by Dave Lund
Groom Lake, NV
Jessie sipped green flavored water. She wasn’t sure what it really was or what it was supposed to taste like, but it was made with green-colored powder and tasted like nothing else. Sarah drank dark hot coffee, which Jessie really wanted, but she’d sworn off caffeine for the pregnancy. Erin walked to the table holding a tray; she set it in the middle of the table, three plates for the three of them.
Jessie tried not to smell the powdered eggs covered in processed cheese that Sarah began eating and instead focused on trying to nibble at the food on her plate and keep down some of her dry white toast. Erin ate buttered toast.
Jessie put her toast down and pushed the plate away from her. “Which way do we go today, Erin?”
“Sideways.”
Jessie looked puzzled. “Sideways?”
“Yeah, Jason told me that there’s supposed to be another bunker toward the north via some tunnels; the computers that run this place are in another room that way too.”
Sarah glanced at her daughter and then Jessie, raising her eyebrows, before acting like she couldn’t hear the conversation and continuing to blissfully eat.
“When did you see Jason?”
“Last night, after his shift ended.”
“Where were we?”
“Uh, sleeping.”
Jessie glanced at Sarah, who was still playing the role of a deaf-mute mother, before she directed the conversation back to the beginning.
“Do we know how to get to those tunnels?”
“Not exactly, but we might have an idea where a secret door is hidden.”
Sarah finally decided to be a part of the conversation. “Why a hidden secret door? We’re in a secret hidden facility under a secret base that isn’t supposed to exist?”
“Aliens?”
They all had a good laugh, before Jessie stood up and announced she had to pee again and left.
Sarah bussed the table while Erin followed Jessie, beginning a conversation about birthing and what a newborn was like. Jessie stopped, suddenly aware of the connection.
“You’re not sleeping with him, are you?”
Erin looked hurt. “No, and if I were, what does it matter?”
Jessie glanced across the room to where Sarah was standing talking to one of Jake’s “mayor staff” and then back at Erin.
“I guess you’re right. It doesn’t matter. It only matters if you get pregnant. Do you want to bring a baby into this...this new life of ours?”
The lights cut out, the soft hiss of the air system being replaced with the capacitor sound of the emergency lighting flickering on.
“See, here we are in the safest place I’ve found and they can’t even keep the fucking lights on.”
The doorway’s exit sign glowed red above them. Erin shook her head.
“I think about your baby every day, and it isn’t even born yet. I don’t know what you’re going to do. We can’t live here forever. Eventually we have to move topside, and we need to be able to hunt, farm, and gather what we need. We’re in the fucking desert and...and that just won’t work. And, no, I’m not sleeping with him; he’s just a friend who misses his dead wife. Everyone we know dies, and now your baby is coming, and your husband isn’t even here, so I have to be ready. What the fuck else am I supposed to do?”
Tears streamed down Jessie’s face while she gave Erin a hug. “Thank you.”
Erin nodded, trying to act like she wasn’t wiping her eyes as well. The lights came back on as Sarah made her way to them.
“What was that about?”
“Nothing, Mom. Jessie, don’t you still have to pee?”
“Oh, God, yes!” Jessie walked away quickly.
“Are you OK, Erin?”
“Yes, Mom. What did that chick want?”
“That was Marcia; she’s looking for Brit, and apparently she hasn’t been seen in a few days.”
“Good, that bitch should be hiding for her worthlessness. She nearly got bit for being an idiot.”
Sarah didn’t respond, only sighed as she followed Erin down the passageway to wait for Jessie so they could begin their hunt for the hidden door.
Lost Bridge Village, AR
Mary followed Andrew and Oreo out the front door, her pink rifle at the ready, and the intense glare of her eyes betraying her fierce soul. Satisfied that they were currently free of the undead, with Oreo’s agreement, the three walked to Andrew’s parked aircraft at the top of the ramp.
“What can you do with such a small plane?”
“We can go just about anywhere. It’s a Husky, and it’s designed to be abused by pilots in the Alaskan brush country. There are no roads between villages there, so aircraft ferry people, food, supplies, and medicine.”
“You can’t carry much in that though.”
“No, Mary, you can’t. It’s not like driving a pickup truck or something, but when I say this can land and take off just about anywhere, I’m not kidding. One guy even had a bear attack his plane in the bush once. A buddy flew out a box of duct tape and in a few hours he was flying back to home to complete a repair that would be more pleasing to someone with the FAA.”
“What is the FAA?”
“They’re...they were in charge of pilots and airplanes in the U.S. before all this went down. See the numbers and letters on the vertical stab—the tail fin?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s the N-number, like a license plate. The N means this plane is based in the United States.”
“Is it hard to fly?”
“Not too hard, just takes practice.”
“Can you teach me?”
Andrew looked at Mary, her eyes no longer showing the hard stare of before; her eyes glowed brightly with delightful curiosity.
“We’ll have to talk to Warren and find more fuel, but, well, maybe we could start with just a test flight first.”
It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either, Andrew couldn’t bear to disappoint someone who needed some hope, but airplanes were rotting into the tarmac in their tie-down spots, and who knew how many pilots were even left. The road atlas in his hand, Andrew patted his leg, and Oreo returned to his side from across the airfield. He reached down to pat his friend on the head only to see Oreo startle at the touch. Andrew looked across the field at the tree line and back up the road out of the small lakeside community. He didn’t see anything, but he hadn’t stayed alive this long by not trusting Oreo. He knew trouble was coming before trouble even knew where it was going.
Quartzsite, AZ
The last watch finished their sleep rotation, and the short-hop from the Yuma overnight spot, a tiny spec of a town on I-10, was complete. Aymond had no desire to drive through the night into the unknown. With the complete lack of air support causing serious problems for his men as seen in the previous battle, he gambled that they could stop even if only traveling a few hours away, even if the PLA may be giving chase. The sun was up, and sleep rotations for a team took longer than sleeping through the night would normally take, but it was essential to get everyone rest and still maintain security.
Aymond stood on top of the lead M-ATV, binoculars to his face, slowly scanning the area. He couldn’t tell if the destruction and desolation was just how this town was or if the Zeds had caused it. Highway 95 North was the road they needed to be on, but they had to cross I-10 first, which lay about seven hundred meters to the north. No cars appeared to be on the bridge, which could be a good sign or could be bad, meaning the bridge was no longer there.
“Ready to roll, Chief!”
“Fuel?”
“Siphoned and served out of those big RVs across the way.”
“Roger that, Snow, load it up and roll.”
Aymond climbed off the roof and took the front passenger position, pulling the heavy armored door closed with a thud, noticing
the new heavy-looking bags hanging on the rail outside of the rear bay, a rainbow of colors.
The convoy pulled onto the highway and rattled northbound. Clicking the comm-link push to talk, Aymond asked, “What’s with the new fashionable-looking rucks hanging off our rigs?”
Snow, passenger in the second M-ATV, replied, “Found some useful shit in those RVs, Chief, thought we’d bring it along.”
“Like what?”
“You know, Chief, a few gallons of milk, some yogurt, just about everything from the fridges that would survive and add to our morale.”
Aymond didn’t respond to the joke, the silence growing louder with each moment. Gonzo stopped the convoy. Aymond keyed again, “Bridge is out. Happy, Hammer, and funnyman Snow, dismount and see what’s up.”
Kirk turned the remote turret left and right, looking for any threats. Gonzo slowly rolled the lead truck to a slow walking pace, giving the dismounted Marines a place to take cover if needed. Snow stopped at the ragged edge and looked east and west along I-10 before keying, “Chief, the bridge is demo’ed, lots of Zeds crushed by it. All the cars on the I-10 are pushed to the ditches, like a huge dozer came through and destroyed everything.
Aymond thought for a moment. “Did the bridge seem to go east or west?”
“East...Chief, there’s another bridge to the east and another bridge to the west; they’re both demo’ed as well.”
“Options, gentlemen?”
Happy keyed, “Yeah, Chief, what if we backtrack, hit one of those small roads, go west, and make our way to where the other bridge was. We could use the on- and off-ramps to get around all these damn fences.”
Aymond didn’t have to ask why he wanted to go west. Aymond wanted to go west, too; a group of Zeds powerful enough to destroy bridges is something they didn’t need right now.
“All right boys, mount back up. Do it like Happy said.”
Westward the convoy went, passing a trailer park and more RVs before reaching an intersection with a truck stop. What Aymond couldn’t figure out was why no Zeds came out of the areas with homes or RVs as they passed.
“Snow, when you went shopping did you find any Zeds?”
“Just a few that were trapped in their coaches, didn’t see any out in the wild.”
“Guys, if a passing horde of Zeds goes by, do you think it was like the Pied Piper, taking all the walkers out of town?”
Kirk was the first to respond. “Maybe, but let’s clear I-10 and then this shithole town before we verify any wild guesses.”
Aymond knew Kirk had a point.
The convoy easily drove down the Interstate on-ramp, crossed the median at a spot that appeared to be for just such a purpose, and then drove up the off-ramp, turning right and pointing north once again.
The sign said “Main Saint,” but there wasn’t much to it while they traveled east. Reaching the original route, the convoy turned north again. More RV parks flanked either side of the roadway. For once, Aymond was glad to see abandoned cars in the road, even if they did have to drive around them. It was a blessing in disguise—they weren’t on a motivated Zed route. A smattering of businesses passed by, but not a single Zed to be seen. The scene was eerie, and Aymond could feel that he wasn’t the only one whose alarm bells were ringing.
Quickly the small town was behind the convoy, and the open desert bloomed before them with nothing but hard, parched asphalt beneath their tires and some mountains in the distance. Forty-five minutes later, the convoy stopped just south of Parker, Arizona. In the town ahead, they could see the dead meandering through the middle of town with no real direction or purpose.
Those were the dead that Aymond was used to seeing; the thought of them somehow teaming up to bring down concrete bridges wasn’t one that he wanted to consider.
Ennis, TX
Shortly after the whine of the massive hydraulic and screw set began moving, a crack of light appeared, dirt and sand falling off the edge to the concrete ramp where Amanda sat comfortably in the big MRAP. The crack of light grew and slowly the large heavy door rose, her eyes protested the sudden glare of morning sunlight. Amanda squinted and drove the big armored truck up the ramp and onto the surface.
Her trip to the SSC from Little Rock had been perilous, even with her two specially trained agents. However, that was mostly due to their Gulfstream jet being destroyed and having to acquire civilian vehicles along the route, which were not able to stand up to the abuse of warlike conditions.
This war against the dead, how long will it last? How long will we have to fight? How will we win...what if we don’t win?
Amanda had a rough idea where she should be by the general layout of the facility, as far as she understood it. At the gate she could go right or left. Left led to a dirt trail, right led to a small road, so her first decision was an easy one. The huge door to the secret world below closed slowly behind her. After taking a deep breath, her resolve solidified, and onto the road she drove.
Passing unkempt pasture, Amanda took the first road to the right that she came to and traveled in a mostly northern direction. The highway sign said 287. There wasn’t a bridge or on-ramp, just a divided rural highway. Indifferent to the stop signs, Amanda crossed and turned left.
I need a road map, so I need a gas station or a truck stop.
With nothing but open country and farmland in her view, the roadmap would have to wait. In her memory of arrival, Amanda had a rough idea of what highways she would be immediately using, and she knew that Highway 287 was her first significant road. Alone with her supplies, with no music to play for the trip, Amanda drove in silence at a blistering forty-five mph, thinking, planning, and contemplating all that had transpired since late December.
The roadway had some disabled traffic and a handful of shuffling undead that she easily passed without incident. The plan was to stay away from the Interstates if at all possible. That had gotten them to the SSC from Little Rock, and it would serve her well here too.
The minutes ticked by, as did the miles covered. The highway carved around the top of Waxahachie, becoming a strange mix of rural and highly developed seemingly at once. The highway signs still stood, which was a help. The blue highway sign had the logos of some gas stations on it for the exit, so she took the exit.
On the frontage road, abandoned cars sat dead in place staggered back from the dark stoplight. As carefully as she could, fearful of getting stuck, she drove the MRAP into the grass between the frontage road and the highway, around the abandoned cars, before bouncing over the concrete island and into the intersection. Stopped momentarily in the intersection, Amanda looked at the gas station on the corner. Three cars were in view at the pumps. The windows were smashed out of the building, but the large green-and-white sign still stood triumphantly. The slap of rotting hands against the rear of the armored truck startled Amanda back into the reality of what she was trying to accomplish. Amanda turned and drove sharply away, heading north before threading the needle between more cars to drive into the driveway of the gas station.
Parked between the gas station and a Waffle House, Amanda left the MRAP running, its nose pointed to the exit onto the frontage road so she could continue. The dead she left in her wake at the intersection were making their way toward her, and more came around from the back of the Waffle House. Amanda knew she didn’t have much time.
In a quick walk, Amanda held her M4 at a low ready, scanning the dark interior of the gas station for any signs of movement and then checking around her to keep track of how close the closest threats were. If possible, Amanda wanted to conserve her ammunition; she only had so much with her, and she only had herself, so fire discipline would be up to her alone.
She didn’t see any movement in the shadows, but the smell coming from the gas station was horrible. All the food had rotted, the few cartons of milk and anything else in the cooler. The smell mixed with the smell of the co
rpses chasing her into the pungent smell of the new world. The door was locked, but the glass was broken out of it, so Amanda stepped through the hole where the glass had once been and into the convenience store. Flies inside the store dive-bombed her eyes and ears. Behind the counter, she found a handful of fold-out roadmaps, all sealed in plastic so people couldn’t use them to figure out the directions they needed without purchasing one first.
The sound of something hitting the door and then hitting the ground with a hard, hollow thud helped motivate Amanda to speed up her scavenge mission. She grabbed one of each on the rack without paying attention as to what they were maps of. Turning around, she saw a body get up off the floor, pieces of broken glass stuck into the skin of his hands and face. A second corpse tried to step into the small convenience store and tripped over the bottom of the door, falling to the ground with a similar sound as the first, making no attempt to catch himself. Looking past her two new visitors, she saw a small welcoming party forming on the side of the gas station that she had come from. Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, Amanda stepped through the door on the south side of the store, leaving her trail of undead friends to trip their way through two doors to follow.
Sitting safely in the MRAP once again, Amanda drove out of the driveway and onto the frontage road to resume her westward course. While driving, she looked at each one of the road maps that she had acquired. She had a map for New Mexico, Texas, and Oklahoma, plus specific maps for Dallas/Fort Worth and Houston. Houston and Oklahoma wouldn’t be useful to her for this trip, but the maps would be kept, just in case.
Stopping in the middle of the highway next to a sign indicating how far away she was from Dallas and Fort Worth, Amanda tore open the Texas map and the DFW map. It took her a few moments to find Waxahachie on the Texas map; tracing her finger along the line for Highway 287, she turned her attention to the DFW map. She had to go near Fort Worth, but she didn’t want to have to go through it.
