Ghost Run (8 page)

I panned the camera over the machine's shoulder and saw the massive corpse from before shuffling for the machine. It had a two-by-four in its hand. It must have struck the GARMR with it. The
machine didn't seem damaged, as it executed some sort of evasion protocol. As it retreated, I realized the reason it was attacked.

The GARMR was the warmest thing outside right now. Its RTG power source was giving off heat, and these things could detect that in contrast to its cooler surroundings. As the GARMR evaded, I watched its video feed, looking for a hiding spot for it to ride out the storm and the undead. Its wide-angle camera saw everything as it ran. Ducking through a section of downed privacy fence, I saw its savior: a storage shed positioned in the corner of a backyard could provide cover on three sides. I tapped the spot on the feed, hoping the machine would comply.

The movement on the feed slowed and it shifted directions. With two more taps, I eased it into its hiding spot and turned it around. I instructed it to crouch in the dirt but leave its sensors on so that I could observe.

The storm continued to rage, whiting out the GARMR's feed every few seconds. The video seemed more staticky than normal, possibly indicating that I'd reached the outer limit of the machine's video link with the tablet. I wondered what would happen if it went too far out of range.

No time to worry about machines, though. The sun was on its way. I hoped.

Day 5

I woke up, and checked the GARMR feed. Other than raindrops or condensation covering its lens, nothing appeared different from when I turned in after putting it behind the shed. Reluctantly, I cracked the metal door slightly to get a peek outside. The backyard was clear, except for the bloated corpse in the pool. I hadn't noticed last night, but it was still moving slightly. A blue rain barrel sat overflowing under the gutter outside the atrium. With my carbine in hand, I headed to the barrel with the half bar of soap and twisted rag I'd found in the shower. After washing up, I went back inside to check my maps.

•  •  •

I cracked the back door again and looked out. The bright Florida sun beamed down between the branches of a tall oak tree and through the damaged screen. To my right, I saw a rusted ladder leaning against the atrium frame. The screen above was covered with pine needles and I figured that Dudley was in the process of clearing them off when the shit hit the fan.

I exited the open screen door, ignoring the creature in the half-full pool until it started making noise. Its watch or bracelet hit the ladder inside the pool, making a high-pitched ring. I shot it from a sideways perspective, penetrating the skull and the pool liner behind it. The corpse slumped and bobbed in the deep end.

I rounded the atrium to get to the ladder. Slinging my carbine over my back, I moved it over to the edge of the roof and began to climb as three corpses rounded the corner from the carport onto the patio.

The big one looked familiar.

They didn't notice me until I got to the roof and accidentally kneed the gutter. Their heads snapped in my direction at the sound, and they began to move in a straight line toward me. They acted as if the screens weren't even there as they barreled through them, ripping them from their aluminum frames. I paid no attention to them and climbed farther up onto the roof. Some of the red architectural shingles were missing. I went over to the convex skylight and looked down into it, reminiscing about how nice it was to sleep in a bed behind reasonably secure doors.

Before heading to the apex of the roof, I left a mark on the plexiglass skylight:

Kilroy Was Here

I could hear the creatures inside the atrium below, tripping over vacuum hoses, deck chairs, and whatever else Dudley had on his pool deck. At the top of the roof, I pressed
Follow
on the watch before verifying the motion video on the tablet.

The GARMR was on the move.

I saw it exiting the section of downed fence and entering the street. Turning on the audio feed, I could hear its synthetic paws clicking on the concrete as it trotted my direction. I sat on the roof, sweating from the growing hot sun, and watched the video.

The GARMR's movement protocol was swift. It somehow calculated how close to get to one of the undead before sidestepping slightly, avoiding its grip. The paw clicks on the tablet began to give way to the real thing, and I could finally see the GARMR coming my way up the street with a small following of undead far behind but closing. Now was the time.

I slid slowly down the front side of the roof and reached over the edge for a pillar. After finding it, I carefully dropped my bag into a pile of leaves and slid down the pillar. On my way down, I saw a horribly decomposed and naked female waiting on the porch. It turned to face me, but my rifle was slung over my back. It was upon me before I could get to the railing. I pulled my automatic knife from the Kydex holster on my belt and pressed the button. The razor-sharp five-inch
tantō
blade rocketed out of the handle just
before I rammed the cold steel into the creature's temple. Even with all my force, it still only penetrated halfway into the skull.

Apparently enough.

The corpse's lights went out and it fell, taking my knife with it.

The GARMR stood like a sentinel in the front yard, facing me.

It took some strength to extract the knife. I wiped it against the exterior of my pack before pulling the cocking handle in preparation for the next time I had to use this last-ditch weapon.

With the GARMR's fan club getting close, we then headed north to an area I'd found on my maps.

•  •  •

After leaving the hurricane-stricken waterfront community, I was careful to avoid the main thoroughfares. The Morse signal was still too weak to copy. My pack was heavy from the food I'd taken from Dudley's house, so I loaded some of the contents into the GARMR saddlebags. Now I moved a lot faster with the lighter pack and made good time.

After a few hours of concealed movement, I came to a fork in the road, with both options being northerly. I instructed the machine to check the right fork as I waited inside a nearby gas station that had long ago been looted. As the GARMR scouted, I cleared the station, not wanting a terrifying repeat of stock boys climbing out of the refrigerator. Near the back, there was a single green glass bottle on its side in the refrigerator. Something the looters missed. I enjoyed carbonated water as I watched the GARMR feed.

At first I deemed the right fork a waste of time, until the machine was on its way back through a small suburban neighborhood.

I'd nearly missed it.

Right there on the feed was an antenna mounted on a roof alongside a satellite TV dish. The top of the antenna extended beyond the machine's field of view. I pointed the electro optic sensor up to get the full view, at least sixty feet above the top of the roof. Thin steel cables anchored the antenna on four sides.

A HAM radio operator's house.

I moved the GARMR into a ditch and put it in standby. I'd
recently figured out how to check distance on the tablet. The machine was 0.9 miles from my location down the right fork.

Leaving the gas station, one of the undead ambushed me from a blind spot behind a large energy drink sticker on the glass door. I swiveled and began to squeeze the trigger.

A small girl.

I kicked it firmly in its chest, sending it sprawling backward into the storefront glass, spiderwebbing cracks in all directions. I began to run down the right fork, looking over my shoulder only once.

I have a daughter, too. I just couldn't.

Tears trickled down my face as I opened the distance between myself and the frail but deadly creature. I attempted to evade it, not wanting to take the shot. All I could think about was my baby daughter, my Bug. That thing was someone's universe; who the fuck was I?

I ran down the overgrown road until I was out of breath. The weeds, saplings, and grass were at least chest-high on all sides of the concrete. A white pickup truck sat broken down with its hood up and jumper cables hanging out just ahead. I checked over my shoulder as I began to run again. I could see the contrast and movement of red shorts a quarter mile back.

Dammit, she wasn't giving up.
She
It never would.

As soon as I looked forward again, I could see the grass begin to rustle. I imagined an army of undead children erupting from the grass, all wearing similar red shorts, reaching for my flesh. I raised my gun to the ready and was about to empty a magazine into the brush when the attacker charged. A large boar. I got off a single shot before it hit me, but I only nicked her. On the ground from the impact, I barely had the time to get to my feet before it came at me again. Using up all my good luck for the day, I sidestepped it like a matador and sprinted to the pickup truck, hoping the bed was empty. I blindly jumped into the back, landing hard on the spare tire. As soon as I hit, I could feel the truck shaking from the boar's assault.

Half a dozen piglets then flew from the brush, squealing and running. The sound of their hooves reminded me of the GARMR. I attempted to climb over the cab and leave the truck, but Momma Pig was pissed off and tried to climb under the hood to get at me. She was bleeding on her hindquarters from my shot, but it wasn't enough.

I wasn't planning to kill her, and anyone reading this would think that was absolutely insane. But killing her meant the piglets might die. Not killing her meant the piglets would probably live and go on to be survivors just like their mother. If that razorback would charge me for walking down the street, what would she do to a mindless moving corpse hell-bent on eating her young?

I was about to find out.

The undead girl had finally caught up and drew the attention of the razorback. I sat on the cab watching the train wreck play out. At first, the boar wouldn't divert her attention from me; I was the one that had hurt her. All that changed when one of the piglets caught the eye of the small creature and began to get curious.

It all happened so fast; I couldn't believe the blinding speed in which Momma Pig moved in order to protect her young.

FWAP!

The sound of wild pig impacting rotten flesh turned my stomach.

The creature was on its back with the boar on top, ripping decaying meat from the bone. The piglets moved in and began to pick and savor their share of undead flesh. My stomach bubbled, sending bile up to the back of my throat. Holding it back, I quietly jumped from the truck and ran up the right fork to the GARMR. I didn't want to be anywhere near that boar or her piglets when they decided they wanted seconds.

•  •  •

I thought I'd heard the snorts of the pigs behind me a dozen times before reaching the dormant GARMR. My nerves were just shot from the mental chess game I'd been playing since encountering the boar. Without my gun, she was the top of the food chain in these parts, an eater of the dead. And one scrape or bite from her would turn me—a chilling thought.

Kneeling at the GARMR, I felt somehow less alone. Although this combination of carbon fiber, titanium, and silicone wasn't alive, it served its purpose as some strange facsimile of man's best friend. I wondered what John's dog, Annabelle, might think of it. I didn't realize I was patting the machine's back until I felt the heat
from the RTG's steady decay cover my hand. Those pigs must have really scared the piss out of me.

“Checkers, follow,” I said, hoping that the machine had some sort of anti-pig programming tucked away somewhere deep in its processor stack.

The house with the antenna on the roof was just ahead. Weeds and saplings shot up where lush green lawns once soaked in gallons of sprinkler-delivered and precious freshwater. The GARMR struggled through the tall grass but adjusted its stride, wobbling through the thick growth faster than I could. The front door was heavy duty and shut tight. A security camera greeted me above it, staring down at the welcome mat with its dusty array of IR LEDs.

The sound of leaves crunching startled me.

I slung my gun around and nearly blew apart a cat. It'd seen better days; most of its tail was torn off and part of its left ear was missing. The undead had probably cornered it. I thought about feeding the poor thing, but it bolted away when I moved in its direction. I hoped it would be okay.

Feral or die, just like everything else out here.

I pulled firmly on the garage door handle. No luck. The opener that was no doubt attached to the sun visor of the Jeep in the driveway would probably still work if there was power. Making my rounds to the back, I was careful to check every possible entry point. All clear. With the first level secure, I went back to the Jeep and opened the unlocked passenger door. I released the e-brake and put it in neutral.

I could hear the sounds of multiple creatures beyond the chest-high grass and privacy fence. I rocked the Jeep back and forth until its axles broke through the rust, allowing me to push it forward. As it hit the garage door, I mashed the weak brake and put it back into first gear. The privacy fence began to shake and buckle in response to the noise.

I jumped onto the hood of the Jeep and tossed my pack onto the roof above, then struggled to pull myself up. I wasn't in my best shape. A few months in paradise will do that to a man. The rough exterior grated into my forearms and shins as I flailed my way up.

Once on the roof, I could see the dozen or so creatures that
began to build up on the other side of the wooden fence, attracted by the noise I'd made while using the Jeep as a stepladder. I made for the nearest second-story window, only to find it locked. Peering inside the opening, I could see light coming from a room on the other side of the house.

I broke the top part of the window with my rifle stock and unlocked it from the inside. Loud cracks from failing wood posts signaled the end of the fence below. I climbed gun-first into the window and put my foot down inside the dry toilet bowl of a dark upstairs bathroom. The light from the other side of the house I'd seen was from an open window.