Infected (Book 1): The Fall (27 page)

Chapter
39

The high pitched whine of my off road tires against the smooth asphalt decreased as the truck slowed. A minor steering input pushed the right tires onto the shoulder.  The weight of the truck was directed through the tires and into the gravel shoulder, causing rocks to grate against each other as they reoriented with an audible
crunch.
  The sound doubled in intensity when the left tires left the asphalt.  With both wheels off the road, I was satisfied with the vehicle’s position and pushed harder on the brake.  The tires threw rocks forward as the wheels skid the final six inches before coming to a rest. 

Before I opened the door, my cell phone rang.  I looked at the screen.  The caller ID read anonymous.  The bell jingled a second time.  I moved my finger over the glass screen and touched the green symbol to answer the call. 

“Hello,” I answered, half expecting a telemarketer.

“I didn’t figure you were still alive.  They say this all started under your watch,” my younger brother mocked over an extremely bad connection.

“Zeke?” I asked, not expecting to hear his voice.  My brother was two years younger than me.  My mom and dad were “born again” shortly after my birth.  By the time my brother came around, they had devoured the Bible.  They wanted to give him a Biblical name and stuck him with the moniker of the Old Testament prophet, Ezekiel.  As often happens, the name was shortened to Zeke.

“Sorry to disappoint you. I’m still alive and you’re still going to have to split Mom and Dad’s stuff with me when they croak,” I said, jokingly.  “I do have some good news for you though.  You’re immune to the infection.  I don’t have time to explain it right now, but you’re going to be okay in that regard.”

He paused for several seconds before speaking.  “How could you know that I’m immune?”

“Like I said, I don’t have time to explain it, but trust me, you are.  I have three guys waiting for me to get off the phone so I can’t talk long.  How are things in Atlanta?”

“They’re bad, really bad.  There are quite a few infected running around.  The real problem is with the uninfected, though.  The gangs are robbing, looting, and killing with impunity.  This morning the police were keeping them at bay.  By late afternoon, I think most of the cops had bugged out. I haven’t seen any law enforcement outside the office for a couple hours.”

“You’re still at work?  Why?” I prodded.  “The financial system is ruined.  Nobody’s going to be worried about their 401Ks today.  You haven’t had a buy or sell order all day, have you?”

“I didn’t watch the news this morning.  I got to work and only a few people showed up.  By the time I realized I needed to get out of the city, it was too late.  I figured I would be safer waiting it out in the office than trying to navigate the streets.”

I interrupted.  “I don’t care what’s going on in the streets. You have to get out of the city. Now!  The infection will spread faster there than it has here.  I’ve seen over ten percent of our population infected in about twenty four hours.  That only includes what I have seen with my eyes, not the ones locked in their houses.  Once they fill the streets in Atlanta, you won’t stand a chance of getting out.”

“I know,” he said.  “Trust me, I know.  I’ve been watching the news all afternoon.   There are only five of us left in the office. We’re about to make a break for it.  Are you secure out there?” he asked hopefully.

“For the time being,” I said.  “But that could change in a hurry. You’re not thinking of coming out here, are you?”

“It looks like this could be the end.  I don’t have anything holding me here.  I’m going to try to get home.  I haven’t been able to reach Mom and Dad, but that’s where I’m headed.  If things end up as bad as they look, we’re going to need to stick together.  Are you going home?”

“I would like to, but I can’t.  These people have entrusted me with protecting them.  I can’t leave them when they need me the most.  Are you seriously going to travel from Georgia to California?” I questioned, pondering the enormity of the task he was suggesting.  It was a solid three day drive under the best of conditions. These weren’t  even going to be marginal conditions. 

“I don’t know how it’s going to work out, but I’m not staying here.  Is there anything I should know before I start?”

“Not much that I can think of.  Make sure your friends wear some sort of masks.  I don’t know how effective they are, but it’s better than nothing.  Do you have any weapons?”

“I have a pistol in my car with two extra clips.”

“Okay, that’s good.”  I paused, encouraged by the unexpected news that he was armed.  “If you have to shoot, aim for the head.  Body shots are completely ineffective.  Three magazines won’t last long as things start to get worse.  Try to find a rifle.  Move quietly and get out of the city as fast as you can.  I wish I could tell you something more helpful.”

“Look,” he said, and paused. His changed tone told me what was coming.  “I know my chances of making it across the country are slim at best.” His voice filled with emotion as he continued. “If I don’t make it, take care of your family and Mom and Dad, too.”

“You’ll make it,” I said, trying to reassure myself as much as him.  “Be careful.  Stay in touch.  Call me tomorrow.  Text if I don’t answer. I wish I had more time, but I have to go.  We’ll talk again tomorrow,” I said with more conviction than I felt.  As I hung up the phone, I pondered whether I would talk to Zeke again.  I hoped I would, but reality had set in hard over the last day.  As I powered the phone off, I realized I would never hear his voice again. 

In a little over a day, I had already become hardened to the emotional distresses that were trying to rip me apart.  I knew I was becoming calloused and I didn’t like it.  As much as I hated it, for the time being, it was a convenient fault.  I couldn’t afford to be paralyzed from the losses piling up around me.

Matt looked across the seat at me.  “Zeke’s in trouble, isn’t he?”

I nodded.  “He’s in Atlanta.  He said he’s going to try to leave. His chances of getting out alive are pretty slim.  Apparently the cops are gone and have been replaced with anarchy.  The infection hasn’t taken hold there yet.  It’s coming, though.”

Matt gave a knowing nod.  “I haven’t been able to reach my family in Chicago.  I hope they’re okay, but I don’t have much hope either.  The only thing we can do is take care of our part of the world.”  He opened his door and joined Zack, who had already gotten out of the truck.

Chapter
40

Zack was adjusting the night vision goggles which he had affixed to his helmet. They were made to work in conjunction with his gas mask, which Jeb’s proximity forced him to wear.  Once satisfied with his night vision setup, Zack tilted the metal tubes up so his eyes were unobstructed.  When darkness came, all he would have to do was flip them back down.

Jeb was standing beside him.  He had stowed his gas mask in his pack.  At this point, he wasn’t likely to be exposed again. He, too, adjusted his goggles over his eyes.  It was obviously a process he had performed over and over during his time in the military.  In short order, he was satisfied and tilted them up, exposing his eyes to the world around him. Matt never bothered taking his goggles out of his pack.  Our night vision wasn’t compatible our gas masks.  The lens of the mask prevented the goggles from getting close enough to our eyes to see through them.  If Matt became separated from Jeb, he might put them on when we got close.  Until then, he left them in his pack

There would undoubtedly be observers keeping watch. Once darkness settled over the face of the terrain, flashlights would give away our approach.  Matt was going to have to trust the rod receptors in his eyes to detect reflected moonlight so long as he continued wearing his gas mask.  The waxing moon would be directly overhead in an hour or two. It would be full in three or four days and was giving off ample light to illuminate the landscape sufficiently to navigate.

“Let’s get started,” Matt admonished, pulling his back pack around his shoulders. 

We had six or seven miles to traverse over rough country before we reached Curtis’ hideout.  We had planned to wait until dark to start; however, we were all anxious and the chances that somebody was keeping watch this far away from the hideout were not strong.

We fell in behind Matt, who was the most familiar with the area.  Even given the rocky and hilly terrain, we made good time, covering close to two miles in the first half hour.  After that, the going slowed.  Matt and I still waited to don our night vision.  Matt didn’t want to take his mask off and risk exposure to Jeb and I was unaccustomed to them. With the bright moon, it was still easier going for me without them.

A coyote howled in the distance.  Another responded and then another.  I didn’t know if all three were members of a pack and were communicating their locations with each other or if they were from different packs and were warning each other to stay in their own territories. 

The sounds of predators in the night were disheartening.  It reminded me that there were other predators wandering about under the cover of darkness, predators that would attack without warning.  I trusted that Zack would detect them with his night vision before they were close enough to endanger us.

After two more hours, we had only covered another two miles.  We traversed patches of thick growth that slowed our progress to a crawl.  Thorny branches clawed at my loose clothing.  I continually had to stop and release myself from their entangling clutches. Trails through mazes of bushes proved to be exceedingly deceitful and left us backtracking in search of different paths after encountering impenetrable branchy walls.

Ascending and descending steep ridges left my legs increasingly weary.   Lava rocks snagged my feet as they trudged forward.  I repeatedly stumbled and twice fell, landing roughly on waiting rocks.  Scrapes and bruises were added to those I had already received since yesterday afternoon.  The cool evening air, propelled by the light breeze blowing in my face, made me wish I had brought a jacket.

Behind me, Jeb attempted to stifle a cough he had not had earlier in the day.  He stopped to shed his long sleeve shirt, claiming that walking was making him hot. Five minutes later, I could hear his teeth chatter before he put the shirt back on. I asked how he was doing and he responded that he was fine other than a headache.

Finally, the brush began to thin out.  We entered a flat, open expanse.  The dry grass that covered the plain reflected the moonlight, creating the appearance of water.  We trudged through the shin high sea of golden weeds. 

Thickets of juniper sprung up in pockets around us.  The terrain leveled out ahead and to the sides.  We were on the plateau and were within a mile of the abandoned ranch.  Going would be easy for the rest of the trek. 

Matt paused so we could plan our final approach. I retrieved my night vision goggles from my pack, and affixed the webbed strap to my head. The need for visual acuity now outweighed my discomfort.  I adjusted the lenses in front of my eyes and pressed the power button. The landscape lit up around me and took on a greenish hue.  Details popped from obscurity into a brilliantly bright existence.  The number of stars overhead increased exponentially. I was instantly transformed from a sheep wandering blindly into a predator stalking prey under the obscuring cover of darkness.  For the past day, I had lived as the hunted.  Now I was the hunter.  I was seeking my prey like a lion roaming the plains of Africa.  If events unfolded as I hoped they would, a well placed shot would leave Curtis dead and would scatter his followers into the night. 

We slowly closed in on the camp, using every bit of cover available.  We followed a small dip in the landscape.  In the spring, when heavy rains pelted the ground, the dip probably turned into a stream.  Tonight it was just a grassy depression.  When the depression turned lazily and meandered away from where we were heading, we hunched over and advanced on a lone juniper that hid us from prying eyes.  Light from the house pulled us ever closer, drawing us in.  I felt like a moth flying toward a fire, unable to pull myself away from the light even though I understood the danger that came with it.  Its attraction was inescapable.

When we had closed to a thousand yards, we pulled up short.  We knew there would be sentries.  It was imperative that we find them before they saw us.  It was doubtful they had night vision, but it wasn’t a certainty I was willing to bet my life on.  We spent thirty minutes searching for them in vain.

“If we can’t see the sentries from here, we’re going to have to move closer,” I whispered quietly. 

“We’re going to need to spread out,” Matt said.  “The chances of finding them are better if we cover a wider swath.”

“They’re going to be a lot more likely to see find us if we’re spread out,” I countered. 

I crawled around Jeb and Matt so that I was beside Zack.  “How do you recommend we approach this?”

“These guys are amateurs.  We haven’t seen anybody so far. They may only have people guarding the entrance road.  There’s nowhere for them to hide out here.  If they had watchers here, we would have seen them.”

Jeb nodded his head in agreement.  “I don’t know what they’re thinking, leaving themselves this open.” Then his body was racked with a spasm of coughing which was more or less muffled when he buried his face in the crook of his forearm.

Zack resumed, “We’re going to work our way to the edge of the outbuildings.  From there, we’re going to circle around the perimeter and make sure it’s clear. If it’s all clear, I want to leave one man on the driveway to cover us in case they have sentries along the road.  The rest of us will go in and find Curtis.”

I was becoming more and more uncomfortable with the plan.  This was supposed to be a recon mission.  Zack was used to working with Delta soldiers.  We weren’t even close to being regular soldiers, much less Special Forces. We didn’t have the training or experience he was accustomed to his teammates having.  He was fully capable of pulling off complex assaults.  We had no experience in such matters.

I explained my concern to Zack.  He nodded as I spoke, indicating he understood what I was saying.  When I finished, he merely stated, “Stay on my six.  We’ll be fine.”

As we got closer to the settlement, we were able to clearly see people moving around inside the house.  They were all women.  We didn’t see a single man among them. 

A syncopated beat increased in rate and intensity as it thumped its way out of the dwelling.  Six or seven women were moving in rhythmic motions to the music.  The gyrations were at least half a second off from the pounding bass.  The closer we got to the large picture window, the more their movements seemed to flow with the beat. 

Twenty minutes later, we were at the edge of the outbuildings which surrounded the large, ranch style house in the center.  By the time we reached the periphery, the music and dancing had aligned themselves.  Most of the twenty-something year old girls were dancing alone.  Two were dancing together, grinding away to the beat. 

A single girl sat alone on a couch in the corner. She appeared to be completely engrossed with something she was fumbling with on the floor.  After several seconds, her hands came into view above the coffee table between us and her.  One hand had a dark object that was three or four inches long.  The other had a clear tube the same length.  A blue spike of flame suddenly erupted from the dark object and she held it to the clear tube.  She put the tube to her lips and inhaled deeply, oblivious to what was going on around her.  She continued to suck on what I now recognized to be a pipe.  After she had inhaled her fill, she placed the pipe in a tray on the table.  She leaned back in the couch and closed her eyes.  A smile grew across her face as euphoria crawled down her body, reaching the tips of her toes.  She lay in blissful stillness for several minutes.  Her fingers began tapping out the grating beat of the music on the worn fabric of the faded couch.  Suddenly, she was on her feet, dancing with the two girls who had been gyrating together while she was on the couch.  Their movements were flowing and coordinated, hers were jerky and ungainly.  Nobody seemed to notice.

We had seen enough. 

We circled the buildings to clear the perimeter. The outbuildings were covered in twelve inch wide weathered boards. It was the kind of siding you didn’t see used anymore.  After decades of harvesting trees, there weren’t many left that were big enough to get boards that wide.  The ancient buildings were still sturdy and in good shape.   On the far side of the compound, we encountered a building with metal sides that didn’t come all the way to the ground.  The front was completely open. A packed dirt road led east to what looked like a dirt runway.  Closer inspection revealed that the metal pole barn served as a part time hanger.  It was currently empty.

We moved to the next building, which was an old barn. The windows had been covered over with wood.  Several large exhaust ducts exited from the roof.  “Do you smell that?” I asked.  As soon as I asked the question, I realized I was the only one without a gas mask.  No one else could smell anything besides the rubber lining of his mask.

“What is it?” Matt asked.

“It smells like cat urine,” I said before peering around the corner of the barn.

“That’s what I figured,” Matt answered expectantly.

“What does that mean?” Zack asked.

“The smell, along with the exhaust fans and the covered windows, means there’s a meth lab inside this building.  If they’ve built a runway and a hanger, it means it’s probably a big one.”