(Book 2)What Remains Page 20

  Following Randall’s highlighted trail took us off Axton onto Barker Road. Barker might as well have been a carbon copy of Axton. My mind started to explore the possibility that the rest of our trip would be like that. In contrast to the miles we’d covered, this was boring. Then we’d pass a house with a breached door and I’d remember that this wasn’t some pleasant country drive. One door had crimson smeared on it like twisted finger paint. Another house had a silver Toyota sticking out of its side. Much of the outer wall around it had collapsed, and the colors inside were so bright and cheery that it must have been a nursery.

  I lost all desire to pay attention to anything other than the road ahead.

  The pink highlight took us on more twists and turns, each one with its own horrific charms to offer. I blindly trusted that it would deliver us to the right place. If I only allowed myself to focus on where the route led next then I wouldn’t pay attention to the places we passed. When it came down to it, knowing that the road in front of us was clear was all that mattered.

  Hints of sunlight made it through breaks in the ever-present clouds. There hadn’t been much sun to speak of since before the infection hit. I was especially thankful for it then because it ate away at the snow on the roads. Pavement gradually overtook spots enough to up our average speed by a few miles per hour.

  Shortly before a shift in the detour path I saw a sign on the right with a reanimated woman seated against its base. It was a skinny thing in a fancy sleeveless dress that looked to be three sizes too big with no jacket. She must have seen our truck approach because she tried to hoist herself up only to have the fabric of her dress catch the metal signpost. Now tethered, the fancily dressed creature angrily thrashed at her bindings to try to free herself for the attack. Her eyes were so wide that even from the road I couldn’t help but stare them. Black veins reticulated up the pale skin of her wild naked arms as she reached towards our slowly passing vehicle.

  I looked above the pathetic spectacle to the sign that held her in place. There were three arrows: one to the left for Greensboro and two to the right for Martinsville and Roanoke. Our path took us to the right, towards Martinsville. It was the only time in a detour that I willingly turned towards the area we were going around and it made my stomach bubble. I waved farewell to the fancy zombie then turned right onto Route 220 towards the infected city.

  Route 220 was a treat compared to the narrow neighborhood roads comprising most of the detour. It was a delight to have the maneuverability of multiple travel lanes to scoot past the intermittent gatherings of reapers. On approach I saw groups that stood dormant with their heads crooked oddly to the side, their jaws snapping at the air. The group reaction was always the same; first the closest lurched towards the sound of our advance then the rest would follow. They never reacted fast enough to shamble into our way so the truck zipped by without a need to slow.

  The highway was wide enough to expose snow for melting. Patches of white stubbornly fought the thaw in shadows of pine or holly trees. I took to swerving around the un-melted strips just as I did with stalled cars or the infected. On average, our speed was twenty miles per hour faster on Route 220 than it had been the entire day. It may have been my imagination, but I could have sworn that I saw tire tracks through a few of the covered lanes on the southbound side. Although I was curious as hell, I couldn’t risk the delay that could come from investigating. Whomever the tire tracks belonged to, I wished them well.

  Elevation gradually increased from a slow uphill climb, so by the time our short stint on this section was over we had a fair view of the north. That, combined with lessened tree cover on both sides as our turn neared, provided a distant impression of the area where the Martinsville Speedway sat. Curiosity pried my eyes off of the road immediately ahead to look beyond for any signs of the city’s fate. I wanted some reassurance that this detour taken wasn’t in vain.

  I saw smoke billowing to the sky above from what must have been the speedway itself. Smaller plumes rose from the landscape in the distance like pillars of a monument built to mourn the conquered city. It had been weeks since the thirty-third mutation of the Reaper virus pushed the pandemic beyond control, weeks since hell became commonplace. Weeks had passed and Martinsville still smoldered.

  My curiosity left me despondent, as it typically did. The pink line took us on a left-hand turn onto Soapstone Road. I was thankful to have a small road to focus on once again.

  Chapter 22 – Wicked

  1110 hours:

  An entirely uneventful last leg of the detour ended with us back on Route 58. I called back to the Sarah, “That was it for the detour. We’re on the home stretch!”

  The three of them cheered then Calise announced she was hungry. Sarah tried to tell her that it wasn’t time for lunch yet. Since my stomach no longer bubbled from anxiety it occurred to me that I too was hungry. “It’s alright babe. Why don’t we eat? We’ll be at the farm before dinner so we might as well have an early lunch.” Maddox also chimed in his vote for an early lunch after I suggested it.

  Sarah made a long raspberry sound in response to being outvoted. “Fine. You guys win. But Calise and Maddox get to make the sandwiches this time - I’m enjoying my book too much to be the chef.”

  Both kids thoroughly enjoyed the confidence in their culinary abilities. It was refreshing to have us all joking like a family once again rather than wallowing quietly like victims. “Hmm…I’m not sure that making PB&J’s qualifies you as a chef, dear wife.”

  “Shut your face!” she retorted to the delight of the young ones.

  We all laughed for a few minutes. I could hear them careful crafting our meal with bossy banter over who was doing what. It never ceased to amaze me how headstrong Maddox and Calise could be at such a young age. I was proud to have children that possessed that spark; an internal fire like that will keep them alive in this new world long after I was gone.

  Sarah poked through the blanket wall. “Are we going to stop at the pharmacy Randall told you about?”

  I’d all but forgotten his suggestion to stop at the mom and pop store. “Hadn’t really planned on it.”

  “You said we were doing alright on time, right?”

  “We’re in good shape, yes. But I didn’t care for the idea of doing a supply run alone. Both of us can’t go because someone has to be with the kids.”

  She hesitated. I could practically sense the wheels turning in her mind. “Maddox could back you up.” My jaw dropped. After the guilt trip she’d given me before for involving our son in anything zombie-related, this was the last thing I anticipated her saying. “I mean, we can check the place out,” she said. “If it doesn’t look too bad then the two of you can see what happens. Not sure if you’ve heard him, but he’s bugged the crap out of me with claims that he’s ready to do more.”

  “He’s hinted at the same with me. I thought I nipped it in the bud, but apparently not. Aside from Maddox bugging you, why do you think we need to stop? Our supplies aren’t in that bad of shape… correct?” I asked, trying to recall a mental inventory of what we were able to escape with.

  “Toilet paper.”

  “You mean to tell me that we have gas, food, ammo, water and God knows what else but fucking toilet paper is the one thing we forgot?”

  Sarah smacked my arm for the volume of my profanity. “No, we didn’t forget it. There was easily two months’ worth in the car. Are we in our car?” I rolled my eyes, ready for her trademark sarcasm. “That’s right, we’re not. Including the few rolls I grabbed from under the sink in our bathroom, we have two or three weeks’ worth. I’m sure your parents have some but with four extra people there we’ll go through it fast.”

  Now it was my turn to raspberry because she was right. “What else do we need?”

  “If the pharmacy isn’t picked over we could use some antibiotics, prescription pain killers and whatever else you can find. When you were recovering you ate through the majority of the old drugs we had in the house. We need to
start thinking about the long haul. Who knows what we might need in four months? Assuming we can stock up now then we have to take that chance.”

  Calise popped into the driver’s cab with a massive smile beaming from ear to ear. She passed a plate over Sarah to me. “Here’s lunch! I made it special for you, Daddy. Because I’m a great sandwich maker.”

  I took my eyes off the road for a second to see her creation. The bread was cut to make a very geometric heart shape. Peanut butter lightly outlined the crust removal. I imagined her carefully cutting the crust off with the same knife she had just used to spread the filling. If I wasn’t tied up that the wheel I would have smothered the sweet thing with kisses. “Thank you, Princess! It looks amazing! Go on back with Monkey and eat. Mommy will be there in a moment.” She scooted past her mother to plant a kiss on my scruffy cheek then disappeared into the back giggling. That girl had always had a skill to persistently melt my heart and frequently used the ability at its fullest.

  “That was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Sarah said quietly.

  “Yeah…” I sighed. “Yeah it was.”

  One of the infected fell out from behind an abandoned eighteen-wheeler and appeared in our field of view so suddenly that I had to jerk the wheel to avoid a collision. In the split second it was visible we saw its horrid figure. The creature’s jaw hung down so low I’m surprised it was still attached and not only was its left arm missing, so was enough of its shoulder to leave a jagged collarbone sticking out.

  Sarah practically fell into my lap. “Whoa! Baby, I don’t know that this is the right place for a move like that,” I said trying to conceal any sign of being startled.

  She smacked me in the same spot our daughter had just kissed. “We’re stopping at the pharmacy, right?”

  I grumbled at her persistence. “We will check it out. Maddox can help if it looks clear enough.”

  1200 hours:

  The parking lot was empty. Plywood covered every glass entry to the tiny, freestanding building. At first glance from our idling position at the entrance off Route 58, the place looked entirely untouched. Sarah was back at my side after giving Maddox a stern lecture about following my instructions.

  “What do you think?” she asked while retying the bindings keeping the homemade armor attached to my forearms.

  “I think it looks clear. I’ll back the truck up to the side there.” I pointed to eastern side where the road wrapped around to the back for a possible delivery entrance. “There’s gotta be a back door. I’d rather not break into something that faces the main road. If we find trouble then the truck will point to the way out so we can escape in a hurry.”

  “Please take one of the walkie-talkies with you. When you’re inside you can signal me if there’s trouble. Are you bringing the rifle or the shotgun?”

  “No, not with Maddox there. I’m not risking any crossfire. If blades can’t do the job then we won’t get the job done. And yes for the radio; that’s a good idea.” I backed 522 next to the building. “Keep her idling. Watch the mirrors. The radio will be on but avoid using it unless it’s an emergency.”

  I shifted the LLV into park while surveying the area. A lone zombie shuffled towards us from the street. “Hun, I need to go clear the front. I’ll be back in two minutes.”

  Compared to the frigid morning, the air had warmed significantly. There was a slight breeze but nothing like the brisk winds we felt when the snow was approaching. Cloud cover had grown more frequent; few beams of light escaped the dismal looking sky.

  By the time I exited the truck the single infected attacker was in the parking lot. “You’re a fresh one, aren’t you?” I said in reaction to the surprisingly nimble beast. The infected could be evaluated in many ways, most of which were a result of how badly decayed or damaged they appeared to be. Compared to the seasoned members or the horde I’d seen recently, this poor guy was a rookie.

  My emergence from the truck combined with arrogant teasing had the rookie excited. He growled excitedly while snapping his jaw hard enough for me to hear it chattering. The trusted Kukri and I waited for our moment to strike. I pondered what brought the dead man to this point while he closed the distance between us. His dress was that of someone who knew something about surviving. A dark grey balaclava exposed only the wild black orbs of his eyes. In life this protected him from the elements; in death the fabric covering was nothing but a thin muzzle. Behind it I saw the sunken area of his mouth eerily fluctuating with rabid biting motions. All that I saw hinting towards injury was the rust-colored smear of dried blood down the front of his zipped jacket. The poor bastard must have survived many encounters before his luck ran out.

  He neared lunging distance. I beat him to the punch by jolting forward with a wide swing of steel. The beast also lunged, but my preemptive strike cancelled his out. My body was well out of the way from the place he targeted. Instead, the Kukri met him at his right eye. Maximized by our combined momentum, the impact hit with devastating force and blazed through his skull, meeting little resistance. The knitted side of the balaclava bunched up along the blade’s edge then resisted with a slight pull once the metal passed completely through his cranium. It was enough to keep his re-killed corpse from continuing forward; instead it yanked it backwards in the direction of my attack.

  I panted, standing above the corpse feeling very glad that my assault went as I imagined it. The rookie’s remaining eye stayed open, while the one that met the Kukri oozed black down the trench I’d carved through his skull. Viscous tar coated the steel of my precious deadly companion. I wiped it against his jacket to keep Maddox from asking questions.

  “Sorry, man,” I mumbled down at the still body. “I have a feeling you would have done the same to me if the roles were reversed.” I considered coming back to check his pockets if the pharmacy raid was successful. Looting my kills was a deplorable thing to consider and I knew it, however, survival didn’t always mesh with morals.

  With the front of the building clear I jogged towards the back. Thankfully there wasn’t a soul in sight. All that was back there was a dumpster and some stacked boxes. I could see the back door that we’d attempt to break through. At the truck I cracked the door to grab the crowbar off my seat then called to Maddox. Sarah looked out at the newly placed cadaver where we entered the parking lot then looked back at me. Her face was ripe with worry over a task that she had originally suggested. I started to press the buttons on my wristwatch while I talked. “Sweetheart, you can’t do that to yourself. I’ll be right there with him. We’ll be driving again in a few minutes. In eight minutes I’ll radio in, assuming we’re not back by then. If we’re not back in ten minutes then lock Calise in the truck and come after us with the rifle.”

  Tears welled in her eyes; the last part of my instructions came out like an acknowledgment that a problem was possible. Even though problems in the plan were entirely possible, Sarah didn’t need to think about it. “If there is a single sign that this isn’t right, you know I’ll pull the plug on it. We’re not here out of desperation, we’re here out of convenience. Eight minutes, promise.”

  She nodded and handed me an empty backpack for anything we might find. “Come on, Monkey. Daddy is ready for you.”

  Maddox materialized in a flash with his machete in hand. Knit gloves with skull and crossbones covered his hands. The hood of his jacket covered the mess of hair that topped his eager face. “Ready!”

  Sarah stopped him on the driver’s seat. “Stay with your father. Do everything he says.”

  “I know, Mommy, I know,” he said, trying to conceal his exacerbation. “Just like we talked about.” He kissed her on the cheek before he jumped out.

  I looked at Sarah through the glass. She held up eight fingers back at me. I nodded, pointing at my watch with the Kukri. Then we were away. I guided Maddox to the end of the van. He tried to say something but I cut him off, “No talking until I say otherwise. Talking makes noise. We don’t want noise. Stay beside me. If you see somethi
ng then you tap my arm. We’re going to try the back door. If we get in then you guard the door while I run inside. While you’re there if something comes then you get my attention however you can. One sign of trouble and we’re done. Got it?”

  He swapped the machete from one hand to the other in order to give me a sweet salute. “I don’t want to remind you that you’re here as a lookout - not as a fighter. If you won’t accept that then get your butt back in the truck.” He didn’t move, so we carried on.

  We stealthily walked side by side around to the rear of the building. Trees backed up to the pharmacy past the loading area. The setting was reminiscent of my trip to the post office, in many ways. Much like my time there, the back of the building was entirely vacant. Maddox did his part in staying at my side with his weapon at the ready.

  Two minutes later we were at the rear door. I motioned for my soldier to freeze while I tried the doorknob. Surprisingly, the handle twisted without any resistance, which meant it wasn’t locked. I gradually turned it, recalling how loud doorknobs can sound when you’re sufficiently paranoid. With bit of pressure the metal framed door cracked open. Such an easy entrance was startling; I expected a deadbolt to be in place, at least.

  Time was against us, and there wasn’t enough of it to question the good fortune of a door that was likely left open in the panic of those first days. Keeping my hand on the knob in case it had to be quickly shut, I turned my ear towards the darkness inside. Maddox looked at me quizzically. I shrugged, and then licked my lips enough to direct a quick whistle through the crack. Then we listened again only to hear nothing back.

  It was empty. If a reaper had been inside the building it would have made some reaction to the sudden noise at the back of the store. I pointed at the ground to remind the boy where he needed to be. He nodded. We both looked at my watch, which showed five minutes and a few seconds before the scheduled check in. Again I felt my heart pound so vigorously that my vision practically blurred. The crowbar slid through my belt to make room for a flashlight in my left hand. Some kind of light was glowing from the inside but otherwise it was a festival of shadows.