H10N1 (6 page)

The instant he slid open the side door, he swept his M-16 left and right, searching for potential trouble. Taeya stood, but the moment she stepped out from between the seats, he stuck a hand up to stop her.

“Hang on there, Mary Poppins. First rule of the road. You
never
leave your vehicle without a gun.”

She cocked her mouth to the side in a sneer before working her way back to the gun cabinet. She chose a Beretta—lightweight, not much recoil, and continuous firepower if necessary.

Rick had already jumped down out of the van when she stopped him. “Hang on there, Rambo.”

She dug a surgical mask and latex gloves from her medical bag. “First rule in a pandemic.
Never
leave your vehicle—”

He snatched the mask out of her hand before she could finish.

While Taeya made her way along the street, peering into windows for keys, Rick kept a lookout. They’d walked two blocks when she began to lose hope. Most of the cars not only were missing their keys, but they were locked up tight. If she broke out a window, did Rick’s talents include hot-wiring a car? Evidently not, or they wouldn’t still be searching.

The unmistakable odor of carrion grew stronger, and when she glanced down a side street, she spotted an SUV with the driver’s door open. On the pavement — a body.

She skirted wide to the left and came up on the passenger door. Keys dangled from the ignition.

The body didn’t bother her as much as it seemed to bother Rick. He stood three cars back, his mouth probably puckered in a grimace behind the mask.

The driver was male, and from the amount of decay, she’d guess he’d been dead four to six weeks. That was good. Any virus feeding on the dead host had long since perished as well. The man’s left leg was tangled in the strap of his seat belt. He’d climbed out of his car, perhaps too ill to drive, but had gotten twisted up and hadn’t had the strength to free himself.

Were other car thieves too fearful to move the body?

She trotted back to Rick. “Let me have that knife.”

His eyebrows furrowed, but he slid the Ka-Bar out of its sheath and handed it to her. She cut the seat belt strap to free the man’s leg, and his body slumped the rest of the way to the pavement with a soft squishing sound.

Stepping across the body, she perched a knee on the driver’s seat and turned the ignition key to auxiliary power. The gasoline needle barely rose to a quarter of a tank. At least it wasn’t empty. Hopefully, some of the other cars had enough fuel that she could siphon off another quarter tank or more.

She pumped the gas a couple times, then cranked the SUV. Leaning out of the opened door, Taeya gave Rick a thumbs up. Then she asked, “I don’t suppose you have a garden hose in the van.”

He gave a quick snort and stomped back to the gas station. She thought about offering him a ride, but decided he was too freaked out to accept. After jockeying the car out of the queue, she turned around and headed to the station. But when she pulled into the parking lot, Rick was nowhere in sight. The van was still in the street, but she didn’t see Rick in the driver’s seat.

After cautiously climbing out of her new car, she swept a full turn with her Beretta extended at arm’s length. The air pump was just beyond a row of cars queued in the parking lot. She was sawing through the air hose with her knife when she heard a crash inside the convenience store. Her heart lurched, and the skin on her scalp prickled. Dropping the knife, she yanked her gun out of her waistband and held it with both hands. She bolted back to the SUV, all the while aiming at the broken front door of the store.

Was it Rick or a looter? Had he gone inside for some reason and been ambushed? She hadn’t heard a gunshot, but that didn’t mean anything. She dashed for a Tahoe closer to the building, hoping to get a look inside. Too dark. But she could still hear shuffling as though someone was sifting through debris.

If she called out, and it wasn’t Rick, she would alert the intruder to her presence. She decided to duck down behind the Tahoe’s front fender and wait.

Footsteps crunched on broken glass. Whoever it was, they were right at the door. She blew out quick bursts of air as she counted silently to three, then sprang up, steadied the Beretta on the Tahoe’s hood, and took aim.

Rick stepped through the doorframe, each of his hands gripping two jugs of windshield washer fluid.

Taeya let out a breath that actually croaked. He scowled when he saw her pointing the gun at him.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

“What are
you
doing?” She nodded at the jugs.

He unscrewed the cap on one of the jugs and began pouring the fluid on the ground. “You can suck on a hose if you want, but I never acquired a taste for gasoline.”

Once the first jug was empty, he strode over to a car, and after taking a quick look around, he crawled under the chassis. She watched him pull a hammer from his belt, and pound a nail into the underside. When he wrenched the nail back out, she saw a trickle of fluid. He quickly stuck the jug under the leak. He’d poked a hole in the gas tank.

As he crawled back out from under the car, he glanced up at her. “You don’t really expect me to do all this myself, do you?”

Taeya snatched up the next jug and emptied out the windshield fluid, then dashed to the next car where Rick was waiting with hammer poised. Once a jug was full, she’d hand him an empty replacement, then scurried to the SUV and dumped the gas in. She was pouring in her fourth gallon when she heard a noise.

From the high-rise apartment complex across the street, Taeya saw a woman emerge from one of the front entrances. Out on the sidewalk, the woman took furtive glances left and right before she dashed to the street on tiptoes. She didn’t stop until she had ducked between two abandoned cars near the gas station.

“Help me,” the woman pleaded in a hoarse whisper. “Take me with you, please.”

Taeya dragged the surgical mask that had been hanging at her chin back over her mouth and nose.

“I can’t,” she said.

“I’m not sick. I promise.” The desperate woman twisted to see if anyone had followed her. “I have lots of cash.”

Digging into the pocket of her slacks, the woman produced a large roll of bills. “I’ve got over four thousand dollars. It’s yours if you get me out of here.”

“I’m sorry,” Taeya said. “But you’ll have to find your own transportation.”

“All the cars are locked. Or there’s dead people in them!”

Taeya gave the woman a reassuring nod. “You can do it.”

After checking her surroundings again, the woman crept into the parking lot. “I’ve got jewelry. And shoes. Over fifty pairs of size seven and a half. Jimmy Choo, Mark Jacob, Chloe. And boots. Christian Louboutin.”

Interesting what different people found valuable.

As the woman listed her possessions she continued to inch her way toward Taeya. Although her long red hair looked matted and dirty, Taeya imagined that at one time the woman must have taken great pride in her appearance. She wore expensive trousers and a stylish blouse, although they looked rumpled. No dry cleaning anymore. The woman had even made the effort to put on a gold belt.

How would people like her survive surviving? Women who were afraid to go it alone, to take chances.

“Please stay back!” Taeya raised her voice. “Don’t come any closer.”

“I’m running out of food,” the woman said. “People are roaming the streets—.”

“Then find a car.” Taeya kept her voice calm but firm. “I’ll leave you this jug. You can use it to siphon gas like we did.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Taeya caught movement farther down the block. A man wielding a club had come out of a different entrance to the apartment complex. He strolled toward Taeya, tapping the wood against the palm of his hand. It looked like a leg from a dining room table.

Another man sprinted out of the same entranceway and across the street, carrying a similar club. He disappeared behind a pharmacy.

Taeya pulled the Beretta out of her waistband and pointed it at the man still striding toward her. “Hold it right there.”

Stifling a scream, the woman ducked back between two cars. “Shoot him!” she insisted.

Oh, sure. The woman could not bring herself to steal a car, but showed no compunction in urging Taeya to kill.

The man with the table leg took advantage of Taeya’s distraction to trot closer. Aiming over his head, she took a warning shot. Then she scanned the parking lot behind her. The second man stood at the corner of the convenience store, waiting.

Another gun fired and bricks beside the man’s face shattered. He quickly jumped back.

Jerking her head around, Taeya saw Rick standing behind the Tahoe in front of the store.

“I’ll give you motherfuckers five seconds to clear out,” Rick yelled.

He looked to see if the man on the sidewalk was running away, but he had ducked behind a car out in the street. Taeya watched Rick’s jaw harden; then he fired a steady volley at the car. The windshield shattered first, then the side windows from front to back. Glass rained onto the pavement. Bullets ticked along the body of the car until they hit the back tire with a loud bang. The car rocked from the impact.

Then Taeya heard the crack of a gun farther away, and the window in the Tahoe exploded. Reeling away, Rick dove under a car at one of the gas pumps.

Frantically, Taeya searched to see where the shot had come from. Up on the roof of the apartment complex, she spotted a man with a rifle.

“He’s on the roof!” she yelled at Rick.

The rifleman fired again, and the man on the sidewalk slammed against the car before sliding to the ground.

Cowering between cars, the woman held her hands on her ears as she whimpered. “Oh, dear God, dear God!”

Rick crawled on his belly to the island of gas pumps, then using one as a shield, he raised to his knees and fired several rounds at the rifleman.

“Shit!” he hissed. “He’s out of range. We’ve got to get out of here. These guns are no match for whatever he’s got.”

Taeya stared at Rick, unsure of what he meant.

“Let’s go, Sanchez,” he snarled. “Leave the car.”

“No way!” She backed toward the SUV.

“Are you shitting me?” Rick growled. “Let it go. We can find another one.”

Clenching her jaw, she shook her head.

“Oh, for crissakes,” Rick mumbled to himself. “I’m going to get killed for a friggin’ Ford.”

Before she could argue, Rick barked, “Cover me!” and ran for the van.

Squeezing hard on the trigger, she fired a continuous barrage of bullets at the man on the roof. At the same time, Rick blasted away with his gun. The noise alone caused the rifleman to back away from the edge.

Taeya checked behind her to be sure the other club man wasn’t sneaking up. A moment later, Rick jumped back out of the side door of the van with a high-powered assault rifle. Bracing the muzzle on the side mirror of the van, he took aim and fired at the man on the roof. Bullets ripped into the brick at the roofline. The man fell back, but Taeya wasn’t sure if he was hit or just regrouping for his next attack.

Swinging around, Rick sprayed another round at the convenience store, but the man who had been lurking there was nowhere in sight.

Rick jumped into the van and started the engine. “Wake up, Doc!” he yelled out of the side door. “If you’re going, then go!”

She sprang into the driver’s seat and cranked the car.

The woman crawled out from under a car, one hand held up to plead one last time. Taeya shook her head sorrowfully.

“I would have helped you!” the woman cried.

Taeya slammed the door shut and hit the gas. The man from the side of the convenience store barreled out, brandishing his table leg. He leaped onto the hood of the car and banged on the windshield. The glass splintered like a spider web.

Out on the street, Taeya turned sharply to the left and the man rolled off, taking one of the windshield wipers with him.

She caught Rick’s gaping expression as she sped past the van. A tick-tick-tick of bullets ricocheted off the back of the SUV, but within seconds she was out of range from the man on the roof.

Taeya didn’t stop until she reached a bridge on the expressway. Then when she was sure it was safe, she wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans, climbed out of the SUV and scurried back to the waiting van to retrieve her supplies.

Rick stood in the side doorway with his hands on his hips. “I’ve seen some crazy stunts in my life—”

She held up a hand to stop him, then climbed up and pushed him out of the way. “Let me just get my stuff and I’ll be on my way. You’ll be free of me and on your way to work in ten minutes.”

Curiosity got the best of her, and she yanked the tarpaulin off Rick’s stack of gourmet foods in the back of the van. Behind those cases, she discovered big 40-pound bags of flour, sugar, and rice. There was a case of honey in those little bear-shaped bottles, canned goods, even powdered milk. He also had a box of first-aid supplies, bandages, ointments, Ibuprofen. She counted six cases of MREs.

Wheeling around, she nearly bumped into Rick.

“Why the pretense?” she asked. “You’re running just like me.”

He gave a slight shrug.

“How long have you been planning this little getaway?”

“Since the day I took the job,” he boasted.

“And we didn’t drive to D.C. because you were going to work. You knew the roads were clear.”

Another shrug.

“So what happens if I decide to follow you?” she asked.

“You’ll have to stop for gas eventually.”

So, the man wasn’t a total jerk. He knew a route out of the city and was going to let her follow. Then a more logical answer crossed her mind. The Walter Reed medical complex was just a few miles south of the beltway. Now that she had her own vehicle, did Rick think she might run down there and rat him out for stealing New York’s van?

CHAPTER SIX

Rick had made a trial run from Arlington to Front Royal the week before. Forty-some miles of traffic snarls and wreckage along Interstate 66. It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t impossible either. The worst was the first ten miles, from I-495 to Centreville. The inbound lanes were less congested than the outbound, so he headed onto the off-ramp and drove west, dodging the few cars that had still been heading into the city.