Trepidation (12 page)

“I live here, and my name is Dr. Willows. I believe you’re in urgent need of a doctor.”

“Desperately,” I conceded.

“Then today’s your lucky day. I love my niece, but I can’t risk my life to go save her, or I’d do it myself. I have six children under the age of ten. If I die, they won’t have a mother anymore. I can’t leave them by themselves in this world. I just can’t. I won’t. I hope you understand. Give me your word that you’ll try to rescue my niece, and I’ll get straight to work on your sister,” she said, peering behind me at Val. “From the looks of it, you’d better hurry up and make up your mind.”

I sized the woman up, and my gut told me she was genuine. I didn’t know if I could trust my instincts, as my faith in myself was a bit tainted because of Rita, but I was generally a good judge of character. “Where is your niece exactly?” I asked.

“In an office in the back of the pharmacy. The good thing is that they don’t know she’s there...yet.”

“Hmm. Well, you drive a hard bargain, Doctor, but I guess I’d better hurry,” I said with a half-smile. “I’ll do all I can for your niece, and I’ll trust you to do the same for my sister.”

J
ust as I was about to leave, Dr. Willows reached for my arm. “Wait! I need a little information before I treat your sister and friends. Help me get your sister and the others inside, and you can tell me what we’re dealing with.” She then called a group of other women, who eagerly offered their assistance.

“What happened?” a brunette asked.

“We have a gunshot victim,” Dr. Willows said, “and the others were drugged.” The doctor then looked at me. “Do you know what kind of drugs and how much?”

“I’m afraid I’ve got no idea. I think it was put in our food, but I didn’t eat as much as the rest of them,” I said.

The dark-haired woman looked at me. “My name is Suzy. I’m a nurse. I’ll need you to wait out here.”

I nodded.

She directed her attention to some of the others. “Put the drugged ones in beds in Room 6 and the gunshot victim in Room 10.”

After the others rushed off to prepare the rooms, another brunette with a clipboard began asking me questions. “Who is the gunshot victim?” she asked.

“Her name is Val,” I said. “I’m her brother, and so is Nick, one of the men who was drugged—the one with black hair and blue eyes. Why?”

“Because we may need blood for a transfusion.”

I filled the nurse in on all the information I knew. I even told her about Rita and everything we’d been through. My hands were shaking as I told the story.

Another woman on crutches tried to give me a glass of water and a white pill. “Take this. It’ll help you relax,” she said with a smile.

The whole thing reminded me too much of Rita, so I pushed her hands away. “No.”

“You don’t trust us?”

“Trusting strangers is how we got into this mess in the first place.”

“We’re not like them. We’re trying to help.”

I peered at her intently. “Well, I’ve been burned too much. I’ll calm down on my own, thanks. Why are you so eager to help us anyway? You don’t even know us.”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

When another woman came in and saw the nurse holding the water and pills, she snatched them away. “No pills!” she said. “He’s going to rescue Megan.”

“Sorry. I-I didn’t know,” she replied.

I got up and started pacing. “Is Val gonna be okay?”

“We don’t know.”

“I want to see her before I go,” I demanded.

“Not just yet. Dr. Willows is trying to save her life.”

“Then let me see the others,” I insisted.

“As soon as we make sure they’re stabilized.”

“It was just drugs,” I said. “I had some, too, and I’m fine.”

“The dosage was high. The young woman is barely breathing.”

“Her name’s Kate,” I said. “The woman who gave us the drugs, this old lady named Rita, didn’t care if she overdosed them, because she planned to kill us anyway.”

“I’m so sorry this happened to you in our town. I know Rita and her sons, and I had no idea what they were up to. Don’t give up on your family and friends, Dean. We’ll do everything we can to save them.”

It seemed like an eternity passed before the doctor finally came out to give me an update. “Nick is going to be okay,” she said. “Turns out he was given a hefty dose of Valium.”

I sighed in relief.

“Lucas and Kate, however, ingested large amounts of GHB.”

I cocked a brow, as if she’d spoken to me in a foreign language.

She continued. “Gamma hydroxybutyric acid, or it could’ve been ketamine or even rohypnol.”

I’d heard of that before, and I knew it was a date-rape drug. “Are you telling me that old bag slipped us roofies?” I asked, shuddering. 

“Basically, yes. You didn’t ingest enough of it to do much damage, but the others did. Strangely, Val isn’t suffering any effects from the drugs. Did she skip dinner?”

“Something like that,” I said, not ready to explain to the doctor that my sister was half-zombie.

“You said you live about an hour away?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

Her lips pressed into grim lines. “Val, Lucas, and Kate would’ve been dead if you didn’t stop here on the way back. You saved their lives by bringing them here.”

I gasped, and a deep sense of guilt flooded through me. Had they not pulled guns on me, I would have hightailed it out of there. Following Val’s advice would have cost them all their lives. The thought of that had me struggling to keep it together. “How’s Val?” I asked.

“I was able to remove the bullet,” the doctor said, “but to be honest, she’s barely hanging on.”

“If you need blood, you can use mine.”

“We used Nick’s,” she said. “He was a match.”

“Whew. Well, I’m thankful for that.”

“Infection is going to set in quickly. I gave her some antibiotics, but we’ll need more.”

“Antibiotics? That was why I stopped here in the first place,” I said.

“When you rescue Megan, you’ll be at Walgreen’s. Scoop up as many antibiotics as you can,” the doctor said. “Time is of the essence. I’ve done my part, and now it’s time for you to do yours.”

“Take care of them, Doc,” I said. “And if I don’t make it back, please tell them...that I loved them.”

“You can tell them yourself when you get back here with my niece and those antibiotics, Dean,” she said, handing me a piece of paper with the names of antibiotics written on it.

I could feel the compassion in her voice, and I knew she would treat my siblings and friends well. I slipped on my coat and hopped into the truck to go survey the scene. I’d be by myself, with no backup. It was beyond dangerous, but I now owed the doctor a huge favor. At least it was morning, so I would have the advantage of light instead of going on a suicide mission at night.

Just as I was about to pull out, the woman on crutches yelled my name. She hobbled over and opened the passenger door, then put her crutches inside.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“I’m coming with you,” she said, climbing in and buckling up, “kind of.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you honestly think you can rescue Megan from a herd of zombies all by yourself?” she asked.

“Of course not. That’s why I’m gonna create a diversion of some sort.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“I’ve got a better plan!” she squealed. “Turn right on Lucinda Street, and you’ll see.”

“I don’t like surprises,” I said.

“You’ll like this one!” she said, then gave me directions to a blue house.

M
y eyes instantly lit up when I spotted the armored combat vehicle out front, a green tank, sitting right there in the yard. “Does it work?” I questioned, jumping out of the truck as excitement flooded through me.

“Yup. It’s all ready. My father’s out of town, helping other relatives, but he keeps this to defend the house if too many zombies come.”

“And he won’t mind if I borrow it.”

“He probably would mind, but he’s not here, but you’ll never get Megan out of there alive without a little manpower behind you.”

“I’m afraid I skipped that class in driver’s ed though,” I said.

“Heh. Don’t worry. I can give you quick instructions. My dad has let me drive it on supply runs.”

Even though she couldn’t go with me due to her broken arm and leg, remnants of a horrible car accident, she graciously gave me detailed instructions on how to operate the vehicle, and she let me take it on a test run while she told me exactly what to do.

“You got this?” she said.

“I got it.”

“Then hurry up and go rescue Megan!” she said.

We said our goodbyes, and then she went inside her father’s house.

I opened the hatch and crawled in the manhole-like opening, then hit my elbow and head. I looked around at all the white walls and gray metal, the protruding objects, dials, buttons, and hanging straps. I was a bit worried about the powerful machinery, as I didn’t want to lose a limb or be burned. I got into position the best I could, scraping my knuckle bloody in the process in the tight, cramped little space. “I swear, I’d need to be a contortionist just to get comfortable in here. How do those big, bulky military guys do it?” I said, trying not to bump into the lights and computer screens.

I sat in semi-supine position in the front section of the hull, directly under the main gun. I leaned back in a reclining seat that reminded me of a dentist’s chair. I looked at the directions I’d been given to get to Walgreen’s. I would steer the tank with the motorcycle-style handlebar and accelerate by twisting a handle grip throttle. Fortunately, the brakes were operated by a pedal on the floor, just like a car. With my thumb and forefinger, I could easily move the gear selector.
This isn’t so bad,
I thought. The transmission was automatic, with four forward speeds and two reverse. I navigated using three periscopes, one of which was equipped with a night-vision sensor. There were digital instrument panels that provided me with all sorts of navigational data.

I turned on the switches, and the engine cranked to life. I only had to worry about steering, throttle, and the brake, and I was sure I could handle that. The M1 surged through all its gears, and I decided it was a good time to test the brakes; they could have stopped on a dime. “Incredible!” I said. I slid the selector in place and pulled back hard on the throttle. With a jerk, the tank took off. Really, the M1 didn’t drive much differently than a heavy-duty truck, and I was protected by sixty tons of killer steel as I maneuvered down the road. I’d only seen the steely beast on television and in the movies, but now I was behind the wheel of one, and it was quite exciting.

I crept up to ten MPH, then twenty, then fifty. The turret motor and ventilator were pretty loud, and the smell of burning oil was all around me. As the tank cruised down the road, I felt the vibrations shooting through my body. The squealing tracks were louder than the engine itself. “What a rush!” I said with a laugh. It was just as thrilling and exhilarating as the Ferrari joyride down the highway that I’d taken with Val.

If I had that truck I took from Rita, there was no way I could pull into the parking lot of Walgreen’s, though, because it was zombie central. There were far more enemies out there than I had bullets for, so I was thankful to be safe and snug inside my big tank. They were shuffling all over the place outside, and I was sure there were even more of them inside, especially since the windows had shattered, giving them free access to the store. I bit my lip and thought hard, realizing I needed a distraction. I had to rescue Megan and get the antibiotics for my suffering sister.

I sucked in a deep breath.
Here goes nothing,
I thought. I had been deployed to the combat zone, and I planned on the mission being successful. Through the periscope, I had 200 degrees of visibility. Aimlessly stumbling around the parking lot like clumsy idiots, the hostiles weren’t hard to spot. My plan was to expend a little bit of my ammunition from my current position to destroy my enemies and take their numbers down. As I looked around, I caught sight of the doors I needed to break through, and several undead were there, shuffling over the broken glass.

I turned the handlebar to the left. As I pulled into the parking lot, I backed off the throttle, and the tank came to a stop. I fired every second, and gunfire rang out all around me. Cars were scattered around, blocking my path to the entrance of the stores, but that was no problem for me; I could just bulldoze right through them. I slowly crashed through cars and shopping carts, small trees and lampposts, then rumbled past the herd of zombies, feeling like I was at a demolition derby at a county fair, only without the corndogs and people cheering me on.

Metal creaked the second I connected with the first car, and the multi-ton tank crushed the priceless Mercedes like a tin can. The luxury automobile was pulverized in seconds, flat as a pancake under the tank treads, along with any zombies who happened to be in the way. Bouncing around in the metal box, I annihilated anything in my path. It was bumpy and jarring, but I plowed through the roadblock like an experienced commando. The roaring and clattering of the tracks boomed in my ears. My heart pounded in my throat, and I coughed as the exhaust fumes hit me full force. When I moved my arm, I bumped into something metal and pointy and realized I’d cut myself. I examined my battle wound; it was no biggie—just a little scrape. The sixty-ton, car-crushing, armored vehicle plowed through a huge crowd of the undead, who just stood there like deer caught in the headlights as they were mowed down. 

I aimed under the “One-Hour Foto” sign and fired my powerful cannon. With a loud
boom
, the crumbling doorway was engulfed in fire. The loud
bang
and shockwaves washed over me, and my ears began to ring. “Target acquired!” I yelled. I drove my armored vehicle straight through as the smell of ammonia drifted around in the wake of the gunfire. 

It was difficult to maneuver the big tank, and when I crashed through the wall of the store office, the tracks began to whir; I was stuck. Through the night-vision screen, I could see zombies pouring in around me. I put the tank in reverse and started firing the gun. The
clank
of the shell casings hit the bin.