed the door. Marilyn, Sonya, and Chase started gathering what they needed for dinner. When it was ready, Marilyn went upstairs and knocked on Audrey’s door. Chase couldn’t hear the exchange, but Marilyn came back down alone.

  “She said she’s not hungry. I think she’s nervous about leaving alone,” Marilyn explained.

  “She could stay here. She could stay at the horse ranch and wait for us,” Chase said. When he saw the way Sonya looked at him, though, he wished he wouldn’t have said anything.

  “She can make it to the camp easy enough,” Sonya scoffed. “She’s got what we didn’t have: a map and a safe destination.”

  “I think she’ll be okay,” Marilyn said. “It’s probably more the idea of doing it than actually doing it. She survived this long by herself.”

  “No idea how,” Sonya muttered.

  They finished up eating, cleaned up their gear, and made sure everything they didn’t need for the night was stowed away. They decided to go for a light breakfast, so they didn’t have much to put away in the morning except their sleeping bags. There was still some light left. Chase felt restless. He couldn’t stand still, and he still hadn’t figured out a way to get closer to the truck stop, to maybe even get into the parking lot and look through the trucks. That was what had to happen. Even if they saw Sonya’s dad’s truck from a distance it wouldn’t help them. They had to get inside it.

  “I’m going for a run,” he announced. Sonya and Marilyn looked at him, doubt written plainly on their faces.

  “Uh, you know there are still creepers out there, right?” Sonya said.

  “Not a lot. And it’s still daylight. I can outrun any I find,” Chase replied.

  “I think you might be taking an unnecessary chance,” Marilyn said.

  “Well, maybe so. But I’ve got to get out. I’m tired of being crammed in a car all day long, and locked up somewhere all night,” Chase said. He was afraid he sounded like a whiny kid. He tried again. “I like to run. It helps me think. And I just need to clear my head a little.”

  Still looking concerned, Sonya nodded. She unclipped her holster from her belt. “Take my pistol. And don’t go far.”

  Once outside, Chase took a deep breath. This far out in the country, he couldn’t smell the stink of the dead. He realized he had become so accustomed to it that he only noticed it when it was really bad. He stretched a little to loosen up, and immediately felt his spirits lift. He hadn’t exercised just to be exercising in some time, and his body missed it. His mind, too, he guessed. He looked down at his shoes and the shorts he wore. Cross-trainers and cargo shorts. He slipped the pistol into a pocket. It rested heavily against his thigh. Probably not the best running attire, but comfortable enough for a short run. At home, he had often gone running in the morning before school outside of football season. Some mornings he would run so long that he would be late for school. Right now he just wanted to run long enough to work up a sweat, to get the oxygen pumping into his brain, to help him focus on the problem at hand.

  He looked around. Run on the road? Not if he could help it. He looked at a dirt track that led from the house out into a field behind the old farm. It looked as though it was pretty well used, and the compacted sand and dirt would make a decent running surface. He started at a shuffle and then moved into his regular running pace. At first he gasped and thought he was going to have to stop to catch his but after struggling he found his breathing rhythm. He warmed quickly in the humid air, and soon the sweat was running freely. He cleared his mind and just tried to observe his surroundings. When he came to a gate he climbed it, resuming his pace at once. The twin dirt paths ran along a fence row to his right, and an open field was on his left. The high grass of the field was dotted with wild flowers on weedy stems. He thought Marilyn might know the names of them.

  Another gate, and he was running through a stand of trees, branches arcing overhead. Then he came to a newer gate, and the twin tracks became more defined. Ahead, he could see a cluster of buildings. This farm looked to have been active before the plague had set in. The house was newer, in better repair, as were the barns and sheds. He continued until he was close enough to see it better, but before he crossed the last fence, he stopped, breathing heavily. He considered checking it out, but that wasn’t why he was out here. He turned and ran back the way he had come. The sun was quickly settling to the western horizon. He knew he had to get back.

  Physically, he felt better. His muscles felt looser than they had in some time. His head was clearer. But he still hadn’t come up with any ideas. As he approached the old farm buildings, he noticed someone was standing in the middle of the lot. At first he thought it would be Sonya, but as he drew nearer, he realized the person was too tall. Marilyn? Then he realized it wasn’t Marilyn, and it wasn’t a person at all. A creeper. In the barn lot. Coming up the lane were several more. Had they forgotten to close the gate? He tried to remember. He thought they had, but apparently not. The creepers hadn’t noticed him yet. He counted. There were only five. Fire the pistol? He stopped, thought. No, not yet. He decided to try something. The first thing to do was to close the gate. His muscles were already loose.

  He set off at a sprint. He vaulted the gate that separated the first field from the barn lot. The creepers noticed him, turned to him, started shuffling his way, but he was too fast. The one in the barn lot started after him, and the others coming up the lane seemed to pick up their pace a little. He dodged between them, easily avoiding their grasping hands. At the end of the lane, the gate stood halfway open. They had closed it, but just hadn’t secured it. Another creeper was closing in on the opening from the roadway, but Chase had time to close the gate and secure the chain before it reached him. He stepped back. The creeper stood on the other side of the gate, reaching. So easy for a person to climb the gate, but the creeper didn’t even try. It simply stood, arms outstretched over the top. Chase turned his back on it and looked back up the lane. The creepers already inside were closing on him.

  They straggled some distance from each other. He sprinted back through them. It was a lot easier than avoiding tackles on the football field. Back at the barn lot he turned again. They had bunched up a little more. He pulled the pistol from his pocket. He sighted carefully, arms outstretched, left thumb crossed over his right. He took a deep breath, let it half out, and fired. The first creeper dropped. He adjusted his aim to the second creeper and repeated. The creeper didn’t even flinch. A clean miss. He tried again, this time hitting the creeper in the throat. It barely reacted. With the small caliber pistol, it was a head shot or nothing.

  Chase was dimly aware of a thundering of footsteps on the stairs in the old house behind him. He took his stance again. This time he connected and the creeper stumbled and fell, but the other creepers were getting a little close for comfort. Then the heavier report of a rifle came from behind him. The closest creeper dropped. He lined up another shot, missed again, but the sound of the rifle again came from behind him and another creeper dropped, spinning backwards. He tried again, this time finding his target. One more shot from the rifle, and the last creeper hit the dust.

  He turned to see Marilyn lowering her rifle, Sonya standing slightly behind her holding an AK-47. From the doorway of the house, Audrey looked on, horror written plainly on her face. Chase smiled. “Little more of a run than I anticipated.”

  “Dork,” Sonya said. Even in the face of her obvious anger, Chase was strangely elated. He felt great. Not only that, but the beginning of a plan had come to him.

  Part Two: Improved Means

  Our inventions are wont to be but pretty toys, which distract us from serious things. They are but improved means to an unimproved end, an end which it was already but too easy to arrive at..
/>   Henry David Thoreau

  Chapter 11 – Marilyn

  “No way,” Sonya said. “There is absolutely no way you can do that. There has to be something else.” Marilyn could tell by her tone that she was angry beyond screaming and tears. She herself felt that the plan was entirely too risky for Chase.

  “Yeah?” Chase said. Marilyn was a little surprised at the anger he was showing. Chase had always been so easy going, so willing to listen. Since his time spent healing in the camp, since the events of the night at the church, she had noticed he had lost those traits. Not completely, but more and more often she had seen signs of anger. “Why don’t we use your plan then? Oh, wait. You don’t have one. Well, that’s the best I’ve got. Maybe we should just camp out here and play with the horses until all the creepers have rotted into the ground. Then we can go find your father.”

  The look on Sonya’s face broke Marilyn’s heart. Chase had turned his back and didn’t notice. Sonya caught Marilyn looking at her and immediately went stone-faced. They had been gathering everything up and putting it in the trailer, making sure that they hadn’t left anything useful behind, and Sonya picked up the camp stove and a bottle of propane and stomped out of the house and across the barnyard toward the trailer. Honey, always sensitive when someone was upset, followed her. Marilyn watched Chase’s back while he pretended to be engaged in inspecting one of the AK-47s.

  “You know you just hurt her bad, right?” Marilyn asked. Chase’s shoulders dropped and his hands stilled. When he turned to her, she could see the tears in his eyes.

  “I know. I don’t know why I said that. I just get so mad sometimes anymore.” She walked over and hugged him. He leaned into her, his arms at his sides. “She says things,” he mumbled into Marilyn’s shoulder, “and they sound hurtful, but they’re not. That’s just who she is. And I know that. I know it. But lately it just seems like I can’t help but get mad.”

  “I get it, kind of,” Marilyn said. “But she expects you to be there for her, to support her. She likes you, at the very least. The only one she’s had to depend on the last few years is her father, and he’s nowhere around. She’s come to depend on you. So you have to hold it in. Say what you have to say, but be nice about it.”

  “So I should go apologize,” Chase said. She felt him pulling away and released him from her embrace.

  “Yes. And you better do a good job of it. I think your plan might work, but don’t bring it up yet. Let me talk to her about it.” Marilyn pushed him toward the door.

  “Okay. Thanks, Marilyn.”

  The morning had started out rough. Audrey had been up early and complaining about leaving alone and Sonya had been less than sympathetic. Over breakfast, Chase had paid particular attention to Audrey, ensuring she knew the route, what to expect, and how to get around creepers and what to do if she couldn’t get around them. Sonya had been disgruntled, sniping away with biting remarks every time Audrey had voiced a complaint about going by herself. At last they had gotten her started out. Marilyn wondered if they would see her again. She also wondered if Sonya and Audrey could learn to live together at the camp if that’s the way things turned out.

  Then Chase had laid out his plan, and Sonya had immediately shut him down. That hadn’t been right. She usually would at least listen, and she would have her say, but there had been no consideration at all. It did sound dangerous, and of course Chase was taking the most dangerous role in the plan, but there should have been some talk about it. Marilyn thought it could work with a few modifications. She thought even if it didn’t work and they were careful then failure wouldn’t necessarily mean death.

  She gathered the last of the equipment and supplies and stepped outside. Sonya and Chase were leaning against the wall of the shed where the trailer was parked. The Hummer was already hooked to the trailer. They appeared to be in deep conversation, and they were facing each other. That was a good sign. Marilyn walked over.

  “You guys ready to go? I want to go check on Cherokee and the other horses.” She knew she sounded falsely cheerful.

  “Yeah,” Sonya replied. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it. We’re all under stress, so if we don’t blow up a little once in a while, then we might blow up a lot later.” Marilyn loaded the gear and climbed in the backseat. Honey climbed in with her, crowding into the seat next to her. Chase and Sonya climbed in the front. Chase started the engine and looked around.

  “I’m kind of going to miss this place. That other place might be more comfortable, but this place was built for this. Hand pump, no electric stuff to remind us what we haven’t got anymore.” He sighed and put the truck in gear. Marilyn thought she understood what he meant, but she also wondered if he wasn’t nervous about being so close to their goal. What if they found Sonya’s father dead? Then what?

  At the end of the lane to the road, three creepers were pressed against the gate, reaching toward the Humvee. Chase brought the vehicle to a halt. “I can get the gate and get back in before they catch me,” he said, opening the door.

  “Hold on, hero,” Sonya said. “I can do the same thing.”

  “Why don’t I just put them down?” Marilyn asked.

  Chase turned to look at her. “I guess because we don’t have to. Save ammunition. I think before the day’s over we’ll get all of that we want.” Marilyn nodded. Sonya opened her door and Chase closed his. Marilyn readied her rifle just in case, opened the door and stood leaning into the door frame, feet planted on the floor.

  Sonya walked to the gate. She walked to the opposite end from the latch, and the creepers shifted that way with her. At the last minute, she darted the opposite direction, quickly unlatched the chain, and pulled the gate violently open. The leaning creepers fell forward onto the ground. Marilyn thought if it wasn’t so horrible it might be funny. Sonya jogged easily back to the Humvee. “See?” she said as she climbed in. “No problem.”

  “Okay, smarty pants,” Chase said. He drove forward. The creepers were back on their feet. He nudged past them, knocking them to the ground again. As he turned right, Marilyn looked back. The creepers were struggling to their feet again. The emotionless determination gave her a chill.

  Cherokee greeted them at the gate of Wingfield Stables. In a pasture near the road Marilyn could see the other horses browsing and even playing a little, but the sound of the motor had drawn Cherokee. She ran through the pasture, paralleling the path of the Humvee. Marilyn volunteered to get the gate and Honey jumped out with her. Cherokee nuzzled at Marilyn’s hair the whole time she was opening the gate and then latching it back behind the vehicle. Honey jumped in little circles around the horse, trying to get Cherokee to play with her. Marilyn waved to Chase to drive on. He looked back at her, and she told him she would be walking the rest of the way with Cherokee.

  She began walking toward the house. Cherokee stood watching her, but when Marilyn clucked her tongue, the horse matched her pace. “Good girl,” Marilyn told her. “You must have been someone’s favorite. Someone probably loved you a lot.” Cherokee whickered back at her and blew, nodding her head. Marilyn laughed. “Somebody taught you that, I bet.” Marilyn stopped. Cherokee stopped beside her. Marilyn decided to try something. She walked over to one of the pipe fences flanking this part of the lane. She guided Cherokee alongside the fence, and then climbed up and onto her back. Honey sat down and looked up at Marilyn quizzically. Cherokee shook her head, blowing, and Marilyn took this as a good sign. She twined her fingers into the horse’s mane as Cherokee took off at a trot up the lane without any guidance. She tried nudging the horse with her knees, and Cherokee responded by turning slightly in the direction Marilyn indicated. When they arrived at the lot where Sonya and Chase waited, she pulled slightly, shifted her weight back, and the horse stopped. Marilyn swung down and wrapped her arms around Cherokee’s neck, then turned to look at Chase and Sonya. They were both smiling at her. “What? You never saw anyone ride a horse before?”

  Marilyn asked Chase to set
up on his own. She needed to talk to Sonya alone. Chase looked like he was about to protest, but Marilyn stared at him pointedly until he backed down. Sonya seemed doubtful as well, but Marilyn insisted. Sonya seemed surprised by her persistence.

  “I’m not a big horse girl,” Sonya said when Marilyn indicated she should ride Cherokee.

  “Maybe it’s because you don’t know any,” Marilyn replied. She introduced Sonya to Cherokee. Sonya was timid and Cherokee sensed it. Marilyn worried that Sonya’s fear would cause the horse to try to act out, but she needn’t have worried. Cherokee was gentle, nuzzling Sonya’s outstretched fingers and then allowing Sonya to pet her neck. “Ready?” Marilyn asked.

  Sonya nodded hesitantly. “So what do I do?”

  “First thing is to get you on her back. We won’t be doing any trick riding. Just a short walk to the end of the lane and back.” She waved her hand toward the pipe fence and indicated Sonya should climb up on it.

  “What about a saddle?” Sonya asked nervously from the top of the fence. Marilyn led Cherokee over to her.

  “Nothing fancy. You’re just going to sit on her like furniture. Think you can handle that?” Marilyn tapped Sonya’s foot, waited for Sonya to take her weight off of it. Then she picked it up, pulled it across Cherokee and made sure Sonya was centered on the horse’s back.

  “Furniture doesn’t usually move,” Sonya said. She looked a little scared, but in a happy way. She reached down with both hands and stroked Cherokee’s sides.

  Marilyn walked down the lane toward the pasture where she had originally found Cherokee, Honey pacing along at her side. Cherokee followed them, and Marilyn would have almost said the mare was walking carefully, like someone trying to balance an egg on a plate. Soon Cherokee caught up to her, matching her pace on the side away from Honey. Marilyn looked up at Sonya, who was looking around in wonder. The late morning sun was warm but a slight breeze blew. In the western distance clouds were piling up on the horizon, but Marilyn thought it would be a while before the coming weather reached the ranch. She looked up at Sonya.