The Dead Divide Us (Book 1) (19 page)

Robert had quietly reached the little blue car and bent down to pick up the gas can.

“Holy shit!” Robert whispered to himself.

The gas can was completely full. The first bit of luck he had today.

BANG!!!!!

A loud noise echoed from Jan’s direction. Robert whirled around and saw that Jan was now taking his second swing at the lock and chains. Robert also noticed that the few infected people across the street had heard the noise too. Jan swung down hard again and this time the rusty lock smashed into three pieces. Jan flung the chains off the double doors and turned back to Robert.

“Come on Robert! Let’s get inside here quick.” Jan said.

Robert tightened his grip on the gas can, excited now to get off the street for a little while. He took one step toward the Fire Company and noticed the doors behind Jan had opened up slightly, by themselves.

Five or six loud shots rang out from behind the opening of the doors and Robert watched as half of Jan’s face split open and spilled out onto his chest. A few more bullets ripped right through Jan’s chest, his blood was now covering the ground below him. Jan was dead even before he knew what had happened.

Lifeless, Jan’s body dropped to its knees and then fell forward face-first into the snow.

“What kind of world do we now live in?”

Robert quickly dropped down and hid himself behind the blue Geo-Metro. He felt nothing, he had nothing to say, he was momentary lost.

“What kind of world do we now live in?”

Robert saw himself from above, the dangers now surrounding him meant nothing. He just sat there in the falling snow. Jan, lifelong friend of the family was now dead too.

“What kind of world do we now live in?”

Robert regained his breathing pattern and steadied himself. He poked his head out from behind the car and looked at the Fire Company.

A man, which had to be an Army or National Guardsman because he was wearing the appropriate camouflage, slowly marched out from behind the doors holding one of the same automatic rifles that Major Frost’s men carried.

“Hey asshole, you kill him?” a voice yelled out from inside the Fire Company.

“I got him Drake, a real nasty one. Big too. Jeezus, looks like this one learned to use a rock. He busted out the fuckin' locks!” the young private said. Robert’s anger began flow and expand.

“Well re-lock the fuckin' doors from the inside; get your ass back in here! I mean to stay alive in here for at least a few more days.” the deep voice from inside yelled again.

“Yeah.” the Private exclaimed. He quickly backed into the Fire Company and closed the doors. From inside, Robert heard more chains being wrapped around the inside door handles.

And just like that, the Fire Company was exactly like it was before, locked up and quiet. Only now a fresh corpse, Jan Goodman, lay at the doorstep.

A familiar sound now came to Robert. The moaning was back; he looked up First Street and confirmed his fear. A hoard of the infected was pushing and shambling its way toward the Fire Company. The gunshots must have brought them on.

Robert, still holding onto the gas can, stumbled up to his feet and raced toward the open manhole. Once there, he threw down the gas can into the sewer. It made a large splash in the water below. Robert put his feet on the metal rungs and began to lower himself down. Once down far enough, he reached for the cover above his head and tired to slide it over. Jan was right, the fucker was heavy and Robert was only able to slide it over two inches before a sickly diseased face came rearing down at him. The infected face was so close, that its matted hair swept across Robert’s face. It tried to bite his nose clean off, but Robert’s instincts kicked in and he released himself from the metal rungs.

Robert fell straight down ten feet onto the sewer floor. His landed on his ankle and he felt it snap even before he heard the sound. It had to be a clean break. To make matters worse Robert looked up to the open hole above and saw three infected people, all of them were trying to lean down and reach into the sewer.

Then, they too fell in. Freefalling right down on top of Robert.

4

The only thing Robert could think of to do was to roll over fast. His back laid flat on the sewer floor, his ankle popping hot with fresh pain. As Robert rolled to his left, he rolled over the hard plastic gas can that he had dropped down there. More pain struck his ribs as the unforgiving edges of the gas can poked at him as he rolled.

Splash!!!

That’s right. The three sick-heads from above had made their crash landing; Robert was still close enough to feel the spray of shit-water when they landed. He thought to himself, “I must have turned away just in time.”

Robert was positive now he had rolled in the right direction. He needed to head south; down the exact way he came in with Jan.

Jan, poor Jan. Gunned down, he didn’t even have a chance.

The moaning sounds of the infected forced Robert to stagger up to his feet. The three of them were no more than two feet behind him. So Robert grabbed hold of the gas can as he fought against himself to stand up. He almost fell right back down again due to his broken right ankle. The pain made him see stars in the dark tunnel. He could barely apply any pressure to the ankle.

Robert leaned forward and began to limp down the tunnel, heading south. The combination of having to crouch down, carry a full gas can, and basically skip forward on one working leg had Robert feeling like it was time to give up. He wanted to just stop. He wanted to just lie down and let the infected catch up to him and tear him to bits. Robert could hear them from behind shambling after him. Kicking water and waste around, their moans seem to amplify as they echoed down the sewer walls.

So this was it? All that false hope? Only to be chased down a shit filled sewer, in the dark, with a broken ankle? Robert decided it was absolutely time to give up. He stopped limping forward and fell to his knees. His only hope now was that the three diseased people would kill him fast. They were close to him now. Robert began to feel light-headed again.

Robert. Robert!

“What?”

Get up! Now! Come on, you’ve got to get up.

“I don’t want to. It’s over.”

No, it isn’t over. You are still breathing aren’t you? You are banged up pretty bad, but you can still move. So get up and move!

“Why? We’re just going to die anyway.”

Stop being so selfish and start fighting to stay alive. God gives us new life everyday because it is too easy to give up, to lose the will to live. Being beaten and disappointed and losing, these are all parts of life. Some of us are so fortunate to have life, so start believing in yours!

Robert then suddenly knew who he was talking to.

“Felicia?”

Robert didn’t get a response. Still he painfully rose to his feet. One of the infected men was about grab Robert by the neck. Even in the smelly sewer, Robert could distinguish the scent.

Move, now!

Robert took off limping down the tunnel, narrowly escaping the grip of a diseased hand by mere inches.

He wasn’t sure what had just happened back there, his exhausted body and mind were most likely playing tricks on him. Maybe his subconscious was alive and acting out the role of his long-dead sister Felicia.

Robert didn’t mind the pain anymore, he felt it for sure, but he just kept moving forward down the dark tunnel.

5

Robert burst out of the South end of the sewer pipe and landed onto a mound of fresh snow. His bat was still somehow secured, holstered in the back of his sweatshirt.              Daylight enveloped him, but after his eyes fully adjusted he realized that the day was losing its brightness. Evening was about to fall.

“Jesus, how long have I been at this?” Robert asked himself, thinking that it didn’t feel like that long ago when Paul woke him up with the call. Where did the day go? Where did the day go, indeed?

A few low moans echoed out from inside the dark sewer tunnel and Robert knew that he was still being chased. Once again he rose to his feet; still gripping the full gas can tight. He turned and grimly looked up at the large mountain ridge he had to climb up. He was at the base of a forty foot climb, with a broken ankle.

Robert started to carefully climb up the large rocky hill. The deep snow somehow made it both easier and harder to climb, making for better footing as he brought his feet down but making it heavy and harder to lift his feet up.

Slowly making progress, Robert looked up at the peak of the ridge above him. Just beyond the top, Robert hoped his mother was still there with the Bronco. He wouldn’t be able to tell until he was closer to the top. But if his mother had taken off to the rendezvous point, the ball field out past Buck’s Dairy, Robert knew he would be screwed for sure.

He continued to climb, slowly up through the heavy snow.

Half way up the hill, Robert heard the bodies of three of the infected people shoot out of the sewer pipe below.

They were still intent on eating his flesh.

Chapter 10: Goodbye Home Sweet Home

Paul Landry slowly moved the curtain of his bedroom window and stealthily peeked outside. Out on the street, under the cool misty rain, a few of his neighbors were still frantically bouncing around in drones of the mass hysterical. But Warren Blakely had done a surprisingly good job of quickly organizing a few good men (and women) to secure their end of the street which helped their immediate neighbors feel safer. It was a greatly needed accomplishment because some thirty odd minutes prior, the power was cut off in Green Falls. It was midday now and the thought of oncoming darkness coupled with the inevitable army of infectious and diseased had made the townspeople of Green Falls long for answers. They were looking to Paul’s neighbor, Roy Benton for those answers; however, he and Paul had their own covert escape planned...

“Should you be lingering by the window like that?” Ruth asked.

Paul turned around letting go of the purple curtain and went to his wife. She was shoveling clothing into one of their largest suitcases. She stopped for a second and gave Paul an obviously fearful and worried face.

“Hold on honey.” Paul said as he walked around to the other side of their bed.

“Two outfits per person. Even the children.”

Frustrated, Ruth threw down the small pile of clothing she was holding onto.

“What the hell are we going to wear up there?” Ruth asked.

“We can’t be weighed down or worried about clean clothing. Only a few changes are necessary.” Paul added softly.

Ruth turned her back on Paul and faced their huge walk-in closet. She looked inside and then she hung her head down low.

“We are going to be leaving so much behind.” She said, solemnly.

“Ruth, this is about survival now. We don’t need our entire wardrobe up at the cabin.”

Ruth snapped her head back up from the sulking position.

“I’m not talking about our clothing, Paul. I’m talking about everything. Everything we’ve ever worked for. This house. Our jobs. Our neighbors. Our lives. All of it. We are leaving it all behind.” Ruth said, but she did not begin to cry. She only stood by, set on idle, her body stuck in neutral and her mind competing in a surrealistic race.

Process, Process, Process. Compute, Compute, Compute.

Think, Think, Think. Decide, Decide, Decide.

As tired as Ruth already was, her skull-splitting headache had only presented the feeling of nausea. Sleep was a faraway fairytale. To give into sleep surely meant death in this chaotic new world.

Paul walked over to Ruth, grabbing her hand and turning her around to face him.

“We are doing the right thing.” He said slowly. “This disease is destroying every city it hits. You heard the report from Portland; it is a damn war zone. We need to get our family away from
people
. This neighborhood is NOT the answer.” Paul said, confidently and almost a little arrogantly.

Paul began to say something else, but he stopped; only exhaling a long breath.

“What is it Paul?” Ruth asked.

Paul and Ruth sat down on their bed, the weight being relieved from their bodies as their bottoms hit the soft mattress.

“My cell phone hasn’t rang since Robert’s last call. And I can’t reach him. I’m not going to be selfish and I’m not stupid; I know he’s dead.” Paul said grimly.

“You can’t know that for sure, same with my family. I can’t reach them either.” Ruth said in protest. Paul gave her a dark half-smile.

“We are on opposite ends of the country, even if Robert and my parents are holding up somewhere. We could never know. We will never know.”

Paul gasped inward another huge, deep breathe. It finally hit him; a huge wall of guilt came crashing down onto him. Many years ago, he didn’t
have
to decide to move to the great North-West. He didn’t
have
to take the incredible job offer at Nintendo of America. He didn’t
have
to produce two healthy boys with the woman he fell in love with during college. He didn’t
have
to move so very far away from his parents and from his brother; and now he felt that he had abandoned them. He wasn’t there for them this morning during the chaos, he just simply
wasn’t there
. He wasn’t there to die rightfully by their side, defending his parent’s farmhouse.

Now Ruth Landry had nothing to say to her husband. His lack of hope was doing more than just dragging her down; he was making it harder for her to muster up her own brand of hope.

Some different kind of darkness, a looming storm of grey depression.

“I believe heading up to the mountain cabin with Roy’s family is going to help us survive. But I won’t hold onto the fact that my family on the east coast is still alive.” Paul added, pushing his own guilt to the side.

“I get your point, please just stop saying it. Ok?” Ruth said, holding her head now and rubbing her aching temples.

Paul felt like a giant ass. He
was
being selfish just now, lost in his own grievances for his brother and parents. He could see the distraught and painful emotions that Ruth was experiencing and he had only made them worse.

Paul wrapped his arm around his wife, bringing her in closer. Through the fleece she was wearing he felt a great heat coming off of her chest, she was burning up under all the pressure.

“You know who I keep thinking about?” Paul said suddenly.

“Who?” Ruth asked, allowing a few tears to fall from her cheeks as she rested her head on his shoulder.

“My sister, Felicia.”

Ruth was surprised to hear that; Paul very rarely talked about his deceased sister from many years ago. She let Paul continue.

“There was no doubt that she was the better sibling of the house. She was so incredibly talented! There was nothing she couldn’t do naturally. Music, art, math, any type of school work. In just three months she learned to play the guitar better than I could after three years of lessons. I still can’t form a C-chord!” Paul said.

Ruth giggled a little.

“She was special Paul.” Ruth added.

“Yes, she was.” Paul said. Again, they fell silent; both of them were thinking of the same thing. Their thoughts were on the unjust and untimely fatal sickness that befell Felicia Landry. Maybe somewhere deep inside Paul’s mind was a little voice that always told him to run away; to get as far away from the painful memories of home and that of the untimely demise of Felicia Landry.

What are we but only animals that were meant to suffer? Thus is the endgame of all God’s creatures and Nature’s wonders. Suffer, and then die.

“Mommy, Daddy are you okay?” Little Shawn Landry said from the doorway. His older brother Eddie was standing behind him. Both of them were holding their school backpacks; overloaded with clothing and toys. Paul had given them a limit to two toys each.

“We’re fine honey, come here let me look at what you packed.” Ruth said to her young boy Shawn.

“It looked like you were crying.” Shawn said, as he rushed over to Ruth and handed her his WWE themed backpack. Eddie followed and gave his green Jansport backpack to his dad.

“Shut up Shawn.” Eddie barked out, trying to put his little brother in his place.

“Hey! Mom, he just told me to shut up!” Shawn cried out, looking for a little parental justice.

Paul shot Eddie a disapproving glance, took the backpack and looked inside.

“Eddie, you know better than to pick on your brother. At a time like this no less. Jeeze, Eds. You didn’t pack too much clothing, and you forgot to throw in any toys. I told you both you could pick two toys to bring along as long as they fit in.” Paul said, confused.

“I didn’t pack any toys. I’m keeping room in my backpack for serious stuff.” Eddie said.

Paul frowned and Ruth followed suit. Eddie was still only 8 years old; but had this day changed him that much? No toys, for an 8 year old?

“How long are we going to be staying at the cabin?” Shawn asked, with deep innocence.

“We aren’t sure Shawn, it might be a while.” Ruth said to her son, stroking his hair back.

“Your mom is right; we could be up in the mountains for a very long time. Between our house and Roy’s we are bringing along quite a bit of canned foods. Plus Roy is an excellent hunter. But we will be together, that’s what matters.” Paul said.

Shawn looked down at his feet, his eyes were wide and his brow suggested that he was thinking hard.

“Mommy, can I think of this as like going on a trip? Like a vacation?” Shawn asked; his innocence was now blinding both Ruth and Paul. Shawn didn’t know any better than to think of things that way.

“Don’t be stupid. We are doing this to survive.” Eddie barked at Shawn.

Paul and Ruth stood up from the bed, visibly angry at Eddie.

“Mom!” Shawn yelled out.

“Eddie, take it easy on your brother for Christ’s sake! You should know better, I already told you that.” Paul sternly told his son.

Ruth turned around and snapped the lid closed on the large suitcase.

“We need to sneak our things over to Roy’s garage.” Ruth said.

Paul walked over to the open closet and started reaching around on the top rack, sifting through clothing and old shoes.

“That won’t be a problem; we’ll take our packed bags and bring them over to Roy’s through the backyard. No one will see us.” Paul said with confidence.

Then Paul found what he was looking for. He brought down his 9 mm pistol from the closet. He reached around again and found a full box of ammunition.

“I almost forgot about that.” Ruth said, sighing and uneasy. Eddie and Shawn both looked at the gun with striking amazement.

“You want to throw that in the suitcase?” Ruth added.

Paul clicked loose the gun clip and filled it with bullets from the ammo box, then slid the clip back into place.

Fully loaded now. Ready for war. Fully loaded now. Ready for more.

Paul tossed the ammo box to Ruth.

“You can pack that away, I’m keeping the gun on me.”

While definitely making sure the safety was clicked on, Paul tucked the pistol into the waist band of his blue jeans.

2

Paul was right.

They had no problem getting their few packed bags and belongings over to the Benton’s house. One large suitcase filled with Paul and Ruth’s extra clothing and a very healthy amount of canned fruits and vegetables, two backpacks filled with Eddie and Shawn’s extra clothing along with a few toys and more canned goods. Paul had made sure they literally cleaned out their entire kitchen. Ruth cried at the sight of bare cupboards, her home and her kitchen looked ravaged and raped. When the last of their belongings had made its way over to Roy’s garage, Ruth asked Paul if they should lock up their house. Paul told his wife “Yes”, citing reasons about thieves and looters. They even armed their Briggs home security system; even though Paul knew that arming the system was frivolous.

Roy Benton had met them immediately in his own garage. The Benton family’s second vehicle was a 2011 Honda Odyssey. Other than using the van for the obvious routine and mundane chores of the modern workweek, the large van was bought in hopes of taking the crew on weekends trips to the city, perhaps catching an early Saturday evening Seattle Mariners game. Both Roy and Paul never imagined they’d be literally running to the hills in the Japanese made family van.

The back of the Odyssey was now stacked high with bags and boxes. Roy wouldn’t be able to see out of the back through the rearview mirror while driving, but that wasn’t a problem they could afford to pay any attention to.

Roy had found two and a half cases of bottled water in his basement, unused from last month’s Christmas party. They were stacked neatly on top of the pile of their survival belongings.

“Wow, you found some bottled water.” Paul said.

“Yeah, I figure we’ll use the clean bottled water until we scout out the freshwater streams up in the mountains. We’ll have to make sure that nothing died upstream from where we’ll be taking water.” Roy said. This struck Paul as an amazing thought; he never even considered that drinking water would be a problem. Roy knew his shit; that was for sure.

Paul stood by his family, Ruth, Shawn and Eddie. Kirsten and Alexis then came through the garage door and joined them.

“Well, here we are. Are we ready to try and hit the road?” Kirsten asked. She looked awfully pale and sick. Ruth could tell that they were both struggling with the thought of forever leaving their home.

“I wouldn’t feel safe heading out now, Paul and I need to head down to Gus’s Hardware and pick up some things. Gus has my order of ammunition rounds. We will need those.” Roy said.

“Are your guns packed in the back of the van too?” Paul asked "I didn't see them back there."

“No, I’ve got them in their cases under the middle seats. Shotgun and hunting rifle. My pistol is on me now. You got yours?” Roy asked.

Paul lifted his shirt and showed Roy his pistol.