Beyond the Barriers (20 page)

We made it to the gate, and I ignored it, assuming we would never return, and this time punched the gas. I took out one more of the things and smashed through the wooden planks as if they were kindling. The green aura faded behind me as I swung the car to the right, so that the ghoul was no longer in my rearview mirror. I set it at thirty-five and, when the road was clear, took it up about ten miles per hour. I hadn’t gone this way and didn’t know what to expect. I had driven toward town before, and that didn’t turn out so well, so I went the other way. I had no idea where this led, except deeper into the mountains. I did look at maps the last time I was here, with Allison, but the memory of those was long gone.

“You okay?” I asked.

“It hurts,” she whispered. I could hear the pain in her voice but could do little for her. I drove on as indecision gnawed at me. After another mile, I pulled over to the side of the road and had a chuckle at myself—at my old habit of getting out of the way. No one was going this way except us. I bet I could have stayed there for a day and not have spotted another soul in an automobile.

“Let me see.” I turned on the overhead light, which barely illuminated the interior. It was dim and dull, as if the light bulb were going out.

“Just drive,” she said softly.

Turning, I took her bloody hand in mine. I pulled it down gently as I stared into her eyes. She held on at first, gripping her sweatshirt like it was her prized possession. Then, after a very brief battle of wills, she gave in and let down her guard. I tugged at the shirt as gently as I could, but she winced and gasped as I touched the wound.

Her pale skin was marred by the puncture. It puckered out above her shoulder blade, and I worried about fragments of bone exploding from the shot and causing more damage. I tugged her forward and verified that there was an entrance and an exit wound, so at least the bullet wasn’t stuck in her. How the hell had this happened?

“Did you see who shot you?” I reached for the glove box and found some old paper towels. Probably left over from the last time I cleaned the car, months and months ago. I tore off the first few and threw them in the back, then folded one into quarters and pressed it to the wound. She cried out and moved to push my hand out of the way, but I batted it aside.

“I’m sorry it hurts. I’m concerned about the blood loss, so please keep these packed close.” I tried to sound reassuring, but even a wound this small could be deadly. She needed antibiotics, a doctor, stitching at the very least. I would settle for a vet right about now.

Portland.
The name rang in my head, and I knew that was where we needed to go.

“No,” she said.

“What?”

“I didn’t see who shot me, but it couldn’t be one of those things. One of the zombies. It had to be a ghoul, which means they are getting smarter, learning our ways.”

“They used to be us. I would say they already know our ways.” I folded another paper towel and put it over the back of the wound, then carefully slipped her shirt back over it and put her hand on the wound. “Hold that tight.”

She settled back in her seat and pressed on her shoulder. I flipped through the glove box and found an old bottle of Advil. I wasn’t sure if it would thin her blood out, but a couple might at least take the edge off. I rattled the bottle in her direction, and she gave me a half-smile. Opening the lid, I asked her if she wanted two.

“Give me four.”

Nodding, I handed them over, and she dry swallowed them. I grew thirsty watching her suck them down. I would have given anything for a glass of ice-cold water right about then.

Starting the car, I looked back the way we had come. If I went forward, we might drive for hours before I found a way out of the gorge between the mountains. If I went the other way, I knew we could make it back to Vesper Lake, but I was sure it would be just as bad as the last time I was there, when the things almost got me. Now I would be with someone who was wounded, which meant keeping a constant eye on her. I couldn’t count on help from the Walmart crew; they should all be long gone. I would have to get to town and find a back way out of it without attracting too much attention.

“I think we need to head back to town, pass through and either catch up with the caravan or get to Portland. They are waiting for us there.”

“How are we going to get out of there without the things tearing us apart? I know how many there are, and how much they want our blood. There’s no way, Erik. No way.”

“I’ll have to find a way around,” I said, glancing at the gas tank, which was about a quarter full. I was sure we could get there, and then maybe halfway to Portland. We would have to stop and fill up somewhere. I was thinking that we could drive around and find a trucking station, maybe a car dealership. They always had gas on hand, and we only needed four or five gallons to get us there. The problem was that we could well run out before we found a place to fill up.

“It’s dangerous.”

“So is letting you bleed to death.”

“I won’t bleed to death. It’s slowing now; the paper towels are helping.”

Leaning over, I kissed her. Her lips were cold, and she was tense from the pain. I turned up the heat and put the car in gear. After doing a one-eighty, I punched the gas. The metal plates on the outside of the vehicle rattled and groaned as I sped up.

We went past the road that led to the cabin, and I glanced up it, but in the dark I couldn’t make out anything. There could be fifty of them and I wouldn’t know it.

I kept Katherine’s gun at my side as I drove up the freeway. I was still concerned about things on the road—abandoned cars or rocks, people, zombies, or even ghouls—so I kept the speed down. She sat beside me, in silence, suffering. I set the gun in my lap and took the wheel with my left, then put my hand on her leg to comfort her. I could feel her staring at me, and when I looked over, she was watching me in the pale light. Her eyes were almost luminous, and I felt very deeply for her in that moment. I felt that I should tell her how much I cared about her, but I was afraid she would not return my feelings.

Out of habit, I turned on the radio and scanned the channels. I found the station that was playing old songs again, and I was surprised when she sang along with Rock and Roll Hoochie Koo under her breath. Having been hurt before, I knew how it felt to want to keep your mind on anything but the pain. I took a knife to the arm once in a brawl in a place I’m not supposed to talk about. Oh hell, who am I fooling? No one gives a shit about that stuff anymore.

* * *

The road was lonely, cold, and desolate. A chill seeped through the windshield in icy mockery of the car’s heater. I wanted to reach out and touch the glass, feel the dread that waited on the other side, but I kept my eyes on the road and ran along at a steady speed. When we were a mile or two from town, I took a left and went down a main road that ran parallel to the highway. I slowed down but kept my high beams on.

The road was draped in a curtain of trees. They were already starting to encroach on the asphalt, and I figured that in a year it would be completely overgrown. The road itself was covered in branches, leaves, trash, and the bones of things I wished were animals. There were also corpses pushed into ditches and hanging out of cars. In some cases, it appeared people had died in their vehicles, or their heads were blown off while trying to get out. It was all a harsh reminder of the fate we had escaped.

Coming around a bend, I realized I was close to the highway again. I shut down the high beams and slowed. I tried to weave over the road in an attempt to pick out any ghouls, but it was bare with the exception of trash and a couple of abandoned cars. A door on one car stood wide open, and an old, skeletal hand draped over the broken window frame. I avoided looking at it, slowing the car further as we came up on the site where we blew up the fuel truck.

I eased the car to a stop and left the engine running. Grabbing the assault rifle from the back, I opened the door with a quick glance behind then slid out.

The car’s engine purred along as I stepped onto the cold asphalt. The metal frames the engineers had put on the vehicle rattled gently, and I realized that when I was at speed, it probably sounded like a Mack truck from the outside.

I wished, once again, for night vision goggles, but I might as well have wished for an army at my back. I slapped the rifle’s stock to my shoulder and crept forward.

The night was cold, and I felt dread wash over me as I moved away from the car. It felt like a thousand eyes were on me, just waiting for the signal to run in and tear me limb from limb; mindless things ripping my flesh apart in an attempt to find some sort of life in my blood—the life they lacked.

I was about ten feet away when the headlights from the Honda revealed that part of the road was gone. Parts of the truck—a skeleton really—lay in a heap, like some god had picked it up and slammed it into the ground. I studied the road, and even broke out my small pocket light to walk the perimeter of the blast.

The hole wasn’t deep, but it was immense. I could imagine the volatile gas rushing out, as air fueled it into an explosion that mushroomed and swept anyone near it into the inferno. Sure enough, there were bodies everywhere—most looked like charcoal caricatures of life. I remembered seeing videos of the affects of nuclear weapons used in Japan.

Most had arms outstretched, as if they’d had their hands raised in supplication before being burned to a crisp. It must have been the blast wave that swept over them that made their arms fly up.

As I walked among the bodies, I saw one move—a subtle twitch that almost made me empty a magazine into it. Its mouth was open, and its eye sockets were black and crisped, while its lips pulled back over teeth covered in soot. The head jerked, and I almost screamed. Then the rat, upon sensing me, left the body it was gnawing on and scurried into the night. I watched the animal speed away and had a crazy thought. What if the zombie virus affected them?

Taking a deep breath, I tried to ignore my heart, which was beating a staccato pattern of desperation against my chest. It felt like it wanted to rip itself free. I backed up to the truck, and a howl in the distance set the hairs on the back of my neck at attention.

I slid back into the car and found a gun pointed at my head. Katherine had her pistol drawn and, ignoring the wound in her shoulder, kept that barrel just as steady as I had ever seen her hold it.

“How’s the road?” she asked as she lowered the piece.

“Fucked.”

“What’s plan B?”

“You’re assuming I have a plan. I think we’ll head for my house. I have some supplies stashed.”

“Oh good. I always wanted a nice man to take me home. I hope you have a giant bottle of Vicodin.”

I reversed the car, turned around, and took a side road.

* * *

We pulled into a scene I had not expected. Granted, it wasn’t the idyllic neighborhood where kids play, families stroll, streets are clean and swept, lawns mowed, trash cans left on the curb. Still, it was far from the chaos I had anticipated.

When the world went to shit, I thought for sure there would be roving gangs of people banding together, going house to house as they looked for supplies. My old haunt was barely touched. Sure there was crap in the streets, but for the most part, it was clean. There was no graffiti, no bodies in the streets, and no houses torn apart.

It was a while since I had been in this part of town. I took a turn, hoping it would look familiar. Instead of finding a block I knew, I found another endless row or cookie cutter houses. The sky ahead had an odd, orange glow. I rolled down the window and stuck my head out as I slowed to just a few miles an hour. It didn’t help my view but it brought the smell of smoke to my nose.

Something was on fire, something big. I stopped the SUV, and the door groaned from the added weight of the metal armor as it opened. After stepping out, I walked a good ten feet to see if I could make out what was on fire, but it was no use. It was around the corner.

I rolled forward very slowly. With the headlights off, the orange glow was my beacon. As I made the turn, I came into view of a house burning out of control. Cars were parked all over the front. One was a huge military transport that I thought was a Stryker.

Shit! This was not what I needed right now. Katherine was hurt. I needed to get to the old house and find my bag of supplies.

I was about to back up when a familiar figure came into view. He was standing on the sidewalk like a conquering general. The burning house lit his frame from behind. Tall, gaunt, and bald. The dead give away was those damn snakeskin boots that gleamed in the light of the fire.

It was Lee.

A pair of bodies laid on the ground. One of his men was going at one of them. I let out a gasp as I recognized what was happening. They were raping someone. The person on the ground fought, but didn’t seem to have much strength. She screamed and reached for the other person, but they didn’t move.

So this was what had become of Lee. He was letting his men rape and pillage like it was the middle ages.

“What’s happening?” Katherine had her eyes open, and she looked to be in a lot of pain.

“Remember Lee? The guy I have had a few run in’s with. He’s here, and his men are raping a woman.”