The Common Cold (Book 1): A Zombie Chronicle (26 page)

Tom took out his pistol, and executed the two that were on
his side. When they were far enough from any further signs of non-life, they
pulled over, and, guns held at the ready, both leapt out to confront any
remaining hangers-on. With a screech, one jumped from the roof, Tom catching it
mid-flight. It landed messily at their feet, missing a large portion of its
head.

BB was certain there was another, more cunning as it had
hidden itself from view. He dropped to one knee to look under the truck. There
it was, clinging to the underside, staring at him. It hissed, making itself
appear more terrifying. It didn’t need to try, BB’s stomach was churning, the
realisation descending on him that these things had some animal cunning, and
weren’t the dumb creatures he had assumed them to be. He took careful aim at
its skull, determined not to miss and damage this vehicle as well. Firing, the
head disappeared in a puff of pink spray, the corpse falling to the ground,
harmless.

Together, with new-found respect for their adversary, they
checked in the rear troop section, but found nothing. They took the opportunity
to check the fuel and found this one, too, had been topped off. It had been a
challenging way to refuel a truck. Before attracting further attention, they
boarded once more and headed back to the turnpike, grateful to be on their way.
BB hoped he never had to confront such a crowd again, as his luck wouldn’t,
couldn’t, hold out forever.

Tom was getting excited as they had just turned onto the
Baseline Road, his road. Not long now, he thought. He could see the Chautauqua
Park coming up on the left, and the pedestrian crossing.

“Oh, dear God,” he exclaimed, “what the hell’s happened?”
The question was rhetorical, as the house no longer stood there; it had been
burnt to the ground, along with several houses further on. Numb with dread at
what he might find, Tom descended from the truck. BB climbed down, covering his
dumb-struck friend, and together they walked to where the dwelling had once
stood. Apart from the stone-work chimney stack and a small portion of the
stairs, there was nothing left but charred wood and collapsed brick wall to
show anything had been there at all.

Tom gingerly climbed into the mess, looking at the debris,
trying to identify something that might offer a clue as to where his wife and
family were now.

“This all burned down yesterday.” A voice spoke from behind,
startling them. They swung around, guns at the ready. “Whoa,” the man said,
ducking, “I ain’t the enemy.”

“God, sorry,” Tom replied automatically, pointing his rifle
away once more. He peered at the old man, certain he knew him. “I know you;
you’re one of my neighbours, aren’t you. Chuck, isn’t it?” The man had soot on
his face, making his features less recognisable. Added to that, previously they
had only been on a nodding acquaintance.

“That’s right, and you’re Tom. I live two doors down. Well,
I did.”

“You know my name,” Tom replied, curious.

“I knew your wife, Laurie. I would help her from time to
time when you were away. I’m pleased to see you could get back from your trip.
Where were you?”

“In England. I was supposed to pick up some diplomats from
the US Embassy in the UK, but that never happened. I came back almost empty.”
Tom wasn’t sure why he was telling the old man so much, it just seemed right.

“You’ve come a long way, then. Is he a pilot, too?” Chuck
asked, indicating BB.

“Yeah, he’s BB; sorry, Brad Bukowski. We flew back
together.”

“Hi Brad.” Chuck said.

“Call me BB, everyone does,” he replied, at ease in Chuck’s
presence.

“Where’s my wife? My boys?” the captain asked, hopefully.
Jake and Stevie, his sons, were still young, only nine and eleven. He prayed
quietly they were with their mum, somewhere safe.

“I don’t rightly know. Last night, when the fire started, it
spread quickly between the houses. We were all busy trying to save stuff from
our own properties, when these creatures attacked, hundreds of them. I guess
they were real people at one time, but just not by the time they got here. Then
it was everyone for themselves. I got knocked out, so I don’t remember much. I
fell down behind the hedge by my driveway, so they didn’t see me.” He fingered
a lump on his forehead; the marks on his head clearly showed he had been
assaulted, lending credibility to his story. “When I woke, it was all quiet,
no-one was around. I’ve been looking for folks, anyone, but apart from a few
dead bodies, some of them not lying down, the place is deserted. Then you came
along.” The man fell silent, nothing more to say.

“What about your family? Do you have any around here?” Tom
asked, trying to sound like he gave a damn. Without his family, his mind was
rudderless, drifting. Chuck shook his head, ruefully.

“I have no-one, anywhere. I guess I’m what they call a free
spirit; some of the meaner souls around here call me a loner.” He smiled at the
paradox.

BB grabbed Tom by the arm, distracting him from the
conversation. “It’s just occurred to me. Where’s the car, Laurie’s car?
Shouldn’t it be parked in the driveway?”

Tom looked up, surprised he hadn’t thought of this simple
fact. Glancing at the drive, he confirmed to himself it was empty. They must
have driven off. Excitedly, he ran over to where it should have been; looking
carefully, he could see no broken glass, indicating it had not been broken into
or damaged. That was good news, the only conclusion he could come to was that
it had been opened and started, using a key. And that meant that his wife and
precious offspring were somewhere, hopefully safe. But where?

BB stood beside his captain, his friend.

“Where’s she most likely to go, do you think?”

“Well, Laurie’s parents are down south of San Francisco, in
a little town called Pescadero. It’s too far to travel by car; I think she’ll
most likely head for our cabin in the mountains. She’s probably there already,
but I can’t call her, as one of the things we liked about it was the lack of
phones, fixed or cell. So, that’s pretty much pooped all over my plans for
now.”

“Why don’t you call Danny and the others, tell them how to
get to the cabin, and then we’ll head off. They mightn’t get here until
tomorrow, which means we’ll have lost a day.”

“I really do need to find my family,” Tom agreed, “alright,
I’ll give them a call,” he replied, checking he still had a signal on his cell
phone.

“We
oughta
get some supplies
before we go as well. Is there a local store we could visit?” BB wanted to go
prepared.

The old man had walked up to them while they were discussing
their situation. He was used to being on the periphery of most people’s lives.
It had been that way for some years now, ever since his wife, Eileen, passed
away. Things were about to change, that much he knew. His knowledge and
experience were in the ascendancy.

“So you’re
gonna
try and find your
family, huh?” he interjected.

“Sorry, what?” Tom, deep in thought, hadn’t noticed him
approach their huddle.

“Will you guys take me with ya? I think you’ll find I can be
of use to you.”

“Well, we don’t really have any real solid plans at the
moment, but you’re welcome to come with us, if that’s what you want,” Tom
replied, his current mental state making him suspicious of freely offered
assistance, but his common courtesy leading him to be reluctant to leave the
old man to fend for himself.

“When you get to my age, you’ve already learnt that plans
are mostly pointless, something or someone always gets in the way. I’ll be
happy just to help out, you’ll find I’m pretty useful when it comes to
survival,” the old man replied, beaming with pleasure. “So, what’s your
intentions? Head up into the mountains?”

“I have a cabin a couple of hours from here,” Tom replied,
“I’m pretty sure that my wife will have gone there, there aren’t many other
options, and I’m sure she would want me to find her as soon as possible.”

“What sort of provisions are there at your cabin?” the old
man asked.

“Not much. I never expected all this,” Tom admitted. Chuck
chuckled, self-satisfied.

“Well, you’ve made a great start with that truck. It’ll get
you anywhere, as long as you have fuel.”

“The tank’s full, we’ve only done a dozen or so miles since
we, ah, acquired it,” he replied, feeling embarrassed for the first time at the
thought of how he had obtained it; it was, technically, theft.

“Ownership is always an arguable point,” Chuck proffered. “I
think a famous man once said it had something to do with possession. Anyhow, I
think its previous owners won’t be in a hurry to get it back any time soon.”
His face now more serious, he gestured for them to follow him to his house.

Following behind him, they walked up his front steps and
entered what used to be the entrance hall. There was little more left of his
house than Tom’s. The two pilots looked at each other dubiously, wondering what
he could possibly want of them. Hands within easy reach of their pistols, they arrived
at what had been the kitchen. Kicking at some blackened debris, Chuck smiled
when he heard the clank of a metal-linked chain. He bent down and picked it up;
it was still slightly warm to the touch. It was attached to a larger ring,
which in turn was attached to the floor. “Give me a hand, boys,” he said as he
started to pull. BB rushed over, and together they lifted what transpired to be
a heavy, metal lid, revealing steps leading into darkness.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Tom exclaimed, as it dawned on him
what he was being shown. Chuck pulled out a small torch and stepped into the
hole. BB and Tom followed, descending carefully into the darkness. Arriving at
the bottom, Tom turned on his own torch, and between the two small light
sources, they revealed a well-organised basement, completely untouched by the
fire that had raged above their heads. Most of the room was taken up by shelves
groaning under the load of tinned foods and supplements. What was equally
impressive was the wall of weaponry. Underneath it was a large cupboard, which,
when Chuck opened it, revealed ammunition boxes, lead bars and equipment for
the making of new bullets. Cylinders of gunpowder could also be seen. BB’s eyes
were wide with pleasure; this was his kind of candy store.

“Good God,” he exclaimed, in hushed, reverent tones. “It’s
an Aladdin’s cave!”

“Thank you, young man,” Chuck responded; he was especially
pleased that his long term investment was going to have been worthwhile after
all. “You may not have been expecting our current crisis, but I sure as hell
have. I served when I was younger. I’ve been through ’Nam, Lebanon, and a few
other unsavoury engagements during the Cold War, and I can tell you that it’s
better to be prepared. I ain’t one of them doomsday
preppers
,
I sure as hell ain’t got deep enough pockets for that. My plan has always been
that when the shit hits the fan, I’d get some supplies together, get into the
mountains, quick as I can. Doesn’t matter how ‘ready’ you are, a serious event
is always
gonna
be a surprise. And it sure as hell
was for me. I feel embarrassed to tell you, but some bastard nicked my car last
night, he cold-cocked me as I was
gettin
’ in it.
Maybe it saved my life, maybe not. At least I still have this,” he finished,
indicating the room.

Chuck wasn’t being especially trusting of his semi-new
acquaintances; he wore loose clothing that hid two guns, with which he’d
practiced quick draws for years. He knew he could take these two out before
they took a breath, if they decided to cross him. He did need their help to get
into the mountains, and he was being genuine when he’d offered to help, he
wasn’t a loner by choice.

“Looks like you’ve even got a generator under that bench.”
Tom had been looking over the room during Chuck’s little speech; there wasn’t
anything he could think of deemed necessary, that he couldn’t locate here on
these shelves. He was stunned by the revelation that all this, and one careful
owner, had been living two doors down for, well, a long time, and he’d barely
even met the guy, let alone knew of this. Secrecy, of course, was probably a
crucial part of his plan.

“The only problem I can envisage is that it’s down here,
when really it needs to be in the truck.” Tom noticed Chuck’s use of the
definite article ‘the’, not ‘your’ when referring to the truck. As he’d alluded
to earlier, ownership really was a flexible issue. It seemed the truck
ownership would now be joint, in exchange for sharing supplies. Tom had no
issues with that.

“That’s no problem, Chuck. We’re can-do guys. We’ve come a
long way so far, and the journey ain’t over yet.” Tom was overwhelmed by their
apparent good fortune. He would never have guessed in a million years that
Chuck, his re-discovered neighbour, might just be the advantage they needed to
get through this. He certainly seemed to understand survival, a skill Tom and
BB would have to acquire ‘on the job’.

“That’s great,” Chuck responded, thinking for a moment. “I
don’t think we ought to take all the supplies in one go; we can leave half
here, remaining hidden, no problem. If we have an issue getting away and into
the mountains, I don’t want to lose it all in one go. Know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I do,” BB replied, thinking back on the challenges
they had encountered just getting to Tom’s burnt out shell of a house. If
they’d had anything worthwhile in the original truck, it would have been left
behind in the hands of the Infected, or at least surrounded by them.

“Do you have a generator at your cabin?” Chuck asked.

“Yes, but it’s probably low on fuel. We usually take gas
with us when we go up there. Otherwise the insurance companies see it as a fire
hazard.”

“Well, those blood suckers won’t have much of a say anymore.
If we start by taking half of everything on the shelves up to the truck, I’ll
sort out the ammo and firepower. Then I’ll give you a hand.”