A World Apart (Part 1): 8,000 Miles Page 5
“What the fuck?” John said louder than he had intended. The soldier with the torn face started to move forward. He rolled from his sitting position to all fours and started crawling towards John. John got back to his feet and started to back pedal against the wall. John heard quick shuffling from the other side of the truck. He looked up. The people that were moving aimlessly before had heard the commotion. The closest two were already moving towards John. The first one walked right into the truck and bounced back a bit. He just stepped forward again, bouncing off the truck again. This action was repeated several times until he inched his way around the front of the truck and came on unobstructed towards John. Several other people that were walking around the open area before had taken note of the pursuit and joined in. There was at least a dozen of them moving in John’s direction now.
“Stay back, stay away from me!” John yelled as he turned away and started to move. It was pointless to move quietly now. John ran full out away from the mob. He had to get to his unit headquarters and find out if anyone was still unaffected, still normal. He kept moving. He could see the end of the line of trucks and knew that he would have to cross a lot of open ground without cover after he reached it. Just as he was about to pass the last truck, one of the civilians came around and lunged for him. John noticed the man was missing half an arm as he reached for him. The man reached for him with his one hand and the stump just below the elbow of his other arm. It was like the man was unaware that he wasn’t whole. John shouldered into the man and knocked him to the ground and kept running. He broke across the open ground as fast as he could, to create distance between himself and his pursuers. He rounded some buildings and cut straight in the direction of his unit headquarters.
Every direction he looked he could see more and more people. As each noticed his presence, they took up the chase as well. What the fuck is going on? Everyone is out of their mind! John thought as he continued to sprint. He was coming up on the dining hall. He knew it was only about twenty more meters to his headquarters once he passed that building. As he passed the entrance of the dining hall, a mob of people started pouring out and coming straight for him. He turned his head to look back and saw that the number of pursuers had at least tripled since he was first detected. He could hear a cacophony of guttural sounds emanating from the mob. It was very primal, like he was a rabbit being pursued by starving wolves. John kept running.
He saw his headquarters. He ran straight to the door. Just before he reached it, the door swung open. A female soldier popped out and gestured with her hands for John to come in. “Get in here, now!” She screamed. John ran inside and turned around to help her close and secure the door. They slammed the door shut, just before several of the pursuers slammed into it from the outside. John pushed against the door with his back while the female soldier locked it. John moved away from the door and helped her drag desks and filing cabinets in front of the door to further brace it.
Once the task was complete, John fell to the floor in exhaustion, trying desperately to catch his breath. “Thank…you.” John breathed.
“You’re welcome.” She said, “welcome to hell!” With that, John gave into his exhaustion and passed out, right there on the floor.
CHAPTER 8
The horde was getting closer. Angie sprinted into the house to get Sam. Jerry jumped into the driver’s seat of his truck and started the engine. The closest zombies, coming from in between the houses across the street, had already reached the military truck. There were two soldiers in the back, using the butts of their rifles to fight off the monsters. The zombies were already clawing at the sides of the truck, trying desperately to get to the soldiers. The lieutenant had made it to the truck by this point and climbed up into the back. Jerry backed his truck up to the house, as close to the front door as possible. Angie came running out with Sam in her arms. She went straight to the passenger side of the truck and put Sam inside. Before getting in herself, she took a moment to survey the scene.
The horde of zombies approaching from the east end of the street was less than fifty yards away. Several monsters had surrounded the military truck. The lieutenant and his two soldiers in the back were still trying to dislodge the creatures with their weapons and they let off the occasional shot to take a monster down. The driver of the truck had started it and was trying to pull forward, but his efforts produced minimal results, the truck just moved inches back and forth, like it was stuck in the mud. There were too many zombies surrounding the vehicle. Angie quickly jumped inside and closed her door. Jerry put the truck in drive and started moving forward. Just as the truck approached the military vehicle, the lieutenant was pulled out of the back and over the zombies that were trying to get him. He landed a few feet in front of Jerry’s truck and Jerry slammed on the brakes.
The lieutenant was back pedaling on all fours trying to outdistance the monsters that had now turned to pursue him. As soon as he was past the front of Jerry’s truck, Jerry gunned it and slammed into four monsters that were after the lieutenant. Angie rolled her window down quickly and yelled at the lieutenant.
“Jump in the back now!” She screamed. “We have to get out of here!”
“My men!” The lieutenant screamed back.
“Get in or get left behind,” she shot back, “there are too many of them, your men are lost.” With that, she rolled up her window and Jerry started to move forward slowly.
The lieutenant draped his left arm over the rail of the truck bed and pulled himself inside. He had lost his weapon in the fall. He quickly shot up in the bed of the truck to watch the scene behind them unfold as Jerry moved forward. He watched helplessly as the two remaining soldiers were pulled from their perch and were swallowed up by the horde. In a few moments, the horde approaching from the east had reached the military truck and the lieutenant lost all view of it as they swarmed around it. Angie had been right; the soldiers were lost.
Jerry continued to move the truck away from the scene behind them and was approaching another horde; it was coming their way from the west end of the street. The horde of zombies was less congested on the right side, so Jerry gunned it towards that possible opening. His truck rolled right over several zombies as they tried to make their escape. They were heading west, the majority of the horde seemed to be coming from the south, pouring onto the street from an intersection. They reached the four-way intersection, it was clear enough to get through on two sides, west and north. North would lead them off the base and out into El Paso. Jerry brought the truck to a crawl and banged on the split window behind him before opening it.
“Hey soldier!” He yelled through the window. “Which way to this secure compound.”
The lieutenant pointed a shaking finger to the south. That direction was completely blocked by the flowing horde of zombies.
“Fuck that!” Jerry yelled right before he slammed the split window closed. He turned the truck right towards the gate that would take them off of Fort Bliss and accelerated to get past the few monsters in that direction. The truck ran over a couple of them. Several minutes later, the gate was in sight. The soldiers who had been manning it before were nowhere to be seen, but the gate was closed. The gate was simple welded steel, like what might be seen at the entrance to a gated community or a mansion.
“Hold on.” Jerry told Angie and Sam. He opened the back window and yelled to the lieutenant. “Hold on to something, it’s about to get bumpy.”
Jerry gunned it and rammed the gate with the truck. The gate was secured by a heavy chain and lock, but the impact busted the lock and the gate swung outward on its hinges. Sam started to cry hysterically. The truck went roaring through the gate, but Jerry had to slow it down quickly as they came into a maze of abandoned cars and dozens of the zombies. They weaved around cars as they proceeded up the road, trying desperately to get out of this congested area and find an opening. Jerry wanted to put as much distance as possible between them and the hordes of zombies they left behind at Fort Bliss. Jerry saw a sig
n for the on ramp for I-10 North. After several minutes of bouncing off cars and zombies alike, he made it to the ramp and drove onto the interstate. The interstate was also littered with cars, but unlike the roads they just left behind, the zombies had thinned out considerably. He had much more room to maneuver.
They continued to head north until they were finally leaving El Paso behind. There were much less cars abandoned on the interstate at this point and even less zombies. Jerry sped up even more and in a short while, they crossed the state line into New Mexico. The sun was beginning to set and Jerry started to get concerned. He didn’t want to be out here in the dark.
“We need to find somewhere safe to spend the night.” He told Angie. “Keep an eye out.”
Angie nodded. She had finally gotten Sam to calm down and he fell asleep in her lap. She scanned ahead, off the sides of the interstate, looking for anywhere that might provide them shelter for the night.
Thirty minutes later, Angie spotted a gas station ahead. “Look, there is a gas station,” she told Jerry, “maybe we can stay there tonight.”
“Yeah, good idea.” Jerry said. “Maybe we can get some fuel for the truck too.”
As they approached the roadside gas station, it seemed unusually void of any cars or people. There were two cars parked around the side of the building, but none were at the pumps or in the small parking area in front. Jerry pulled the truck in slowly and parked it next to one of the pumps. They sat for a moment, surveying the area, waiting to see if any zombies were around. Angie looked through the glass and saw no movement inside. Jerry sighed.
“Let’s get to it.” He told her. “Stay here for a bit with Sam and keep a look out. I’ll take G.I. Joe back there, and check things out.”
“Got it.” She replied.
Jerry stepped out of the truck. He grabbed John’s baseball bat and rapped it on the rail of the truck bed to get the lieutenant’s attention. “Schmidt, we are going to check this place out. See if we can sleep here tonight.” He told him. “Come on, help me check it out.”
“Roger that.” Schmidt replied. He climbed over the side and landed on the ground on both feet. “I don’t have my rifle anymore. I lost it back there.”
Jerry nodded then reached inside the truck and grabbed the .22 rifle and handed it to him. He retrieved his own rifle from behind the seat of the truck and slung it over his shoulder. As an afterthought, he grabbed a tire iron as well, and handed it to Schmidt. “Let’s do this.”
Jerry kept the rifle slung over his shoulder as they approached, but had the baseball bat at the ready. Schmidt hung back a distance and covered him with the scoped rifle. Jerry got to the front of the gas station without incident and peered inside. He didn’t see anything, but the place was a wreck. Shelves were knocked over and random items were strewn about the floor. He figured it had been looted at some point, as people fled the city.
He tapped on the window with the bat and called out, “anyone in there?” There was no response. Jerry hit the glass a little harder and repeated his inquiry a little louder. He saw a slight movement inside, just before an upright shelf toppled over and crashed to the ground. Jerry watched intently. Seconds later a human form stood up just beyond the shelf that had fallen and started to shuffle across the floor. The form was heading down an aisle in their general direction. Jerry watched the individual to try and discern if it was human or zombie, but he figured it was the latter. From the way it walked, he knew he was right. It was indeed a zombie.
“I only see one of them in there.” Jerry told Schmidt.
He moved to the door of the gas station and pulled the handle to see if it was locked. It wasn’t. “Get ready, but don’t shoot unless I get into trouble.” He told Schmidt. “I’m going to lure it out here where we have more room.”
Jerry pulled the door open wide. “Hey.” He beckoned the zombie. “Come on you ugly mother.”
The creature reacted immediately to Jerry’s call and came on quickly. It stumbled a few times over the mess in the store, but eventually reached the door. Jerry backed up, leaned the baseball bat against his leg, spit in his hands, then picked it up again. He took a couple of practice swings as he waited for the monster to fully emerge. The creature lunged at him as it came out of the store. Jerry hit it hard in the side and knocked it off balance. He spun around the back side of the off-balance zombie and struck it hard in the back of the head. The zombie fell on its face, but was still moving, trying to regain its feet. Jerry straddled the prone creature and raised the bat high over his head. He brought the bat down swiftly and accurately on the back of its head. He repeated this several times until there was nothing but a messy pile of brain matter, skull fragments, hair, and flesh where there had once been a head.
“I think it’s dead.” Schmidt told Jerry. His face was scrunched up in disgust, not at Jerry’s actions, but at the gory sight.
“Yeah.” Jerry replied. “Drag this thing around the back. I don’t want the boy to see it. I’m going inside to make sure it’s clear now.”
Schmidt nodded and proceeded to drag the corpse around the gas station by its feet. Jerry moved inside. Once inside the door, he took a moment to adjust to the dimmer light, then looked around to make sure there was no more movement. He moved through the clutter and around some of the toppled shelves. He looked in each corner and saw nothing. He moved to the counter and around the back of it. Jerry was startled when he came around and saw a body, slumped with its back against the counter. He saw a bullet hole in the side of its head, and a mess of dried blood and pieces of brain matter on the counter and the floor on the opposite side. The man had a revolver, loosely gripped in his lifeless hand. The dead man was wearing a red shirt with the emblem of the gas station embroidered on it. The attendant had taken his own life, probably figuring the afterlife was better than the current state of the world.
Jerry grabbed up the pistol and tucked it into his belt. He then moved to the back of the store, where there was an unopened door. He put his ear up to the door, knocked on it, then listened intently. He didn’t hear anything. He slowly grasped the knob and started to turn. He opened the door wide and nearly had a heart attack. He almost swung his bat in defense until he quickly realized who he was looking at. He was face to face with Schmidt.
“I came in the back door.” Schmidt told him. “It is all clear back here. Just a store room and a small bathroom. No zombies.”
Jerry visibly exhaled and said, “Great. Thanks. I think we should be safe here tonight. Let’s get Angie and Sam and get some rest.”
CHAPTER 9
“He is out cold.” Shelly told the group as she entered the room. Shelly Andrews was a Sergeant in the Colorado National Guard. She was a petroleum specialist, which was a fancy title for a soldier who is responsible for managing and distributing petroleum based products, mostly receiving and delivering fuel. Her unit had mobilized about six months before and deployed to Afghanistan four months ago. She was the soldier that rescued John from the approaching mob. Shelly was a part of a small group that was taking shelter in the headquarters building. When John collapsed, she had run upstairs to the other members of her group to get help. They had moved John to an office that had been converted into sleeping quarters and laid his unconscious form on a cot. The room had been a captain’s office; the door had a sign on the front of it that read ‘Commanding Officer’. Shelly had commandeered the room for her own quarters, while they were hiding out in the building.
“Do any of you know him?” Asked George. Staff Sergeant George Hernandez was a medic in the special operations unit that had operated from FOB Dwyer before the outbreak. He, just like the others in the group, had been hiding in the dining hall when things turned ugly. He was instrumental in getting the group safely to this headquarters building, when the dining hall was overrun. Not only was he a skilled medic, but he was also a warrior, well trained in the art of combat. After they had unloaded John onto the cot, he noticed John’s torn and blood caked pant leg. He pulle
d John’s pants off with Shelly’s help and unwrapped the bandage that covered his wound. He looked at Shelly with relief and said, “it’s not a bite.” He had cleaned the scabbed over wound and redressed it. The wound had already been well tended to and was on the mend.
Susan was the first to reply to George’s question. “I don’t know him…I didn’t know any of you either, before all of this.” Susan Sheffield had been in Afghanistan for over a year and was working on the base for about seven months before everything fell apart. She was a civilian contractor that performed intelligence analysis for the government. She was a brooding woman who blamed others for all her misfortunes; the current situation was no exception. “I shouldn’t even be here, I’m not even a soldier.” She said next.
“Susan, give it a break! Do you think things are any better back in the States?” Asked Damien. Damien Gibson was the youngest member of the group. He was only twenty years old and had only been in the military for about eighteen months. Damien was a mechanic and happened to be in John’s battalion, but he didn’t know him.
“It has to be better; this shit base only fell apart because it was so small and away from the larger cities.” Susan replied. “We have to get the fuck out of here, just like the rest did. Why the hell did they leave us here?”
“I doubt they even knew we were holed up in the chow hall. Things happened so fast.” Shelly said. “Blaming those that got out is not going to help our situation.” The majority of the people that lived on the base had been evacuated by helicopter about a week ago. The small group had watched in desperation from the windows of the dining hall as the evacuation helicopters started to lift off. They couldn’t get to the airfield to join them. In fact, the evacuation, and Susan, were the reason they had to flee from the dining hall and into this building. When the helicopters started leaving, she panicked and opened one of the doors. As soon as she did, a large group of zombies were on top of her. George had pulled her back in, but it was too late to get the door closed. The chow hall was quickly flooded with the infected, and the group had to make a break for it, out of the opposite exit. George had led their escape. He bowled over several of the monsters and went into the closest building he could get the group to, the headquarters building. The group went to the roof as soon as they were secure inside, but the choppers had all flown.