Rolling Thunder - 03 (4 page)

We kept heading north and soon passed a sign that told us
the turn off for Gallatin was 19 miles ahead.  The storm clouds to the north
continued their push in our direction as we drove.  The entire northern horizon
was obscured with swollen, black clouds for as far as I could see to the east
or west.  I didn’t know this area of the country well, didn’t know if it was
normal for storms this large to roll into Tennessee.  I briefly wondered if the
multiple nuclear bombs that had gone off in New York were able to influence the
weather this far away and that lead to concern that the storm might contain
radioactive fallout.  I have such cheery thoughts.

I kept my attention on the road ahead, alert for any
problems we might encounter.  While I drove, Rachel started fiddling with the
big touch screen in the middle of the dash.  She navigated through several
menus and after turning the AC on high twice, let out a sigh of frustration and
stabbed at the screen.

“What are you trying to find?”  I asked, not pausing in my
scan of the upcoming pavement and shoulders.

“I’m hoping Max made it out of Georgia,” she answered. 
“There really wasn’t anywhere else for him to go other than Tennessee and if he
made it, maybe he’s broadcasting, but I can’t find the damn radio.  Everything
else – I can tell you how many hours this engine has been turned on, how many
gallons of fuel this truck has used since it was built, but I can’t find the…
ahh.”  Rachel stabbed another button and music started playing loudly.  That
got my attention.  Since the morning after the attacks there hadn’t been any
commercial broadcasts and I was very surprised to hear a radio station.

“What is that?”  I asked, trying to watch the road ahead and
the screen at the same time.

“Satellite radio.  It’s still broadcasting.”  Rachel kept
selecting options and soon brought up a menu of the satellite stations. 
Selecting the news category she started picking stations, but every one she
tried yielded silence as perfect as only digital radio can be.  Getting the
hang of things she switched the system to the FM band and had it scan, but it
swept through all the frequencies without finding a signal.  She came up with
the same results after scanning the AM band.  Back to satellite, Rachel started
scanning everything that wasn’t news and found many of the music stations still
broadcasting.  She stopped on one she apparently liked and turned the sound way
up.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see her moving around in
her seat as the music blasted and I turned my head to see her dancing in the
seat with a smile on her face.  Dog’s ears were straight up and he was staring
at her too.  The song sounded familiar but I didn’t know what it was until I
checked the display screen.  Michael Jackson’s Don’t Stop ‘Till You Get
Enough.  Are you kidding me?  The world has ended and I’m listening to Michael
Jackson? 

Rachel was really getting into the music, moving her
shoulders and head to the beat and when it hit me I started roaring with
laughter.  I tried not to look at her but couldn’t help myself, and the more I
looked the harder I laughed.  Tears started rolling down my face and I had to
slow down for fear of driving off the side of the road I was laughing so hard.

“What?”  Rachel shouted over the pounding music without
missing a move, a half smile on her face.

“Did you ever see Rush Hour?  Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker? 
You dance like them!  How the hell did you make a living with dance moves like
that?”  I barely sputtered the last line out, nearly choking myself as I
laughed.  Part of me knew her dance really wasn’t that funny, but after what
we’d been through we were both ready for any little bit of levity.

Rachel smiled sweetly at me and worked a raised middle
finger into her dance.  I could only keep laughing, finally getting it under
control as the song ended.  Both of us were smiling and it felt good to have
one minute to think about something other than the apocalypse.

“Oh, hell no!”  I said when the next song started and I
recognized something by the Bee Gees.  Stabbing buttons, I got the radio moved off
of the offending station and for the hell of it hit the menu that scanned the
AM band.  Rachel and I both jumped in our seats when a voice we recognized as
Max blasted out of the speakers, the volume still high from Rachel’s dance
party.

“…tell you the truth.”  Max paused and lit the usual
cigarette he liked to smoke while broadcasting. 
 
I fiddled with the
touch screen and turned the volume down to just below ear splitting and braked
to a stop in the middle of the highway so I could concentrate on what Max had
to say.  “We’ve made it out of Georgia and into Nashville, but I’m not sure
we’re any better off.  This town is falling apart around us as I speak.

“I’ve got a lot to tell you, so make sure you’re in a safe
location and hunker down.  I’ll start with the more important stuff, what’s
going on for you folks within range of my voice.  There has been a new
outbreak, or a second outbreak, or whatever you want to call it.  A little over
two weeks ago we had the attacks and most of the people that weren’t outright
killed were exposed and infected.  That seemed like it was going to be the end
of it, but a couple of days ago people who seemed completely normal suddenly
became infected and started attacking those around them.  The latest word is
this was designed by the Chinese.  I can’t tell you if people are still
turning, or if there will be another outbreak, but watch your backs.

“Now on to the herds approaching Nashville.  The Air Force
took a playbook from the Vietnam War and tried carpet bombing the herd coming
up from the south.  It slowed them down, but we just don’t have enough bombs to
stop them.  There was also a stand made in a town called Murfreesboro but it
only slowed the leading edge of the herd for a couple of hours.  They’re back
on the move and have reached the southern suburbs of Nashville.  If you’re
still here, you need to do what I’m going to do and get out.  They’ll be
walking through downtown in about five or six hours.

“Safety lies to the west, but there’s a problem.  The
military has destroyed all the vehicle bridges that cross the Mississippi
river.”  Rachel and I looked at each other and she reached out and took my hand
in hers.  “The only crossings still open are railroad bridges, and there’s not
many of those.  The only way to cross the river is on a train, or take your
chances and try to walk across the bridge, but there’s steady rail traffic and
if you get caught mid-span you can either jump or get run over.

“Herds are also coming west from the eastern seaboard as
well as moving south through Kentucky.  The military was especially hard hit in
the most recent outbreak and there aren’t enough soldiers left to defend us. 
Nashville is going to fall.”  Max paused, coughed a couple of times and lit
another cigarette.  I wanted one so bad at the moment I could taste it. 

“On to the rest of the world.  The Navy has stopped the Chinese
battle groups in the Pacific.  It’s not looking like there’s going to be a land
invasion.  That’s about the only good news there is.  The US with assistance
from NATO has launched more attacks against China, dispersing the same nerve
agent that they used on us and China is in complete chaos.  Unfortunately China
also launched attacks on Europe and the entire continent is in shambles.  In
the Middle East, Israel has launched pre-emptive nuclear strikes against Iran,
Syria and several other radical Muslim countries.  Russia remains neutral and
is on full military alert.  So far they haven’t been attacked by anyone. 
Africa has disintegrated into civil and tribal warfare.  Closer to home, Canada
is in no better shape than the US as all of its major cities were also victim
to the nerve gas.  Northern Mexico is in chaos and the Mexican army, with
assistance from several South American countries, has set up a defensive
barrier 200 miles south of the US border.  Everything south of that barrier,
including Central and South America has not been affected.  Australia is also
free of attacks.

“I’m boarding the last train at midnight, heading west.  You
must get out.  There’s not anyone left to come help you.  God bless you, and
God bless America, what’s left of it.”

After a brief moment the signal shut off and a blast of
static sounded over the speakers.  Reaching forward I shut the radio off and
leaned back in my seat with a long sigh.  Rachel was quiet too, processing what
we’d just heard.

“What are we going to do?”  She finally asked in a low
voice.

I pulled out the thick road atlas and flipped through until
I was looking at a map of Tennessee.  It took me a moment to spot our
location.  We were northeast of Nashville, maybe a 45 minute drive to downtown
in the old days.  Now, it could take hours or even days to cover the distance. 
Thoughts were swirling through my head, some dismissed as soon as I had them,
others quickly categorized as good or bad.  After a couple of minutes staring
at the map I looked up at the navigation screen in the dash and started
pressing buttons to access the menu.

Several miscues later I got the damn thing to display a
listing for Nashville’s Union Station.  Selecting the station as my destination
a small circle spun on the screen for a few moments before a map drew itself
with a route from our location to the train station highlighted by a thick,
blue line and what I assumed was an alternate route shown by a thick, yellow
line.  A female voice spoke over the truck’s speakers telling me two route
choices were available to reach my destination.  Route one was 41.6 miles and
route 2 was 49.1 miles.

I stared at the screen.  The blue route took us back through
Lebanon to I-40 then west into downtown Nashville.  The yellow route continued
on to Gallatin as we had planned, then turned south on I-65 and again into
downtown Nashville.  I wasn’t happy with either choice, but the longer we could
stay north of the city, the better off I thought we’d be.  Reaching out I
selected route two, which took us through Gallatin, and the voice told me to
proceed in my current direction of travel for 16.4 miles.  I stepped on the
throttle and roared north towards the approaching storm.

“What’s the plan?”  Rachel asked again, eyeing the
navigation screen as I drove.

“We’ve got two ways across that damn river,” I said.  “Fly,
which unless you have a skill you’ve kept to yourself, won’t work, or catch a
train.  We’re going to catch a train.  I’m not happy about it, but I don’t see
any other option at this point.”

Rachel thought about what I had to say then nodded her
head.  Dog was just happy to be along for the ride, as usual.

“Can we make it into Nashville?  This map looks like we have
to go right downtown.”  Rachel said, still looking at the screen.

“I’m not seeing any option other than trying.  It’s going to
be hard.  Sounds like there’s infected all over the place, and the survivors
are going to be in a panic.  I'll get us there, but I don’t expect to be able
to just drive up and park.  Max said the last train leaves at midnight.  If
we’re not there and on that train by then, we back out and try to come up with
something else.”

Rachel had listened closely as I talked, her hand drifting
to rest on top of Dog’s head.  He closed his eyes and enjoyed the contact.  Not
for the first time in my life I thought I’d want to come back as a dog if there
really was such a thing as reincarnation.  Sleep, eat and get your head
rubbed.  How bad can that be?  Then I remembered the whole neutering thing and
decided being a human wasn’t so bad.

It didn’t take long to reach the turn for Gallatin, the
disembodied voice warning me the turn was coming a mile before we got there. 
Slowing, I steered us onto the new highway as the first drops of rain
splattered on the truck’s windshield.  The leading edge of the storm was here
and blocked out the evening light from the setting sun.  We drove on through
the gloom, the intensity of the rain increasing with every mile and the wind
picking up enough to occasionally push the truck around on the rain slicked
pavement. 

The Dodge had good headlights and I was running with them on
high as we approached Gallatin.  We started passing the occasional house and
double wide, then a small gas station.  All were dark and looked abandoned. 
Nothing was moving, survivor or infected, and the rain intensified as we rolled
into town and passed an empty Walmart. 

“Where did everyone go?”  Rachel asked, but in a low voice
that sounded like she was just musing out loud so I didn’t bother to answer
with what would only have been a theory.

Quickly the number of buildings along the road increased and
we were soon passing dark and abandoned fast food joints, bars, strip malls and
the omnipresent Starbucks.  What I wouldn’t give right now for an iced mocha
and a cigarette.  Daydreaming about past vices nearly ended our day early when
I was slow to react to the vehicle that barreled out of a side street.  I
wrenched the wheel to the left and jammed the brakes as the car scraped along
the passenger side of the truck.  Rain was pouring and the road was slick and
we went into a skid.  I lost the battle for control as the big truck slid off
the pavement and into the grassy median that divided the highway.  We came to a
stop without any further incident and the car roared off into the distance,
clouds of water thrown up by its tires momentarily hanging in the air behind
it.

Rachel had a death grip on the grab bar on her side of the
cab and Dog had wound up on his back somewhere behind me, grunting as he
scrambled back to his feet.  What the hell was that about?  Then a bad thought
hit me and I turned to look out the back window of the truck at the road the
car had come from.  A dozen figures were visible, sprinting toward us through
the rain.  Infected females.  The other driver had been in a panic, running for
his life.  They were still a hundred yards away and weren’t an immediate threat
so I gently pressed on the throttle to get us back on the pavement and out of
there.  The engine got louder and a moment later I heard the high pitched whine
of tires spinning on wet grass.  Shit!

Letting off the accelerator I shifted into reverse and fed a
little power but got the same results.  The truck was two wheel drive so I couldn’t
just pull a lever and go into four by four and drive us out.  This truck wasn’t
going anywhere without a little assistance to get back onto the pavement. 
Rachel and Dog were getting antsy and I glanced over my shoulder at the
approaching females.  They had cut the distance in half and were still
sprinting.

“Time to fight,” I said to Rachel, popped my door open and
stepped out into the rain.  Dog followed me out and Rachel scrambled across the
cab, slipping on the wet running board as she started to step out, ending up
face down in a large puddle of water.  I yanked her onto her feet and turned my
attention to the fast approaching females. 

The truck was sideways in the median and between me and the infected. 
I raised my rifle and rested my arm on the bed rail, acquiring my first target
and firing.  The body dropped and I started picking off the other running
figures.  Two of them from the back of the pack changed direction and ran
perpendicular to me as soon as I started firing.  Fuck me, but here were more
smart ones.  I had hoped the ones I’d encountered in the woods back south of
Murfreesboro had been an anomaly.  Apparently not.

Right now I didn’t have time to worry about them.  Of the
original pack there were still five of them sprinting at me and they were all
inside twenty yards.  Shooting one I shifted aim, noted that Rachel was now
standing next to me with her rifle aimed and two more dropped as we fired at
the same time.  Then we ran out of time.  The two that were still charging leapt,
both landing in the back of the truck.  One of them came down on the fifth
wheel hitch and I clearly heard her leg break, even over the pounding rain. 
The other leapt again, directly at me, but I had already back pedaled and drawn
my pistol.  She hit the ground three feet in front of me and started to gather
herself for another leap but was tackled to the ground by Dog.

Knowing he would finish her off I looked for the other
female and saw Rachel struggling with her at the side of the truck.  Rachel
hadn’t moved back as quickly as I had, and even with a broken leg the female
had managed to lunge forward and get a grip on Rachel’s rifle.  The infected
was trying to pull it out of the way as Rachel used it to fend her off. 
Stepping up next to Rachel I shot the female in the head with my pistol then
spun around to check on Dog.  He stood in the rain, looking drenched and unhappy,
but the female he had tackled lay dead on the ground a few feet away with most
of her throat missing.

Holstering the pistol, I brought the rifle up and scanned in
the direction the two smart females had run.  Nothing.  Turning a full three
sixty I still couldn’t find them, but there were plenty of buildings they could
be hiding in or behind.  Keeping the rifle up and continuing my scan I paused
when I thought I detected movement at the edge of a burger place, but it was
only trash blowing in the wind.  Rachel moved a few feet away from me and also
started scanning with her rifle, careful to lower the muzzle as she rotated
through the direction I was standing.  Dog moved between us, nose slightly
raised.

We stood there watching for a couple of minutes, but neither
of us spotted anything.  Knowing we were burning time we didn’t have I told
Rachel and Dog to keep watch, lowered my rifle and looked at the situation the
truck was in.  The median sloped slightly away from the pavement on each side,
the center being maybe two feet lower than the edge of the road.  This was done
to help drain water.  The grass the truck was sitting on was dense and rain
slick.  Slick even under the soles of my boots.  The truck was perpendicular to
the pavement with the rear tires sitting in the lowest part of the median.

I thought about trying to get it moving again, but quickly
dismissed the impulse.  All that would be accomplished would be to dig through
the grass into the mud and then we’d really be stuck with no way to get it out
other than a tow truck.  I didn’t think AAA was going to answer their phone. 
Checking on Rachel, who was still scanning for threats, I started looking at
the businesses up and down the highway.  Through the limited visibility I saw
what looked like a local hardware store about half a mile down the road. 
Hoping they’d have what I needed I closed up the cab of the truck, hit the lock
button on the key and dropped it in my pocket. 

Calling Rachel and Dog up onto the pavement I pointed out
our destination and told Rachel to lead the way.  I would normally take point,
or be the one in front, but with two females running around in the quickly
darkening evening I was more worried about our rear and flanks.  Rachel was
learning the skills she needed, but I knew I was the one to keep an eye on
three directions at once as we moved.  Setting off through the rain, Dog
trailed Rachel and I stepped off behind him, maintaining about twenty feet of
separation.  We moved as fast as we could, but when you’re trying to watch
every direction at once you don’t move too fast.

Ten minutes later we reached the business I’d seen.  It was
as I suspected, a local hardware store called Mick’s.  The front of the
business was all glass and either the power was off or the proprietor had
turned off all the lights when he left.  Either way, the interior was dark as a
tomb.  Having Rachel watch our backs I tried the door and wasn’t surprised to
find it locked.  Using the muzzle of my rifle I tapped hard on the glass a few
times, hoping if there were any infected inside they would come to investigate
so I could shoot them.  Giving it a long minute with no infected showing up, I
stepped back and fired half a dozen rounds from my suppressed rifle through the
glass door. 

This was safety glass and didn’t shatter and drop out of the
doorframe.  Instead six neat holes were punched through it, each surrounded by
a spider web of cracks.  The holes were in the same general area and I was able
to kick the weakened glass out of the frame without making a lot of racket. 
Telling Rachel and Dog to stay put I stepped through the opening and had to
click on the flashlight attached to my rifle to see.  I walked the width of the
front of the store, aiming down each aisle as I came to it just in case there
were infected that hadn’t been attracted to my tapping.  When all seemed clear
I carefully moved to the back of the store.

At the very back a large section had been devoted to
lumber.  Heavy duty steel shelves held all different dimensions of boards and I
quickly located what I was looking for.  I pulled two 12 foot long 2x8 pine
boards off a shelf and leaned them up against the stack on end so I could get a
shoulder under them.  A sudden banging from above me sent a fresh surge of
adrenalin pumping through my system and I snapped the rifle up and scanned for
the source of the noise.  A set of windows in the wall a dozen feet above floor
level looked over the store, probably the manager’s office, and as I shone the
light through one of them I could see an infected male pressed against the
glass and pounding with both fists.  Lowering the rifle and ignoring him I
squatted, got my shoulder under the two boards and stood up.

Taking a moment to get the balance of the load, I turned in
place, swinging the boards around to head back to the front of the store.  As I
completed my turn I heard a crack then the sound of shattering glass behind me,
followed a moment later by the heavy thud of a body impacting the painted
concrete floor.  Dropping the boards off my shoulder, I pivoted around, rifle
coming up, and spotlighted the male I had seen in the office window.  He was
dead, having fallen on his head which was now bent at an angle so unnatural it
could only mean broken neck.  I let out a breath and lowered my rifle, turning
back to pick up the lumber I had dropped, and was tackled to the floor.