by S. M. LITTLE
There was so much chaos at the motor pool that they were misidentified as personnel going out on the convoy and given their own Hummer. They had no idea where the convoy was going, and they didn’t care. As long as they could get off base without being detained, they were home free.
The convoy started out and the two men followed in last position. It would be the easiest spot to leave the convoy from. It felt like an eternity before they were outside the base fence line, but they made it out.
Biding their time until they were far enough away from the base, Pete slowed the Hummer a bit to let the convoy get ahead of them. They were heading north on highway 129, towards Macon. The 540 interchange was due to come up soon, and it was there Pete planned to make his escape. He turned left on Allen Road while the rest of the convoy continued north. They were free from the convoy and on their way to Branson.
“Pull over,” Mike told him. Pete did as his friend asked and stopped the Hummer. Mike hopped out while Pete provided cover with his M4. It was a trait they had both picked up years ago during basic training, making sure each buddy was always covered.
Mike got under the vehicle to remove the tracking device. He found it and removed it, then threw it in the ditch. Once the two loaded back into the Hummer they quickly resumed their trek to Missouri.
“Smart,” Pete said. “Good thing it was such a cluster back there. We may not have gotten out if it wasn’t.”
“Yeah, good thing,” Mike replied. Going AWOL in this situation was the right thing to do, but it still sat wrong with him. He never thought the day would come when he would do something like that, but here it was.
“Brother,” Pete said. “I know what you are thinking, so stop. You know as well as I do that this is going to spin out of control. We could have stayed, and likely gotten killed following orders, or we could do what we are doing right now, staying alive and saving my sister. That’s a non-issue to me.”
“I know, I just don’t have to like it,” Mike said.
“Never said you had to like it, just accept it,” Pete told him. He could tell Mike was about to descend into one of his moods.
“Listen, you can accept it and move on, or sit there like a whiny little bitch and cry over it. Choose,” Pete told him.
Mike turned to glare at him but couldn’t hold his laughter back. They both erupted into a fit of laughter that almost made them drive off the road.
“We still need supplies. Water, food, more ammo and a map would be nice,” Mike said.
“On our way,” Pete said as he made a right turn into the parking lot of a gas station. They had traveled far enough that they were out of the suburbs. Not into rural America yet, but close enough.
The gas station looked like it had seen better days. It was a little, out-of-the-way place that had a small shop attached to it. Bullet holes could be seen running along the wall, and broken glass littered the lot in front by the door.
“Eyes up,” Mike said as he exited the Hummer. Pete turned off the vehicle, grabbed the keys and followed Mike. Both had their M4s at the ready, with Mike watching center left and Pete looking right and rear.
They had just made it to the door when the smell hit them. Dead bodies. Mike slowly entered through the broken glass door and scanned the store. It was small, with portable plug-in coolers holding what was left of soda and water. There were only a couple of aisles in the store with the shelves holding a few remaining candy bars and bags of chips.
Mike continued his survey of the store, clearing the main area and going back into the small storage room. He came back out a minute later with his weapon down. “Clear,” he told Pete, and Pete came inside.
“Dead body in back, could be the owner,” Mike said. Pete just nodded and went to the cash register. It had been pried open and the money taken. Pete looked below the register to where a square object had made an impression on the floor.
“Looks like they got the safe too,” Pete said. He started rummaging through the papers behind the checkout counter.
“Bingo,” he said to Mike, holding up a road atlas. “Now we have a map.”
“Good deal. Let’s bag up some of this stuff and get out of here,” Mike replied.
While Mike was bagging up the remaining non-perishable stuff, Pete continued to root through the drawers and cabinets behind the checkout counter.
“What the hell are you looking for?” Mike asked.
“It’s a gas station, right?”
“Yeah,” Mike answered, clearly not understanding.
“Then there should be a key to open the underground fuel tanks, right?” Pete said.
“Ahhh,” Mike answered, now getting what Pete was talking about. “I’ll look in the garage for a pump.”
A few minutes later, Pete called out that he had found the key. They were hoping that it would be universal and open all of the underground fuel tanks. Mike found a hand pump a couple of minutes later.
“It’ll sure beat the hell out of siphoning,” Pete said.
“Agreed,” Mike replied. They had just grabbed their gear to leave the store, when a bullet shattered what was left of the front window.
“Down,” yelled Mike.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
MOUNTAIN VIEW, ARKANSAS
Lucy woke with a start. Her surroundings were unfamiliar and there was a warm body next to her. It felt too small to be Greg. She looked and saw it was her nephew, Tyler. Memory started to come back to her. They had made to her sister’s, barely.
The damage from running through the pack of Changed had finally disabled the car about ten miles away from her sister’s. They had to walk the rest of the way, creating one hell of a blister on her right foot. It was late at night by the time they arrived, and Greg volunteered to go back and get the rest of the supplies.
Kay, her sister, had loaned Greg her car and he returned to the Jeep to collect everything they had left behind. By the time he got back, Lucy was fast asleep with Tyler sleeping next to her.
She carefully got out of bed and walked downstairs to the kitchen. It was still dark out, but Kay was already up. Greg was snoring on the couch.
“Morning,” Kay called out.
“Uh huh,” Lucy said. She wasn’t much for mornings. She couldn’t remember where the coffee pot was, but knew it was here somewhere, she could smell it. Like an addict craving their next hit, she used her nose to locate the precious black liquid. She poured herself a cup and without thinking, took a huge drink. Immediately she sprayed it back out.
“Damn, that’s hot!” she yelped.
“Shhhh, you’ll wake up snoring beauty over there,” Kay said.
Lucy refilled her coffee cup and blew on it a bit before taking a sip.
“What time is it? And how long was I asleep?” Lucy asked.
“It is about four in the morning, and you were out for almost an entire day. What the hell happened out there? Greg filled me in on some, but he started snoring mid-sentence,” Kay asked.
Lucy began telling her sister about all the events that had happened to her, leaving no detail out. She paid close attention to Kay, to see if Kay was believing her or not. When Kay’s eyes got as big as dinner plates, Lucy knew that Kay had believed her.
“Are we safe here?’ Kay asked after Lucy was done.
“For now, I would imagine. The rate at which this thing multiplies is monumental. I would think, soon, nowhere will be safe,” Lucy told her. It was hard to say, but it was truth. If they had any shot at surviving, they had to act fast. “We need to start collecting survival items.”
“Survival items?” Kay asked.
“Yes. Items we need to survive this…outbreak? Whatever it is, we need to be ready. Items like water, water purification items, food, ways to get food, weapons, a bug out vehicle, bug out bags, and tons of other items. We need to make a list, so we can start collecting. We also need a fallback location, in case we get overrun here,” Lucy said. She had rattled off the list so fast that she knew she had finally lost
Kay because of the vacant look on her face.
“Listen, it’s no different than what you do here, just on a bigger scale. You farm this land, not only to make money, but to survive. We just ratchet it up several notches, and we should be ready,” Lucy explained. Kay finally understood what she was saying.
“Oh, you mean like preppers, on that show that was ridiculous,” Kay said. She was referencing the show Doomsday Preppers.
“Something like that,” Lucy responded. “Get me a pen and paper, I’ll start the list. You can start getting some food ready for all of us to eat. We’re going to need a good breakfast today.”
“Giving orders, as usual,” Kay chided her with a smile. It was the same way that they grew up, Lucy may have been younger, but her drive to succeed always made her the bossy one.
“Just start, its too damn early for that,” Lucy said.
Kay got Lucy the requested supplies and started breakfast. Mornings were a time that Kay usually spent thinking about the past. She never let on to her kids how much she hurt, both physically and emotionally. Tyler wasn’t even a year old when Kay’s husband, Mark, died in a farming accident. His arm got caught in the blades of a combine and he lost so much blood, he was dead before the ambulance could get there.
His death left Kay with three children to raise, by herself. If that wasn’t hard enough, she was bound and determined to not lose the farm, literally. She worked herself nearly to death trying to provide for her kids, and it showed. She wasn’t a tiny woman, but she wasn’t obese either. She had wider hips, due to birthing three children, and most of her ‘momma belly’ had gone away, but not all of it. It was her face that showed the wear and tear of life on the farm. It was weathered from all the time outside and lines creased her face from the stress she was under every day.
Her 5’3” frame could still turn a head or two, she thought, but that usually never entered her mind. Mark was her one true love, and she had stayed committed to him all these years later.
She had received tons of help from neighboring farmers, and the kids helped as much as they could, while growing up. Now, with them older, they helped every day. Ben, 22, stayed on the farm and was starting to take over the day-to-day management. Shaley, 17, everyone called her Shay, was close to graduating high school, and showed great enthusiasm for the animals on the farm and was considering veterinary school. Tyler, 13, was still learning, but helped wherever he could. All in all, it was a good life, and one she would never trade.
Now, as she cooked breakfast, Kay stood wondering if it had all been in vain. If everything Lucy told her was true, then the farm might be a lost cause.
By the time she had food ready, everyone was awake except for Greg. He still lay on the couch, snoring away.
“We will never stay hidden from the Changed if he keeps snoring like that,” Kay said.
“Changed?” Tyler asked.
Lucy just looked at Kay, and Kay nodded. Now was no time to sugarcoat anything, and the kids needed to know what they were in for.
Lucy retold the story, again, leaving no detail out. She made the story very PG-rated but told the truth. As a result, Ben was excited, Tyler was terrified, and Shay was rather introspective. She had always been the smart one, analyzing what everything meant before taking action. Each of them, instinctively, reacted like their personalities. Ben was the adventurer, Shay was the smart one, and Tyler was still a little young to understand it all, but with Momma’s guidance, he started to see that if they were ready, it wasn’t so bad.
Lucy got up and walked over to Greg. She’d had enough of his snoring for one morning. She sat next to him and rubbed his chest. It was a loving touch that she knew Greg would interpret a certain way. He started to grin in his sleep as Lucy bent to whisper in his ear.
“Greg, darling, you need to get up and quit snoring, or I’m going to cut you off,” Lucy whispered.
Greg’s eyes flew wide open, and he swiped at Lucy’s hand, screaming,” You ain’t cutting it off!”
“Greg, I said you, not it,” Lucy giggled.
Greg calmed his breathing and relaxed. He noticed the giggles throughout the room and his face turned nineteen shades of red.
“Oh, right,” he said as he got up from the couch. “What time is it?’ he asked, trying to change the subject.
“It’s almost five in the morning. We have a lot of work to do today, so get some food and let’s get busy,” Lucy told him, still giggling.
They all sat down for breakfast while Lucy started giving out orders for the day.
“Ben, does the bus by the barn work?” Lucy asked him. It was a project that Mark had started, trying to turn an old school bus into an RV type vehicle. He wanted to use it for family vacations and such.
“Not now. It’s been sitting for years. It would need a lot of work,” Ben replied.
“Then start working on it. We need it running and modified to hold all of us. Beds, storage, armor, everything you can think of. Make it a battle tank,” Lucy told him.
“Greg, you and Shay start gathering anything that could be used as a weapon. Both melee and long range. We need to be armed at all times and ready for anything,’ she continued. “Kay and Tyler, start getting clothing together for everyone. Once done with that, come back and help me get the food and water together.” Lucy was certain she was missing something, but it would have to wait for now.
With that, they finished breakfast and got to work.
CHAPTYER THIRTY-FOUR
THE WHITE HOUSE
President Ford sat in the Oval Office pondering recent developments. The fiasco at Joint Base Charleston was over. The base was a complete loss. No survivors, except for those that had evac’d by plane. Communication with other world leaders was starting to dwindle as countries started to fall. Either from the Changed, or by citizens hell bent on getting answers that their governments didn’t have.
Society was breaking down across the country as people started to be overcome by fear. President Ford had no more answers to give than he did several days before. The CDC was a joke, and every other disease center in the world couldn’t get answers because they hadn’t managed to get their hands on any of the Changed.
He honestly thought that this might be the end of the human race. Maybe it was their time, he thought. It had been a good run, after all. Maybe it was time to just pack it in and accept the inevitable?
As he was thinking about it all being over, the Secret Service rushed the Oval Office and started dragging him out.
“What the hell is going on?” he shouted.
“Changed are in the White House. We need to get you out of here,” they told him.
As they rushed him outside, President Ford could hear gunshots echoing around him and from inside the building.
“Those people—” the president started but was cut off.
“Are dead,” the Secret Service agent told him.
Marine One landed with a thud just as the group arrived on the South Lawn. They were taking no chances with the president, using speed rather than finesse in an effort to save him.
They boarded Marine One and the pilots took off before the president was even buckled in. It was a short flight to Andrews Air Force Base, where Air Force One was already waiting, engines running. All they were waiting for was for the president to board.
The president sat in his seat and felt the thrust from the engines as the pilot launched the giant 747 into a rapid, emergency vertical take-off. The plane shot down the runway and started to gain elevation quickly.
Once they had achieved thirty-five thousand feet, the pilot eased the plane’s acceleration back to normal and they all settled in for the ride to an undisclosed location.
“What the hell happened back there?” the president barked.
“Someone from the service staff changed while in the kitchen. No one could stop him from tearing the place apart,” the Vice President told him. Ford was completely unaware that the Vice President was even in the White House,
let alone onboard Air Force One.
As President Ford was about to ask another question, the plane dramatically changed angle into a steep downward dive. Everyone not buckled into a seat was thrown against the back wall.
Inside the cockpit, just as they had reached cruising altitude, the pilot convulsed and changed, he had then grabbed the copilot and bitten his nose off. During the fight between the pilots, the yoke of the plane had been pushed forward, causing the plane to go into a steep dive.
It felt like an eternity to all of the passengers before the plane hit the ground, nose first, but time has a way of doing that before you die. Air Force One crashed into a field, nose first, and exploded upon impact, killing all aboard.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
DULUTH, MINNESOTA
Dylan and his team were traveling to the National Guard armory, just outside of town. It was located near the Duluth airport, so the plan was to hit the armory and then scope out the airport to see if there was any action there. If it was clear, they would have their pick of airborne transportation that they could also “borrow”, adding more flexibility to their growing fleet of vehicles.
The armory was an odd-shaped building, located in a small warehouse-type district. It looked like a child had thrown a bunch of squares onto the ground and then mashed them together into a building. The motor pool was located to the rear of the building. While there were many other buildings around the armory, they didn’t expect many Changed or people in the area as the warehouse buildings generally didn’t employee many full-time staff. The airport was only a couple of blocks away and the sight of it made Dylan’s blood boil as memories of watching his April die in front of him resurfaced.
The MCM drove around for several blocks to scan the building and its surroundings. The only fence that the armory had was in the back, surrounding the dirt parking lot that served as the motor pool parking area.
“I can see several vehicles in the dirt lot,” Robert said. He was used to looking through scopes from his time as an Army sharpshooter so he had been tasked with observing through a pair of civilian binoculars. “No activity from the building. Doors look to be open, but no movement from inside.”
