When the Dead Rise (Book 1): The Beginning (29 page)

Andy looked at Trina with skepticism, "And you were just out running when you came upon these soldiers?"

She nodded with a look that told Andy she'd discovered at least part of the truth, of what was happening in Texas. "What do you think they're planning in Fort Stockton?"

"Fort Stockton's not our problem." Andy snapped, handing Trina back her phone. "We're here for the truth behind those videos, not for the army's response. If we make it to San Antonio and back out, then I'll consider staying to follow this angle. Until that happens, Paul's running the show. You know his friend went to investigate this same story ten days ago and he hasn't heard from her since. This is unlike any story we've ever covered Trina, but for Paul, it's personal."

"What's personal for me?" Paul said from behind them. They gave each other a guilty look and turned in unison.

"I was out for a run and saw this happen." Trina shoved the phone towards Paul; Andy was relieved when her diversion worked.

After he'd finished watching the footage, Paul glanced up at them both, "I suppose this is why the hotel's empty. With the army so close, I say we grab breakfast to go."

San Antonio...

Eight and a half hours later, the trio reached the city. The closer they got to San Antonio, the more frequently they spotted shambling figures in the vicinity around them. Thankfully, they still hadn't encountered one of the undead up close.

I'm not looking forward to that eventuality;
Andy thought as they passed by what was left of a military blockade, on the edge of town. A lone zombie still dressed in uniform, stood guard at his post; his ravaged arms, reaching for them. It moaned loudly, clawing at the air with gnarled fingers. Andy hummed to himself in an attempt to block it out.

"Did you see that?" Trina said from the front seat, slowly panning the camera to remain focused on the soldier. After fiddling with the options for a moment, she turned the view screen so Andy could watch the shot. "This is so surreal;" she muttered, "I feel like I've stumbled into an apocalypse movie."

"I'm having a hard time believing what I'm seeing," Andy said, watching as the camera zoomed in on the corpse. The camera shook, with the motion of the van, but as it drew closer, he saw the flailing figure clearly. The zombie's leg was trapped in a pile of rubble; it was unable to do much more than gnash its teeth and wave its arms as the van passed by. Andy couldn't help but focus on the hollow, somehow hungry look in its milky eyes. The creature looked forlorn and pitiful. For a moment, Andy felt bad for leaving it there like that.
That's stupid,
he scolded himself, looking away from the camera,
if we got close, it wouldn't hesitate to eat one of my friends... or me.
After their drive east, he knew all too well, what the undead were capable of.

That morning, after leaving Van Horn, they headed south on U.S. 90. All the towns they'd driven through were vacant - devoid of life - and cell service became non-existent. Evacuation notices, pasted to light posts and windows, made it clear that the town's residents had been ordered to the refugee camp in New Mexico. It wasn't until the trio was an hour outside of San Antonio, that they saw their first walking dead. As they'd driven through Uvalde, they saw a cluster, gathered around a car. The car sat idling in the street, and to Andy, it seemed as if the undead fought amongst one another, in an attempt to get closer. The sound of the van's engine, as they passed, drew some of the undead's attention. As they moved away from the vehicle, he saw the bloody remains hanging from the car's smashed window.
Someone just trying to survive.
Since it's still running, they haven't been there for long,
he'd thought, averting his eyes.
If we'd gotten here sooner, would we have been able to stop that from happening?
Andy knew he shouldn't think that way, but it seemed unavoidable at the time.

Now that they were within the metropolis' limits, the undead population grew more apparent. While the city wasn't a sea of undead, everywhere Andy looked he found at least one, aimlessly wandering the streets.

"I expected there to be a lot more." Paul said, navigating around a pileup.

Trina nodded, "The population of San Antonio before the outbreak was one point three million; it was the seventh largest city in the US."

"Then where did they all go?" Andy asked, a knot of dread, growing in his gut.

"I dunno," Trina shrugged, "but since they're not here, it makes it a lot easier for us."

"It doesn't look like people had much warning." Paul said, slowing to a crawl. To their left loomed a Walmart and a break in the trees lining the road. Paul whistled. "I found some. Trina, get out your camera and shoot that," he said, pointing to the parking lot as he pulled to a stop.

"Are we getting out?" Trina squeaked.

Paul nodded. "Look at all of them; but there's a fence there, so it should be okay if we take a closer look." Trina gave him a skeptical look. "Don't you want to get some up close footage while we know there's a barrier between them and us?" he taunted.

"I don't know Paul," Andy said. He wasn't so sure it was a good idea; it was already past four in the afternoon and they needed to locate Synergy and find a safe place to stay for the night.

"You may not get a better chance," Paul said, knowing he was goading her into it, so he could get a closer look himself.

"I'm in," Trina said, straightening her shoulders. A look of determination filled her features as she pushed open the door and stepped out. "Coming Andy?" she asked, slamming the door before he could reply.

Muttering beneath his breath, Andy slung his camera over his shoulder and turned on the recorder he'd tucked into his breast pocket. "This should be interesting," he grumbled, climbing out after them.

Paul and Trina had already crossed the median and were running across the southbound lane, by the time Andy got out of the van. He jogged towards the Walmart parking lot, where an undead mass writhed in anticipation of the approaching living. The air reeked of death. Paul and Trina stopped several paces from the chin-link fence; Andy could tell by their facial movements that they had to shout to be heard over the cacophony of moans.

"What do you think happened to them?" Trina was shouting, as Andy approached.

"It looks like they tried to fortify this place and use it for shelter." Paul pointed to the entrance on the far side of the parking lot; Trina panned the camera. "They've used cars to block it off, but it looks like they ended up trapping themselves, in the end." Paul turned to Andy with a big grin on his face, "Take a few pictures and tell me this wasn't worth it."

Uncapping his camera, Andy raised the viewfinder to his eye. At first, he took pictures trying to encompass the size of the mass, but he couldn't find the right angle.
There has to be more than three hundred people in there,
he thought, wishing for a moment that they'd push together. Badly eaten, some looked only vaguely human, while others had only a bite-mark or two. One zombie was missing half of its face - his cheekbone and his eye socket, one large gaping hole. Andy zoomed in and snapped a picture.
It looks like someone got a gun in its mouth, but didn't aim for the brain.

A flash of blue caught his attention and he turned, but couldn't see it in the mass. He went around the bush, to another part of the fence. There, he caught sight of a small blue windbreaker, from behind. Just before it disappeared behind a line of bushes, growing through the fence, Andy thought,
he's just a child,
but even children weren't exempt from the apocalypse. Andy jogged down the fence line, hoping for another break in the greenery, but stopped cold, when a small arm poked through.

There must be a hole in the fence.
He began to back up. A boy, no older than four, tumbled out of the bushes. His heart racing, Andy squatted, wanting to get a picture at eye level. The boy's nose was missing, along with his lips. Half his hand was gone and the other still held a toy car. Filled with competing emotions, he snapped several pictures of the sad truth.
He must have been terrified when they were overrun. They believed they were safe in there, but the undead are relentless.

Movement from behind the boy caught Andy's' attention, and he gasped as another zombie wriggled out of the bush. He cursed, snapping one final picture before getting to his feet. As he ran back towards the others, he watched as they turned, wearing matching expression of confusion. That's when Andy noticed the moans had ceased; all the zombies shuffled along the fence.

"What happened?" Paul asked, his face paling when he glanced over Andy's shoulder.

"We have to go," Andy motioned back to the van. Just then, a truck rounded the corner and came to a stop beside it.

"What are you folks doing out here?" a grizzled old man said, leaning out the passenger side window. "You've gone and let all those buggers out." He nodded back towards the Walmart.

"We're journalists," Paul said as he jogged up to the truck. "We just got into the city."

"We've come to report on the truth, about what's being covered up here." Trina said, motioning to her camera.

"More journalists," the man said to the driver before leaning back out and saying, "We had one of those through here ten days ago, or so." He gave the trio a scrutinizing once-over. "She got herself killed; you three trying to do the same?" Moans erupted behind them and they turned to see the leak through the fence had turned into a flood. "Damn," the old man cursed, "you really did it now."

"Who was the other reporter?" Paul asked, eagerly stepping forward.

Trina ignored his questions and folded her arms over her chest saying, "We're not trying to get ourselves killed. We're just trying to make sure our report encompasses the whole story."

The driver, who Andy now saw was a teenage boy, leaned over and whispered to the man. He nodded and turned back to the reporters. "Well since you just arrived in town, and there isn't really anywhere for you three to stay, why don't you follow us back. We have a safe place for you to sleep for a night or two, while you do your journalist thing." Andy, Trina and Paul shared a wary look. The man laughed, "We've only been under siege for two weeks; we're not barbarians... yet. I promise no harm will come to any of you."

Apocalypse storage...

Andy gaped at the fortified fence, surrounding the storage facility. "They live here?" he asked from behind his camera, as he took several pictures of the outside of the survivor's safe house.

"I guess so," Trina shrugged, not taking her eyes off her screen.

"I still think that was Allegra's car back at the Exxon station," Paul muttered, pulling through the gates. "We need to go over there and check it out." As they pulled up behind the truck, the old man closed the gate behind them.

"It's possibly hers Paul," Trina tore her eyes away from her camera to give Paul a sympathetic look. "But even if it is, she may not have left anything in it. We know she came to San Antonio, and that old man mentioned something about another reporter; maybe they know what happened to her."

"He said she's dead." Paul's voice shook and he jammed the van into park. "If he was talking about Allegra, then we'll never know what she found out." He slammed his fist on the steering wheel, and said, "She was so talented," his voice broke, "she was my friend."

Wanting to change the subject, Andy asked, "Now what?" He looked around the enclosed space, not thinking much of the debris-littered parking lot. The door to the facility swung open and a man with brown hair stood, smiling at the old man. Behind him, a woman held a small boy in her arms.

"Now, we get out," Trina said, opening her door.

They got out and approached the survivors, who stood huddled in the entryway of the building. "I'm Cory and this is Veronica," the man with brown hair said, pointing to the woman standing beside him. He held out his hand and they shook it in turn. "Bill's the old guy who found you," he winked at Bill, "and Zach was the one in the driver's seat."

"Who's this little guy?" Trina smiled and poked at the little boy's belly. He turned shyly, burying his face into the woman's shoulder.

"This is Timmy," Veronica said as she adjusted him on her hip. "We found him in a tree and he hasn't said much since then."

Bill and Cory shared a look before Cory spoke. "My friend here," he motioned to Bill, "radioed in a few minutes ago. You guys are journalists?"

Paul nodded, "I think that my friend may have been here; that's her car back in the gas station."

Cory sighed, "That's a long story; one that shouldn't be told standing out here in the parking lot." He motioned for everyone to follow him inside. "We'll give you a tour and show you where you can sleep; then we'll head up to the roof and exchange stories." He turned to Zach. "Can you please run and tell Amanda to put on some coffee?" The boy dashed down the hall ahead of them.

Andy was amazed as he followed Cory through the building.
There has to be at least fifteen survivors living here,
he thought, catching sight of several teens, lounging in one of the units.

"We've had a steady stream of survivors come in, in the past week," Cory said, leading them to a stairwell. "Mike, Stu, Amanda and her daughter were here when we arrived, but they welcomed us in and we've made a home here for ourselves. Since then, we've taken in every survivor who is willing to abide by the house rules."