The Reaper Virus Page 27

  I wanted to guide these people to safety. After all the wrongs I had done, the two of them could be my redemption. However prominent that desire may have been, I knew what the last two days had brought me. Trust had been the source of salvation and near undoing. I was so close to being home. If I took them I might not make it home by dark. The debate raged inside me. How were these people going to make it out of there if I didn’t help? But if I kept riding at a good pace I’d be with Sarah and the kids within the hour. I looked down the street I’d come out of and saw seven eager creatures approach. Another one of the members of my fleshy blockade cleared enough to take a swipe at me. I sent the final nine millimeter round into her black eye socket.

  My finger tapped the magazine release button. I ejected it and wedged the empty clip in my belt line and grabbed a fully loaded magazine from the pack. I jammed it into the Taurus and took aim again. The desperate couple was whispering to each other. I’m sure they were having a conversation similar to my thoughts about the prospects for future survival. One of the creatures between us turned back towards them. I fired a bullet into his neck. It was not a kill shot, but dropped him to the ground in a twitching pile of evil.

  This had gone on too long already. I pointed my left arm towards the far tree line. “GO GODDAMNIT!” Their eyes grew wide knowing now that I wouldn’t be offering sanctuary. “Run for the trees and just stay ahead of them. Aim for the head and DON’T let them surround you!” The man nodded in acknowledgement. His female companion said nothing at all. A noise turned me around. One of the seven pursuers had gotten too close. I painfully twisted my back around to aim, dropping the creature in two shots. Flipping back around, I saw the couple running down the street towards the tree line.

  I remounted the bike and pedaled through a rapidly closing gap, graced by the assistance of downhill gravity. I flew down the hill and away from the excited crowd around the motor home, wondering about the people I’d just saved. Did I really save them? Or did I just get them killed? The nameless couple would have to fight just as I had. My valiant efforts served only as a reminder that there was no such thing as survival anymore. In the end every one of us was just exploiting time borrowed from the dead.

  * * *

  1617 hours:

  The sky was growing dark again. This time the day before I was desperately fighting to reach a safe overnight haven, but now I had no intention of spending another night exposed. I knew I would be home by nightfall. If I happened to fall short by the time darkness consumed the land, then I still wouldn’t stop. I’d fight through anything now, even if it meant experiencing the supposed enhanced hunting ability of the undead at night.

  Winds created by the coasting build-up in speed bit my battered face. I found the numbness that washed over my exposed skin to be somewhat soothing. The generous slope gave me a chance to catch my breath and assess the landscape. Every now and then I would pass by some remnant of humanity, be it a suitcase, an abandoned car, or the graphic remains of a person. I never traveled far between dreaded testimonials to this new order. Before the end, I went through there twice a day. It’s easy to let your guard down in an area you frequent.

  There was a small stretch of level ground between inclines. First I’d pass a public library set off a winding drive to the right. Then a Sheetz gas station was dug into the same side, but that was after the start of the coming hill. I’d spent many lunches there with the kids. The design of that particular fast food market had always amused me. Ever since the first time I saw it, I thought of it as a fort. Although that wasn’t difficult thanks to the brick retaining wall and the way it jutted out of the hillside. Maddox started commenting that the place looked like some of the Civil War sites we’d visited. It made me proud to see the budding historical fanaticism I’d instilled within him. My grandfather would have been equally as proud knowing I had passed on the family love of everything that once was.

  The hill that contained Sheetz should be the last I had to climb. Afterwards, the road leveled out to more shopping centers. Fortunately for me, my way home would be a few turns after that. I could avoid the shopping areas by turning off Hull Street and going a less direct way around. The excitement from being so close was overwhelming. Moreover, anticipation blinded me to a hidden danger.

  “Stop there or I’ll put a bullet through your head!” a voice shouted from my right.

  I panicked, skidding to a stop. Not a second later I felt confident momentum wouldn’t send me over the bars. My left hand unconsciously moved towards the holster nestled to my back. I kept my eyes forward despite the command to stop. Whatever was unfolding had reduced me to employ that juvenile sense of safety through a lack of acknowledgement.

  “If your hand moves another inch towards that gun I swear to God I’ll kill you!” The commands were unflinching. I couldn’t take the chance that this was a bluff. My hand moved back to its home on the handlebar. “Wise move there, Officer. Wheel that shiny bike on over here.”

  Heeding the order, I kept my feet off the pedals. My gaze shifted towards the source of the threats. It came from the entrance drive to the library. At first I didn’t see anything. Then he appeared. A man stood up from kneeling behind a chest high sign advertising the, “La Prade Library”. The glint of a scope topping the large hunting rifle in his arms gave his threats merit. I stepped over, my legs still straddling the Cannondale.

  “Sir,” I said to the stranger, my eyes seeking his for contact. I hoped that he might be reasoned with if he looked into the eyes of someone still living. Thanks to the fading light and shadow formed by his hat, my efforts were in vain. “Sir, I don’t care who you are or what you’re doing here… I’m just passing through trying to get home before dark.”

  “You don’t have to care. I’m staking claim here! You can’t expect to ride through here with all those nice toys and have me not care,” he smirked.

  I was insulted that an unfathomable number of people had died, yet this piece of trash still lived. “You can stop whatever selfish thought you are thinking right now. I’ve come too far to play this game with you!”

  The tension was escalating at a lethal rate. I just wanted to pass and get home. After everything I’d been through, it was simply unfair to be stopped by some redneck with a despot complex. My response didn’t bode well with the stranger.

  “You threatenin’ me, Officer? I don’t give two shits about your badge... if anyone asks I’ll just say you were a mother fuckin’ zombie with some sweet, sweet loot.”

  All this time I continued to step closer. Only six feet separated us. It was amazing we hadn’t brought in any infected. Although, it was possible that we had and just hadn’t seen them yet. Something had to be done, otherwise the coming gunshots would bring about the entire horde up the street. I still hoped reason could prevail.

  “I’m not a cop, alright?! Listen, I just worked for them. All I want to do is go home to my fam—”

  “You’re not a cop? Well that… that’s too bad. Killing some security guard isn’t any fun.” His voice was oddly shaky. This couldn’t be how it ended.

  Another voice came from behind him. Our standoff had created such a tangible tension that we were both taken completely off guard. “Dad… Mom says we have to lock up before dark.” The few cars in the drive had concealed the girl’s approach. My eyes directed towards the new voice. The stranger’s eyes and gun pointed the same way. “Dad, who is—”

  I saw opportunity and took it. My right hand found the grip of the shotgun. After using it recently I knew there could only be a few shells left inside. Honestly, it didn’t matter what was loaded in the weapon; I had no intention of using it. The man swung his rifle back to me. I think only a nervously shaking hand spared everyone the horror that would have come from his jerking the trigger. He saw the barrel of the twelve-gauge Remington and froze.

  “I’d be cutting it close,” I said in the most confident voice I could muster, “but I think we’re close enough where you’d catch most of
the shot.”

  “I… I could shoot you just as easy,” he started to say but was cut off by the concerned words of the girl behind us.

  She crept closer, disregarding the sight of two pointed weapons. “Dad, what’s going on?! Who is this? Mom sent me to bring you inside…”

  His posture visibly dropped from a sigh. The gun remained pointed at my person. “Hon’ just go back in! I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “But, Dad…” she persisted.

  I saw the chance to interject. “Is this your daughter? What is she, around eight?”

  He looked angered by this. “That’s none of your fucking concern, Officer!”

  My arms ached. The short-barreled shotgun may as well have weighed a hundred pounds. Both the fading light and my waning strength remind me that this could not continue.

  “I didn’t mean anything by it, man. I know she is your daughter. My son is probably about the same age... he is waiting a few miles in that direction.” I pointed west, up Hull Street. His rifle lowered a few inches. It took everything just to hold my weapon firmly enough to convey the point. “My son, daughter and wife are all waiting for me to get home. I’ve been fighting my way to get there for over two days now. I’m tired and injured. Not to mention – I’m really fucking tired of killing things. If I fire this gun, I’ll kill you and probably injure your girl. With all the undead bastards tearing this world apart I’d really hate to take out someone still capable of knowing I was the last thing they saw.”

  The rifle lowered and he took off his hat. His eyes told the story of a man who had fought just as I had. This stranger was willing to do anything to protect his family. I lowered the shotgun to the level of my handlebars. The second I dropped the gun his daughter ran up and grabbed the man’s hand. Everything happened to the backdrop of my belabored pulse.

  “Hon’, just go back in the library,” the stranger said down to his daughter. “Tell Mom I’ll be inside in a minute.” She said nothing back and jogged back to the building.

  “You guys holed up in the library? Any other people with you?” I asked both out of curiosity and to fill the silent void.

  He hesitated but answered. “Yeah we’re set up alright for now. It’s me, my wife, our three kids and another family of three.”

  I tucked the shotgun back in my secured pack. He moved the rifle for a second, unsure of my intentions. Once seeing that I had no intention to kill him, he set the rifle atop the library’s sign. “Well, I don’t mean any of you harm and I think the infected get quicker at night, although I’ve never seen it up close. If it’s all the same to you, I’m going to keep going west.”

  The stranger bent down to retrieve a bag hidden in the bushes. I scrutinized his actions carefully.

  “They are quick fuckers at night,” he said. “Don’t get too close. I saw one of them get my neighbor that way before we left to come here.” He slung the rifle over his shoulder. “I ain’t gonna stop you. Sorry this happened. Sorry this whole fucking thing has happened. I just… I thought you might be comin’ for my people or somethin’.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I probably would have done the same thing. After everything that has happened… how can I judge?” My words accompanied the rattling sound of the bike changing gears. I began to pedal away.

  “Good luck getting home. Don’t tell any of your cop friends I’m squattin’ in La Prade!” He shouted past the quickly forming distance between us.

  I laughed and yelled back. “As long as you don’t tell them I stole this bike!” The sound of the stranger’s cackle faded with every foot.

  Chapter 28

  Judgment

  1628 hours:

  Adrenaline pushed me faster. Having a gun pointed at you isn’t a great experience, but can be a nice propellant up hills. I quietly passed the fortified Sheetz gas station. The offset foundation of the service station prevented getting a good look. From what I was able to see, its windows were shattered and the inside was disheveled. Orange bags covered all the gas nozzles I could spot and I assume the bags were meant to tell people that there was no gas. There weren’t any undead that I saw from my passing view. If I had more time before dark I would probably stop to find out if anything could be scavenged.

  Minutes later I noticed the ground leveling out. I looked back and saw the rolling landscape of the hills. All the times I came through here I’d never noticed the similarity to a valley. It made me wonder what this place looked like without people. How long before someone gazed down there and wondered what it looked like without the walking dead? Swinging my view back to the road ahead, I surveyed the sky. There wasn’t long before I’d be finding out what the stranger had said about the zombies after dark firsthand.

  A shopping center was coming up on the left. I knew the layout from memory. First I’d pass a pizza place and a traffic light. The left hand shopping center would stretch deep in the other direction. At the same point, a small shopping center would begin that was much less expansive. The smaller, right-hand shopping center still had the bakery where Sarah and I got our wedding cake. This brought a smile over my determined face.

  I was so close. I just needed to keep pedaling. I’d only be exposed to both shopping centers for a few minutes. The next light was my turn off from Hull Street.

  Reality quickly confirmed my mental map, only there were corrections that had to be made courtesy of the apocalypse. The bank and Popeye’s Chicken that should have guarded the deep expansion of the left-hand shopping center were smoldering shells. Although the fire that gutted those places had been extinguished, I could still see where it attempted to jump past the parking lot and to the rest of the stores. The right-hand shopping center didn’t fare much better. Beyond the crumbling remains of a cheap motel I saw a strip mall with nearly all the windows broken. The only shop that didn’t look violated was the police supply store in the far corner. It had broken windows, but also had thick metal gates. No doubt, a store that had ammo and guns would have been the first target for looters.

  I couldn’t help but wonder why those two shopping centers looked so much worse than others. Maybe I just stopped myself from fully looking at the many, many others I’d passed. Or maybe a combination of the coming intersection’s proximity to both housing areas and a nearby interstate made this area an unfortunate target. Whatever caused this mess saddened me. This was the world I knew well, but it was also so very different. The ransacked area reinforced that any necessary scavenging I’d have to do in the future could be complicated by things other than the reapers.

  The bike weaved around cars. Several undead dotted the area. Thankfully, their efforts to nab me always failed. Some came very close, but still missed. However, each aided a resurgence of the adrenaline I needed to survive. Regardless of how hard I tried to avoid thinking about the pain, it found ways to hinder me. I’d start to think about the ache in my ribs or the sting in my brow. Then one of them would lunge at me and the only prevalent thought became flight. This pattern continued until I found myself passing under the traffic light and finally off Hull Street.

  “I’ve always hated this fucking street,” I said through huffing breaths.

  I looked skyward. The twilight illumination was discouraging. No matter how hard I pedaled now, I doubted I would make it home by sunset. The dead scattered over the street beyond me. After the intersection with Hull Street, the road drifted into a slight downhill. I used the advantageous terrain to soar. That was the fastest I’d ever gone on a bicycle. Even in my younger, more physically fit days I couldn’t have propelled myself to such a velocity if my life depended on it. It’s cruel to recognize potential, because your life actually does depend on it.

  Houses zipped by. The undead lunged towards me with increased ferocity. It felt like I was racing against a lit fuse. My brain told me that if I didn’t make it to the bomb before that fuse, my world would be torn to fiery shreds. Imaginative self-delusions should never be so close to reality. Distance skewed with the beat of my pound
ing pulse. If this area wasn’t so familiar I probably would have pedaled into some kind of obstacle. Through the fading light and torrent of feelings, I could see exactly where I was. Minutes later I felt the bike shifting into a right turn. I wasn’t the pilot here, but I sure as hell was being piloted.

  Lactic acid flowed so intensely that it burned through my pores. Both legs pumped up and down. More cars and hints of forced desolation passed me on both sides. To my left was a neighborhood entrance. Only a couple more turns and I should be at the one that takes me to the top of my street. It was so close now that nothing around me could break the targeted stare I’d formed.

  A dead man jumped at me from behind a motionless sport utility vehicle. I saw him before his lunge began and threw a fist outward. My gloved hand caught his cheek and threw him the other way. Pain seared from the impact point. The pounding of my heart drowned out any cracking of my bones. Luck or divine intervention was all that kept me atop the rapidly spinning wheels. Darkness now consumed the land. Exposure to this gradual fade adapted my night vision enough to keep me functional.

  I hit the turn leading to my street so fast that I almost lost control. The bulk of my mass hovered over the ground close enough to think I’d meet it. Physics worked to my advantage once again. Centrifugal force was most likely the only thing stopping the pavement from giving my face a cheese grater treatment. After making the successful left I had a few hundred feet to pass before reaching the top of my neighborhood. My aching hand flew back to where I stowed the walkie talkie. It was difficult to find any voice past my rapid breaths.

  The red transmit light glowed so bright it hurt my darkness-favoring eyes. My voice croaked out “Sarah.”

  “NATHAN!” she immediately responded. “Oh thank goodness!” Hearing her voice made me feel like heaven. It enabled me to push the agonizing and all-encompassing exhaustion to the wayside.