Dead Hunger V: The Road To California (30 page)

“Well, I found the place,” Gary said, diverting his gaze from Lola to me for the moment.  “After this shit started, we’d all been pretty much just running from house to house trying to escape the biters.  Just me and Plug, and we didn’t have any guns or anything yet.  Didn’t even know how to kill ‘em.  We got baseball bats from home and those were our first weapons.”

“Worked pretty good,” said Plug.  He flexed his right arm.  “Some power behind our swings.”

Lola reached over and squeezed Plug’s muscle, and he flexed tighter.  She smiled, nodded and withdrew her hand again.

“We didn’t know these guys,” continued Gary, “but we ran into this one house and Mila and Frankie here almost shot us in the face.”

“They didn’t so much run in as slide a window up and sneak in at like three in the morning,” said the girl whose name we now knew was Mila Lacour. 

Then she added: “Look, I’m sorry at how this started.  If you guys came here to rest, then we can offer food and water.  Save yours if you want.  We have plenty.”

“Hey, Mila,” I said.  “You mind telling me about your tats?”

“Oh, those,” she said.  “Seems kinda dumb now.  Wayne did them, but it was my idea.  He was just learning ink before everything went down, and in the beginning I’d count how many I killed.”

“So, they’re Roman numerals?” I asked.

“Yeah.  I don’t know what I thought, having the X put on.  Guess I didn’t realize we’d be doing this for years.”

“There’s nobody to tell you this stuff,” said Serena.

“I know,” said Mila, smiling.  “I gave up at 100.  The C.”

“Maybe one day you’ll forget what they even mean,” said Nelson.  “It’ll be so far in your past, like a bad dream.”

There he was again, showing me wisdom I’d never have initially given him credit for.  Not only that, this kid Mila had slid further toward the pretty side of the scale. 

I nodded.  “We’ll leave you some of the urushiol until you get yourselves protected.  You guys have any bolt cutters?”

“Tool shed out back has everything you could want,” said Gary.  “Big bolt cutters.”

“Mind if we cut that lock of the helipad pump and use that fuel?”

“Those are fuel tanks?”

Rachel nodded.

“Shit,” said Plug.  “We never even gave them a second thought.  Walked right by and went into the hospital for stuff.”

I wondered if they focused on the pharmacy or the bandages, then decided I didn’t really care.  They were being hospitable now, and everything else was just survival in the way they best wanted to shape it.

“I have to show you something, Nelson,” said Wayne Sypes, the tall one who had fired the shot that might have killed him.  “And give you something.”

“What, dude?” asked Nelson.  “Look, I know you didn’t mean to hurt us, so don’t worry about it.”

“I can’t use ‘em anyway,” said Wayne.  “Check it out.”

He stood, and Nelson did his best to get out of the chair, one hand on his bruised chest.  At the end of the room, Wayne opened up a wall-hung cabinet six feet wide by six feet tall, but only about five inches deep.

In it were Samurai swords of varying lengths and blade arcs, along with twenty or so Ninja stars, all bright, stainless steel.

“Dude!” said Nelson.  “Wow!  You good with these things?”

Wayne shook his head.  “The swords, yeah, not bad.  It’s not like we’re fighting the most savvy things in the world, so yeah, I seem pretty good when I spin around and cut their heads off.”

“What about the stars?” asked Nelson, removing one from a pin on which it hung.

“Nada.  Can’t aim for shit.”

“You mind?” asked Nelson, palming a 2” star in his right hand.

“Not at all,” said Wayne.  “Are you good enough to throw it?  I mean, with the bruised chest and all?”

“I may not look it, but I’m in great physical shape,” said Nelson.  “Over there, okay?  See that key ring hanging by that back door?”

It was on the other side of the room, about ten feet past us. 

Nelson wound up and let the star fly, and it ticked the bottom of the key ring, planting itself deep into the wall just below it.  All in all, it was about a thirty-foot throw.

“Jesus!” shouted Wayne, smiling big.

Nelson waved him off and rubbed his chest tenderly.  “It’s in the wrist, man,” he said.  “With a little shoulder thrown in.”

“They’re yours, buddy,” said Wayne.  “Call it an apology, but I want you to take all of them.  I like the swords.”

Nelson nodded.  “Okay,” he said.  “I was down to two after the bullet thing, so yeah, I’ll take them.  Thanks, Wayne.”

We raided their pantry.  The food was hot and it was good.  The bolt cutters were out back like they said, the underground tank was full of fuel, and the pump worked beautifully.  It was the easiest fill-up since we’d boarded the helicopter.

We left our strange, partially creepy friends with 1/8
th
bottle of urushiol blend and a lot of knowledge they did not previously possess.

Nelson left them with about an 1/8
th
ounce of pot, too.  It was more than I expected.

*****

             
Chapter Twelve             

The remainder of the trip to California involved only two more stops, and when I saw the tall trees of northern California below us and confirmed by the map that Serena had become so adept at reading, I felt a sigh of relief.

It had been a total of 771 nautical miles past Denver, and even utilizing low, smart flying and with the wind in our favor, we still landed the helicopter with the engine running on fumes.

But we had arrived.  Finally.  I briefly thought about how much harder the trip would have been had we not been able to get the chopper, and I realized that everything happens for a reason.  Meeting Rachel and Don.  Meeting Serena.  Even Nelson coming along.  All of it.

I wondered how Lola would come into play.  I had initially believed she might stay with the group we’d met outside of Denver, but ultimately, she may have had no interest in being fought over by four guys.  She certainly had more going for her than Mila Lacour, though I had changed my opinion of the girl quite a bit before our visit was through.

I knew Bug lived just outside of Dunsmuir, but I still didn’t know where.  I hoped we could find some people still alive there.  It might be the only way to find Uncle Bug unless he shot at us or something, which wasn’t out of the question.

We all sat in the helicopter and kept the doors closed.  Nelson had stepped outside to relieve himself when we’d arrived, and we all felt the chill in the air as he opened the door.  We were at a high altitude, after all, and from what I knew of the annual temperatures, July was the warmest month of the year, but still crisp in the evenings and at night.  According to Serena’s watch, we were in early September.  In all, we had taken about a week to work our way across much of the country.

We had arrived just after sunset, and the lights from the helicopter, which were a necessity for navigation, particularly without lights below, were a beacon to anyone nearby, and while most of the rotters could not hear – save for the estrogen-charged females – we knew damned well they could see.

We set it down in the middle of  a wide highway.  There were some cars, but they were in no way blocking the roadway.  This was a more populated area during winter when the skiers were crowding to Mount Shasta ski resorts, but in summer it was mostly hikers and the approximately 1,600 regulars who called Dunsmuir their home.

Serena and I knew this because we did plan, believe it or not.  We knew we had to have some idea of the number of infecteds we might be facing – if the cold and other factors didn’t do them in – and it was all part of our plan.

Which wasn’t much of a plan.

Nelson came back in, rubbing his hands together.  “It’s good to be cold again, but man.  It’s just September, right?”

“External temp is 59 right now,” said Rachel, inspecting her gauges.  She cut the lights and darkness fell around the Eurocopter.  “Feels good, actually.”

“For now,” I said.  “In a month, this cool will be just plain cold.”

“We staying in here tonight?” asked Lola.

“Not if I can help it,” said Serena.  “I could use a bed tonight, how about you?” she asked me.

“Lots of cabins and stuff around,” I said, peering out the window.  “Damned moon’s zilch tonight.”

“It’s 7:30,” said Rachel.  “If we go, I want us all to go.”

“That worked out real great last time,” said Nelson, smiling.

“This time we take minimal supplies and keep our weapons ready.  We got caught by surprise by those guys.”

“Yeah, because we’re used to having run-of-house on this planet now,” said Serena.  “Rachel, are we on Interstate 5?” 

“Yes, as near as I can tell.  Just east of us should be downtown Dunsmuir, and we’re probably actually sitting within the town limits.  You’d be able to see the lights over that way if there was power.”  She pointed off to our right.

“Okay,” I said.  “Headlights on, weapons loaded, extra mags, the works.  Just enough food, water and urushiol for the night.  We lock this bird up tight and see if we can find shelter.  Preferably with a fireplace.”

“I’d guess everyplace here has a fireplace,” said Rachel.  “Looks like that kind of area.”

We loaded up and got out.  It felt good to have our feet back on solid ground, and we walked south, away from the helicopter.

“It’s cold,” said Serena, as I walked alongside her.

“I’d warm you up,” I said, “but we need to be ready to defend if anything presents itself.”

She nodded and we all kept our eyes on the road ahead as our headlights illuminated the area six to eight feet before us.

Suddenly a pair of eyes glowed on the path ahead.  They were not red or pink, but white.  Bright white.

All of our headlights pointed directly at it, and its form became clear in the night as its outline emerged from the blackness beyond.

It was a deer.  More than that, it was a 12-point buck, standing in the road, mesmerized by the many lights on top of our heads.

We all stopped.  It stared at us, and we stared back.

“Venison,” whispered Rachel.

“A majestic beast,” responded Nelson.

“People are majestic beasts, too,” said Rachel.

“Sometimes,” said Nelson.  “If there’s one, there’s more.”

“Nel’s right,” I said.  “As sweet as fresh venison sounds, we’re in no position to field dress anything.  Let’s keep walking.”

As we continued walking, the buck snapped out of its temporary coma and leapt off the roadway onto a trail beyond.  Beside the trail was a low, rustic looking sign. 

“Hey, look!” said Lola.  “Creekside Cabins  .3 miles.”

“Hear that?” asked Rachel.  “Sounds like a brook or a creek.”

“Follow that deer,” said Serena.  “And let’s get ready to clear out a cabin or two.”

I took a risk and dropped my left hand, reaching for Serena’s.  She took it with her right hand, and as we walked, she leaned in and gave me a peck on the cheek.  “This is cuddling weather,” she said.

“I’m in,” I said.

Less than a quarter mile in, we heard a sound off to our right.  We all stopped immediately and raised our weapons, turning our heads to illuminate the area with our headlights.

Out of the brush came the figure of a human, and the moment we saw the pink eyes glowing, either from a meal of human or animal flesh – it didn’t matter much to us – we all fired at once, lifting the creature off its feet and sending it into the bushes beyond.

I’m not certain any of us missed.  Even Nelson’s AR-15 flew into action.  Lola still did not opt for a weapon, so she just watched as we took care of the threat.

We all tentatively stepped forward to see what we had killed.  As for the eye shine, it was no more; but that was because its head – along with the eyes – was now in little chunks, scattered within a fifteen foot area to the west, south and east of the trail upon which we now stood.

“Let’s get a move on,” said Rachel.  “I’d like walls between us and this crappy visibility.”

We did.  An easy jog got us closer to the creek, and the rushing water grew louder as we descended farther into the wooded canyon.  We found a larger, carved wood sign that said, “Welcome To Creekside Resort.”  Beyond that, to the left and right were several narrow trails, obviously leading to the cabins.

I stopped everyone.  “Okay, we’ll clear a cabin at a time, huh?  Maybe just one or two for tonight.  If we run into anyone, let’s just be careful to identify ourselves so they know we’re not the walking dead, okay?  Be vocal.”

“Vocal,” said Nelson.  “Because zombies don’t talk.”

“You are a master of the obvious,” said Lola Lane.

Nelson replied, smiling and shaking his head. “Thank you, Lola.”

“Follow me,” I said, turning right up a path. 

When the winding, forest path before us grew sharper, and even slight shadows fell off of the trees, I glanced toward the sky and was amazed at the billions of stars overhead, like a celestial artist had swiped a starlit brush across a sheer, black canvas. The clouds had parted, and at that moment, it seemed divinely influenced.

The feeling could have spurned from just how grateful I felt in my heart, I guess.  I did not want to lose any of the wonderful people in my company and this gift of nature’s own light could seemingly only have come from some divine command.

I tapped Serena on the arm and pointed upward, and her eyes remained turned toward the heavens for a long time as she drank in the vastness of the sky overhead.

We reached the first cabin.  It was a classic, log cabin, but it was on stilts, raised over an area covered in gravel.  Beneath it we could see an old, rusted quad ATV and a snowmobile that didn’t look much newer.  The stairs were beneath the building.  Nelson and Rachel agreed to stay down below, guarding the perimeter while Lola, Serena and I went up the stairs.  When we reached the door, I whispered, “We knock, right?”

“It’s what I’d want people to do,” said Serena.  “You heard how Mila and Frankie almost shot Gary and Plug in the face.”

“Yeah,” I said.  “
Plug
.  What’s that about?”

“I didn’t ask, either,” said Lola.  “Nice nickname.”

I knocked.  We waited.  I knocked again.  We all listened.

“Quiet,” I said. 

“Try the door,” said Serena.

I did.  It was locked.  I shined my light at the jamb.  “It’s a push.”

“So, can you get enough leverage to kick it?” asked Lola.

“To be honest, I’m tired of fucking around,” I said.  “You guys go warn them I’m about to fire.”

Serena and Lola hurried back down the stairs and I held out the AR-15 and fired into the jamb.  The wood splintered and the door flew inward, slamming into a wall on the right side.  I waited, turned to look to the bottom of the stairs, and four faces looked back at me.  “Well,” I said.  “Come on.  Let’s clear this place.”

The house was empty.  It appeared to be ready for rental, and we had obviously found one of the larger rental cabins available, because this one was a four bedroom with a large, centered living area.  The refrigerator door was left open, because the power had clearly been turned off. 

After clearing the place, we secured the door I’d trashed with an upper deadbolt that hadn’t been in use at the time, so all was well in the security department.

Once we’d picked our rooms, where we found folded blankets and very simple, rustic beds with very soft mattresses, we all met in the living room.  A fireplace filled the back of the wall, its wide mouth open, but dark, empty and cold.

We would change that.  Nelson and I went back downstairs where I’d seen a stack of logs beneath the stairway on the way in.  We both brought an armload upstairs, though I could tell Nelson’s chest was still hurting him. 

In another twenty-five minutes, the fire roared, sending its rays of heat throughout the main room of the cabin.

A fluffy rug that was supposed to look like bearskin, but was probably polyester, lay spread on the wood floor in front of the massive fireplace, and Nelson had opted to lie on his back in the dead center of it.

Everyone else curled up on cushioned sofas, except I sat in an armchair about one and a half times larger than an ordinary chair, and Serena had crawled in next to me, tucking in, her forehead resting softly against my neck.

Nobody said anything.  We listened to the fire crackle and enjoyed the peace surrounding us until we all fell asleep.

*****

I awoke to see the fire had died to a quarter its size, but had no idea how much time had passed.  It was still very warm, as the coals glowed red, tiny sparks swirling up toward the flue periodically.

I heard a low whimper and looked over to see Rachel staring at the fire, her eyes glossy and red, crying.  She had her knees pulled up to her chest with her arms wrapped around them. 

I heard Serena’s steady breathing; felt her warm breath on my neck.  I relaxed my body and slid out of the chair, easing Serena into the indentation where my body had been just moments before, warm and soft.  She did not awaken, but sought her own, comfortable spot and snored lightly.

I stepped over Nelson, who was still flat on his back, out like a light.  I saw Rachel look up at me and smile as I sat on the sofa beside her.  Seeing Nelson there reminded me that I had told him about Jess and Don.  He asked me, and I trusted him a lot by then.  I knew he wouldn’t say anything to her, and would let me break it to Rachel when the time felt about as right as it would ever be.

“Is it Jess?” I asked her, softly.

She nodded.  “What else.”

“Rachel, I have to tell you something.”

“About what?” she asked.

“About Jess.  And Don.  It’s important.”

She looked at me, wiping at her eyes.  “What?  What could you know?”

“Remember when you left me and Don alone in the helicopter the day he died?”