An Apocalypse Family (Book 1): Family Reunion (6 page)

Max looked over at Lisa. “What do you think?”

She pursed her lips. “Look, Uncle Parker can take care of himself, and he may even think to come here. I think we should leave a message for him, telling him our plans and asking him to check the island to see if anyone got there. Then we should go get the stuff from the ferry and head to Meg’s.”

I must have done a double take, because she just looked at me and said, “What?”

I laughed and stood. “Lisa, that is probably the most cogent, well-spoken idea that has been put forth at our little meeting; I second that, let’s go!”

Max grinned. “That’s my girl! Let’s do it!”

At sixty, cousin Maddie was still beautiful. She had to fight to keep ol’ man time from getting the best of her, but she was active and physically fit. She would go down someday, she knew, but it would be kickin’-n-screamin’. Her strawberry blond hair had some gray to it, but she’d taken to dying that out years ago. She rode her horses, tended to her livestock, and was about as real a cowgirl as you would ever meet. She could sing like an angel and drink you under the table if she’d a mind to.

She’d lived a good part of her life as a singer in multiple country western bands after migrating to Texas in her twenties. Maddie was also a nurse anesthetist by trade and had the funds to support the lifestyle she’d become accustomed to. She had a son, Branson, from her first marriage; he was on his own, living life as a twenty-eight-year-old.

Maddie had met and married Harry a few years ago; robbing the cradle, so to speak, as he was forty-nine now, and barely able to keep up with her. That’s not to say he wasn’t in good shape. He weighed 175 pounds, but at 5´9˝, he was solid and strong. He had blue eyes and blond hair and the women said he was cute, in a manly way. Harry owned a towing company and specialized in towing big rigs and unusually large vehicles. He was constantly teased because his last name was Towes—no kidding, Harry Towes. He’d become quite the fighter in grade school, where the other kids teased him about his hairy toes. Even after he was much older, he’d been in a few scraps over his name. Eventually he got past it and used it to promote his business.

Harry mostly just nodded, throwing out an, “uh-huh,” and a “you bet, sweetie” every once in a while, while Maddie held up the conversation.

She was a prepper. That is to say, she was sure the government was heading to hell in a hand basket, and she would be ready when it happened. She and Ryan had kept in touch over the years, both leery of the direction the country was headed. Where Ryan was somewhat prepared for the collapse of society, Maddie was
fucking A
prepared. Perhaps even a little bit anxious to try out all of her goodies. She wasn’t paranoid, just prepper-anoid. She would tell you this and then laugh with such gusto that you had to laugh with her.

She’d given thought to calling off the trip when the flu started in South Africa, but Ryan had given her a hard time. He joked with her that if the shit did hit the fan while they were at the reunion, he would need her help protecting all the helpless liberals. She laughed and told him she would see.

Once she’d decided to go, they made the decision to drive because Harry didn’t like to fly. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t, just that he didn’t like to. They were due for some time off anyhow, and Harry’s kids wanted him to get away from the shop for a while.

Maddie looked around at RVs and thought about buying a camper to tow behind one of their trucks. She changed her mind when a wealthy client, who was also a good friend, asked Harry if he wanted to borrow his
Marathon motor coach
. Harry didn’t explain to Maddie that they were going to Oregon, drop it off, and pick up a new one his client had ordered.

Maddie literally did a little dance when she saw the coach for the first time.

“DAMN Harry, this thing is a mansion on wheels!” she said, feeling the custom wood finish inside the door. “This is too nice; we can’t borrow this.”

Harry smiled. “Uh-huh, you bet we can, sweetie.” And that was that.

She spent the next day and a half loading the considerable storage areas with all the things a prepper considered nice to have in case of TEOTWAWKI. She was looking forward to the trip north, which would take them through some of the most beautiful country in the world.

*****

Carla Wilford sat in the Range Rover in the cell phone lot. She marveled at how excited she still got picking up Jake from his frequent business trips, even after twenty-eight years of marriage. He worked for a marketing firm that handled all of the mailers and telemarketing for one of the big three automakers. His territory had increased over the last couple of years as the company merged with another company and cut staff, increasing his workload, the number of dealerships, and trips away from home. He didn’t complain, as the pay was good. He enjoyed the work, and most importantly, he still had his job.

She was also excited to be leaving for two weeks of time off with the family. Lauren and Steve, her daughter and son-in-law, were waiting at the house, ready for the long road trip to Portland, Oregon. There they would pick up Conner, the youngest Wilford, and head the rest of the way to Whidbey Island in Washington for the reunion. Conner was just finishing his last semester of college, and after the reunion, they would all head back to Portland for his graduation ceremony.

Carla was the shortest member of the family, but she ran her clan like a congenial chief boatswain’s mate. Jake was the man of the house and often equated himself to the captain of the ship. He did what the chief said and basked in the glory of being captain.

Lauren and Steve had just moved from the East Coast after finishing their university experience. Steve was in the Navy ROTC and needed to complete a yearlong internship before his commission as a chaplain came about. Lauren, following family tradition, was a registered nurse. Two of her great aunts, Jean and Meg, were both RNs, and Lauren had always thought that it was cool. After two years of actual nursing experience, however, she realized that “cool” was a matter of perception.

Carla glanced at her watch for the third time in as many minutes. The flight was two hours late as it was; Jake should be on the ground, headed for baggage claim. She thought about just heading over now, but she’d jumped the gun before and suffered the wrath of the airport police for loitering too long in the pickup area. She would wait for him to call.

Her mom and sister were also going to Washington but wouldn’t leave until tomorrow, as the rest of the family had to work right up to their departure. She was glad they would be traveling separately. Their group might be twenty-plus people, and that always led to drama and delays.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the familiar “YO-HO-BLOW-THE-MAN-DOWN” ringtone. They were a nautical kind of family; at least Jake thought they were, as he clung to his old Coast Guard days. She pushed the phone button on the steering wheel.

“Hey Hon,” she answered, putting the Rover in gear. “On my way.”

“Okay,” Jake replied, not sounding his usual chipper self.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just got a bit of jet lag, I think,” he replied. “We were sitting on the ground for two hours in Hawaii waiting for clearance. There was some kind of BS about the Department of Homeland Security or something. Anyhow, I will be at the curb in a couple of minutes.”

“I will be here waiting,” she said, as she jockeyed between two limos for a spot.

Four hours later, they were on the 805 Freeway, headed north to Interstate 15, then on to the I-5. This would take them inland a bit and was an easier route than trying to hug the coast all the way to Oregon. Carla was worried about Jake. He’d thrown up at the house before they left, although he insisted he just needed some sleep. She’d been seeing the South African Flu story on the news, but that was on the East Coast, and Jake had been in Honolulu for the last week. Oh well, even if he picked up a bug, she would pamper him back to health over the next couple of days. She just felt bad for him, being sick while on the road.

Looks like Steve and I will be doing most of the driving,
she thought, as she watched Jake sleep fitfully.

*****

“She’ll be coming around the mountain, she’ll be coming around the mountain, she’ll be coming around the mountain when she comes…” Aunt Jean finished with a flurry and everyone giggled.

“Let’s do Michael Finnegan,” shouted Tyler from the backseat of the Prius.

“Uuughhh!” Madison cried. “We’ve been singing that one for the last twenty-four hours!”

“Oma,” Tyler complained to Lynn, “why do we always have to sing what Madison wants?”

They were on the way to Aunt Meg’s house in Washington, and were two hours on the road after stopping for the night in Bozeman, Montana.

“Listen you two, do I have to pull this car over and give you what for?” Lynn couldn’t finish the sentence with a straight face, and everyone burst into a fit of laughter.

Jean had flown to Denver from Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, where she lived, to catch a ride with Lynn and her grandkids to the reunion. Of all Ryan’s brothers and sisters, these two were as thick as thieves. Jean was the second child and Lynn the fourth. Lynn also had the distinction of being the youngest girl. That being said, neither were spring chickens. Jean was sixty-six, and she and Max were the rebels of the family. She would fit most comfortably in the “tough old broad” category these days. You did not fuck with Jean. Lynn was only a step behind Jean, but had somehow inherited a bit more tact from the family gene pool—not much, but enough to be a calming force in tense situations. The two together were hell on wheels.

Lynn was a motivational speaker, a life coach, and ran a successful art camp for women. She prided herself on her fitness, both mental and physical. She’d toned down many of her business interests in favor of caring for her grandkids, whom she loved and helped raise when their father turned out to be a dud. Lynn was a “can do,” type-A personality and knew that she could defeat any obstacle put before her, given enough time and resources.

Jean was a nurse; she now relied on that vocation more so than she had for most of her life. She’d worked the yachting scene in the Caribbean for a long time. That came about from an extended job in Alaska during the building of the Alaskan pipeline, a very lucrative time for her. She’d taken the money and invested in a schooner with two of her doctor friends, and they chartered cruises for the near rich in the Caribbean.

When that ended, she went on to work other big yachts as a nurse and head steward. As she got older, the yacht gigs went by the wayside, and now she did home health care when not out socializing with her friends. On the flight from Florida, she’d observed several people who looked like death. She knew what that look was, having seen it before. She dug around in her purse, found a surgical mask, and wore it for the rest of the trip. She really didn’t want to be sick for the reunion.

In between singing silly songs, watching for cars with only one headlight, and seeing how many different state license plates they could collect, they listened to the radio; NPR mostly, and what they heard was not good. The CDC was now calling for everyone to get vaccinated against the South African Flu immediately. Jean and Lynn discussed it and decided to wait until they got to Meg’s house to see if she’d been giving out the vaccine, and if she had any on hand.

*****

Barb was seventy years old. She was the matriarch of her branch of the family tree. She gathered part of the family at her home in El Cajon, a community just east of San Diego. Her daughter Carla and son-in-law Jake had already left for the reunion. Barb’s oldest, Hope, was helping to organize the caravan of travelers prior to their departure. Hope usually left this kind of stuff to her younger sister, Carla, who loved it.

“Okay, everybody, we leave in ten minutes,” she said, knowing it would be more like thirty. “Make sure to hit the bathroom before we leave. Our first stop will be hours up the road.”

She knew this also was not true but said it anyhow, almost hopefully. Hope’s oldest, Diane, directed her five-year-old daughter, Lila, to pee again. Barb’s oldest son, Joshua, was hustling around, helping to load the last of their luggage and pillows and whatever else they had deemed necessary for the trip.

Without Carla and her clan, the family caravan would consist of only three vehicles.

Hardly a caravan at all,
Barb thought
.
Denise and her new husband, Larry, were late: the first of what would be many delays in their journey north. What was normally close to twenty people was now a mere handful. Joshua had just gone through his second divorce and had not brought along his newest girlfriend. He was 5´10˝, good-looking, strong as an ox, and had forty-five years of bad luck with women.

In the lead car, Barb occupied the navigator’s seat. She was looking at the road map; she liked having it. GPS was just not her thing. Josh was driving and Grandpa Don rode in the backseat. Hope was in the second vehicle with her husband Dale, Diane, and a most-excited Lila.

They had just about given up on Denise when Hope got a call. “Mom, this is Denise. We have another employee that called in sick. We are going to have to stay.”

“Oh, are you sure, honey?” Hope knew that Denise and Larry’s lunch truck was doing well and thought they deserved to get away.

“Yeah, Mom, we just can’t leave without Carver running the truck. He’s the only one we trust to do it, and now he has the flu.”

“Well, okay then, we will miss you. Love you!” Hope was disappointed but also proud that her daughter was taking care of business, like an adult.

“Believe me, Mom, we really wanted to go. We love you too. Have a safe trip.”

As they disconnected the call, neither of them knew it would be the last time they would ever speak to each other. The two cars pulled out and headed for the freeway to begin the trip that would prove to be anything but what they expected.

*****

Josh looked in the rearview mirror every few minutes to make sure Dale was still there. They were ten hours into their trip and the sun had set, making it hard for Josh to tell if the car trailing him was Dale. He slowed to let the car behind him catch up a little. When it did, he said, “Uh oh!”

Barb looked over at him staring in the mirror. “What’s the matter?”

“I lost Dale. I thought the car behind us was him, so I don’t know how long ago we lost him.”

Barb turned in her seat to look back. “It couldn’t have been long, or they would have called.”

Josh nodded as he turned on the signal to stop on the shoulder of the interstate. “We’ll just wait and let them catch up.”

As soon as they stopped, Barb tried to call Hope.
“All circuits are busy, please hang up and try your call again…”
She hung up and tried again with the same result. “I can’t get her cell. Do you think we should turn around and go back?”

They were all peering out of the rear window in anticipation of the missing family members pulling up behind them.

“Let’s just give them a few minutes; I’m sure they are just lagging behind a little,” added Grandpa Don.

The sky melded from twilight into darkness as they sat and waited. About twenty-five minutes later, a highway patrol car sped past in the opposite direction with all its lights on and the siren blaring. Josh could make out more emergency lights heading south farther up the road.

“Oh no, turn around now!” Barb shouted at Josh.

Josh waited for a break in the traffic, made an illegal U-turn, and almost got stuck in the median. Thankfully, the car survived the bumpy median and lurched onto the southbound side of the freeway. They sped south, following the Highway Patrol’s lights in the distance.

They crested a hill to the scene of a massive car accident on the northbound side of the road. There were several police cars and emergency vehicles on both sides of the interstate, their harsh lights strobing off the devastation. Josh pulled over.

“Wait here!” he said, opening the door. Barb ignored his directive and got out of the vehicle, leaving Grandpa Don in the car.

They crossed to the northbound side, expecting to find someone in authority directing the scene. What they found instead caused Josh to immediately bend over and begin retching. A body with its head caved in was halfway out of the passenger side of an SUV’s windshield. The driver also appeared to be dead or unconscious. The SUV was pinned to the guardrail by a semi-truck on its side, which Josh recalled passing an hour or so ago. The windshield of the semi was missing, as was the driver.

The scene was surreal, like a nightmare. The lights flashed, and the smell of diesel fuel, gasoline, and burnt rubber hung in the air. There were people calling for help, people screaming, the sound of hot motors ticking, and cars passing by in the southbound lanes. Barb made her way around the truck and SUV to look for Hope and her family. Josh recovered and followed her over the guardrail toward the other vehicles in the pileup.

The complete chaos of cars and trucks thrown together made the mangled wreckage that much harder to search. Josh grabbed his mom by the arm.

“Did you hear that?” he asked her.

Barb continued on. “We have to keep looking.”

“Mom, did you hear that shrieking?”

Barb ignored him and peered into the debris. Josh stopped and turned his head, trying to locate the sound. It was then that he heard it again, but this time gunshots rang out in response. Josh started jogging toward the sound. He passed a box truck, and there he saw Dale’s Lexus.

“Mom!” he called out. “I found their car!”

Josh approached the car with caution, afraid of what he would find. The entire front end of the car was ripped off, the rear smashed all the way into the backseat. He didn’t even realize he was crying until his mom appeared around the overturned box truck.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” she kept repeating, as she stumbled toward the Lexus.

“Mom, wait!” Josh stood frozen to the ground, unable to draw any nearer to the horror that waited, promising to sear itself into his brain forever.

Barb continued into the wreckage and yelled back to Josh, “Hurry! Hope is still alive!”

That broke Josh from his stupor. He raced forward to help Barb free Hope, but before he made it two steps, Barb began to scream. That’s when he saw Dale standing where the front of the car used to be, his arm bent at an unusual angle.

Looks like he smashed his mouth on the steering wheel.
There was blood all over his face and down the front of his shirt. He tilted his head back and let loose a shriek that made Josh’s skin crawl.

A gunshot sounded from behind the Lexus, and Dale crumpled to the ground. Josh ran to him, unsure of what to do. As he got closer, he saw a highway patrolman leaning against the truck that the Lexus crashed into. He looked up at Josh, smiled, stuck the gun in his mouth, and pulled the trigger. Josh saw what looked like mud splatter against the door the patrolman had been leaning against. It took a millisecond for him to process that it wasn’t mud; the patrolman slid down the truck in a heap.

He checked Dale’s pulse and found none. He walked over to the cop and checked on him as well. It was obvious he was dead, but it looked like a wild animal had gutted him. Josh relieved him of his weapon, a Smith & Wesson 4006. He looked for additional magazines on the officer’s belt and found two.

Josh stood and went to help Barb, who was again attempting to free Hope from the wreckage, though by all appearances, she didn’t stand a chance. Blood was no longer pouring from her shoulder and neck.

How did she get such horrific trauma from a car accident?

“Mom…” Josh stepped up next to her and laid a hand on her arm.

She whirled around and pushed him. “No, no, no… she will be okay!” she screamed at him. Then she turned back to Hope and said, “You’ll be okay, you’ll be okay!”

Josh let his mom try to extricate Hope while he looked into the backseat. Diane was obviously gone; her once-beautiful eyes fixed upward, meeting his gaze. It was hard, but he looked over at Lila’s booster seat.

“Mom, Lila’s not here!”

“Help me with Hope, then we will find Lila!”

“Mom! Hope is dead!”

Barb fell forward onto the car. “Oh God, why would you let this happen?”

Josh tried to convince his mom to return to the car and wait while he searched for Lila. She refused and began calling out for her great grandchild.

“Lila! Lilaaaaa!”

Josh stuck the patrolman’s gun in his belt and looked under both the car and the truck for her. Not finding any sign of her there, he had a hopeful thought—
she must still be alive or she would be right here!
He began calling for her as well, frantically searching around the other side of the wreckage.

Back at the car, Grandpa Don sat in the backseat. He’d rolled the window down to listen for any sign of his family. He suffered in silence, waiting for them to return. He heard the plaintive screams of those in pain, the shrieking of… he didn’t know of what. He’d just decided to go after his wife and Josh when something zipped past in his peripheral vision. It was too quick to identify, but he smelled something horrible.

Several years before, he’d undergone a brain surgery that had affected his sense of smell; however, he was sure this smell was real, not imagined as some were. He opened the door and stood next to the car. He thought that he heard something or someone in the bushes next to the road. He moved toward the bushes.

What was that sound?
It almost sounded like a dog panting, or someone who had just run a mile trying to catch their breath.

“Josh, is that you?” Whatever it was, it wasn’t Josh. It let out an unbelievable shriek that sent Gramps hustling back to the car.

He made it to the car, slammed the door, and tried to roll up the window, but he’d turned the ignition off after opening it and now there was no power. The thing from the bushes ran into the side of the car, bounced off, and tried regaining its feet as Grandpa Don lurched forward over the seat to turn the key. Accomplishing this, he was reaching for the window button next to the driver’s seat when he felt the thing grab him from behind. Then he felt a searing heat in his right leg.

He turned to see Lila, his great-granddaughter, leaning halfway through the window, viciously biting his leg, ripping the flesh off his calf. Then a second one came to likewise reach through the window, grabbing at him. He successfully jerked his leg away from Lila and pushed her back against the thing behind her. He was able to hold her back far enough to roll up the window. Just as it was about to close, it stopped, blocked by the toe of his shoe.

He wrenched his foot free, but the thing behind Lila managed to get its hand through the crack. Thinking it would try to pull free from the door, Gramps lowered the window a half-inch, but instead of pulling its hand out, the monster pushed it further through, almost managing to get its whole arm inside the vehicle. Grandpa Don quickly closed the window up tight against it.

His leg was a mess. The wound was bleeding freely, and it took all his effort to crawl into the driver’s seat. He started the car, put it in gear, and swung out onto the southbound lane, gathering speed as he mashed the accelerator all the way to the floorboard. The thing managed to keep on its feet for about twenty yards before tripping.

Now dragging the thing alongside the car, Grandpa Don yelled, “Take that, you son-of-a-booger!”

He aimed the car toward a police car sitting on the shoulder of the road, its lights flashing. His right front fender made contact with the left rear quarter panel of the old Crown Vic.

The screeching of metal drowned out the shrieking thing right before it was sandwiched between the two vehicles. Its bones were shattered instantly by the collision; blood issued from its mouth and eyes in response to the intense pressure created by the crash. Grandpa Don swore under his breath as the car fishtailed. He tried to regain control as he bounced off the police cruiser. When he managed to stop the car, he turned in his seat to look back. There was the arm of the thing—half-in, half-out of the window.

For whatever reason, the traffic seemed to have disappeared from the interstate. Grandpa Don turned the car around and drove north in the southbound lanes, the car making unusual sounds and the steering wheel pulling hard to the right. He manhandled the car back toward where they had parked earlier and activated the high beams, looking for Lila.