Rise and Walk (16 page)

Disappointed but determined to get back to his town, Lance began walking up the road with his shotgun safety off.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Jack Mason had lived an adventurous life. He had seen and done some pretty strange things in his thirty years. He considered himself lucky to be alive in some regards. He had witnessed a couple of knife fights, participated in brawls, had guns in his face, been arrested, been hit by cars and even spent some time in his youth experimenting with drugs. All the weird things that had ever happened to him in his past were nothing compared to this day. As he steered the Kawasaki up the mountain, careful to avoid the many rivulets in the earth, he considered what he had seen. There was no way to explain how a person could die and get back up.
It just doesn’t happen
, he thought. He recalled how sick it felt to kick the teen in the chest with his full force. In Kempo class as a kid he was able to break three, one inch pine boards with his bare foot. Combined with the weight of his reinforced boot, he was sure he had shattered the kid’s chest, yet he kept on coming. He didn’t want to hurt the boy but Mason saw no alternative. He wanted to pull the bike over and talk to the others. He wanted confirmation that what he had just seen had indeed happened. They had been proceeding at a good pace for what felt like an hour, they must be far enough away by now.

Nikki held on for dear life. Her arms were clamped around Tony with her face buried in his back. She had her head turned towards the mountainside to avoid looking out over the vast valley below. She wasn’t afraid of heights but the rough road and previous terrors had left her squeamish. Tony’s helmet was too large for her. It was padded and blocked some of the noise of the motorcycle but slid about on her head. Behind the closed tinted visor, it almost felt roomy. As the tree strewn limestone rolled by, in the confines of her helmet, she wept. Tears flowed down her cheeks within the protective chamber. She squeezed Tony to steady herself on the bike, but also for reassurance that she wasn’t alone. She didn’t want to think about the things that she had seen. She wanted to get home and see her parents. She didn’t always get along with her folks, yet couldn’t help but miss them now. Her tears ran faster at the thought. A bump in the road sent her body flying upward. She held fast to Tony and stayed on the seat. It was very strange to her that she was holding on so tightly to a man she didn’t know. She remembered how he made sure to stay in front of her when the sick people were around. Nikki was too afraid at the time to realize it, but she might not be alive if not for the actions of these men. They were good people. With the distance between her and the camp growing, she started to feel just a little bit safe.

Veronica wanted answers. She read biology and medical textbooks in her spare time for relaxation. Never in any of her studies had she ever come across any reference to any sort of condition that could be behind the events she had just witnessed. As she jostled about on the back of Jack’s motorcycle, her body used its natural sense of balance, gained through years of ballet as a child, to steady her self. She did so without mental effort giving her much needed time to sort her thoughts. There was no explanation for what she had seen. Chemicals, nerve agents, or even drugs could make a normal person insane to the point of violence. PCP could release almost superhuman strength along with unexplainable behavior. Yet there was no compound that could allow the human body to withstand a bullet to the chest and survive. She considered the teen’s severed head. Leftover charges in the nervous system could cause twitching and random movement. She knew in her heart that there was nothing random about the eyes. The head’s eyes did indeed track her movement. They followed her with a purpose.
How in the physical world was it possible
? she questioned.

Veronica had seen to the woman; observed the fever progress faster than she knew was possible. The woman didn’t die from blood loss, she was sure of that. Veronica thought it might be possible that the woman expired from shock or some other internal problem that wouldn’t be evident from a quick examination;
a bad heart perhaps
. The number of questions was overwhelming and no good explanations came to her mind. She wasn’t yet a doctor and shouldn’t expect herself to have all the answers. Uncertainties and impossibilities stood in the way of her understanding, frightening Veronica deeply.

Tony fought with the handlebars to keep the motorcycle under control. Jack had always been the better rider and now Tony was attempting to keep up. He felt Nikki’s arms, like a vice, holding onto his midsection. He wished he was in better shape. The girl was close and even though he flexed his stomach muscles while riding, there was the soft cushion of beer fat between her arms and his abdominals. He would have felt worse about his conditioning were it not for the dire circumstances that they were running from. The motorcycles had helped the party escape the campground but Tony still feared the possibility of running into more lunatics. This was unfamiliar country and he had no idea exactly where they were headed. They had no choice but to take the mountain road out of danger. Tony hoped that the worst was over. The thought that there may be more wild freaks running around was disconcerting. He took a mental inventory of his weapons. He had five rounds in his pistol and one extra magazine with six bullets. He wished that he had brought a box of fifty or even his old twenty-two caliber rifle.
Wishing can’t help now
, he thought, eleven rounds, a knife and a paint gun was all he had. He wished he had been more prepared for trouble, but who could have foreseen this day? Tony promised himself that once he got home he would buy a new gun and a case of bullets.
Some sit ups might be a good idea too
, he thought as Nikki’s arms squeezed him even tighter.

The road had been a constant back and forth from steep grade to small area of level ground than back to an upwards climb for what seemed like over an hour. Emerging at the top of a hill, Jack saw that the road ahead was flat for some distance. He could tell from the surrounding geography that they were not at the top of the range yet but they had come to a stretch of level ground. Climbing hills, even without a passenger, is difficult work. Balancing, shifting gears, and avoiding rutted terrain, requires a whole body effort. Slowing up, he sat down into his seat and relaxed as much as he could while maintaining a steady pace.

They entered a small valley with tress extending much needed shade from both sides of the road. The sun flecked bright patches through the canopy making the ride seem almost peaceful. Jack spied a structure in the distance. Pulling in his clutch he nudged his foot shifter into second but held the lever, allowing him to coast. Tony glided forward to Jack’s right and matched his speed. They both saw the small structure in an open clearing. It appeared to be a prefab kit shack. It was sturdy but had seen better days. Tony motioned with a nod in the shack’s direction. Almost on cue, both men killed their engines and coasted in front of the shack. Holding his bike up with his left leg, Tony put his hand to his gun. For a nervous moment, they just stared at the door of the old shack. The frightened part of Tony’s mind, the part that made him sleep with the light on until he was eight years old, expected a tattered monster to emerge flailing madly out the door. The large padlock on the outside securing the entrance gave him reassurance that no one was within.

“Anybody home,” Jack called out, breaking the stillness.

Another tense moment of gentile silence gave way to the chatter of birds enjoying a carefree afternoon.

“Let’s check it out,” Jack said.

TWENTY-EIGHT

The lock was rusty from years of exposure. Three good bashes from the butt of Mason’s combat knife knocked the shackle from the weathered wood. Tony stood with his weapon ready, pointing at the door. Mason pulled the door open as Tony moved in. Light slivered in through small gaps in the boards that made up the walls of the shack. Disturbed dust floated through the air turning the light into hard rays that bounced against the opposite wall. The plywood floor creaked underneath Tony’s feet. The space measured about twelve by ten feet with the door on the long end. A heavy workbench sat at the far end of the room opposite the door. An array of excavation tools hung from a rack on the back wall containing two shovels, a pickaxe a woodsman’s axe, an oxidized machete as well as various hammers and tools. There was a dusty smell to the place but not a moldy one. Tony assumed that the floor was raised up on pallets or water resistant wood, to keep out the dampness during the rain. Two plastic milk crates on the floor held various rags and a pair of safety goggles. Mason appeared at the entrance with his motorcycle. He rolled it in, backwards so that the front end pointed towards the door.

“No need to let anyone know we’re here,” he said.

Tony stepped outside to get his bike. Nikki’s head poked around the corner looking in. Tony saw Veronica removing her backpack. She rotated her neck, stretching to relieve her tension. She looked down the road, back towards camp. She seemed to be deep in thought. Tony wheeled his bike towards the shack, stopping he asked,

“Doing all right?”

Turning, she exhaled loudly as if to say,
Hell no
.

“I think we need to talk about what we all just witnessed,” Veronica said as she paced about in the middle of the shack. She was the only one standing. Nikki sat unencumbered on the workbench next to a pile of riding gear that she had removed from her person. Tony sat on an overturned milk crate next to Jack, who was leaning on his motorcycle seat. They all gave their attention to Veronica.

“I’ve been thinking and the most likely reason for those people’s behavior is a disease,” she continued. “It must be transferred in the blood, by exposure from a bite. The woman I treated had a fever that climbed faster than anything I’ve ever read about. Now that to me says disease. Some pathogen from the teen infected her.”

“Are you sure she was dead?” Nikki asked slowly, almost struggling to get the words out. Veronica understood Nikki’s disbelief and moved close to her.

“Nik, I am positive,” she assured. “She was gone. I felt no heartbeat and her breathing stopped. I did compressions but decided against mouth to mouth because I didn’t have a micro-mask for protection. I guess I suspected somehow that she was infected.”

“I had that feeling too, but what kind of bug makes people want to chew on each other?” Jack questioned thinking about the man who tried to growl through the hole in his neck.

Veronica turned to Jack with a weary look.

“Nothing; I mean I’ve no idea. Something no one has ever seen before,” she said leaning her tired body against the workbench.

“I hit that dude right in the heart,” Tony said, a touch of guilt in his voice. “When you get hit in the heart, your body shuts off, but he kept moving. And then the thing with the head,” Tony lifted his hands in defense as if to say that he had enough.

“Yes, there was something else I noticed that was odd,” Veronica said standing once again. “When you shot him, there was very little blood, granted his heart was most likely destroyed, so that makes sense, but the woman; she hardly bled at all from a head wound. There should have been more internal pressure, especially from the exit wound.”

Veronica appeared to be thinking. She walked in silence, looking at the floor. Nikki lifted her tired head back and leaned it on the wall. Tony wanted to say something nice to Nikki but hesitated. Jack watched Veronica pace. He liked the thoroughness of her thinking. She spoke.

“Those people are dead,” she said causing a jolt of adrenalin to fire inside Nikki’s body. “They have no blood pressure so no heartbeat. That is why shooting one in the heart has little effect. However, sever or destroy the head and they stop. But what in God’s name could do such a thing?”

“A chemical weapon?” Jack suggested.

Veronica considered for a moment.

“Those take effect on exposure by eating, drinking or breathing, not a bite. A biological weapon might be more likely but I really don’t know.”

She paced back to the workbench. Opening up a backpack she fished out a bottle of water. Noticing the pale look on Nikki’s face she offered the bottle to the young blonde. Nikki accepted it with only a nod.

“A bite is skin contact,” Tony said.

Veronica shrugged.

“Yes, however that says to me infection, something along the lines of a disease. The woman was bitten by a carrier and became sick herself. If it were a chemical weapon why use it out up here, and who would want to?” she questioned, brushing her long hair away from her face.

“The government could be behind it,” Jack said with a stern look, “They don’t give a damn about anyone.”

Veronica thought about the care her father had received compliments of the U.S. Army and felt a shudder. She gave Jack a knowing look of agreement.

Tony looked to Nikki, who seemed distant.
The girl’s been though a lot
, he thought. He wished he could get up and reassure her that the worst was over. He wished he could reassure himself. Then his eyes fell to underneath the workbench. He saw a shape hanging from two hooks under the table; the unmistakable shape of a wepon.

“Wait a second …” Tony said approaching Nikki low. She reacted and withdrew her legs up onto the workbench. Crouched, Tony reached in underneath Nikki’s butt, making her feel very vulnerable. She relaxed once she saw him produce an old shotgun. Jack sprung to his feet and moved close for a better look. It was a single shot .410 gauge shotgun. A very small model with a thin barrel; the .410 was the kind of weapon a kid might get as their first gun. Tony broke open the breach to find the weapon unloaded. It was dirty but not rusty. Tony brushed away some of the dirt and found that it was only dust clinging to its well-oiled surface. The men huddled over the weapon like mothers over a newborn child.