by Lukens, Mark
“We’ll go to Craig’s house. It’s far from the city. He wanted us to go out there anyway. He said something on the phone about having something there for me, and answers that he had there.”
Kim remembered Ray telling her about that yesterday. “What about that disease out there?” she asked. “You think it’s a good idea to be driving around out there right now?”
“Maybe not, but if that disease is out there, then we’ve already been exposed to infected people. It’s a chance we have to take. If we stay here, we’re going to be taken for sure.”
Kim still didn’t want to leave. She wanted to hunker down in their home and hide, wait for the authorities to figure everything out, wait for people to help them. But she had to be realistic. There was no help coming. And how much food and water did they have left? Enough for two weeks? Maybe three if they rationed their food? What were they going to do after that? And now soldiers were forcing people out of their homes and into Humvees? Why? And then she remembered hearing on the news that the president and his cabinet, and the entire Congress, had left Washington. Maybe something bad was coming here. Maybe Ray was right and they should leave.
Ray touched her arms again. She liked his touch, she felt better when he was touching her, holding her gently, even though he was still so panicky.
“I know you’re scared,” Ray said. “I’m scared too. But we have to try. If we don’t do anything, then the soldiers are surely coming. We have to try. This is our only chance. If there are answers to what’s happening, or some kind of cure, then I’m sure Craig will know about it. He wouldn’t have told me to bring my family to his house if he didn’t know something.”
That seemed to make sense to Kim. She nodded. “Okay. We’ll leave. How are we going to get out of our neighborhood?”
“Leave that up to me. I’ve already got an idea about that. Right now, we need to get those bags packed. We’ll use your Tahoe to get out of here.”
Kim felt tears coming. She didn’t want to cry, but the tears were coming anyway. She wanted to be strong for her husband, for her kids, but this was getting to be too much. It felt like everything was falling apart.
CHAPTER 19
Ray wanted to load up Kim’s Chevy Tahoe instead of his Toyota 4-Runner for a few reasons: her SUV was newer than his Toyota, it was bigger, and it was already parked inside the garage, where no one would see them packing their boxes and bags into it. He checked the gas gauge in her truck and it was nearly full—one small stroke of luck in this shittiest of days.
After Kim helped Mike and Vanessa with their duffel bags and backpacks, they all met downstairs in the garage. Ray had the Chevy’s back hatch open and the interior lights on inside the vehicle, giving them just enough light to see.
Soon the back of the Tahoe was filled up with their two duffel bags, two suitcases, and the kids’ backpacks. Ray also slid his toolbox inside, adding a few extra kitchen knives and any extra batteries to the toolbox. He also had a pillow case filled with various kitchen supplies including: two handheld can openers, eating utensils, plastic cups and plates. He had a small cardboard box with a few pots and pans, and a small hibachi grill, a bag of charcoal and a small can of lighter fluid. They shoved in two small red plastic cans of gasoline that they used for their lawn mower. Another small cardboard box contained some bathroom supplies, any medicines that they needed, a first-aid kit, and a large manila envelope with their important papers inside: IDs, mortgage papers, bank and retirement statements, birth certificates, the titles to the vehicles, social security cards, and two small photo albums. They laid two blankets over everything, and crammed pillows and extra bedsheets in the back seat with the kids.
Ray stood there at the back of the truck, looking everything over that they had packed into the vehicle, wondering what they might be forgetting or overlooking.
Here’s what they didn’t have: cash, guns, or any kind of survival or camping gear.
Moments later, after Kim and the kids were in the Tahoe, Ray started the truck up and went to the garage door to open it. He slid the locks back at the bottom on both sides of the garage door, released the handle at the top to manually open the door, and then he lifted the door up. The door slid up smoothly on its track. Daylight and cold air flooded the garage.
He stepped out onto the driveway a few feet, to the front of his Toyota, looking up and down the street. He didn’t see any soldiers or military vehicles, but some of his neighbors were outside, a few of them standing in groups on their porches or at the ends of their driveways. Some of these people had to have seen Helen being dragged out of her house not even an hour ago by the soldiers; they had to have heard her screaming as she was forced into the Humvee. Maybe they were talking about it right now, perhaps planning to leave just like he and his family were doing.
A few of his neighbors were looking his way.
Ray darted back inside his garage and got into the Tahoe. This was it; it was time to leave.
He backed out of the garage and parked beside his SUV, then put the truck in park. He got out with his flashlight and rushed back inside the garage. He pulled the garage door down and slid the locks in place. All of the other doors and windows in the house were locked. He locked the side door to the garage when he went outside. The kitchen door was still nailed shut. Hopefully their house would be okay, but he could imagine soldiers busting their front door in sometime in the next hour or so. But maybe they could come back to their house in the future, when all of this was over.
Some of his neighbors were crossing the street, walking towards his driveway, as Ray hurried to the Tahoe.
“Ray,” a man called out.
Ray didn’t answer. He got into the truck and backed out of the driveway into the street, searching for the man who’d called his name in the rearview mirror. He didn’t see him, so the man must’ve gotten out of the way.
After he was in the street, he shifted from reverse into drive. He was about to stomp down on the gas pedal.
“Ray,” Kim yelled. “Wait!”
The man from across the street was right in front of their truck, blocking their way. He was older and thin, his wrinkled face broken into a strange grin that looked more sinister than friendly. He held up a finger, signaling them to wait, and then he hurried around to the driver’s door.
Ray pushed the button to roll down the window.
“Hey,” the man said. “Ray, right?”
Ray nodded, but he couldn’t remember the man’s name; maybe Bill or Bob, or something like that. This man hadn’t been at Helen’s house this morning. His eyes were wild and bulging, his hair messy, his lips pulled back in that strange grin. His breath was vile, like he’d been eating rotten meat all morning. He cupped his hands over the top of the door after Ray rolled the window all the way down; his fingernails were caked with dirt and something else that could have been blood.
“What are you doing, Ray?” Bill or Bob asked, that strange smile never leaving his face.
“We’re leaving,” Ray told the man.
“Leaving? You can’t leave. No one’s allowed to . . . to . . . left.” Bill or Bob’s face scrunched in confusion like he knew he’d just said the wrong word, but he was unable to find the right one. His mouth worked up and down, a grunt locked in his throat as he tried to find the right word. “They won’t . . . won’t let you . . . at the . . . won’t let you left. Stop you . . . forget those . . .”
Ray nodded, but didn’t say anything. Bill or Bob was different. He was mixing up his words just like the old woman at the bank had done, just like the man who had attacked Kim in their bedroom. Bill or Bob was infected, or at least in the early stages of this disease that was spreading.
Two more people walked up to their SUV, and others were looking their way. Ray was getting more and more anxious now, ready to get going before everyone came over to their truck. He had an image of all of these people surrounding their vehicle, and flashbacks of the mob at the bank yesterday came back to him. He thought h
e saw the same look of hatred and violence in Bill or Bob’s eyes right now.
“I’m sorry,” Ray told Bill or Bob. “We need to get going.”
“What’s going on?” a woman’s voice called out. Ray looked past the man at his driver’s window and saw a woman who’d been at Helen’s meeting this morning, Dee, Ned’s wife (but he didn’t see Ned). Dee was small, but her voice was so loud, her New York accent carrying across the chilly air.
Ray didn’t answer Dee. His foot was pressed down on the brake pedal, trembling even more now. He gripped the steering wheel harder.
Dee looked around at the quickly-forming crowd. “He works for the CDC!” she shouted, drawing the others closer. “He told us that when we were at Helen’s house this morning!”
Everyone was looking at their truck now.
“He knows what’s really going on!” Dee continued. “That’s why he’s leaving!” Her voice was like an air raid siren beckoning the others forward.
“Ray,” Kim said, gripping the armrest of the passenger door.
He glanced at her and saw the fear in her eyes.
“Can’t . . . box ‘em in,” Bill or Bob said, and there was some dried spittle at the corners of his mouth. His eyes were bugging out so much it looked like they might pop right out of his face. “Form . . . taking apples . . .”
“I . . . I don’t know what you’re saying,” Ray told Bill or Bob.
“Don’t argue with him,” Kim hissed. “Let’s go.”
The situation was spiraling out of control—dozens of neighbors were approaching now.
Bill or Bob hadn’t taken his hands away from the driver’s-side door, still clutching it in an iron grip, staring at Ray.
“Take your hands off of my vehicle,” Ray told Bill or Bob in a stern voice.
“Boxing them in,” Bill or Bob said, his words were a little slurred now. “Haven’t seen the flowers on the roof?”
Ray didn’t care if Bill or Bob wasn’t going to let go of their truck; he gunned the gas and their Chevy Tahoe lurched forward. Bill or Bob let go, and another man had to jump out of the way at the last second before being run over. It sounded like one of the men had kicked the rear quarter panel as they drove past. Others were running after their Tahoe, including Bill or Bob, who was still shouting out his confused nonsense, his eyes practically bugging out of his head, but Ray was leaving them behind quickly.
Other neighbors were taking off back to their homes. For what? To get guns? To get their own vehicles so they could chase them? What had happened to some of these people? They were turning into animals.
They’re infected, Ray’s mind whispered. And we’re probably infected, too.
“Daddy,” Vanessa said from the back seat. “Why are they chasing us?” She seemed to be on the verge of crying.
“I don’t know, baby,” Ray said as he sped down the road. He didn’t have an answer for his little girl, but he was going to get his family out of here. He turned down the next street and his heart froze for a second.
“Oh God,” Kim whispered.
Two military Humvees were parked outside a home. Four soldiers were dragging a man out of his house. Ray recognized the man; it was Tim, the man who had been so suspicious of him. Tim was trying to fight back, trying to struggle, but he was no match for the soldiers.
Ray drove past the house and felt a sick sense of satisfaction now. He had wondered a thousand times if he was making the right decision to leave, if he was overreacting. But now, seeing Tim being taken, he knew he was making the right decision. It would only be a matter of time before those soldiers made their way through Helen’s list of co-conspirators.
A lot of people were out on their lawns, watching Tim being taken away, shock on their faces, yet they just stood there and watched.
There was a loud crack from some other street.
Was that a gunshot?
Ray didn’t know and he didn’t want to find out. He turned onto the main road that split their subdivision in half, the road that led to the entrance of their neighborhood. And before he was even halfway down the street, he saw the two Humvees parked nose to nose, blocking the entrance. Three soldiers in fatigues, rubber gloves, and gas masks stood guard in front of the vehicles.
Kim still held on to the armrest tightly, pushing herself back into the seat like she was riding on a roller coaster.
“Dad, what are they doing?” Vanessa asked from the back seat. She was about to burst into tears at any moment, Ray was sure of it.
“Vanessa and Mike,” Ray said. “I want both of you to get down on the floorboards with your pillows and blankets.”
“But we need to take our seatbelts off,” Mike said.
“I know,” Ray answered, gripping the steering wheel harder as he got closer to the soldiers guarding the entrance. “Take off your seatbelts.”
“But that’s against the law,” Mike said.
“I know,” Ray said. “But it will be okay this one time. Will you just do what I’m asking, please?”
Mike unclicked his seatbelt.
“Help your sister,” Kim said, glancing back at him. She sounded nearly out-of-breath with fear.
Mike helped Vanessa out of her seatbelt, and they got down on the floorboards behind Ray and Kim’s seats.
Kim looked at Ray as he drove towards the guards.
CHAPTER 20
The soldier in the middle of the three raised his hand up, motioning for Ray to stop his vehicle.
Ray slowed down to a stop in front of the soldiers, his Chevy Tahoe angled like he’d been about to go out the exit to the right if the Humvee hadn’t been parked in the way, like he was waiting for them to move their vehicle so he could leave.
Two of the soldiers raised their rifles up, aiming them at the windshield of the Tahoe.
Ray didn’t shift into park. He kept his foot down on the brake pedal, and once again his leg was beginning to tremble just a bit. But he tried to keep a calm expression, even smiling at the solider who had stepped forward towards his driver’s window that Ray had just rolled down.
“What are you doing?” the soldier asked, his voice a little muffled from the gas mask.
Ray smiled even wider. “Sorry. I need to leave. We’re going to my mother’s house. I need to check on her. Make sure she’s okay.”
“No one can leave right now.”
Ray pretended to look a little shocked. “What do you mean?”
“There’s a curfew in place right now. No one in or out.”
“Curfew? That’s not until tonight, is it?”
“A twenty-four hour curfew has been implemented,” the solider said.
Ray had seen a narrow gap between the rear end of the Humvee and the wooden sign that advertised their neighborhood. It would be a tight squeeze, but he was pretty sure he could get their Tahoe through that space—it might mean taking out part of the sign and running over some shrubs, but that’s what he would have to do.
He tried not to look towards his escape route, trying not to give anything away. For just a moment he thought he might’ve been able to talk the soldiers into letting them leave, but now he saw that reasoning with them was going to be impossible.
“Look, I don’t mean to be a pain,” Ray said, still smiling. “But I’m really worried about my mom. She lives alone and I want to make sure she’s okay.”
The other two guards hadn’t lowered their rifles, both weapons still aimed right at their windshield.
“Sir, you’re going to have to turn around and return to your home.”
“Why are you wearing gas masks?” Ray asked. His smile slipped away and he was suddenly angry. “Is there some kind of disease that we should know about?”
“Sir, go home,” the soldier snapped. He still had his rifle down low, but he looked itchy, ready to raise it up at any second.
“Why are you guys wearing gas masks and no one else is? Why aren’t you handing out safety equipment to all of us? What are we being exposed to out here?”
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br /> “Sir, shift into park and turn your engine off.”
Ray felt his body tense up with fear, his balls crawling. His foot holding down the brake pedal trembled even more. He kept his hands right on the steering wheel where the soldiers could see them, not wanting to make any sudden moves.
“Sir, shift your vehicle into park and turn off the engine.”
Ray didn’t know what to do now. If he tried to gun the gas and drive forward, the two soldiers were going to shoot, and they wouldn’t stand a chance against the barrage of bullets coming through the windshield. What else could he do now but follow orders?
Just then sounds of commotion came from behind their vehicle.
The soldiers turned their attention towards the noise, the two soldiers pointing their rifles that way, all of them aiming their weapons at the approaching crowd.
Ray glanced at the rearview mirror and saw two vehicles speeding down the road towards the entrance. A mob of people was following the vehicles, some with sticks and other weapons in their hands. Others were pumping their fists in the air, yelling.
This was his chance—he wouldn’t get a better one. He stomped down on the gas pedal. The Tahoe’s motor roared and the rear tires barked for half a second before the truck sped forward. Everything was like a blur, and it didn’t even feel real for a few seconds, like something out of one of Mike’s video games. They were around the rear of the Humvee in a second, shooting through the gap between it and the wooden sign. The front of the Chevy took out a section of the sign, shattering it, pieces of wood and splinters flying at the windshield. Ray kept the gas pedal stomped down, driving right over the shrubs, the front grill mowing them down like a tractor in a wheat field.
“Stay down!” Ray yelled at the kids as he drove, and he realized that he had crouched down as far as he could in the driver’s seat.
Everything seemed to slow down for a moment even though it was still all a blur. The next thing he knew, they were out on Spruce Road, the back end of their Tahoe fishtailing on the concrete street, tires screeching. Ray’s foot was on the brake pedal without even thinking about it, trying to stop the sliding of their truck. He was on autopilot right now, wrestling with the steering wheel, trying to get the truck straightened out and in the direction he wanted it to go. Pieces of the wood sign and the leaves and twigs from the shrubs rolled off of the hood, some of the debris stuck to the bottom of the windshield on the wiper blades.
