The Demented Z (Book 3): Contagion (14 page)

“Keep an eye on the woods.”  
Tom said while spying over the hood.

Hank said nothing in reply, instead shifting around at the
rear of the jeep to get both a view of the woods and an angle to see the road
just off the bumper.

The engine grew louder and the sound of gravel crunching
under the weight of a vehicle echoed off the trees.
  The first movement was a long antenna that
stuck high in the air. It grew taller
and taller above the slight rise in the road until the motorhome it was
attached to rose beneath it.
  Dust billowed as the tan behemoth raced toward
them. Several large antennas were
mounted on the roof. The driver spotted
the trio of cars and let off the gas, allowing the vehicle to slow.
 

Tom tightened his grip on the rifle.
  His muscles tensed and his heart hammered as
his body prepared for what might be coming.  
He stole a quick glance over to Hannah.  
She peered through the minivan’s windows.
  He swore there was a grin on her face.

The motorhome slowed to a crawl as it neared the cars.
  The front bumper eased into view around the
rear of the minivan.   It eased to a
stop. The driver cut the rumbling engine,
blanketing the area in an eerie silence.  
After what seemed like an hour a voice said, “Seriously?
  I saw all of your peeking heads way
back. I couldn’t hurt nobody if I needed
to, so let’s chat.” A
brief hesitation. “I don’t see
people often…mostly just talk on the radios.”

Tom was intrigued by the word “radios.”
  He poked his head up high enough to see over
the back of the minivan. Standing in the
open side door was a plump man wearing a lime green t-shirt with a great big
mushroom on it. His large beard was unable
to hide a friendly grin. “How many are
you?” Tom asked.

The large man rubbed his belly and laughed.
  “Maybe one and half.
  My mom always said I was cuddly.”
  He stood there, awkwardly scratching at the
sides of his belly. “Come on guys…I can
barely hurt myself. I’ve been driving
since this morning. Nice to stop and
rest, but…people, you’re real people, not just over the radios.
  I could use a real talk.”

It was clear this guy wasn’t going to stop talking.
  “Can I get you to step a ways out of the
motorhome?”

“Yeah, no problem.”
  The man said while stepping down to the
gravel and walking to the other side of the vehicles.
  “People…man I wish Jim was still around.
  Jim…oh man, I never introduced myself.
  My mom and dad named me Stewart.
  People used to call me Stew, but I never
really liked it. I wish I could –“

Tom
spoke up, interrupting the man in mid-sentence.  
“Mind if we check your motorhome Stewart?”
  He asked.

“Oh yeah. Check it
out. It’s a bit of a mess, but go –“

Hannah
stood and said, “Help me clear the motorhome.”

Isaac
stood and started around the rear of the minivan.
  He had his pistol up and ready, but never
pointed it directly at Stewart.

Hannah
followed behind him with her rifle at low ready.
  She looked over at Stewart and said, “Stay
put.”

“You
got no worries cuz of me.”
  He said.  
Even as Isaac and Hannah were disappearing into the motorhome he
continued on, “Most of the mess was from some of the corners.
  I haven’t had people around for a while…I
would have done something…anyway.” He
turned back toward Tom and Hank, both of which were now standing.
  “You guys seem to be doing alright.
  Boy have I seen some messed up
sh —stuff. Bet you
guys have too. What’s the worst thing
you have seen?”

“Not
right now.” Hank said while stealing a
glance at Tom.

“Oh
sorry, you’re right. I always start
getting ahead of myself. Where you
headed to? Bet it’s not here.”
  He finished with a laugh while looking
around.

Isaac
stepped into the open doorway. “All
clear, just him.”

Tom
and Hank made their way around the wreckage and stood just in front of
Stewart. “Sorry, had to make sure.”
  Tom said.

“I
totally understand. We wouldn’t all be
alive if we weren’t careful. Deer…we’re
like deer.” Nobody said anything and
when Steward decided nobody was going to, he added, “Did you know that when
they study the brain size of deer hit by cars and those that die at a ripe old
age, there is a significant difference.
Smaller for the ones that get ran over…obviously.”
  He laughed a bit and snorted, having cracked
himself up. When nobody else laughed he
said, “Anyway, takes brains to survive.”

“Radios…tell
us more about your radios.“ Tom said while looking up at the huge
antennas mounted on the top of the motorhome.

His
face lit up. “I’ve got MURS, CB, and
ham. I can receive on almost any
frequency and have a host of de-scram equip, but don’t pick up much of that
type anymore. Drive around listening and
chatting when I get a ping.”

“Have
you –“

“We
got movement boss.” Hank said.

Tom
turned and looked out into the forest where Hank was pointing.
  He didn’t see anything immediately, but after
squinting into the crisscrossing branches he picked up on it.
  After several seconds an older woman wearing
a shredded sun dress came staggering out into the open.
  Her left leg was bloody and torn into meaty
shreds, only allowing her to shuffle awkwardly.

“I
got this.” Hank said while pulling his
Kabar free of its sheath and starting toward the undead.

Tom
turned back to the motorhome and found both Isaac and Hannah leaning against
its side. “You two want to cover the other
side of this beast…keep anything from sneaking up?”

“Yip.” Hannah said.

“Couple crossbows in the back of the SUV.
  Let’s keep it quiet.”
  Tom said to their backs.
  He turned back to Stewart.
  “What have you learned?”

He
stared back with a confused look on his face.

“The
radios…chatter…learn anything?”

Stewart
laughed. “Oh yeah.
  I was thinking…I thought…”
  He laughed and snorted.
  “Anyway, I’ve learned lots.
  The tough part is sifting through all the junk
to get the truth. Definitely less and
less chatter over time and recently it has been more than rare.
  Or less that rare.
  Dang, how do you say it?
  Anyway, there has been less radio talk.”
  He finished with a grin.

Tom
glanced over to the forest and saw Hank was plunging his knife into Sun Dress’s
eye socket, killing her for good with a swift blow.

“Ah
man, that was great.” Stewart said with
wide eyes.

Tom
turned back to him.    “Contagion
everywhere?”

“Not
quite. I get chatter from around the
world when conditions are right and it sounds like the spread is only in the
states. That crap we started spraying
got that going. Thank
you government. The zombies are
everywhere. I knew it was coming.”
  He said with a look of pride.
  “Ten years ago I knew the zombies were
coming. Watched that TV show and –“

Tom
interrupted him, knowing they needed to get moving.
  “Anybody getting results…hope for stopping
this?”

“Ha!
  Stop the zombie apocalypse?
  You’ve seen the movies.
  This train is a one way ride.”

“Why
haven’t you settled in with a group?  
There must be good groups out there on the radio.”

“Not
for me man. For now there is plenty of
gas to keep on the move.
Finally my chance to see the country.
  Mom and I always talked about just forgetting
everything and cruising around America.”  
He looked down at his feet. “Not
really what we expected or how mom and I wanted it.
  I wish the –“

“What’s
your plan right now?”

“Keep
touring. I’m going –“

Tom
interrupted him again. “We’re going the
way you just came from. Anything we
should know?”

“I’ve
been on the back roads from the Wenatchee area.  
Haven’t seen too many Zeebes.
  There is a group setup on the river.
  All good people.
  Last I heard from them, maybe a week back,
they were infection free and nobody with symptoms.
  Even when the –“

“Any word on the method that spreads it?”

“Everybody
has an opinion, but fairly consistent that it is not airborne.
  Fluid contact, that sort of
thing. A lot of
belief that it is contagious prior to symptoms, but who knows.
  I got sick a while back…thought for sure I
was a goner, but guess it was just a cold or whatever.
  Never wished I had some hot chicken soup so
bad. They’ve never proven, but –“

Tom
looked up at the sun. It was approaching
the horizon and would be down soon, blanketing the area in darkness.
  He stopped listening to Stewart.
  His mind wandered to Kelly and Sam.
  The two of them sitting at
the table with him, playing cards and laughing, flashed through his mind.
  He wondered if he could really go on.

“You
okay guy?” Stewart asked.

Tom
snapped his head back up at the words.  
His cheeks were wet with tears, but he didn’t even realize he was
crying. Stewart stepped up close to him
with a worried look on his face. Tom
quickly wiped the tears from his cheeks and nodded his head rapidly.
  “I’m fine…sorry, I’m fine.”

“Hey, no worries man.  
I totally understand. Nowadays,
tears are the new itch. That thing you
scratch at, not sure why, but it won’t go away.”

Tom’s
face was hot and surely beet red. He
turned from Stewart, looking over at Hank.  
“We probably better get a move on.  
Gonna get dark and…they mostly come out at
night…mostly.”

Stewart
started laughing and snorting hysterically.  
Once he finally got his breath he said, “Good idea Newt.”
  He started giggling again.
  “Ah, feels good to laugh.
  You’re right though.
  I better be getting
a move on as well. I hope to be in
Montana by tomorrow.”

“What
are you doing there?”

“I’m
finally going to go see the Lewis and Clark Caverns like mom and I always meant
to. It’s on my list.”

“Good
luck to you. We’re going to go see some
places that were never on my list.”

They all knew something was wrong when they cleared the
crest of the hill and could see the river below.
  It wasn’t anything obvious, like smoke or
people running and screaming. Instead it
was the utter calm of the scene. A large
brick pump house surrounded by motorhomes sat at the edge of the river.
  The structure had a high chain link fence
running its perimeter, once built to keep vandals and looters out, but now the
first defense against the infected. Amongst
the living quarters nothing moved.

After leaving Stewart, they had made their way through the
winding back roads that led to Wenatchee.  
The roads had been mostly clear, but they still took their time,
siphoning gas when cars were available and stopping once for the night.
  It was the best most of them had slept in a
long time. Finally away from towns,
people, and the sounds of infected. Tom
on the other hand, stared up into the night sky, watching the stars and
wondering if Kelly and Sam were looking down on him.
  He liked to think they were, but felt no
comfort, missing them just as much. His
night was spent in these turbulent thoughts, never feeling so distant from the
forest that he once loved as he did now.

Isaac slowed to a stop before making their way down the last
stretch of road that led to a small bridge.  
The makeshift pump house village sat just beyond.
  Hank looked over at Tom and saw that he was
staring out the window, fidgeting with something in his fingertips.
  His eyes glistened with recent tears.

“You okay man?” Hank
asked.

Tom continued to look out the window for several
seconds. Hank was about to ask again
when Tom turned and said, “People aren’t going to live like this.
  I’m going to…we’re going to make things
better. Promise me that.
  All of you.”  
He looked down at his hands and the wedding ring he had been spinning in
his fingers.

“I’m all in, you know that.  
Why ask this now?” Hank said.

Tom slipped the ring back on his finger and said, “We’ve all
lost things. A lot of people have
died. Spartans once said ‘to learn to
love death’s ink-black shadow as much as you love the light of dawn’ and I’ve
thought about that. I am to the point
that the light of dawn is no longer a joy for me.
  Not just because of Kelly and Sam, but before
that. It hasn’t been a joy for quite
some time.” Hannah started to say
something, but Tom held up a hand and said, “Just a sec.
  Let me finish.
  This world is no way to live, not for us and
surely not for children. There are other
Rachaels out there.  
There are other Kellys out there.
  There are other Sams.
  I am going to make things better at all
costs.”

Hank slapped him on the shoulder.
  “Sure, steal the opening for a fancy speech.”

Hannah turned around in her seat so that she could see Tom’s
eyes. “I’m in…fully committed.”
  She looked over to Isaac.
  He nodded back in agreement.

“Now that that is settled.
  Thank you President Pike.”
  Hank said.

They all laughed, glad someone broke the tension.
  Eyes returned to the pump house compound that
sat below them.

“Sun’s been up for a couple hours now.
  Should be movement.”
  Hannah said.

Isaac said, “Do we blow past?”

“We could use food and supplies.”
  Tom said.

“If we can trust Stewart, which I don’t see why not, then
this place was doing great a week ago.”  
Hannah said.

“All it would take is one roaming band of thugs to kill
everyone.” Hank said.

Tom nodded in agreement.  
“If infected were here we would seem them wandering around.”

Hank said, “We can either sit here gossiping like a bunch of
ladies playing bridge or we can go find out for ourselves.”
  Nobody argued with that.

The front gate was left wide open.
  Its giant chain and padlock hung impotently.
  They eased through the opening, barely
creeping forward; the sound of rocks crunching under their tires was audible
over the idling engine. Once they got
within a car length of the brick pump house Isaac pulled to a stop and they all
peered out their windows. Nothing
moved. There was no breeze to stir the
scrapes of paper that lay about. Windows
and doors were all buttoned up; none of them revealing anything living.

Feeling like any extra noise would disturb the delicate
balance, Tom whispered, “Wow, talk about creepy.”

“Ghost town.”
  Hank whispered back.

Hannah popped her door open.  
“Come on you Ninnies.” She
climbed out of the SUV, pulling her rifle out with her.
  She held it loosely at her side, not seeing
or sensing any immediate threats.

The others piled out as well.
  Despite dropping below the snow line, a sharp
chill hung in the air. Tom rubbed his
hands together, headed for the back of the SUV, and opened the hatch.
  “Let’s use silent weapons.
  Shoulder your rifles in case we need them,
but let’s not perk any nearby ears.”

Once they all had what they wanted they stood in a small
circle, looking around nervously. “Two
teams. One for the
motorhomes and one for the pump house and outbuilding over there.”
  Tom said while pointing to a single story
brick building that sat just upriver from its much larger twin.

Hannah nodded. “Isaac
and I will go through the motorhomes.  
Must be about ten of them…should go quick.”

“K, Hank and I will hit the pump house first and then move
to the outbuilding. Stay sharp and shout
it out if you need help.”

Hank and Tom watched as Isaac and Hannah made their way to
the first motorhome. Both men remained
in position until the two were inside, in case they needed assistance.
  After this they felt comfortable that the
motorhomes would be empty and just needed searched.

A large set of black metal doors loomed in front of
them. They were of the quality only seen
from the early 1900s and would have been acceptable fortification for a castle.
  Hank and Tom stopped just shy of the large
doors.

“Fort Knox.” Hank
said.

“Construction like this died a long time ago.”
  Tom said while stepping up to the door and
resting a hand on it. “I’ll open and
follow you in.”

Hank nodded in agreement and pulled his crossbow up to a
ready position. Tom grabbed the large
handle and gave it a pull. He was glad
to find it unlocked and despite its weight and size, the door swung outward
easily. Dark silence stared back at
them. Hank clicked on a flashlight duct
taped to the fore grip of his crossbow.  
Light shot forward, slicing through the darkness and illuminating a metal
beast. The giant machinery had surely
sat silent for decades.

Tom held a flashlight in one hand and his crossbow in the
other. Tucked in right behind Hank, he
swept inside the building and turned to the right, covering his side.
  On the floor lay piles of blankets and
sleeping bags, but no people. Stepping
between the sleeping areas, he made his way to the far side of the room where
he saw a large bin sitting in the corner.  
He shined his flashlight down into its dark interior and found it half
full of empty food cans.

He made the corner, following a metal railing that led past
the old machinery. The narrow path had
more blankets, marking that people had been sleeping here.
  As he neared a set of metal stairs, Hank came
around from the other side. He gave a
shoulder shrug and a shake of his head.

Hank whispered, “Ghosts.”

“Yeah, let’s take a look up above.”

Each step they took on the wrought iron stairs made a slight
squeak of rubber. These sounds would
normally go unnoticed, but the pump house interior was a tomb; the silence felt
heavy it was so pervasive. The thick
brick walls blocked out anything that was going on outside.
  At the top of the stairs was a small platform
with a closed door to the left. Tom eyed
the door with dread; a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“This could be ugly.”  
Hank whispered.

Tom nodded his head.  
“I know it.”

The door handle turned easily and Tom gave the solid wood
door a push. Hank brushed past him with
his crossbow up and ready. Tom thought
about all the things they might find.   He
raced in after Hank despite the potential horrors.
  None were to be found.
  The large room was a makeshift kitchen, left
in a state of disarray.   There was no
sign of a struggle or anything out of the ordinary.

A quick search of the room and a couple additional doorways
revealed only small closets empty of items.  
There was no food or water. The
area was empty of useful items.

“Outbuilding?”
  Tom said.

“I think they were abducted by aliens.”

“Couple years ago I would have laughed…now I’m not
discounting anything.”

Back outside, they stood about halfway between buildings
watching for Hannah and Isaac. After a
few minutes the pair exited one of the motorhomes.
  Hannah raised both hands up and shook her
head, signaling that so far they hadn’t found anything as well.
  Tom pointed to the outbuilding.
  She nodded back and headed for the next
motorhome.

There was a well-worn path in the dirt that led to the
outbuilding. It was impossible to tell
if this was from recent traffic. Tom was
reaching for the door handle when the
snapping
of gunfire erupted. It was distant, but
close enough to know exactly what it was.
  Maybe just over the nearby
hill.

Hank and Tom shared a look, and then Tom said, “Let’s finish
here.”

“Roger that.”

Hannah stepped out of the motorhome and looked around
quizzically. Tom pointed at the
buildings, his eyes, and then gave a circling motion with his hand up over his
head. She nodded and moved back into the
motorhome.

Tom pulled open the door and found part of what they had
been looking for. Light spilled into the
single large room from high windows running both sides of the brick
building. Scattered in a large heap were
bodies, lots of bodies. Men, women, a
few children; it had to be the compound’s residents.

Hank turned back out the door.

Tom stepped up to the pile and knelt down next to one of the
bodies. There was very little blood and
no immediate signs for cause of death.  
He moved over to the next body, a middle aged woman that was on her
side. A crimson trail of blood ran from
her ear, down across her cheek, and past her neck to
the floor. The blood glistened
slightly. Tom used the tip of his
crossbow bolt to poke at the red liquid.  
He was surprised to find it only partially congealed.
  He leaned down and put a hand on the woman’s
back, in under her shirt, and found the skin wasn’t the cold, clammy flesh of a
long dead body. He rapidly stood back up
and moved outside where Hank stood.

“Sorry boss, couldn’t look at
them.” Hank said.

Tom surveyed the surrounding forest.
  “Not dead long…probably less than a couple
hours.”

Hank looked to the woods as well.
  “Whoever killed them can’t be far.”
 

They both turned in the direction that sporadic gunfire
could still be heard. While they stood
thinking, Hannah and Isaac walked over from the motorhomes.
  They didn’t have any supplies in their hands.

“No people, no supplies…nothing.
  It’s like they just ran off.”
  Hannah said.

“They wish.” Hank
said.

Tom nodded his head and pointed a thumb over his
shoulder. “They’re all in there.
  Dead.”

“What happened here?”  
Isaac asked.

“Killed this morning.
  Stabbed through the ear.
  Ice pick or something
thin.” Tom said.

“Gangster.”
  Hank grumbled.

Hannah was in full cop mode.
   She turned to the gunshots.
  “Somebody turned on them…maybe a few
somebodies. Killed
them while they slept and took everything.
  What I don’t get is why they took the time to
move all the bodies into this building.”  
She finished while turning back to the brick outbuilding.
  “Gunfire is probably them.
  Who knows, maybe they turned on each other
down the road.”

“Worried they would come back.”
  Isaac said.  
When nobody responded he added, “Only reason I can think you would move
all the bodies to this building is you were worried they might come back even
though they went for the brain. Stuff
them in there in case you wanted to use the compound again?”
  He said while shrugging his shoulders.

“Doesn’t matter.”
  Tom said.  
“No supplies here. We have two
options. We can either continue on our
way to the missile site or we can follow the gunshots…see if we can get the
supplies.”

“Women…kids…whoever did this were scum.
  As much as I would like to hunt them to the
ends of the earth, we can’t turn into the morality police.”

“Especially now.”
  Isaac said.

“We could really use supplies.”
  Hannah said.

Tom nodded in agreement.  
“You’re both right. Let’s move on
the gunfire. Stay back and see what we
have… decide from there.”

******

“At least two are down.”  
Hank said from a prone position under the cover of a large spruce tree.
  He held one eye up to his rifle scope.
  “Four targets still active.”

Tom was just on the other side of the tree’s trunk.
  “Two behind the truck.”

“They’ve got ‘em pinned down.”

From their vantage point on top of the hill they had an excellent
view of the firefight below. Two large
military trucks were pulled side by side in the roadway, blocking the progress
of a tan extended cab truck. The driver
of the truck had turned at an angle across the street, either to provide better
cover or they were stopped in the progress of turning around.
  The driver and passenger were now huddled
behind the truck. At the rear of the
military trucks were six people total, two of which laid face down on the
pavement, rifles laying uselessly at their sides.
  They were in a stalemate, neither side
wanting to push things.