(Book 2)What Remains (14 page)

Finally at my target, I set the green bicycle
down quietly then used a length of white Para-cord to tie the
entrance closed. It wasn’t exactly an unassuming patch job of the
hole, but it would have to do for the short time I planned to be
there. Since I really wasn’t sure where I was going I decided it
would be best to walk the bike. I stationed it on my left to keep
my weapon hand free. The postal lot looked empty. However, I was
anxious as hell so I slid the Kukri out of its scabbard into my
right fist. Guttural growls and barks from the reapers I saw
towards the front entrance echoed enough to raise the tension.
Something definitely had them excited because that was not their
idle behavior.

I cautiously walked through the empty lot to a
line of mail trucks that were all backed into an overhang area that
must be a loading bay. My mind raced with what to do next. I was
not some kind of master criminal so ‘hot wiring’ a vehicle was a
laughable notion. There had to be a key box somewhere but it
wouldn’t be very accessible for obvious reasons. A long sigh
escaped my chapped lips. I’d have to break in.”

By then the sun risen high enough in the sky to
illuminate the shaded area that was formed by the loading bay. I
lifted the bike to the tailgate-level platform then tucked it in a
corner facing out in the event I needed to speed away. I peeled my
pack off, propping it against the wheel to help keep the bike from
falling over. I knew it was best to only bring what I needed inside
to keep myself nimble.

The bolt cutters were tucked into my belt to
reserve my hands for the crowbar and the Kukri. All the extra
weight on the belt pulled down enough that I was worried about my
pants falling down in the middle of battle. I wasn’t dying with my
pants down.

A vertical sliding warehouse door was centered
in the platform with a solid steel door to the left side. Would it
have killed them to build a window in here?

Cold from the surface of the warehouse door sent
a bit of a shock through my system when I put my ear against it to
listen inside. No matter how hard I tried to listen, all I could
hear was the drumming of my pulse. The handle on the bottom of the
door didn’t look like it was enough to be the primary source to
pull it up and down. I was sure it was just there in the event the
motor control froze up or power went out. I grabbed hold then
lifted with my knees, causing pain to radiate in areas I forgot
were still recovering.

In search of a ‘Plan B’, I shifted to the door
on the left side. First I jiggled the knob to see if I could catch
a break, which, of course, I couldn’t. It took a second to get the
mini crowbar into a notch that I could use to start prying. For
several minutes I wiggled and pushed the tool to no avail. The door
was reinforced, so I needed to try a lot harder and make a lot more
noise to get anywhere past it. I stepped back, dripping in sweat
and feeling complete and utter dread about the thought of having to
fight my way through the main entrance.

Then the door flew open. It startled me enough
to drop the crowbar with a clatter louder than church bells after
mass. I instinctively yanked the Kukri free and extended it for a
strike at whatever was coming. At the same time a dirty figure
leaped out from the darkness on the other side. I immediately swung
towards the creature, not fully registering the fact that this
zombie was wielding a baseball bat.

“WAIT!” he shouted at me. “I’M STILL HUMAN!”

Time slowed, as it often seems to do in our most
tragic or intense moments. The blade glistened through the air
towards him. I stepped back enough to have it slice harmlessly
through the air between us. A few more steps separated us as I
pulled it back up to the ready position.

His bat was coated in a layer of gore at its
end. Dirt, grease, and an array of battle splatter soiled the blue
button up shirt tucked into faded blue jeans that were equally
filthy. The rightfully defensive stance that he emerged with shrank
a bit as he spoke up again.

“It’s alright, brother. I’m not one of them…” he
trailed off then eyed the rifle barrel on my back and the Kukri in
my raised fist. “Put the sword down, you don’t need to kill
me.”

I lowered the blade down to waist level. “That
remains to be seen.” The worried expression on his face indicated
that my response obviously wasn’t what he hoped to hear. “I’m not
here to kill you. Put the bat down then I’ll put this away. After
neither of us is holding a weapon on the other we can talk.”

He hesitated before slowly setting the
contagion-coated weapon against the thin strip of wall between the
two doors. Our eye contact broke for only a second when he spotted
my bike and pack against the far wall. “No problem, brother.” After
I re-sheathed my weapon he asked, “So… you rode that bike
here?”

“Don’t worry about that. Who are you?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking
you
that?! After
all, you were breaking into
my
warehouse.” As true as his
statement was, I didn’t waver. A moment passed then he shrugged
with concession. “Fine. I’m Ian McAllister. Most people just call
me McAllister.”

“You work here?”

“Yeah man. My official title is ‘Fleet Manager’
but that’s just a nice government title for mechanic.”

I knew then that I’d found the answer to how I
was going to get a truck out of here. “Alright, McAllister, my name
is Nathan. Sorry for being such a dick but under the circumstances
I hope you can forgive me.”

He extended a hand forward. “Don’t sweat it, not
too many friendly people out there these days so I don’t blame
you.” I accepted his gesture and gave him a firm handshake. The
mutual contact relaxed his posture somewhat. “Nice to meet you,
Nathan.”

Drumming from the front of the building
increased to crescendo for a second. We both flinched at the sound.
I imagined one of the zombies pummeling the FedEx drop box out of
frustrated hunger. Motioning my head towards the door Ian emerged
from I said, “Likewise. Is it safe inside so we can talk?”

We sat inside an office occupied by a few file
cabinets and an assortment of tools on pegboard hooks. He offered
me a rolling desk chair then pulled one of the rolling file
cabinets out as a stool to sit across from me. I balanced the rifle
against the wall next to my chair; the Kukri remained sheathed
uncomfortably at my side. There was something about the way he
moved that made me suspicious. A weight was on his shoulders and it
showed. In all honestly, I knew I couldn’t jump to conclusions
because I probably moved in a similar manner.

Trust became such a peculiar trait in the
apocalypse. The consequences of misplacing or violating it would
literally consume you. Good people could change so easily when evil
was rampant and ravenous. Trusting another while the dead walked
might be like handing some stranger ammunition that could be used
against you. The last time I opened up to a new person in this way,
our budding friendship ended with my blade in his gut. This time
around I was dangerously close to home while putting my cards on
the table and surrounded by unknowns. Trust was the last thing I
wanted to give, but the alternative left me with little
recourse.

Accepting the risk, I told my story to the
stranger. He heard about it all: the kids, Sarah, my parents’ farm,
our plan to escape. There wasn’t enough time for me to play it
safe. McAllister needed to understand why I was here and why I
wouldn’t leave without the means to save my family. I searched his
expression for some change that would indicate acknowledgement or
even sympathy to my situation. Short of begging the man, I felt
that I had sufficiently pleaded my case. Uncomfortable silence
followed. I grew antsy waiting for a response and scratched at the
healing gash above my eye.

“I have a daughter... a son too,” he said,
filling the quiet void with words that took me off guard.

I was afraid to comment knowing how fortunate I
was to still have loved ones with beating hearts. He didn’t look at
me anymore, instead, his gaze drifted to the floor between us.

“Where are…?” my words were hesitant since I
knew each one of them could potentially push Ian over the edge.

“With their mom… I hope. They haven’t seen me in
a few years.”

“McAllister, I don’t know what to say. I’m
sorry, man.”

He shrugged. “Don’t be. I’m the one who left
them. There’s not much that can be said about that. Not a day goes
by that I don’t think about it. I constantly replay the night I
decided to keep driving. They are around the same ages as your
kids. It’s been long enough that they probably don’t even remember
me. I may be their father but the night I left I gave up the title
of ‘dad’.”

“That’s not true. Sure, we just met, but I can
hear the regret in your voice. It’s the job of a dad to constantly
regret the mistakes that affect your kids, no matter how
insignificant they are in the grand scheme of things. Lord knows I
beat myself up all the time about little things they probably don’t
even know about. Those times that I yelled over something minor or
didn’t make the time to do something with them. If you don’t hold
yourself accountable for that, well, then you don’t deserve to be a
dad.” Moisture welled up in the corners of his eyes. The man was
obviously filled with regret. “Have you thought about trying to go
back?”

When he shook his head, a tear fell down his
dirty cheek, drawing a line in the dirt and blood that stained his
skin. “I started thinking about going back every night since the
first one I was away.” He rubbed his eyes then tried to change
subjects. “This was the first place I could think to come when shit
started getting bad out there. People were getting sick in my
apartment building before the first reapers showed up. I’ve seen
all the movies, brother. I knew this was going to be bad. You
know?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I had a feeling too. When the
bulk of them started showing up I was stuck at work downtown, but
the house was already boarded up. We tried to stock up on some
supplies before that night just in case. Glad I listened to my gut
enough to at least have a stockpile to draw off of but a lot of it
got ruined when our car was wrecked last night.”

“Me too! I had a bag packed in the car with some
extra food. If I had stayed there I would have been a dead, or
worse, in no time. The night I saw the press conference when the
president announced the military would be deployed in cities and
that air and rail transport was shut down I knew it. Even though
they didn’t say anything about the mail I knew it would be grouped
somewhere in there too. With all the budget cuts over the last few
years they probably jumped at the chance to shut it down until this
all sorted itself out.” He looked downtrodden. “This place was
empty a day before the dead showed up. I was able to get in with my
key then emptied the stuff in my car in the warehouse before things
got too risky to be out. I’ve been here ever since.”

He was smart; I had to give that to him. The
postal warehouse had the space, some supplies, and the security
benefit of the police station
without
being a beacon for
everyone nearby that was in trouble.

“I’m glad you made it,” I said. “The plan
obviously worked.”

Ian smiled widely from my recognition of his
preparation. “Thanks, brother.”

“Thanks for what? You thought ahead and that’s
why you’re still alive. Not only did you think ahead, but also you
went a place that wouldn’t be noticed. It didn’t matter how much I
planned because I was still stuck in a building with a generator.
The lights went out in the rest of the city and our station
literally became a beacon for the infected people. Once they
stopped being people, we were surrounded.”

“How did you get out?”

“I went with two others in a tunnel system that
let out the next block over. We were able to get away from most of
them.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Three of you went… what
about the others?” Then he bit his lip upon seeing my shoulders
slump. “Never mind. The important thing is that the three of you
got out.”

“Three of us got out, yes, but not all of us
made it very far.”

He scratched his head nervously. “I didn’t know,
man. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. How could you have known? We’ve all
lost so much. The important thing is that I made it back to
them
. Now do you understand how determined I am to get my
family out? I can’t beat myself up about leaving those people I
worked with behind, even if I should, because I made it back to the
ones I care about more than an entire city’s worth of people.”

He looked pale. He rubbed his wrist looking
worried. “You did what I wish I had done. If we met before all this
mess you probably would have pushed me to find my kids when it
wasn’t too late. I’m always doing things too late. Hell, I tried to
go, right at sunrise today, actually.”

I remembered the excited crowd of undead near
the postal entrance. “There was a bunch of them in the front before
I rode through the bowling alley lot. I assume you are the one that
stirred them up?”

“Yeah.” Ian nodded, looking embarrassed. “My
food was getting low. I’m still good on water but I knew I would
have to go out for supplies soon enough. Last night I was planning
where to go, yet all I could think about was my kids. Are they
still alive? Are they safe? It didn’t matter what the answer was
because I felt that I had to go to them. I was going to take the
food I had left and just go. Somehow I was going to find them.”

Distracted, seemingly by his own thought
process, he trailed off for a second. Then he regained his
composure sounding like a criminal justifying the crime. “The
fucking world ended. If there has ever been a time they need their
dad it is now. I tried to get to my car. The sun was still coming
up and it was pretty dark. From the side door I went out of I could
see a few of the bastards by the street. I should have thought to
get on the roof or something to check the blind spots.”