In Harm's Way (14 page)

“When I say go...
look at me Caroline
. When I say go, you two go... run for Daddy’s car like it was the ice cream truck and today is free ice cream day.”

Caroline perked up. “I want a fudgsicle,” she said, looking dreamily away.

“Donnie... listen carefully. Since Daddy isn’t here right now, your job is to make sure your sister gets in first and then you jump in after.
Very important
...
lock the door when both of you are inside
... OK?”

The seven-year-old and current man of the house puffed out his chest and said, “I got it Mom.”

Karla’s lower lip quivered and her hands shook as she fumbled with the straps on the infant carrier. If they were too tight Sadie would scream bloody murder but if they were too loose the three-month-old might Houdini her way out. Sadie playfully batted at her mom’s fingers, blissfully oblivious to the approaching wall of gnashing teeth. The young mom halfheartedly reciprocated. The last thing that Karla wanted to do was break down in front of the kids; it took every last ounce of her willpower to hold it together.

 After cracking the door and stealing a quick peek Karla decided that it was now or never. The alarm chirped. “
Ice cream!
” Karla bellowed.

Both kids bolted across the threshold like it was Christmas morning and Santa had left their presents on the lawn.

Karla was right behind her kids, running awkwardly, trying to compensate for the weight of Sadie and the infant carrier. “
Get in! Get in! Go... go... hurry up Donnie!
” She sprinted to the driver’s door, ripped it open and flung Sadie, none too gently, across the front seats. Karla was desperately trying to multitask: one hand worked to get the key in the ignition while the other blindly grasped at thin air trying to find the handle. Before she could pull the door shut several hundred pounds of rotting corpses crashed into the door, causing it to violently close on her left side and shattering her wrist in the process. There wasn’t enough adrenaline in Karla’s body to block out the intense pain and she couldn’t stop herself from screaming.

Donnie fought with the door handle for a few seconds with his little sister seemingly super glued to his back. Once the door was open a crack, Donnie grabbed Caroline by the seat of her pants and with all of the strength that he could muster, propelled her across the floorboard to her car seat. Donnie glanced through the window only to see snarling faces staring back at him, and yelled at Caroline to buckle in.

Karla exhaled a sigh of relief when she noticed in the rearview that Caroline was safely in the car seat. Donnie, on the other hand, was still in limbo--half in and half out of the rear door--when the first zombie latched on to his tiny blue and red backpack.

“Help me Momma,” Donnie whimpered as the cold gnarled hands ripped his small form away from the rest of his family.

Karla stopped screaming and tried to get herself together. Her right hand stopped shaking long enough to allow her to turn the key and start her husband’s SUV. She looked up and realized that her firstborn was nowhere to be seen.

“Donnie...” she called out plaintively as she put the Tahoe in reverse.

Caroline had just finished clicking herself in; she met eyes with her mom in the mirror and said, “The bogeyman took him.”

Karla whipped her head around searching for her son. She couldn’t risk getting out to look for him and leave the two girls in the vehicle, so she reversed out of the driveway. The rear passenger door flew open, obscuring her side mirror.

Sadie began to fuss and cry, only adding to the background noise of shuffling feet.

“Mommy... I see Donnie... he’s playing tag with the bogeyman.”

Out of the corner of her eye, the sight of her son running in circles with two of the creatures in pursuit caused her heart to skip several beats. One of the flesh eaters still clutched her boy’s pack in its pale hands. Karla aimed the bumper for the walker and blasted the horn, praying that Donnie would jump out of the way. Donnie reacted--the creatures did not. The impact flung both of the zombies and Donnie’s backpack into Karla’s mature Rhododendron bushes. They looked like a couple of drunks at closing time as they tried to extricate themselves from the plant’s sticky clutches.

Karla frantically laid on the horn then yelled at the top of her lungs, “
Donnie... get in here now!
” Then she looked toward the house in disbelief with her mouth hanging open. There were no words to convey what she was seeing. The procession of dead had changed course a few degrees and the rotting walkers were now pouring around both flanks of her home. As she watched, the old house moved in her direction and, with a puff of dust accumulated over the last hundred years, careened off of its foundation.

An imaginary fist grabbed Karla’s heart as she watched Donnie disappear under the crush of death. Then the walkers lunged into the open door and began devouring Caroline. Mercifully the five-year-old didn’t scream for long. A feeling of utter helplessness washed over the sobbing mother as she shielded Sadie with her body, waiting to die.

Outbreak - Day 8

Flight from Denver

Like Sonic the Hedgehog, the cobalt blue Subaru blasted by the black SUV, passing it on the left.

From his elevated perch Wilson snatched a passing glimpse of William slumped in the passenger seat, his slack face looking every bit as pale as one of the zombies. “Where in the hell does he think he’s going?” said Wilson.

“It looks like he’s leaving the tollway,” Sasha replied from the back seat.

After weaving between a grouping of abandoned cars, Ted exited Interstate 25 and drove the wrong way up the on ramp and turned east onto a car-cluttered surface street.

By the time Wilson threaded the Suburban between the throng of cars, three new colors of paint had been added to the side of the less than compact SUV, and more than five minutes had elapsed since he had last seen the Subaru.

“Sis, get up front with me. I need your eyes.”

“Are there any of those things out there?” Sasha asked, her voice wavering.

“Just get up here and deal!” Wilson barked. He really hated having to be the bad guy and didn’t want to be too hard on his sister considering the stress she had already been subjected to, but he knew he had no choice.

Sasha crawled forward and retook her spot in the passenger seat.

“You look down the side streets and I’ll worry about what’s ahead.”

“OK,” Sasha answered, resigned to the fact that she was going to have to face her fears sooner or later.

Wilson had made the trip between Denver and Colorado Springs many times, yet he still couldn’t recall the names of the little burghs scattered frequently along the route and this one was no exception. The streets were littered with newspapers and trash, and broken glass sparkled in the sun. They were only two blocks removed from the tollway and Wilson had already been forced to swerve the SUV around numerous walking dead. Every one of the rotten creatures they passed acted in the same manner: instant recognition of the moving vehicle, followed by clumsy swipes in their general direction as they drove by and then the inevitable throng of moaning zombies following in the truck’s wake.

Wilson massaged the wheel with both hands and said, “I’m only going two or three more blocks, and if we don’t see Ted or William or their car, then I’m turning around.”

The usual chain fast food restaurants and cross-competing gas stations dominating the real estate near Interstate 25 quickly gave way to a host of smaller storefronts. Wilson noted the time on the dashboard clock. “It’ll be getting dark around nine so that doesn’t leave us much time to screw around on this side trip.”

“I wasn’t paying attention to the road signs... do you have any idea how much further Colorado Springs is?” Sasha asked. The truth of the matter was that she hadn’t seen anything at all. She had been curled up in the back seat with her eyes screwed shut since her frightening face-to-face encounter with the walking corpse on Prospect Street in Denver, and deep down lurked a sinking feeling telling her that they still had quite a ways to go.

After looking at the odometer and consulting his mental abacus, Wilson confirmed what Sasha already knew. “We’re only twenty-five miles from Denver and we’ve been on the road for
three
hours,” he said disgustedly.

“You didn’t answer my question,
Wilson
,” Sasha said, hoping to God that her hunch would be proven wrong.

“Colorado Springs is roughly forty miles from here... and I’d be willing to bet this little town is named Castle Rock,” Wilson added as he gestured toward the storefronts. It was an easy guess--nearly every business on the street had “Castle Rock” incorporated into their name, not to mention the natural rock formation looming east of town which resembled a squat, windowless, medieval keep.

Fully deflated, Sasha asked if they were going to make it to Colorado Springs before dark.

“I need to concentrate on driving... you need to keep your eyes peeled for our
friends
.”

They had driven six blocks from the overpass before Sasha finally spotted the blue car. The Subaru was parked haphazardly half a block down a side street.

Wilson had stopped in towns like this before and he was sure that if this were a normal summer weekend the small business core would be bustling with people. It hosted a couple of antique shops, a Java Junkie Coffee, a greasy spoon diner called Henny Penny’s--its faded facade and old school neon signage displaying a chicken motif--and lastly, the Castle Rock Rexall Drugstore that Ted’s Subaru was currently double parked in front of. Except for the three zombies lurching towards the drugstore, the two-lane street was deserted.

Wilson stepped on the accelerator, aiming the SUV at the biggest ghoul.

“What are you doing
Wilson
?” Sasha barked as she fumbled for a handhold.

“I’m thinking that the bumper on this thing will do more damage than my baseball bat,” he replied, suddenly aware how sore his shoulders and back were from beating the shit out of the dead guy and his Caprice.

As they drove by the drugstore Sasha strained to see inside. The front windows were cluttered with displays and behind them the interior of the store was dark and gloomy.

The zombie nearest to the Subaru was the freshest one Wilson had seen since Denver. The dead woman wore a tattered tube top and white capris; her summery outfit was thoroughly soiled. Streamers of skin and sinew, evidence of a recent kill, dangled from between her teeth and she appeared to have been painted crimson red from the chin down with someone else’s drying blood.

Wilson aimed the massive grill at the stumbling zombie and looked down at the speedometer as it pushed past forty miles per hour. When he looked up again he saw the creature’s baby blues peeking over the tall hood; he involuntarily scrunched his eyes shut as the violent impact knocked the zombie off its feet and sent the broken body flailing through the air. Tube Top came to rest face up, impaled on the wrought iron fence encircling the front of a colorfully painted toy store. She looked like a fish out of water as she kicked and flopped, futilely trying to stand up.

“One down, two to go,” Wilson said grimly.

“How do you know there aren’t more of them inside the stores?”

“For Ted’s and William’s sake... I hope there aren’t. Hey Sis... did you notice anybody in the car when we drove by?”

“I was trying to see inside the windows but it was dark and we were moving... please tell me you’re not going in there. Don’t you
fucking
leave me all alone again
Wilson
.”

The way his sister spit out his name felt like a dagger plunging into his heart. If Sasha could bottle that rage and use it on the walkers, he thought, she’d be a lethal weapon.

“If I go in you’re coming with me,” Wilson said, locking eyes with Sasha and trying his best to reassure her. “Besides, I’ve got Mr. Louisville.”

Wilson steered the SUV on a collision course with a very large specimen. The bloody butcher apron was still cinched tightly around the portly zombie’s waist, the perfect accessory for the apocalypse. Fred the butcher carried a cleaver in one meaty hand and a dainty gray arm in the other. Judging by the shiny white ball joint and bouncing tendrils of ragged flesh, the arm hadn’t been cleaved off cleanly but instead had been wrenched free with brute strength.

***

The Traveler was a meticulous, detail-oriented man. Type A would be an understatement; he always had to know what he was getting himself into before he dove in.

The steep road that delivered him from the mansion on the west slope of the Rockies, where he obtained his latest vehicle, spit him out near the row of log cabin-style homes on the east slope of the craggy mountains. Pikes Peak, forty miles to the south, looked stunted and lonely. The view to the north was hazy and distorted. It looked like there was a dust storm on the horizon.

The Traveler entered the first home he happened across; it was empty of people, living or dead. He gathered the absentee owners didn’t have much of a voyeuristic streak even though the house had a panoramic view of the valley that opened up below as there wasn’t a telescope to be found, so he relied on the next best thing, his trusty Bushnells. He glassed the land north to south. Only ten minutes into his recon he spotted two vehicles moving south on the freeway, weaving in between the stalls and pileups, and maintaining a steady controlled pace. Suddenly, with a burst of speed, the smaller blue wagon pulsed around the black SUV and exited the freeway. The Traveler momentarily lost sight of the rabbiting vehicle in the clutter and shadows before reacquiring it a few streets east of the freeway where it made a left turn. Midway down the block the speeding car slewed sideways, stopping abruptly. Then a large bearded man hopped out and hurriedly entered into one of the storefronts.