Zomb-Pocalypse (17 page)
“Neither is Silas. He’s gruff on the outside, but he saved me.” I can tell that Ryan isn’t comprehending how much Silas saved my life. “If it wasn’t for him, you might have found me, but I wouldn’t have been alive anymore,” I say candidly, and I know that I’ve struck a nerve because I can see his hand tighten on the wheel.
“Fine, it’s up to you… I just think he’s a little off,” Ryan says, admitting defeat. I want to leap over the truck console and hug him. I don’t know what I could do if he refused to go back.
“You just need to get to know him better, he’ll warm up,” I say. “Besides, don’t you think he’d be perfect for Megan?” I laugh. Even Ryan finds that funny and cracks a small grin.
More than once, Silas has reminded me of the hard-core, gun-toting Megan.
“Can you dig the map out and take a look for me?” Ryan asks, interrupting my thoughts. “I think we aren’t that far from the city.”
His words make my pulse sky rocket with both excitement and fear. I am so anxious to see if my parents have made it to the camp.
I take the map out and show it to Ryan. He doesn’t slow down; he just takes a couple quick glances and nods. It’s not like there are any other cars to have a collision with…
“Got it, thanks,” he says.
I fold the map and carefully put it back in the glove box.
“We should be able to see the city in a couple hours,” he tells me, which is good news. Though I can tell there is something weighing on his mind.
“What else?” I prompt, and he looks at me in surprise. I’ve always been able to read Ryan better than any other person I’ve ever met.
“I just don’t like not knowing what to expect. We don’t know where this base is, and New York could be crawling with more than a million zombies…every street could be gridlocked with abandoned cars.” He lets his words sink in for a minute before continuing, “I’m not giving up. I just want you to be prepared.”
“It’s okay,” I tell him. “I know it’s a long shot.” He doesn’t seem to take any comfort from my words, but then, neither do I.
We drive in silence for a long time. I don’t realize that I’ve fallen asleep until Ryan’s hand is warm and heavy on my shoulder, shaking me gently.
“Jane, wake up.”
There is an odd quality to his voice that has me instantly alert.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, looking around for a zombie hoard while trying to get my bearings. He’s stopped the truck in the middle of the road because there is a wooden barricade placed across all lanes of traffic, preventing drivers from going further unless they decide to ram it.
Ryan points to the horizon. For miles and miles, as far as the eye can see, the land is covered in flattened rubble and black char. It’s really far away, but even from this distance we can tell that fires are still burning out of control in the wreckage.
“What is that?” I ask in confusion, not really sure what we’re looking at.
Ryan reaches out and grabs my hand tight before voicing my biggest fear.
“That’s New York City.”
My reaction is instantaneous. I barely get the door open before I’m on my knees and vomiting onto the concrete.
Ryan comes racing out of the truck and stands over me, desperately scanning the landscape for zombies.
I finish retching and stand on shaky legs to see if we’re surrounded by hundreds of thousands of the dead—ready to eat us because of my stupidity.
But it’s a surprisingly bleak landscape that greets me, empty of anything livin. or dead.
As Ryan and I stand in the middle of the road, I get the horrible feeling that we are the only two people left alive in the entire world.
Tears prick my eyes. I knew this was a shot in the dark, but now that feeling of hope is taken away from me, laying bare the bitter pain of loss.
“What happened here?” I ask. It comes out as a gasp because the pain is constricting my airway. My parents are dead. Now I know how Abby felt, only I will never get to know what happened.
Ryan looks around at the military barricades blocking our path into what used to be the city. “They must have bombed it to keep the dead from spreading out. There would have been so many zombies…” he trails off like he can’t believe his eyes either.
“How can they just bomb New York City?” The words are bitter, and they explode from my mouth before I can hold them back.
“They must not have any hope left that things could return to normal,” Ryan says quietly. I know that he is trying to be strong for me, but he’s struck by the horror too, and it isn’t much comfort.
“There had to have been people left alive in the city when they…” I can’t even bring myself to say it.
I turn my head into the cold steel of the truck and sob. Ryan tries to hold me, but I shake him off. This is a pain like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Being touched by him is just too much to bear right now. Nothing in this world can make me feel better.
The sound of a siren blaring brings my face off the truck. I spin around to find that Ryan is also looking around for the source of the noise.
The siren cuts out, and then a crackling sound replaces it. “Civilians. This is Major Groves. I am addressing you from the loudspeaker bolted to the power pole on your left.” Both of our eyes search out and find the small, grey box with a camera mounted to the top of it. They look like new additions.
“If you have not been infected with the virus, we can offer you asylum. First, you will need to back track down the highway four point six miles. Turn left and drive in a straight line ten miles until you hit the docks on the edge of the Hudson River. My soldiers will be waiting for you.” The voice crackles out, and then there is only silence.
“Hello?” I call, but there is no answer.
“Hey!” I scream up at the box—but again—nothing.
“I think we should go and see what they’re offering,” Ryan says after a few silent moments spent watching me rage at the box.
I have a vague fear that this might be a trap of some kind, but curiosity is getting the better of me.
I nod numbly and climb into the vehicle. Ryan flips a U-turn right in the middle of the highway and starts heading back in the opposite direction. I see him reset the odometer trip calculator to zero so he will know when we’ve gone the right distance.
He locates the turn without any problem. Now that we are looking for it, we realize that someone has painted a neon orange arrow across the road sign.
“I noticed this on our way in, but I didn’t realize it was important,” Ryan mutters as he turns the Ford off the highway.
My heart is still aching, but I also begin to feel a small flicker of hope. I know it’s foolish. When this hope gets blown all to hell, I will feel the crushing agony again, but I want to have hope and prolong it a bit more if I can.
The ten miles down the road pass in the blink of an eye, probably because I am secretly dreading it.
I know Ryan will turn around right now and go back to Megan and Abby if I ask, but I also know that I need to finish this. I need to find out, once and for all, before I can even consider the rest of my life.
I’m anxious being this close to New York, or what’s left of it anyway. There must have been so many zombies here, it’s strange to me that they aren’t swarming the truck in hoards. Could the bombing really have gotten all of them?
I get my first glimpse of the Hudson River and feel a dip of fear crawl into my stomach. What are we going to find? The river up ahead is massive, splitting a barren landscape in two. There are several docked boats that look like police cruisers.
Ryan eases up on the gas pedal. “If this goes down bad, run,” he warns me, and I nod. I’m too stressed to even speak.
Soldiers armed with high-power assault weapons are everywhere, dotting the banks of the river. Ryan slows and rolls down the window as one of the soldiers walks over.
“Are you here for sanctuary?” The soldier is actually a woman with her hair pulled back into a severe bun. Her hat is pulled down low to shade her eyes.
“I’m looking for my parents. We heard about this place from Camp Freedom,” I butt in on the conversation, undoing my seat belt to lean across the console so I can see her better.
I know it’s sexist, but I relax a bit when I see the lady soldier—maybe these guys are legit after all.
The woman nods at us, “All visitors must submit to a full medical examination and a mandatory twenty- four-hour segregation from our general population.”
I was expecting this after our rough introduction to military protocol, courtesy of Camp Freedom.
“Yes Ma’am,” Ryan speaks for both of us, and she points to a large makeshift parking lot along the bank that’s stuffed full of vehicles.
“Please park over there. You may keep your keys, and all of your belongings are your own to keep as long as they don’t violate our rules and/or endanger other citizens. There is a list of restricted items posted in the parking lot, please leave those items in your vehicle.”
My head is spinning. This doesn’t feel like the apocalypse anymore. It feels more like a highly organized and well-oiled military machine at work.
“When you are ready to depart, you can join those soldiers over at the medical unit. They will inspect you and make sure you aren’t violating any of our rules. You will lose your right to carry weapons temporarily, but as long as you survive for twenty-four hours in the box, you’ll get them back.” The lady soldier points toward a few makeshift tents set up beside the dock.
“What happened to the city?” I blurt out, and she gives me a look.
“I am sorry Miss, but I am not authorized to disclose that information. Now, if you will please make your way to the parkade.” Her face does not invite further conversation, and Ryan puts the truck in gear. As we get closer, we can see the signs that are posted; they turn out to be large sheets of plywood that have been neatly spray painted.
This is a restricted military area. The following items are prohibited:
-grenades and other weapons of mass destruction
-items carrying infected virus of any kind (bloody clothes/ knives etc.)
-individuals that have been bitten or scratched
-animals
Admittance is entirely at the discretion of Military personnel.
I read the sign over carefully, twice. “It doesn’t say anything about our weapons, I guess the soldiers will take them from us at the tent,” I say, pointing it out to Ryan. He seems surprised as well.
“We definitely need to leave the knives and hatchets behind,” Ryan says, removing his large hunting knife from his belt. They are probably teeming with infected zombie blood.
I’m glad I left Fluffy with Silas, I can’t help thinking to myself as I read the last item on the list.
“Ready to go?” Ryan asks, coming around to my side of the truck while I grab my backpack and tuck my knife under the truck seat for safe keeping.
“Yep,” I mumble, glad when his hand finds its way into mine.
We approach the soldiers. They seem to give off a less terrifying vibe than the soldiers at Camp Freedom did initially, or maybe I’m just used to it now.
“Hi,” I say when we reach a group of them.
“Good afternoon,” one of the soldier steps forward. He is wearing green army fatigues and he has a white band with a red medical cross sewn around the arm of his combat uniform.
“You will need to submit to a full medical examination.” The soldier eyes me. “We do have a female doctor here to assist you,” he says to me, and I’m grateful.
“Thanks,” I murmur as Ryan and I follow them inside one of the tents. They are the large, white kind of tents like FEMA would have had during a disaster.
The tent is clean inside and stark white. I’m actually a bit surprised to see that they even have individual rooms.
A nurse is sitting at a desk when we walk in, and she stands up and salutes the soldier accompanying us.
“We have two for you Velda,” the soldier says affectionately, and the nurse flashes him a flirtatious smile.
“Always glad to see new faces,” the nurse says, handing us each a clipboard and pencil. “Please take a seat over there and fill out these forms,” Velda asks us sweetly. I take the clipboard and make my way over to the waiting room, which even has chairs.
I’m feeling a bit like this place is an alternate reality. I sit down and begin to fill out the chart.
First Name:
Last Name:
Age:
Date of Birth:
Previous Address:
City of Birth:
Blood Type:
Have you been bitten or scratched: Yes/ No
Have you come in to contact with an infected individual: Yes/ No
How many people are you travelling with: ____
Do you consent to a full medical examination and mandatory twenty-four-hour quarantine: Yes/ No
I finish filling out my sheet in record time and bring it back to the nurse. I’m anxious to get everything over with so I can look for my parents.
“You can go in that room over there and put on this gown. The doctor will be right with you,” the nurse instructs me, taking my chart and handing me a thin paper gown.
I glance at Ryan and see that he’s watching me intently. I give him a small smile and head into the room. I’m nervous as I shuck out of my clothes, leaving my underwear on, and shimmy into the gown in lightning speed.
It doesn’t take long before there is a knock at the door, though I guess there aren’t a lot of patients to keep the doctors busy.
A woman wearing army fatigues comes in, though she also has the white band around her arm with the red medical cross.
“Hi, Jane. My name is Dr. Rosen. I will be conducting a medical examination on you today. How has your health been lately?” I shrug. It’s the middle of the zombie apocalypse, and suddenly I feel like I’m back home with my pediatrician.
“As good as can be expected, I guess,” I tell her, and she nods like she understands completely.
“Have you come into contact with any of the infected?” This was an answer that I had circled yes to on the form.
“A few times,” I say, and Dr. Rosen raises her eyebrow like she can’t believe I’m still around to talk about it.
“Did you come into contact with any of their blood or other fluids?” My heart hammers in my chest. I’ve been completely covered in the stuff, but I don’t really want to get kicked out of here before I can see if my parents are inside.
“Look, I don’t even have to go to the camp. I just need to find out if my parents are there. Is there a way I can just give you their names?” I blurt out, beginning to shake. If I’ve come this far just to get turned away, I don’t know what I’ll do.
Dr. Rose shakes her head, “I’m sorry, but it will be much easier if you just cross over to Liberty Island.” I take a deep breath and nod my head.
“Yes. I have come into contact with their blood. I have been covered in it several times.” I wait for her to reign her judgement down on me, and bar me from entrance.
“That’s okay, obviously you didn’t turn.” I look up at her, and she’s smiling. “We ask that question to see how virile the infected blood is for certain people. Some people are so susceptible that the virus can turn them just from touching the blood, and others, it only affect them if the blood gets into their eyes, nose, or mouth.”
That gets my heart pumping. I could have already been a zombie. “It is unlikely that will happen to you now, if you haven’t turned from touching it yet. Though, I don’t recommend coming into contact with it if you can at all avoid it,” she reassures me, accurately reading the full-scale terror on my face.
“I didn’t know it was so contagious,” I murmur, completely flabbergasted.
She nods, “How do you think it spread so quickly?”
I shake my head. I’ve never really thought about it before, surprisingly.
“Our scientists have determined that the initial illness only targeted people with the rare blood types: AB negative, O negative, and B negative. It was a fairly small group that fell ill. However, the resulting bites and transfer of infected blood and fluid is what caused the pandemic that wiped out the rest of the population. It’s so quick to spread that it was impossible to contain. Sick people flocked to hospitals and infected others…” the doctor trails off, and I don’t even know what to say. I’ve been so busy running for my life from the zombies that I hadn’t given a lot of thought to where they actually came from.
