Immortality (36 page)

Sarah would have sworn that hours had passed but she knew it was far less. Her sweat had turned into a low grade salt burn that lingered just below perception. The straps of the backpack were starting to work dull aches deep into her shoulders. Sarah had paid little attention when the clouds had started to roll in; but now it looked like rain, or if it got a little colder, maybe snow. The sky was growing increasingly grayer by the minute. She hadn’t brought a tent with her. She hadn’t given any thought to sleeping outside in bad weather. She’d assumed there would always be a motel or a car to sleep in.

She reached the crest of a hill. In the distance was a green rectangle that she hoped was an exit sign. The valley was still mostly trees, but there was a distant clearing that contained what looked like buildings. Four other cars had passed her since the Porsche. The first two she had ignored; but with her strength waning, she had tried to thumb a ride with the last two. Both had sped past her. Few people seemed interested in stopping for someone who might be infected with plague and accompanied by a hundred and twenty pound Rottweiler. She’d thought about changing into a pair of shorts and a tank-top – someone lecherous was sure to stop before she froze to death. The idea was stupid and made her smile.

Walking downhill felt good. The green rectangle was growing and was definitely an exit sign. She couldn’t read it from here but hoped the sign was for a town and not some highway interchange.

“Alright, Ralphy baby, it’s all downhill from here.”

From nowhere, a fat drop of rain landed on her face. The drop had hit with surprising force. The water was very cold. She could sense a distant wind picking up strength. More drops started spattering around her. She glanced about in the pointless hope of finding shelter. There were only trees, not a great place to wait out a storm. The exit sign was about a half mile away. Just after the exit sign was an overpass, but more importantly the underpass was shelter.

Sarah’s stomach grumbled. She was sitting on her pack. A tiny river flowed past her sneakers along a drainage path; small leaves and bits of road debris floated by in the water. The underpass was like being inside a cave. She wondered if life was like this for early humans, huddled and cold with no one to help them except themselves. A curtain of rain was falling at each side of the underpass. Occasionally the curtain parted with the noise of a vehicle blasting through. The black Porsche had passed in the other direction about twenty minutes ago and had slowed to a crawl. Those kids could not have been the real owners of that car. It was either their parent’s or stolen. Sarah was betting on the latter. She noticed the driver was wearing a baseball cap turned backwards. His stare gave her a cold chill. The creep had his leering act down pat. He must have had a lot of practice.

After that drive-by, Sarah had taken out her Beretta and made sure a cartridge was in the chamber. She tucked the gun back inside her belt-pack and left the pocket open so she could draw it in a hurry. Ralph sensed her distress and stayed close to her side. Sarah didn’t want to use the gun. She hoped those kids were only window-shopping.

Without warning, the water curtain parted and the Porsche cruised through again. This time the passenger had his window down. They were moving at no more than a few miles per hour. Ralph didn’t like this at all. He pulled back his gums and showed a set of teeth that were as menacing as a wolf’s. The two hoodlums didn’t seem to notice and that worried Sarah. Did they have something with them that could take out a huge angry dog?

Hey baby, you want a ride?”

Sarah said nothing. The only place for her to ride in that car was in the passenger’s lap and there was definitely no room for Ralph. Her hand was inside the belt-pack. Her fingers wrapped around the handgrip of her Beretta. She’d already picked her targets. First shot would be a “close miss” just to scare them off – unless she saw a weapon. If that happened, she’d unload the entire clip into the passenger door and windshield. The sixteen rounds in her gun would be enough for these two.

The passenger smiled. The driver shrugged and sped off into the curtain of rain. Sarah got up and walked to the edge of the downpour. Ralph was next to her. The Berretta was in her hand. She wanted to see if they had really driven off or if they had stopped just out of sight and were circling back on foot. A sneak attack seemed like something that fit their style.

“Police… Don’t move!”

The voice came from a short distance behind her. The voice was male and amplified electronically. Sarah froze. Was it really the police? For all she knew, it was highwaymen with guns pointed at her back. Ralph was growling in his low rumble. He was in attack mode.

“Easy boy,” she said. He could get them both killed.

“Slowly put the gun on the ground, turn around, and walk toward me.”

Sarah started to do as she was told. The male voice did not sound like an adolescent. As she turned she saw a State Police cruiser. Relief spread through her body. The officer was alone in the car. As he got out, Sarah saw the shotgun for the first time. Ralph growled.

“Lay down, Ralph,” she yelled. “Bad boy!”

Ralph turned to look at her with a hurt expression on his face. Sarah felt a pang of guilt for being harsh with him, but it was better than a face full of buckshot. He laid down but kept his eyes on the man.

“Ralph won’t attack you,” she said.

“Uh huh.”

“I’m a cop,” she said.

She noticed the man’s eyes focus on the police emblem on her cap. His body language seemed to show a little curiosity, but he obviously wasn’t buying it.

“Do you have ID?”

“I have a shield and police ID in my belt-pack.”

“Okay, you come toward me and lean up against the car. If that dog moves I will shoot him.”

“Ralph, stay!”

He cuffed her hands, frisked her professionally, and then told her to sit down while he verified her credentials using his radio. She was tense and hoped there would be nothing on file about her illegally crossing quarantine lines. Five minutes later, they were fellow cops. His name was Henry. He was in his mid-twenties, had a weight lifter’s body, and the gentle demeanor of someone who had nothing to prove. Sarah told him about the joy riders.

“That sounds like some local trouble who live about a dozen miles from here. Their parents are loaded. Not bad kids, nothing criminal anyway, just out of control. I doubt they were doing anything more than looking, and I can’t arrest them for that. Not that a few days in jail wouldn’t do both of them a world of good.”

“A lot better than the bullet or dog mauling they might have caught if they’d pushed it too far,” said Sarah.

The storm had picked up and was beginning to freeze. Sarah could feel drops of water blown in from the curtain of rain and sleet. Henry was leaning back against the car’s fender.

“It’s against regulations, but I will give you a lift,” he said.

“I don’t know since it’s such a nice day and all.”

Henry smiled. Sarah had known by instinct this was a good man. After a half hour on the road, Ralph was fast asleep in the back, a clear sign that he approved of Henry; and Ralph was a better judge of people than anyone Sarah knew. She leaned back in her seat. After all those miles of walking, the police cruiser felt like deep luxury. The miles were melting away even though the speedometer never went a hair past the posted speed limit.

Henry was good company. Sarah had already learned he was stationed out of the Allentown barracks, had been with the Penn State Police for two years, and was married with a baby girl. Sarah told him her lie about being in New York State at the time the kill zone happened. She added a few details about finding out from the Red Cross that her family had been killed.

“I’ve got no family left. So now I’m just going south,” she said. “Seems as good a direction as any.”

“You can get a bus or train out of Allentown,” said Henry.

“No, I don’t think they’re going to let Ralph sit next to me. I can’t bear the idea of crating him up and loading him like some piece of baggage.”

“Yeah, I can understand that. So you’re gonna just keep on walking?”

“No, maybe I’ll get some kind of job in Allentown and work until I have enough for a car.”

“You know, you should head down to Virginia. There’s an interstate quarantine line being set up. They’re major league short-handed and looking for all the help with police training they can find. Right now, they don’t care which side of the line you’re coming from; but that can change tomorrow if something bad happens.”

“Well, maybe?”

“No, really you should do it. When you get there, look up Major Frank Warton of the State Police. He was one of my instructors at the academy. We’ve stayed in touch. Tell him I told you to call.”

“Thanks.”

Sarah realized her smile was beaming. This was a really nice guy.

They had been driving for over an hour and had turned off Interstate 81 onto a smaller highway that ran parallel to the Delaware River. The storm had let up. The view was damp and beautiful in spots. Sarah found it hard to believe that it was only a short time ago that she’d been on the other side and desperate to get across. The past week had seemed like a year, but she had made it and was now being escorted by the state police.

They came to a high point on the road. Sarah looked out and saw a bridge blocked with military armor. Her stomach felt queasy. For a crazy moment, she expected Henry to exit off onto the bridge and turn her over to the military for deportation back to New Jersey.

“Son of a bitch!” yelled Henry.

He pulled onto the shoulder and flipped on the lightbar. At the opposite end of a small decline, Sarah caught sight of a man in ratty clothes standing next to a tree. The man looked like he was in a trance. To the left of the man was the beginning of a deep forest. To the right was a clear view of the Delaware River and the fortified bridge.

“I’ve got orders to assist in capturing anyone that looks like a dirt-eater or a line jumper, and that sure looks like a dirt-eater to me.”

Henry got on the radio and called for assistance. He was told to keep the subject under surveillance from a distance until the Hazmat Team arrived. He was not to approach the subject or risk contamination in anyway. If the subject refused to cooperate and tried to flee, ‘shoot to injure’ was authorized.

“Stay in the car,” said Henry.

He got out and cautiously walked a few yards down the grassy embankment. The subject was about thirty yards away. Ignoring what Henry had just said, Sarah immediately got out of the patrol car and joined him. Henry looked at her and shrugged. The subject had not moved. He was not even looking at them. His eyes were staring off in the direction of the bridge and its military cordon.

“What did you mean by dirt-eater?” asked Sarah.

“You don’t watch much television do you? Some of the people in the plague areas are going crazy. And some of the crazies end up as mindless wanderers who act like peeping toms and cause mischief. Quite a few have been spotted eating garbage, so the name dirt-eaters stuck. Anyway, the CDC is looking for anyone that survived inside a kill zone. Someone in the department figures these crazies fit that description. This one looks like he’s been on the move for some time. Look at those rags he’s got for clothes. He must have somehow swam the Delaware River.”

Sarah went back to the car and got a pair of binoculars from her pack. She used the binoculars to study the dirt-eater close up. He seemed odd but harmless. His hair was matted with twigs and dirt. A small bug was crawling across his forehead. There was no body motion whatsoever. The man was acting more like a vegetable than a human. His face was expressionless and perfectly average in appearance; but still, something about that face gave off an impression that was unmistakably haunted. It took Sarah a few minutes to realize what was so unnerving. The man’s eyes never blinked and the pupils never moved. His gaze was locked on that bridge.

“Do they always act like this?” asked Sarah.

“Beats me. This is the first one I’ve seen. I’ve got no idea how I am supposed to restrain him if he starts to run. Got any suggestions?”

“You’re not going to shoot him?”

“Not likely. I have no idea what kind of moron came up with those orders.”

The dirt-eater screamed something at them, gibberish, then turned and fled into the woods. At the same time a pair of police vans pulled to a stop. In seconds, the dirt-eater was out of sight. He moved with the speed of a wild animal.

“Jesus! Did you see that?” yelled Henry.

“Unreal,” said Sarah. “Welcome to Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom.”

“There is no way anyone is going to catch that thing,” said Henry. “I wonder if there’s more like him?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if there was an entire tribe by now.”

Once they got to Allentown, it was late and Henry was coming off his shift. He insisted that Sarah spend the night at his house. Henry’s wife Karen turned out to be just as nice as promised. She offered Sarah some clothes and the living room couch to sleep on.

In the morning after breakfast, Sarah gave in to Henry who was pressuring her to call about the job in Virginia. She called Major Warton. He was not in his office, but his assistant gave her the number for the barracks running the quarantine line. The assistant was very helpful. Along with other details about the job, Sarah learned the quarantine line was called I64 – which referred to Interstate Highway 64. Apparently, a length of the highway which ran west through several states had been converted into a single quarantine line.

Feeling a little more confident about her prospects, Sarah made the second call. All the folks she spoke with at the I64 Operations Center knew Major ‘Tommy’ Warton. After a short telephone interview and a quicker computer records check, she was offered a job patrolling the line. They were even willing to pay for her airfare. She ended up on the phone with Mary in Human Resources.

“Would it be all right if I drove?” asked Sarah.

“Well, we need ya’ll as soon as possible,” said Mary.