The Dead Don't Bleed: Part 2, The Aftermath (29 page)

As Garrett looked over the scene in the front seat he was able to piece together what may have happened. The blood from his suicide was plastered over the
driver’s side door and the roof above it. There was some additional evidence of high velocity blood splatter on the roof above him and on the passenger side seat and door. An additional puddle of blood coating the carpeting around his feet seemed unrelated to the final bullet wound. It didn't take Garrett long to locate the source of the puddle, a tightly wrapped tourniquet just below the man’s left elbow directed his attention to the blood soaked sleeve below it. The sleeve had been bunched up just below the tourniquet and Garrett could see a deep wound on the bare arm right above the wrist. The visible teeth impressions on the upper end of the ragged wound told him the source of the injury. While the bite wound appeared deep and must have resulted in a good deal of blood loss, Garrett believed that the majority of the blood that had soaked the carpet was as a result of an additional wound further up the forearm halfway between wrist and elbow. Cuts along that part of the arm seemed to account for the majority of the blood soaking the floor near the man’s feet. Three shallow cuts surrounded one very deep slice that revealed torn tissue and a hint of bone. The bloodied tactical knife on the floor in the passenger compartment was most likely responsible for the cuts. The driver must have been bit at some point and in a desperate bid to save his own life he had tried to cut off his own arm just above the bite wound. He either lost his ability to complete the task when his blade struck bone and he experienced what Garrett could only imagine to be incomprehensible pain. Or, he somehow realized that his efforts were futile and the virus had progressed too far into his system for an amputation to make any difference.

Leaving the
driver’s side door open, Garrett walked to the rear of the jeep and popped open the back hatch. He thought he knew what he would find when he pulled back the blanket in the cargo compartment. The sight that greeted him was not what he had expected. He was expecting a body, probably a loved one of the dead man behind the wheel. The corpse of a young zombie girl was not exactly what he was expecting. The burnt stippling marks around the entry wound just above her ear suggested that she was killed with a contact wound, the shooter would have been up close and personal when the fatal shot was fired. The area around her mouth was coated in a mat of dry blood with a fat chunk of meat still clutched between her clenched teeth answering the question of where the bite on the drivers arm had come from. The girl was young, probably in her early teens, just barely in high school. Her flowing blond hair had been carefully maintained, cleaned and combed, even her clothing was in very good shape, no visible tears or layers of grime consistent with most zombies they had encountered. Even with her face contorted into the deathly features of one of the undead, Garrett was able to make out some physical resemblance between this girl and the man in the front seat. She had been his daughter. When she was taken by the virus her father probably couldn't find it in his heart to put her down. The back of the jeep had been modified with restraints attached to metal eyebolts drilled into the floor and sidewalls. The girl’s ankles, wrists and midsection were held in place with thick leather straps with lengths of soft fabric fashioned into the areas where the straps came in contact with her body. The presence of the fabric told Garrett just how far this father was willing to go for his daughter. Several inches to the side of the girls face Garrett spotted a small fury leg sticking out from under the blanket. Pulling the blanket back further he discovered a dead rat laying underneath. He thought he could now figure out just what may have happened. The father had refused to let his girl go when she turned and had constructed this restraint system in the back of the jeep, Garrett imagined he also had something similar wherever it was they lived. In his growing desperation to care for his daughter, probably with the misguided hope that a cure would eventually come along, he had tried to feed her. There were no indications on the carcass of the rat to show that the girl had attempted to eat it. Garrett imagined that when the father got close to her mouth with the rat in his hand, she had lashed out and managed to take a bite out of his arm instead. It was probably at that point, either out of anger or fear that he had finally realized the only thing left for him to do was end her suffering. Knowing the implications of a bite he had attempted to amputate his own arm and when that failed he had ultimately taken his own life. Garrett would never understand where he was going or why he was in the park when all of this happened. He thought the guy may have become disoriented in the storm and had been seeking shelter. The virus had probably hit him faster than he anticipated and caused him to black out behind the wheel causing the jeep to end up where it was.

Garrett stepped back from the cargo section of the jeep and slammed the hatch shut tight. The scene inside that jeep spoke volumes to him about the desperate struggles that must still be going across the country. Pockets of survivors without any government or other form of help available doing whatever they could to survive. He thought of how hard it had to be for that father to let his baby girl go and the lengths he had gone to in order to avoid reaching that inevitable end. Whether that man knew that there was no cure for the virus or not was something Garrett had to consider. Each of them only had their own personal experiences to
draw knowledge from and no one knew anything for certain. He resigned himself to doing all he could to finding and helping others like this poor man and his daughter.

Returning to the passenger side of the car to avoid being forced to disturb the driver's endless slumber,
Garrett retrieved the pistol from the drivers hand and was relieved to find a shoebox with five loaded spare magazines and two boxes containing fifty rounds of 9mm ammunition each. The pistol was a newer model Glock and appeared to have been lovingly maintained. Along with the ammunition this single find made his little detour to search the jeep well worth its weight in gold. He considered conducting a more extensive search of the jeep for any more treasures, but then he decided against it. Returning to the driver’s side, he gently lifted the man back up and behind the wheel so he could close the door behind him. As far as he was concerned, this jeep was now a tomb and he could not find it in himself to desecrate it further by tearing through the rest of the contents.

Garrett turned away from the jeep and returned to the Range Rover where Miranda and Kimberly were anxiously waiting. The girls had been unable to see anything inside the jeep during his time with the father and daughter. The storm was still pounding down on them and even though it was just midmorning it was as dark as midnight. As soon as he closed the door behind him Miranda started to ask a question. Garrett looked at her and then back at Kimberly in the back seat. Miranda bit down on her lips in understanding and let it go. Whatever had happene
d at the jeep was something he would discuss only when he was ready to. Dropping the Range Rover back into gear Miranda continued out of the park driving slow and easy on the way to meet up with the rest of their group.

The designated rendezvous was at a Subway sandwich shop four bl
ocks away from the hospital Doug had selected. Kyle had suggested the location due to its remoteness in terms of any other buildings that might have held something to interest zombies. This particular sandwich shop was surrounded on two sides by flood plains that had been allowed to grow wild with wild brush. A construction project next to the shop had been in the works to extend a nearby strip mall and allow the sandwich shop to end up anchoring the buildings with its corner location. The closest residential area was almost a mile away and at the time of the outbreak the Subway was closed for some repairs. They had all agreed that without the opportunity to reconnoiter ahead of time it seemed like their best chance at finding a temporary shelter free from zombies.

Even accounting for the congested roads
, it took Miranda almost an hour longer to reach the Subway than it should have. The strength of the storm made it impossible to see much further than a few feet beyond the hood, the Range Rover's head lights were virtually being sucked up into the blackness and its windshield wipers could not keep pace with the sheets of water dumping onto the windshield. She had ended up taking several wrong turns and on one occasion had turned a corner and found she had driven into a nest of zombies. Dozens of them were in the midst of their patient little dance in the middle of the street while waiting for something to catch their interest. Throwing the Range Rover into reverse and slamming down hard on the gas, Miranda had once again shown her resourcefulness in getting them out of a sticky situation. Even though she had side swiped a parked utility truck and most likely ruined the paint job on the side of the expensive sport utility vehicle. She managed to get them turned around and clear of the area before the first zombie ever realized they had been there.

When they reached the parking lot of the Subway, all of them let out a sigh of relief when they spotted Kyle's patrol car backed up near the main entrance and
a glow of light from inside the building. Even with the reassurance of the patrol car present and a light inside the store, Garrett had the two ladies remain inside the Range Rover while he did a quick search around the perimeter and then finally stepped inside to ensure it was clear.

Their reunion with everyone else was emotional, tears and hugs were shared all around. Garrett was pressed to give an abbreviated summary of their escape from the park. He ran through it all but when it came to the discovery of the jeep with the two bodies inside
, he only explained finding a pair of corpses and recovering a pistol with ammunition. The actual details of his discovery were something he was still not prepared to share at that point. Each of them was dealing with the death and despair that had descended on the world in their own way. For some, their method of dealing with it was very personal and private. Miranda hoped that one day she and Garrett would feel close enough of a connection to share their thoughts and feelings on those things. She had her own demons inside that she would like to share with him one day. Garrett's report on how infested the woods near the Ranger Station was with zombies hit them all hard. They had not discussed where they could seek refuge after finishing their business at the hospital but all of them had held onto a glimmer of hope that the park might still offer them an option. Clearing it out of zombies now appeared to be impossible and the realization that they would need to find somewhere else hit them all pretty hard.

"Where will we go now?" Emily asked the question on everyone's mind.

Garrett had given that question some thought, but knew that his solution was not going to go over well with everyone. "For the time being our priority is to get into the hospital and save Kyle's life. After that, well, I think we should stay on the move as much as possible. Find desolate locations to rest and resupply, but keep moving. It’s not the perfect solution, but until something more permanent and secure can be found it may be our only option."

Emily started to offer a protest at the idea of
continually running but a pitiful cry of pain from a nearby booth shut her mouth for the time being.

Doug had set Kyle up as
comfortably as possible on a long booth seat and used the cushions from another nearby booth to prop up his head and legs. Garrett was impressed to see that even his medical knowledge limited to plastic surgery, Doug had been able to fashion an IV line for Kyle out of a disposable water bottle, tubing recovered from the sandwich shop and other supplies from their first aid kits. Using a container of propane from the kitchen they had been able to get a single burner going on the stove and Doug was able to sterilize everything needed to set Kyle up in a makeshift trauma center. It reminded Garrett of some of the crude arrangements medics had to put together in the middle of heated firefights in the Middle East. Doug may not be their biggest asset against attacks from zombies but he was proving his worth in other ways that were just as important. Garrett found it ironic that it took a world ending event like the zombie apocalypse for people like Doug to really step out of their comfort zones and discover how resilient they could actually be. Had the zombies not descended on the world it was likely that after a few more years of living underneath Emily's abusive grasp that the man would have just swallowed a bullet one day or drowned himself in booze. Now he had an important role to play and was clearly very proud to do so. If his wife could see her husband in the same light that Garrett was, she might actually begin to find it in herself to try harder to become a meaningful contributor to the group. So far she proved to be nothing but a liability but Garrett believed deep down that everyone had at least one thing they were able to do well that could ultimately help the rest of them. Whether Emily lived up to that belief or not was still something to be seen.

Garrett spotted two pairs of legs sticking out from the door of a
n office near the kitchen. Shellie explained that the shop had not been as deserted as they had hoped and she had been forced to take out a pair of zombies they discovered in the kitchen. Both of them had been large men and they were only able to drag them as far as the office so they would be out of the way. Peeking into the office, Garrett noted that both bodies were missing most of their heads. Shellie was truly turning out to be a major asset with her shotgun, but he knew that she only had a handful of shells remaining. All of their heavy weapons, his AK, Kyle's M4 and Shellie's shotgun were down to a very small reserve of ammo at that point. Thanks to his discovery of the pistol and shells inside the jeep they now had enough handgun ammo to bolster their defense. His concern was that with only pistols as their primary weapons the standoff distance between them and any zombies they encountered was greatly reduced. Any location he could think of where they could bolster their supply of weapons was in an area that was already likely to be infested with zombies. The risks they would have to take fighting their way in and out were just not worth it. With Kyle severely wounded and out of action that left himself, Miranda and Shellie as their primary shooters. While the ladies had already shown their willingness and ability to handle firearms in the thick of it, he just didn't think they were in any condition to consider going on the offensive.

Doug stepped away from Kyle's side and motioned for Garrett to join him in a far corner of the dining area. "We
can’t wait much longer." Doug whispered. "He's getting weaker by the hour. If I don't get in there and fix the damage he is going to bleed out before night fall."

Even though that had not had the chance to discuss their next move, Garrett had been hoping to wait out the storm and push on to the hospital the following day. It had been harrowing enough fighting his way through the woods with Kimberly in tow and not knowing a zombie was close by until he was practically on top of it. The hospital would be without power and bathed in darkness inside. With the storm masking their ability to hear a threat the advantage would turn to the zombies. Their hypersensitivity to smell would alert them to their presence before any of them realized they were being stalked. Back in the woods they had been unable to make use of that ability
in the midst of the storm, but it was going to be a different story when they were out of the rain.

"Alright. How long do you need to have Kyle ready to move?"

"He needs to complete the IV I just hooked up. Maybe another hour, two at the most." Doug replied.

Garrett was glad for at least that brief period of down time. They could use it to clean their weapons, redistribute ammo and get something to eat. He was also looking forward to stripping out of his soaked clothes and hanging them in the kitchen over the hot stove to hopefully dry them out a little. As he walked away from Doug he caught a glimpse of their first break of the day. The storm finally appeared to be simmering down. While the rain and winds were still coming on in strong gusts, the shaking of the glass windows had noticeably subsided and for the first time since entering the shop he actually had to concentrate to hear the rains beating against the side of the building. At least that was one thing in their favor, moving from the sandwich shop to the hospital would be a little easier on them while there would still be ample cover with the wind and rain to make movement outside a little less ri
sky.

#

Their first circuit over Washington and into Virginia had been harrowing. Even at the maximum allowable altitude to still meet the mission parameters they were not able to climb over the worst of the storms. Crusher's head was pounding from constantly focusing on the controls and his stomach was reeling from the constant buffeting of the plane as they cruised through various pockets of rough air. He had been making constant radio checks with Huntress throughout the flight and could tell from the sound of her voice that she was getting her ass kicked as well.

"Ok Huntress. Turning into our
final pass. Just keep it together for twenty minutes and we can climb out of this shit and head for home."

Her onl
y response was a double break of squelch. Crusher was sure that she didn't want him to hear the torment in her voice, probably worried it would show weakness on her part.

Approaching their turn point, Crusher kept it to a shallow bank to lessen the stress both of them would be put under from a higher G-turn. Returning back to level flight he noticed something about his wingman's position that was off. If Huntress was anything
, she was exact in maintaining a near perfect formation with him. Each time they had flown together he could always count on knowing right where she was without even looking at his scope. He now saw that their level of separation had increased by several hundred feet and her altitude had dropped off by a similar amount. Crusher waited for several seconds before raising her on the radio. Coming out of their turn he thought it possible she had hit another rough air pocket that had passed him by and would soon correct for the deviation. When he saw her rate of descent continue and her air speed drop off even further, he keyed his microphone after ensuring it was on a closed frequency that wouldn't be monitored back on the carrier. There was no need to broadcast any control issues she may be having until an actual emergency was declared. Every little unexpected variation in a pilots flight tended to be noted somewhere. If Huntress had simply become disoriented in the darkness and he was able to talk her back into position there was no need to put a stain on an otherwise spotless flight record.

"Hey, you ok back there?" he asked casually.

There was no response for several tense seconds and then her strained voice came back to him, "ahhh, negative. Controls are sluggish and slow to respond. I have a master caution indicator for my number two engine and am losing power rapidly." There was no hiding the apprehension in her voice, she was approaching the point of panic that could easily spell doom for a pilot in such a situation. Crusher ran through the description of her problems in his head searching for a solution. The combination of master caution indicator and loss of power made it an especially tricky situation. The caution alarm was telling her that she either had a fire in her number two engine or the engine was overheating. In any normal situation the first action should be to cut fuel and power to that engine. The problem came with the loss of power. While both engines were still running her plane should be maintaining a stead power supply. If she was losing power that indicated a malfunction somewhere else and would not be rectified with the loss of the problem engine. In fact, it was highly likely that shutting down that engine would only increase her power loss. If they were flying in better weather he would have instructed her to shut down the engine for a minute or two and then attempt a restart. Nine times out of ten if the engine was not suffering catastrophic damage a successful restart would have occurred and solved the problem. Her second best option would be to feather her power and make an immediate emergency landing. The F-18 was versatile enough that a two mile length of open highway would make for an adequate landing spot. In this situation the emergency landing was not an option he wanted to entertain. They had no idea what could be waiting on the ground and from what their first recon mission had observed, all highways and major roads in the area were heavily congested with abandoned vehicles. Visibility was so poor that she would have only seconds to try and find a possible landing spot before she crashed into the ground in a spectacular fireball. The loss of power in the middle of this storm was a major concern. With her plane being buffeted up and down she could easily be knocked into a downward spiral with no chance of recovering. Her only option was to take advantage of whatever power and thrust she still have available and climb free of the storm to attempt an engine shut down and restart.